#i made this last night for a specific intent and there was a text there in the middle

[seriemorder]

[ladymunson]

One 18+

Fic summary: Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.

A/N: sorry if this is all over the place, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so this might be a jumbled mess. Enjoy though!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f rec), fingering, language, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy petting.

Word count: 5.3k

Not proofread and no beta (apologies for any mistakes)

I do NOT consent to my work being copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics and thank you to @jijilaufeyson for helping me make a decision.

“Are you serious?!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “I’ve been with SHIELD for three years, I can do this mission by myself. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky sneers, you turn your head towards him and glare.

“I hate to agree with Barnes but he’s right, I think you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Your ex was HYDRA after all.” Tony says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You throw your head back in frustration, they’re never going to forget about him.

Three years ago, you had come back to the apartment you shared with you boyfriend of two years to find the place swarming with HYDRA agents. He had been assigned to you to eventually recruit you to HYDRA after they had discovered your abilities.

You’d always been able to sense how someone was feeling by just being near them and eventually it had morphed into being able to influence their emotions. You could walk into a party or a meeting and know exactly who to look out for, whether it be because they were vulnerable or someone with ill intention.

It took immense concentration, effort and energy to be able to change someone’s emotions without touching them. Which you always try and avoid, you don’t want to change someone unintentionally, you could ruin things for them. So, you manage to keep your emotions in check most of the time, and don’t accidentally influence anyone.

The moment you realised that Russell was HYDRA, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but they weren’t going to let you go without a fight. Luckily, you’d befriended the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, when you’d met her and Wanda Maximoff one night at a local dive bar after Russ had blown you off again. One text to her and they’d both been at your door and helped you get away from the agents and back to the safety of Avengers Tower where you’d been subjected to an intense interrogation from Tony Stark, Cliff Barton and Bucky Barnes.

You’d thought that after all the years spent training and fighting by their sides, they would trust you by now, but obviously they don’t. Or more specifically; Bucky doesn’t. Cliff had decided you were trustworthy the first time he interrogated you and had told them as much, but Bucky wasn’t hearing it. So here you were three whole years later, still deemed untrustworthy by the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You know what…?” You start and Bucky smirks at you, adding more fuel to the fire. “I’m glad you’re doing the recon alone, gives me time to pack.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “This is my last mission, I’m done. I quit!” You turn on your heel and leave the conference room without another word.

Bucky groans and places both hands on the table in front of him, flesh beside vibranium, and hangs his head.

“Well that went well Barnes.” Tony says as he walks over to the door. “Looks like I have to do damage control.” He points at Bucky. “You find something on that recon and figure out a way to fix this. We can’t lose her.” And leaves the room, the glass door swinging back and forth.

Bucky makes a fist and slams it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck!”

You stalk down the hallway, heading to your room, walking past everyone and ignoring them all as they try talking to you. Natasha notices and follows you to your room, the doors are automated so you can’t even slam it to let out your frustration. So, you throw your self face down on your bed and scream into the comforter. Natasha just stands by the door, not saying anything and waits for you to finish your screaming.

“Feel better?” She asks as you flip yourself over to lay on your back.

“I can’t believe he still doesn’t trust me! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I quit.” You say without looking in her direction.

“You didn’t quit.” Natasha says as she walks over to join you on your bed.

“I did, straight to Bucky and Tony’s faces. Both of them looked shocked but I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done!” You say as you jump off the bed and begin going through your closet and putting clothes in a suitcase.

The one thing you want, is to have Bucky’s trust…. Okay there’s something you want more than his trust, but you’re never going to get it. If he doesn’t trust you to be member of his team, there’s no way he’s going to trust you in any sort of relationship. So rather than trying anymore, you’ve picked the nuclear option. Serves him right!

“Buck…?” Steve says as he walks into the conference room where Bucky is still hunched over the table. “What’s going on?”

“What is wrong with me Steve? Why can’t I trust people?”

“You mean y/n?” Steve asks. Bucky groans. “Buck, I think it’s obvious to everyone except you and y/n that you like her.” Bucky looks up at Steve. “In a romantic way.”

Bucky stammers, “N... no I don’t.” Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at Bucky.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since she joined SHEILD, hell you haven’t even on a date in a year. You like her.”

“You’re right Steve, I do. But… She quit.” Bucky says as his head hangs head.

“What did you do? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Fix it!” Steve says and leaves the room.

You and Bucky avoid each other for the next week, but to be fair he was out doing recon for the mission with Sam, who had been ribbing him about his feelings for you and pissing Bucky off. They had however, been able to meet the mark and started integrating themselves into his world. Your role as Bucky’s girl would come later, and you couldn’t help feeling like he was ruining your chances to prove yourself. You could’ve done the getting to know the mark and maybe brought Bucky or Sam or even Steve in as your man later on.

You hated to admit it but their getting to know him first was the better plan as not many women were in that world.

The mark. Carlo Vizzini is the head of an organised crime syndicate, who deals stolen HYDRA and SHIELD weapons and technology to other members of the syndicate. The goal is to find the times and locations of all the shipments being brought into the city, finding a list of buyers would be the icing on the cake but it isn’t a priority.

Bucky’s role is to present himself as someone new to the area who wants to become a member of the syndicate. FRIDAY has come up with an elaborate backstory for the two of you, created entire histories for you both which you’ve spent the last week reviewing and learning. Your backstory isn’t too far away from your real story, so it isn’t hard to memorise. The problem is pretending to be his girl. How can you possibly work together and be convincing if it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t trust you. There has to be a reason why Tony suggested Bucky for the mission and not Steve, you don’t know what it is, not that you care because you won’t be around once this mission is completed.

The story. You and Bucky have moved to New York from Michigan, where was a mid level HYDRA agent who oversaw a warehouse that contained new tech. The place had been breached while he was attending a HYDRA event with you, and they had fired him for allowing the breach to happen (An actual event orchestrated by Vizzini).

You had been together for five years at the point you’re at, and Tony had decided to add the fact that you were recently engaged. So, you had to wear an obnoxiously huge diamond on your left ring finger, which really bugged you. You had both been set up in a brownstone in Brooklyn, sleeping in separate rooms but having to appear all lovey dovey in case you were being watched.

Four weeks later.

Carlo Vizzini has invited Bucky and you to an event hosted at his mansion in the Hamptons, where you will both be introduced to other syndicate members. So, you need a spa day and shopping trip where you can buy a dress for the event and be seen out and about acting like this is a normal occurrence. Tony has also arranged for someone from Tiffany to show up at your house and lend you some jewellery for the event as you’re a simple teeny hoop earring kind of girl.

You find the perfect dress while browsing online so it’s very easy to go and get it without having to actually search in store. Scratch that, Natasha found the dress for you and told you it would be a crime if you didn’t wear it.

The idea is to infiltrate the syndicate event, find the intel and get out without your cover being blown until the weapons and tech have been recovered. If your covers can last beyond that until the entire syndicate has been taken down, that’s even better.

So, you’ve been to the salon and had your hair done and are heading back to the brownstone when you notice the dark SUV you spotted outside the mall had parked across the road and the occupant was crossing over to you. You play it off like you haven’t noticed, a civilian wouldn’t have and that’s who you are for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me? Y/N” The stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Yes? You answer, turning to face the person who has spoken to you.

“I’m sorry, I work for someone your boyfriend is trying to get into business with and he’s asked me to check that you out.”

You chuckle, “Fiancé.” The stranger looks confused. “He’s my fiancé, not my boyfriend. Does Mr Vizzini think we haven’t done the same the same to him? Can’t be too careful these days, too many con men around, especially in New York.”

The stranger seems a little taken aback by your words, but continues, like his job is at stake. “I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He takes a picture out of his jacket and asks. “Who is this man?”

The picture is of Sam Wilson, the Falcon but you answer, “That is Sam, James’s brother, adopted of course. “

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years, engaged for one. Are we done here? I have to get ready for a party.” You say and turn to the steps of your brownstone, heading up to your front door.

“One more question.” You turn to face him again. “Can I use your bathroom?” You sigh and open the door, directing him the right way and stay in the hallway so he doesn’t sneak anywhere else for a snoop. You hear the cistern flush and the squeak of the faucet, but you also hear the sound of the medicine cabinet being opened. Yep, he’s snooping. A few moments later he steps out of the bathroom and thanks you as he leaves your house.

You head straight into the kitchen and start the coffee machine; you then grab a detector out of the kitchen drawer and head into the bathroom. Using it to detect for a bug, which you find in the cupboard under the sink and leave it there. You have a get out your phone and send a message, one you’ve prearranged with Bucky, telling him about the bug.

‘Can’t wait to see your reaction when you see what I have on under my dress (followed) tonight. You’re not gonna be able to keep your cool or your hands (Suspicious) to yourself’

‘New lingerie?” (Bug?)

‘Maybe (yes), but you’re gonna have to wait and see’

‘Can’t wait’ (Understood)

You’re gonna have to start your charade earlier than anticipated and act like a real couple. I suppose there are worse things in life than pretending to be in a relationship with Bucky. You can’t deny that the dude is hot.

You pretend to use the bathroom by slowly pouring a bottle of water in the toilet, flushing and washing your hands. Then you head back into the kitchen to pour yourself a coffee.

Bucky arrives home a short while later, carrying a bouquet of roses (Sam’s idea) and gives you a kiss. You feel a little twinge in your stomach, feeling his lips on yours. His kiss is light and sweet.

Feeling your lips on his sends a thrill through Bucky, the feelings he’s been trying to hide for years bubbling to the surface and he has to stop himself deepening the kiss.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen babe, I’m going to start getting ready. No peeking!” You say and head upstairs.

Bucky stays downstairs to drink a coffee and makes a few phone calls, all in character of course, before heading upstairs to get into his tux which takes only a few minutes. He’s back in the living room in less than ten minutes, waiting for you join him.

Bucky isn’t downstairs for very long before he hears your heels on the upper landing and stands up to greet you but at seeing you, his breath hitches in his throat.

(This is the dress you wear)

“You’re fucking stunning!” Bucky breathes out, causing you to grin.

“Not too bad yourself James.” You reply as you walk down the stairs and take his outstretched hand.

You arrive at the house in the Hamptons, impressed with the size of the place, hanging on to Bucky’s arm. The size of it is really impressive and you live in Avengers Tower.

Bucky thinks that he must thank Natasha for picking out that dress. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. Bucky knows he needs to remain professional, but he really wants to get his hands on you and bring you pleasure like you’ve never known. He won’t have any problem pretending to be your lover tonight, because that’s the only thing he wants.

The party is in full swing an hour later, you’ve mingled with everyone, hanging on Bucky’s arm, acting like he’s your entire world. And to him, you are his world. It’s not acting, he’s crazy about you and has been since you met.

Another forty-five minutes go by with the both of you all over each other, giving you a reason to sneak off at some point, to find the intel you’re there to get.

Bucky’s arm is around your waist, holding you close to him as you leave the “ballroom” where the party is. You’re acting the part really well, practically hanging off of him, hands wandering. Walking down the hallway, still all over each other, opening doors looking for a place to have some privacy. Some rooms are all occupied, but the one you’re looking for is empty, Vizzini’s office. As soon as you’re in the room and you part ways, straight back to business, heading for his desk and turning on his computer. Plugging a USB drive you take off of your bracelet into it, and copying the files.

“Heads up Buck, Carlo is on his way and he’s not alone.” Sam says over comms. The last file copies just in time, and you attach the USB back to the bracelet and walk back around the desk.

“Shit!” Bucky says. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Your brain works quickly, “I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” You say as you switch the computer off.

Bucky nods. “Okay.” You pull him over to the wall beside the door and lean against it. You reach up under your dress and remove your underwear, Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head. You throw your panties in the vicinity of the desk and reach down to undo Bucky’s pants. “What are you doing?!” He asks.

“I told you to trust me, I’ll get us out of this.” You unbutton his slacks and bunch up your skirt a little. “Lift me.” You instruct. Bucky catches on and lifts you, so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Go with it okay?” You say. Bucky gulps but nods and your lips meet in a searing kiss that makes you both moan out loud into each others' mouths. His hips begin to move instinctively, playing the part of a man who can’t keep his hands off of his girl. Bucky feels an usual sensation, kind of like a happiness he’s never felt before. As quick as he feels it, it goes away again.

You’re moaning loudly, alternating between passionate kisses and heavy breathing when Vizzini opens the door to his office and “catches” you, entering the room with two burly bodyguards. You gasp and fake panic.

“What the…?” He exclaims, his eyes bogging out of his head before he composes himself and continues. “This is my office, not a motel room!” You giggle. “This is not a laughing matter young lady, this is very inappropriate behaviour!” Bucky lifts you and places your heeled feet back on the floor and helps you rearrange your dress before tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“We’re sorry Mr Vizzini, but when your girl looks like this, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“But this is my office!” Vizzini says, exasperatedly.

“We’re sorry but other rooms were occupied!” You say with a smirk. Vizzini nods and the two bodyguards rush out of the room, they return moments later, both red faced.

Vizzini nods again and turns to you. “We will not mention this again and our meeting Tuesday will go ahead.” Vizzini says. Before sitting at his desk and making a choked sound. “I think these belong to you.” He says, pointing to the black lace panties that had landed on the keyboard of his computer. You giggle and retrieve them from his desk, biting your lip as you do.

“Sorry again!” You giggle as Bucky wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office. You head back to the party, makes it seem less like obvious that you’re involved in espionage.

You both carry on playing the devoted couple, you’re hanging off of him like someone who can’t get enough of their man. Sneaking kisses here and there, selling the bit. Vizzini reappears a little while later and blushes when you and he make eye contact, you smirk back at him and pull Bucky in for a kiss. It’s after midnight by the time your car has pulled up outside and you’ve said your goodbyes.

You’re still all over each other as you get into the car, smiling and waving to everyone as the car pulls away. You keep the act up until you’re on your way out of the Hamptons and on the free way before you separate, in case you were followed. You stay close to each other just so you can snap back together quickly if you noticed someone watching you or for when you get back to the brownstone that is your “residence” at least until this mission is over.

You can smell Bucky’s cologne and it’s been invading your nostrils since you walked down the stairs before leaving in the early evening. It’s lingering on your skin from how you’ve been all over each other all night. You recognise it as Sauvage, one of your absolute favourites. You can’t remember Bucky ever wearing it before, he’s usually a Hugo Boss guy, which is another of your favourites. You momentarily let your control slip (not for the first time this evening) and imagine what it would be like, to have Bucky’s affections and let happiness bloom inside you, but you stop it as soon as you feel it reaching your face.

Bucky has put so much effort into hiding how he feels, he feels like he’s suffocating right now. He feels something again, like a happiness that he’s never felt before. But it disappeared as quickly as he feels it. The truth is drowning him and he needs to tell you how he feels, the thought actually terrifies him though. What if you reject him? What if you don’t feel the same way?

He needs to talk to Steve, find out how to approach this because he can’t lose you before he’s even had you. The car pulls up to your brownstone and you both get out, his arm around your shoulders as you head up the steps. “I need to go run a quick errand I’ll be back soon, wait up for me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, baby, I’ll see you when you get back.” You reply with a kiss on the lips, smiling at him as you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself and leaning against the door with a sigh.

Bucky runs to the bodega on the corner and uses their pay phone, making sure that he’s concealed before dialling.

“Hello…?” Steve answers on the fourth ring, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“How do I tell her? After everything, what do I say?” Bucky’s words are rushed out, not even telling Steve that it’s him.

Steve lets out a sigh. “Buck, just say what you feel. Honestly is the best policy. She needs to know what you feel is real and not because of what you’re both living right now. Open up, I think she will be more open than you expect. I’m going back to sleep now.” Steve hangs up and Bucky is more determined than ever.

He grabs a bottle of wine and some other items so it looks like he had a legit reason to be in the bodega, pays and heads back to your brownstone.

He unlocks the door, you’re not in the living room when he gets back so he quickly takes off the jacket of his tux and goes into the kitchen and puts the items he bought away. Bucky rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up his arms, grabs two glasses and opens the wine then heads upstairs.

You’re in your bedroom, you’ve taken off your dress and are wearing a short black silk robe. He walks in with the wine and goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes the door, you raise an eyebrow but take one of the wine glasses off of him as he pours the red wine into it. He pours his own, puts the bottle down and takes a big gulp from his glass.

“We need to talk.” The words rush out with his breath.

“About what?” You reply.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, looking straight in your eyes. “I act like I don’t trust you because it’s easier than admitting the truth, but the truth is what you deserve so here goes…” You look at him expectantly. Bucky takes another deep breath before he continues. “I like you and I have since we met, and it scared me because I’ve never caught feelings that quickly before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings like I have for you, with anyone. I think I…” he stops himself.

“You think you what?” You nudge.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You look into his eyes and the cerulean blue shows nothing but sincerity. He means it. He loves you. You contemplate telling him how you feel but actions speak louder than words.

You walk to Bucky, standing in front of him. You lick your lips he looks into your eyes, searching for hesitation and finding none. He reaches out for you, his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. His lips brush yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You look into each others eyes and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

Your lips feel like they were made to kiss his, they slot together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. He sighs contentedly as your lips open to allow his tongue access, your tongues dance together, caressing each other as your bodies get even closer.

Something snaps in Bucky and he pulls you towards him, walking backwards until he’s against the wall. He spins you around and pushes you against the wall, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

“I need you to say that you want this, please say you want this. I can’t bear one more moment without touching you.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“I want it, I want you.” You say and reach out for him again. He kisses you sweetly, pulls back and sinks to his knees. He plants a kiss on the inside of your knee which makes you shudder. “Fuck!” You moan out as his mouth kisses up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your centre. Bucky lifts your robe and groans out loud, noticing that you never replaced the underwear you removed in Vizzini’s office. He grabs your knee and lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder and moving his mouth to your mound, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. “Holy shit!!” You moan out and grab Bucky’s head with one hand and scratching at the wall with the other.

Bucky groans at your taste and begins to practically make out with your pussy, his eyes glassed over as your juices drip down his chin. His uses two fingers on his flesh hand and teases your hole, gathering your slick until he can sink them into you, straight to the knuckle. He’s eating you with such fierce ferocity and fucking you with his fingers so passionately that your orgasm builds quickly. “I’m not gonna last much longer.. I’m gonna…” a long moan escapes your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You shudder and shake, struggling to breathe as you ride the waves of your climax, your cunt pulsating around his fingers.

Bucky’s oral ministrations slow as your orgasm dies down, and your breathing returns to normal. He removes his fingers and your leg from his shoulder, stands and unbuttons his shirt before removing it and using it to wipe his face. He stands there in a white vest, his face flushed and looks at you adoringly. Bucky undoes your robe and lets it fall off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bra. You reach out and undo his pants, pushing them down leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. You can see his erection straining the fabric, you want nothing more than to take what you can tell is an impressive member out of his underwear and show him how good your head game is. Bucky however has other ideas.

“Take off the bra, please. I need to see all of you.” He says, his eyes still glassy. You oblige and he groans out loud, he steps forward and pushes you against the wall again. He takes your left breast in his hand and massages gently, causing you to arch into him. He lowers his head and takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the tight bud with his tongue. Bucky stops and plants a searing kiss on your mouth, it’s sloppy, full of teeth and tongues. He pushes his underwear down as you’re kissing, depriving your view.

You still don’t get a glimpse as he grabs your ass and lifts you, your legs automatically going around his waist as you continue your assault on each others' mouths, it’s like you can’t get enough. Bucky breaks off the kiss as he looks into your eyes, the both of you are heavy breathing already. “Ready?” He asks, you nod. “Words baby.”

“Yes please!” You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering as much of your creamy slick as he can. Before notching inside you, your eyes roll back in your head as he slides into your wet cunt, painstakingly slowly. He wants you to feel every inch, every vein, the way he throbs for you. Once he bottoms out in you, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Your arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. You’ve never felt so full, so… complete. There’s a slight sting and burn, you can only assume but there’s a very good chance that he’s big and girthy.

Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before he begins to move, sliding out of you, almost completely before sinking into you again. The air is knocked from your lungs, you feel amazing as his cock slides in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. You moan out loud at the sensation.

“Faster!” You groan out, frustrated at how slow he’s fucking you.

“All in good time, I need to feel you.” Bucky moans out, but pretty soon he can’t just revel in the feeling. He needs to move faster, chasing his end. His hips snap up quicker and your moaning increases in volume, that heat in your belly building again with each thrust of his hips.

Bucky takes your mouth again, kissing you with all of him as he fucks into you with abandon. Your moans and tongues intertwined, your heavy breathing entering each others' mouths. Your hands carding through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. Each time you do it makes his hips thrust harder and makes him grunt. But you have to stop after a minute as the heat blooming in your belly expands more until it can go no further.

It snaps and blooms upward and downward, sending heat to your toes and making you see white. Your climax makes your head roll back and you let out a scream of pleasure. There’s a new sensation as your orgasm hits, the feeling of white-hot heat spreading through him. Happiness, love, every positive feeling ever shoots through him and the spasms of your cunt around his cock, prematurely sets off his orgasm. He has wanted to draw another two or three from you before his end but he can’t hold it back.

He roars out, even the way your climax muffled your hearing you heard him. You’ve never heard anything like that, the sound was primal, animalistic. Your breathing slows and you lower your head to look at him, he’s staring back at you, looking completely fucked out, but so do you.

“You okay baby?” Bucky asks, breathing heavily and pulling your face towards him so he can kiss you. You can’t even speak, you just about nod before he lifts you off the wall and carries you over to the bed. He lays you down and pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, which makes you whine. He goes into your en suite and grabs a washcloth to clean you up, before joining you on the bed. He pulls you close and you snuggle into his warm body, your hand rests on his chest, just above his heart.

Happiness blooms in his chest once more, a content feeling. He realises that you’re projecting onto him with your abilities but you’re too out of it to realise. The feeling is one of pureness, a feeling of love. Bucky realises he has had this feeling before, many times, the first time was the day he met you. He really did feel love at first sight, he didn’t think it was possible but it happened. And now you both knew how the other felt, there’s no way he was going to go back to the way it was. And you’re not leaving SHIELD. Not unless he leaves with you, because from now on, you are one.

THE END?

Posted 23/04/2024

[beom-pyu]

hidden relationship with txt

txt x g!n reader , tags: secret relationship, idol x nonidol , fluff , tiniest bit of angst , no warnings

wc: 1.2k+

｡ °₊ yeonjun

having a secret relationship with yeonjun is hard. being one of the most known members, you both knew it was risky to be together. but that doesn't mean he wouldn't take the risk for you. he hasn't been in many relationships at all, but being with you just feels natural. the members know about you guys; they've known from the start. you were always more than "just his friend". when he had mentioned to the guys that he thinks he likes someone, they immediately knew it was you. it's so easy being with him, especially because there were 4 fewer people to keep a secret from. you spend most of your time together in his bed, away from the bright cameras of the public, talking about whatever: from things you are stressed about, to other stuff going on in your lives. you are yeonjun's safe place. he knows that when the world gets too heavy, he always has you to remind him that there is always light at the end of the tunnel. he's so much softer and cuter when he's around you — burying his head in your stomach when he laughs, letting you put his hair into silly pigtails — it was a side he saved only for you. it's okay if you must keep what you two have a secret; at least you can stay in the little world that you've created together and not have to worry about a thing.

｡ °₊ soobin

soobin knew that you were the one from the first few weeks you started dating. you are like the calm to his storm; you balance him out perfectly. when he opens a text from you, his entire face lights up. he always takes you out on his free days, whether it be to eat in a small diner, to the shore; or wherever you can go that's quiet and will ensure that you're both alone. your relationship with soobin is so pure and intense in a way? you've never felt this strongly about someone in your life, and keeping him hidden almost made your relationship stronger. you never take each other for granted.  he doesn't mind keeping you a secret — it would just mean that he can love you however he'd like without the judging gaze of the public. he mouths "i love you" from across the room, and ships cute gifts to your residence. when he has the chance to finally see you, he never lets a moment go to waste; his hugs last at least 5 minutes. he makes sure to intently listen to everything you have to say, and kisses you with every emotion he's feeling. he knows that what you have is dangerous, he knows that you both have to walk on eggshells around each other, but it's all worth it to him. you are worth it.

｡ °₊ beomgyu

you and beomgyu have been dating for almost a year and a half — and you're still going strong. beomgyu definitely has the hardest time being in a secret relationship. as someone who likes to share absolutely everything with his friends and fans, he wasn't sure if he could do well at keeping you hidden. he knows that your relationship could get in the way of his job, and he wants to do anything he could to protect you from the media, so he always does his very best at keeping you a secret. doesn't mean it's easy though. he shows his loves for you by making overly specific jokes while he’s on live since he knows you’re watching and wants to make you laugh, or publicly wearing jewelry and clothes you bought for him. he always facetimes you when he's alone in the dorm, in the dressing room during a schedule, or out on late night walks. he takes you out to a new place when he finally has time to see you in person like the aquarium to an arcade — he doesn’t care if he has to wear a mask and hat that covers his eyes every time because just seeing that smile in your eyes when you are together is enough to make him want to expose your secret on the spot. you are his rock, and he doesn't know what he could possibly do without you; and if outing your relationship out to the world meant that he had a chance at losing you, he would do absolutely anything to keep your love a mystery from the rest of the world. 

｡ °₊ taehyun

you haven't been dating for long — maybe three months or so. when you first met him at that small-town cafe on a chilly spring night, taehyun had been the man of your dreams. he was polite, hilarious, and unbelievably beautiful. you had jokingly said that he was idol material; and to your surprise, he turned out to actually be one. dating an idol was new to you, but you both made it work. quick dates in between schedules are the highlight of your week; just the weight of his hand in yours, the feeling of his hair on your cheek, the soft kisses and shy touches. he sends you selfies throughout the day if he's packed with schedules with tiny vague messages like "see you soon. have a surprise for you <3" or "waiting until i can see you again to show you how much i miss you" and your stomach would be swarms for the rest of the day. he "accidentally" buys doubles of a t-shirt and "just so happens" to only give the spares to you so that you can subtly match. he likes to take you out to this karaoke cafe in the tiny town you had met in — it was your guys' safe space in a way. you can laugh and hold hands and not have to worry about being caught. it's refreshing to be with taehyun, hidden relationship or not. he's your reason, and you, above all, are his.

｡ °₊ hueningkai

you don't know how badly kai wants to show you off to everyone. he literally has a hidden folder of all the selfies and pictures you send him and he just scrolls through them when he goes without seeing you for too long. if you guys are in the same room together, but other people are around, he tries his best to hold in his excitement (but fails terribly). he subtly plays with your fingers or bumps your side from standing so close to you. there's no way people don't know there's something going on between you two. if anything, you keep your relationship more hidden than him. he's always calling you when he's out and you're just like "???" because he truly does not mind being caught. he hates how he can't step in when someone is flirting with you in public or how he can't hold your hand when you're out with your friend group. so he settles with letting you steal his hoodies and shirts, kissing you breathless in the mere 2 minutes you have alone, and constantly reminding you of how much he loves you with voice messages and calls at midnight. he thinks it would be even easier if he could just love you loud and unapologetically — but you both know it's easier said than done. you'll have to settle with what you have now, and as long as you were with him, you think you'd be okay.

reblogs are highly cherished!

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©️BEOM-PYU

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 5 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

i have successfully kicked my writer's block to the curb and am ready to pick back up on plug!eren!!!! woohoo!! this is the part of the story where it gets really plot heavy and there's a lot of moving parts, so it's been a fun exercise to write and brainstorm. if anything is confusing or u have any theories/questions PLEASE hit my inbox i'm so down bad for plug eren i could talk about him for days.

get ready to meet a new character who is......not the best lol. this is also the first chapter written in eren's pov :o things are about to get interesting!

still haven't caught up? series masterlist HERE <3

specific cws: mentions of smut but nothing outright, alcohol use, swearing, u know the drill

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“If music be the food of love, play on. / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken and so die.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

Eren is, admittedly, a romantic person, especially given his occupation. Not romantic in the cheesy, buying-flowers and kissing-in-the-rain sense, but he appreciates the little details of life. He loves autumn, when the leaves catch on fire with the changing of the season. He loves the little crook of a woman’s neck, that slope where it goes from tendon to shoulder to collarbone. He can appreciate a good bourbon; after years of raiding his dad’s stash, he developed a palate for it early on. Eren’s romantic nature leads him to believe in signs. When the universe tells him something, he listens.

The text still sat in his inbox unopened, marinating in its own bizarre, heartbreaking nature.

> heyyyy lover boy! i’m back from austria! missed u, let’s catch up ;)

Eren knows that Breeze knows him, knows him well enough to understand that his three-week radio silence isn’t a no, it’s a maybe. He hates himself for not immediately texting her back and telling her to fuck off, but after his conversation with you, he thinks it might be the universe telling him it’s safe this time, that he won’t end up a shell of himself. Maybe.

You had been firm in your assertion that you and Eren were better off as friends, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Eren respects women. As much as he can when he’s prone to wrenching their jaws open and spitting in their mouths while he’s balls deep inside them, at least. He’s disappointed, but he respects it, and if he’s honest, he likes you.

He likes your sharp humor, likes the way you tend to keep your hair up off of your neck, likes the way your eyes light up when someone gives you an excuse to talk about your studies. He hasn’t been “just friends” with a woman in a long time, but it’s refreshing, an excuse to go grab a coffee and shoot the shit like a normal person instead of lurking in the corner of a frat party handing out pills like a perverse ice cream truck.

The last three weeks of “friends” have been the best Eren’s had in a long time. You’re easy, that’s what he likes about you. He can drop the cold mask he wears so often, giggle over a stupid meme, listen intently as you prattle on about some long-dead 18th-century author that was “so ahead of her time!”, smirk when you chastise him for doodling little hearts and flowers all over your coursework.

Sure, he still steals a glance down your shirt when he can, and he’d never admit it, but he thinks about you late at night. He thinks about you when he’s in the shower, when he’s got himself in his hand, panting and swearing under his breath, but he manages to feel enough guilt over it to still consider you a friend. You’re caring and considerate and easy, wholesome fun, unlike someone that’s made a sudden reappearance into his life.

After that first night, just when he was starting to entertain the thought of promoting you from one night stand to official fuck buddy, the closest thing to commitment Eren allows himself to maintain these days, Breeze swept back into his life, and you hit the brakes on him. While it may not have been the sign he wanted to receive, Eren’s a romantic, and he listens to the universe, especially when it goes so far out of its way to tell him something.

He’s decided to let Breeze stew for a little while longer. Campus will be clearing out for Thanksgiving break soon, along with most of his business, and he’s going to wait until his hands are empty of work and you before answering her. Plus, she had flitted off to Europe after college like their entire relationship had been nothing more than a passing phase; Eren’s owed at least a little bit of pettiness, right?

> paradise ath 1130! see uthere ;)

Eren snorts at your text. Being as uptight as you are about grammar (you’re constantly hounding him about his texting style, and he’s been making them even more incorrect just to hear you berate him), he knows you’re not just texting quickly, you’re drunk.

“Yo, ‘min!” Eren calls into the kitchen, an excited flutter already rising in his chest beneath his hoodie.

“Yeah?” Armin’s head pops around the doorframe, a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna go to Paradise later?”

“The club?” Armin’s nose wrinkles. Connie’s head appears right beside Armin, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Connie answers for both of them before Armin has the chance to shoot the idea down, “who’s going?”

“Like you don’t know the answer to that,” Armin scoffs, ducking back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

“I never took her for a ‘club’ type of girl,” Connie adds air-quotes to emphasize his confusion.

Eren mulls that over for a moment; he doesn’t really take you for a club type of girl either, but from the sound of it, Historia and Sasha have already done the job of getting you good and drunk and talking you into a night on the town. Eren’s always wanted to see what you’re like when you’re well and truly fucked up; every time you indulge him with a story from college, he ends up laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.

Supposedly, when you go all out, you drop the mom-friend act and become a little less tame; is this Eren’s opportunity to get an eyeful for himself? He’s not waiting around to find out.

Eren shrugs. “Come help me make these runs and we’ll go. Armin, you’re driving.”

The drop-offs are uneventful, and as soon as Eren steps foot inside the club, his nose scrunches with distaste. Ironically, he’s never been into the partying scene, much preferring a quiet beer at Scout’s or a blunt on the couch to a club. The music’s horribly loud, bass thudding through the fabric of his hoodie and beating against his chest, and as he looks for you, he can barely see through the mass of bodies and the fog machines. You’re here? It’s difficult for Eren to imagine you, in your favorite flannel and those cute little Vans he likes, tucked against the bar throwing back your signature craft beer. As Connie urges him and Armin in the direction of the bar, calling for green tea shots, Eren nearly regrets his decision, until fingernails dig into his shoulder, spinning him on his heels.

“Hey, you.”

Eren blinks stupidly as you grin up at him through thick, black lashes. He’s never even dared to imagine you like you are now, piercing eyes gazing up at him through a heavy dusting of makeup and the shortest, tightest dress Eren’s ever seen hugging every inch of your curves. You look sinful in a way he’s never seen you before, not even when he was holding you tight to him and wrenching out orgasm after orgasm from your body. He gulps.

“Holy shit– hey,” he lets you pull him in for an overexcited hug, bites down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the bulge already swelling in his pants.

“I missed you!” You pinch his cheeks, much to Eren’s dismay.

“Just saw you yesterday– quit pinchin’ me. What are you even doing here? Didn’t think this was your scene.” Eren has to actively keep his eyes trained on your face; there’s a little bead of sweat traveling down the expanse of skin between your breasts that’s making his mouth water. Friends, he scoffs in his mind. Are you trying to kill him?

“Well, it’s not, but Sasha says I need to be more fun, and Stor says I need to find a boyfriend.” You gesture around like it’s obvious. Eren cocks an eyebrow, ignoring the inappropriate envy that twists in his stomach at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.

Boyfriends never like the guy friends, it’s practically a law of nature. If you’re dating around, it’s only a matter of time before some square in a button-down steals you away from your coffee dates and movie nights with Eren, but he can’t get too caught up in that now, not when you’re looking up at him all dizzy and sexy and bursting at the seams.

“Don’t know if this is the place for that.”

“That’s what I said!” Oh, you’re drunk drunk, all of your movements overexaggerated and shaky. It makes him want to laugh seeing you like this; his little book nerd, trashed and mere inches away from having her ass out at a club. Well, either laugh or drag you into the bathroom to bend you over the sink. He can’t be sure.

“Hey mama!” Connie shouts over at you, handing you a shot. Eren has half a mind to snatch it out of his hand after catching the slurring in your voice, but he’s too late; you throw it back without so much as a shudder, grinning all wide and wet and pretty when you swallow.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you tell him, pulling him down by his collar so you can speak into his ear. Eren has to bite back a groan at the feel of your hot lips against his ear. Friends, he reminds himself urgently, pushing you back from him but keeping his hands firm on your hips, relishing in the way your flesh gives under his grip.

“You know the rules. You call, I come.”

“That’s what she said,” you snicker, pinching his cheek again.

“Cut that out!”

“Make me.” Oh fuck, Eren’s going to die. He’s going to die if you keep looking at him like that, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and fuck-me eyes on him.

“You’re not being very friendly,” he manages to choke out, trying his hardest to give you a suspicious look through the dizzying wave of images that flash through his brain. You with your mouth full of him. You spread out on his bed, back arched and fingers twisted in his hair. The little “o” your mouth made when you rode him for the first time. Eren wants to smack himself, jump in a cold shower, something. Get a grip, dude.

“Maybe not,” you shrug, eyes darting over to the bar. “Hurry up and grab a drink, I wanna dance.”

“Not much of a dancer,” Eren admits, taking the beer that Connie hands him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

Eren isn’t sure if he likes or loves the sound of that, powerless against that stupid little dress you’ve got on as you drag him behind you to the mass of bodies he had so disdainfully eyed on his way in. He’s greeted by a loud round of shrieking, one more pinch to the cheek by Historia and a slap on the ass from Sasha. You make a show of teasing him for how pink his face gets, but luckily, your friends are instantly distracted by Armin and Connie’s arrival right behind him. You pull him back down, glossy lips pressed right against his ear.

“I really like this song.” You’re barely audible over the pounding music, but even if Eren hadn’t heard what you said, he’d get the gist from the way you grind against his thigh, slow and sensual. Maybe you are actually trying to kill him.

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, irreparably and embarrassingly caught in the little web you’ve woven.

“Yeah.” You’re moving harder against him now, throwing your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into his. Eren’s only thought is to let his hands fly back to your hips, let you use him like a stripper pole to show off.

He can feel eyes on him, not the eyes of friends, but of other men around him, wondering who the lucky asshole is that’s getting the royal treatment from a girl as hot as you. If he were to be truthful, it’s getting him off, how every eye is on you and, by proxy, him, holding you like a lifeline as you let the beat rock through your body.

So this, this is the party girl you claim to have living deep inside you. This seductive, electric creature moving tantalizing against his body, this is the source of the stories Historia tells him that make you blush? How you could ever be embarrassed of this is beyond him; you’re like a little devil, sent straight from hell just to torture him, and Eren’s mouth is watering.

Song after song goes by, and you don’t let up, don’t let him catch his breath for a moment, moving from facing him to pressing your ass into his crotch and then back again, arms above your head or wrapped around his neck. Eren wishes he was mentally sound enough at the moment to feel ashamed that you can absolutely feel how hard he is through his pants right now, but he’s drunk on you, letting you press into him so insistently he has to tug your dress down for you, letting you drive him so crazy that he’s grateful for the loud music now. He’d die if Connie or Armin could hear the way he’s grunting and groaning low under his breath, powerless underneath you.

Suddenly, as if you haven’t just been riling him up for the last half hour, you back away enough to face him, shaking your empty cup and him and mouthing something that Eren’s still too dizzy to make out.

“Huh?”

“Get me another drink!” you shout over the bass, laughing at him.

Eren nods stupidly, darting away from you before he can grab your jaw, pull your lips to his like he so desperately wants to. Finally out of the throng of bodies, he can feel his head clearing, some semblance of sanity crashing over him. What the fuck has gotten into him? It was just one night, and you’ve kept him at arm’s length ever since, only seeing each other under the guise of coffee, or a beer, or Eren insisting you need to continue your education in the wonders of horror films. You’re drunk, that’s the only explanation; drunk and teasing him like you aren’t going to wake up and throw him right back into the friendzone. He rests both elbows on the bar, shaking his head like he’ll be able to knock some sense into himself if he rattles his brain around a little.

Eren orders your vodka soda and a beer and a shot for himself, something to clear his head and keep his blood pressure manageable. Hopefully, at least.

When he turns around, drinks in hand, that plan flies out the door. There you are, center of the dance floor, hands above your head and hips moving like you’re intentionally trying to make him lose his fucking mind. He tilts his head in interest when a man approaches you, grazes his hands over your hips like he means to start grinding against you. Eren can feel his own hands tightening around the bottle and the plastic cup in his hand, but he holds himself back; he’s got no claim on you, and if you’re willing to entertain the man (who, if you ask Eren, is way below your standards), who is Eren to stop you?

You surprise him in the best way: when the man touches you lightly, you whip around, brows furrowed and a little glitter in your eyes so mean that even Eren nearly flinches. He can’t read your lips in the low light, but he snorts to himself anyway as the man puts his hands up and backs away from you, eyes wide. As if nothing had happened, you spin back on your heel, facing a cackling Sasha with a shrug.

Eren feels a wide, proud smile blooming on his face. As much as he feels an unwarranted protectiveness towards you, he likes watching you get your teeth out and stand up for yourself. Before he can make his way back over to tease you, a voice from his left makes his blood run cold.

“Rennie?!”

Two thin arms are tossed around his neck before Eren can even respond, the familiar scent of vanilla and coconut enveloping him.

“Breeze?” Eren chokes out, too shocked to keep his composure. She pulls away from him and grins, a little diamond glittering from her right canine tooth.

“You didn’t text me back, you tease,” she swats at his chest, snags the vodka soda he’d bought for you right out of his hand, taking a sip. Eren takes the opportunity to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, one last tentative glance towards you before he turns his gaze back to Breeze.

She’s cut her hair, something short and choppy that swings around her ears, and fuck, she’s still just as pretty as he remembers, little freckles on her button nose visible in the darkness of the club.

“Didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Eren shrugs, forcing his face to remain schooled into one of cold apathy. She had left him, like he was nothing to her. He hates her, he realizes, god, he hates her so much it burns in his veins. Breeze cocks her head, frowning.

“Why would you think that?”

“You fucking left me, Breeze, don’t be stupid,” Eren makes a move to steal the drink back from her, but she holds it close enough to her chest that he’d have to practically grope her to take it, and his fingers recoil at the realization.

“Are you double-fisting, or did you buy this for someone special?” She teases, brushing right over Eren’s bristly demeanor. When he doesn’t answer, she raises her eyebrows. “It’s for someone. Well, point her out! Is she cute?”

Breeze turns on her heel, standing on her tiptoes to glance through the crowd. Before he can stop himself, Eren’s grabbing her upper arm, spinning her back to face him with anger blazing in his eyes. When he meets her gaze, her baby blues are alight with mischief, and he knows that no matter which direction he moves, he’s losing whatever little game she has him trapped in. That was the thing about Breeze; Eren was always losing her games.

“Fuck, just…just stop it, Breeze. What are you even doing here?”

“I’m back in town, didn’t you see my text?” Breeze shrugs innocently, sipping your drink.

“Okay, well, welcome back,” Eren deadpans, leaving her question hanging in the air between them. He turns back to the bar to order another cocktail for you, having given up hope of getting the first one back from Breeze, but she’s relentless, has always been that way. She slides up to the bar beside him, smiling demurely up at him.

“I missed you, you know.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. Breeze flinches, but Eren knows her better than that. It’s all an act, it always is.

“I never realized how much I hurt you,” her fingers grazing over his cheek nearly burn with how cold they are in contrast to the heavy, thick air around them, “‘m sorry, Rennie.”

“It’s fine.” Eren hates the way he twitches and nearly leans into her touch when she swipes her fingers over him. How many times has he thought about this, seeing her again after all these years? Everything he’s planned out, everything he’s ever wanted to say is lodged in his throat, a jumble of letters and words so squished out of order that they no longer hold meaning. He doesn’t love her, not anymore, but his body reacts before his brain can stop it, a conditioned response.

“Can we talk about it soon? Maybe over coffee?” Blue eyes blinking up at him earnestly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Breeze,” Eren rolls his eyes, swallowing thick around the knot in his throat.

“There is,” she insists, “I brought this amazing espresso blend back with me from Florence, and–”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone for tonight?” Eren can feel the exasperation in his tone, can feel the weight of his mistake weighing on his shoulders. It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll make up some excuse and get out of it. A long conversation with Breeze about their breakup is the last thing he needs.

“Maybe,” Breeze tucks her lip in between her teeth, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “unless you change your mind.”

“We can talk or whatever another time, but I’m going back to my friends, okay? Go find yours.”

“You’re my friend,” Breeze purrs, one hand stroking over Eren’s bicep, “and I haven’ seen you int–”

“Don’t push it,” Eren nearly growls, scowling down at her. He knows half of the hatred buzzing through his veins is reserved for himself, but he’ll unpack that at home with a blunt, not in the middle of the club with you waiting for him on the dance floor and Breeze staring up at him hungrily.

“Always wound so tight,” Breeze hums, reaching a hand up to squish his cheeks, “but fine. I’ll see you soon.”

She miraculously leaves him there with nothing but a wink, taking your vodka soda with her; Eren’s shoulders slump in relief. Knowing Breeze, it was a wonder she hadn’t tackled him right there. When he turns around for the second time, two drinks in hand, you’re already staring at him. Shit.

You don’t look mad– and why would you be? You’re friends, Eren reminds himself. There’s no reason for you to know who Breeze is; he’s never told you about her, and he never planned on doing so. Eren knows Historia, though, well enough to believe that she told you everything from the godforsaken moment he walked into your apartment that day. 

He doesn’t like that look you’ve got, though; again, not mad, but he can see the gears turning behind your eyes. Eren has to practically force himself to walk towards you. Your head’s cocked in confusion, something watery and hesitant glimmering in your eyes through the low lighting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you almost look hurt, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You didn’t want him, you had made that abundantly clear.

“Sorry it took me a while. Long line.” Eren hands you your drink, nearly wincing at how naturally the clearly false statement rolls off his tongue.

“Mhm,” you nod, downing nearly half of your drink in one long slurp. Your movements aren’t fluid and dynamic anymore; you’re stiff as a board, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet along to the beat of the song. “I…I actually have to pee, do you mind holding this?”

“Now?” Eren blinks, confused. “I just got your drink.”

You offer him a tight smile. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were back, so you could watch my drink. And so you didn’t think I ran off on you or something.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

He watches you slink away into the crowd, watches the dozens of eyes follow you, surely wondering what happened to the little firecracker in the middle of the dance floor. Eren knows you get like this sometimes, suddenly pensive and nostalgic, knows that per your own admission, you like to handle it yourself. He hadn’t done this to you, had he?

A firm pinch to his cheek distracts him, pulls him down a foot below his normal standing height. Could everyone just stop pinching his fucking face? “Shit, ow!”

“Was that Breeze?” Historia yells directly into his ear. Eren, six-foot-something of hell on wheels, blushes furiously.

“Dude, was that fucking Breeze, or am I too fucked up?” Connie echoes Historia’s sentiment from over her shoulder, eyes comically wide. Armin’s peering around him, eyes flitting back and forth between Eren, Connie, and Historia as he tries to understand what’s happened.

“Who cares?” Eren snaps at Connie. Historia’s grip on his face loosens, releases entirely. If Eren didn’t like the look that you had given him, he hates the look Historia’s shooting at him right now. All daggers and disappointment. She turns on her heel without another word, making a beeline for the bathroom and dragging Sasha along behind her. Eren doesn’t miss Armin’s eyes either; stripping him to the bone without saying a word.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Eren scoffs, waves a hand in Armin’s direction.

“When did Breeze get back into town?” Armin shouts over the music.

“A few weeks ago,” Eren admits, avoiding Armin’s eyes and looking for a spot at the bar where he can escape the heavy gazes of his friends, run away to drown this conversation in a shot of whiskey.

“Did you–”

“I don’t know, man, you know how she is. She just showed up.” Eren knows he’s being unnecessarily gruff, but in his defense, the last hour or so has been a whirlwind of memory and emotion and lust that he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

Armin nods simply, takes a sip of his beer. Eren’s known Armin since they were kids, and he knows Armin can read him like a book. If he had a little less pride, Eren would pull Armin to the side and ask if he can make any sense of what’s going through Eren’s head right now because Eren sure as hell can’t. There’s you, with your skimpy dress and your flirty eyes, grinding on him like you’re going to take him home and fuck him stupid again, like you hadn’t demanded an honest-to-god friendship that Eren happens to very much enjoy. On the other hand, there’s Breeze, flighty and just as much of a ghost as she is a real person, popping back into his life and batting her blue eyes at him like she’d never left.

You’re his friend, and Breeze is his terrible ex. There shouldn’t be a choice here– there isn’t, it’s just the way things are, but Eren feels stuck at a crossroads for some reason.

He finally gets fed up with the music and the bumping of bodies around him and storms off to the bar again, biting back the urge to snap at Connie and Armin who he knows are hot on his heels. Eren’s just looked up from the shot of whiskey burning its way down his throat, acknowledging the dizziness that’s come with his drinks for the night, when he spots you.

You don’t look angry, that’s a small mercy you unwittingly grant him, but you’re cowering. Historia, even being shorter than you, is practically pinning you to the wall outside of the bathroom, shouting at you with her finger in your face. Sasha doesn’t look all too pleased either, arms crossed and a deep scowl written into her features. Eren gets a glimpse of your phone in Historia’s other hand that she’s waving around erratically, and wonders what the hell happens in women’s bathrooms. He’s not exactly sure what prompts it, but he checks his own phone. Nothing.

“Are they fighting?” Connie asks, nose scrunched as he peeks around Eren’s arm.

“Looks like it,” Armin nods, wincing as you try to make a grab for your phone from Historia, resulting in Sasha saving you at the last second from face-planting as Historia holds it out of your reach.

“Should we, like, do something?”

“Absolutely not,” Armin and Eren echo each other, looking at Connie as if he’d just suggested they all walk into oncoming traffic.

Eren watches as Historia grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the bar, your feeble protests doing nothing to stop her insistent steps. Sasha follows both of you, gently pushing you along by the small of your back and shooting a regretful glance at Connie, mouthing a sorry as you all make your exit. It’s hardly been five minutes before Eren’s phone buzzes.

> had to leave. do you mind paying our tab if i venmo you? it’s under reiss.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek again, not worrying in the slightest about covering the tab, but more so the reason for your abrupt exit.

> yeah i got u everything ok?

> thanks a ton! see u next time.

It’s purposefully avoidant, especially coming from Historia, who never misses a chance to make fun of you good-naturedly. If you had been sick in the bathroom or far too drunk to stay, she would have come out and said it. Eren throws his card down, going to pay the hefty tab you and your friends racked up, but not daring to pay his own. After all of the shit that’s just gone down, he owes himself at least one more drink.

Once he’s signed, he pulls out his phone again, thumb hovering over your text thread, then Breeze’s, then yours again. Mindful of Armin’s prying eye over his shoulder, Eren sighs heftily and shuts his phone off, leaning in to order another shot. The following morning’s approaching quickly, whether he wants it to or not, and he’ll save his fucked-up emotions for the daylight.

[gerrystamour]

here i have found some peace of mind [chapter four]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST ] [ PREVIOUS ]

The boys figure their nonsense out. I meant to say this in the last update, but I have bandcasted the band Green Lung as "Corroded Coffin" re: their sound and vibe? I have actually made a "setlist" as well! Also!! The transphobia introduced in chapter two is resolved in this chapter ;p CW: There is smut in this chapter! Phone sex to be specific!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

soon as the summer comes, i will step out of time

“Just call him,” Robin groaned, dragging her hands down her face dramatically.

“I can’t,” Steve insisted, picking at the muffin Robin gave him the moment he stepped into Dustin’s office.

It had been three days since Steve had watched the YouTube videos, and he was admittedly miserable.

That night, when it sunk in how Eddie felt for him, Steve had texted Robin, not wanting to interrupt her if she was busy with Nancy.

Steve [sent at 05:02]: u busy? Robbie [sent at 05:03]: dude, we’re getting ready for work. did u even sleep?

Steve hadn’t even realized how long he’d been on Corroded Coffin’s channel, and sure enough his alarm went off a few seconds later. Getting up, he shuffled out into the apartment and found Robin in the kitchen making a coffee.

“Robs,” Steve said, his voice a bit rough with lack of sleep.

Robin turned around and frowned worriedly. “Seriously, Dingus, did you even sleep?”

“Robs, I fucked up,” he said sadly, dropping onto one of the stools at the island and holding his head in his hands.

“Well, yeah, you didn’t sleep,” Robin said nervously, coming around the island to sit next to him.

“No, this,” Steve said, unlocking his phone to play the end of the video he last watched.

Robin blinked down at the phone when the video ended. “Oof,” Robin started slowly before looking at Steve. “I don’t think you fucked up.”

“Robin, did you watch the same video? He was so—and I was so mean!” Steve groaned, crossing his arms on the counter and dropping his head on top of them.

“Okay, listen, yeah you were a bitch, let’s just get that out there. That doesn’t mean you’ve fucked up. You just need to call him and listen to his apology, and then you can decide how you want to move forward,” Robin said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

And theoretically, it was. The ball was in his court when it came to making contact with Eddie again, Steve knew that much. Steve was still the hurt party, even if he had been wrong about Eddie’s intentions, and he told Eddie to lose his number.

If anyone was going to reach out, it would come down to Steve.

Except Steve had been mean, stubbornly mean, even. It was hard to come back from being that way, to admit he had been cruel and that he was wrong for it. It didn’t help matters that he was watching that video repeatedly to punish himself either.

So Steve was at a stalemate of his own creation, and he had finally worn Robin’s sympathy out.

Dustin groaned. “Can we please stop talking about this? You keep talking around in circles, you won’t tell me all the details for some stupid reason—”

“It’s confidential,” Steve said, smirking when Dustin gestured at Robin, offended.

“You told her!” he said.

“And she’s an adult. And also my roommate,” Steve replied and Dustin turned red.

“I’m an adult, too—”

“Okay! I’ve gotta get back to work,” Steve interrupted with a loud clap. “See you around, Dusty-buns—”

“Stop calling me that, man,” Dustin whined, and Steve just laughed as he left the storage room.

“Hey, Dingus, wait up,” Robin said as she hurried after him, grabbing the sleeve of Steve’s cardigan as they walked. “I’m serious, Steve, call him. If he’s even half as in love with you as he seems in that video, he’ll forgive you instantly. If he even held what you said against you.”

“It’s worse if he didn’t,” Steve grumbled and shrugged Robin off, waving as they went their separate ways in the lobby.

It was shaping up to be another long day of self-pity and Steve was resigned to it as he returned to his desk. It was just his luck that his phone would ring the second he settled into a proper sulk.

“Thank you for calling Chicago In-Terminal Events, this is Steve,” Steve greeted in the happiest voice he could muster as he glanced at his phone. He froze when he saw the phone number and realized he recognized it, even if he only saw it once.

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie said, his voice tentative and unsure.

“Mr. Munson,” Steve replied, his mind reeling with relief, even if he was defaulting to professionalism.

There was a silent pause before Eddie chuckled a bit. “Honestly didn’t think you’d pick up,” he confessed.

“I didn’t realize it was you calling,” Steve said, and he grimaced at how bitchy he was still sounding.

This is what he wanted. Steve wanted Eddie to call again, to reach back out, to try and apologize again so that Steve could actually listen and maybe even accept it. And what, he was just going to screw that up because he had committed to being mad about it?

“Okay, I deserve that—”

“No—”

“Steve, I get that I’ve got literally zero right to ask you for anything, but please just listen?” Eddie asked in a rush, and Steve closed his mouth.

“Go ahead,” Steve said after a moment, realizing belatedly that Eddie was waiting for him to give him the okay.

Eddie took a deep breath. “It wasn’t fair to you, and I should’ve come clean a hell of a lot sooner. I just… really liked talking to you, and I was afraid you’d stop talking to me if you knew,” he said, and Steve’s heart ached at how sad Eddie sounded. “But doing what I did took away your choice, and it was really selfish of me because I got to hide behind this extra fuckin’ layer of armor or whatever while you were being real.”

Steve couldn’t even argue that Eddie’s fear was unfounded. Had Eddie come clean at the beginning, he would’ve put an immediate stop to their conversations. He wasn’t really forbidden from speaking to the performers, but it wasn’t encouraged either. Also, Steve would have had no interest in talking to Eddie; he was the frontman of a metal band, and Steve almost exclusively listened to what was most popular at the moment. But that was before he had gotten to know Eddie, even if he hadn’t been truthful about who he was exactly.

As he was mulling those thoughts over, he realized that had Eddie cleared up the misunderstanding immediately, they wouldn’t have talked at all. Steve would never have known that Eddie even existed, really. It was a bit annoying to consider that Eddie had ultimately done the best thing by hiding behind a fake identity.

“I really like you Steve, and I really want to keep talking to you,” Eddie continued after a few moments of silence and Steve let a slow breath out through his nose.

“The only reason I was able to chat with you on company time was because I thought you were my client,” Steve said slowly as he picked up his pencil and jotted down Eddie’s number from the screen on his phone. “I can’t really justify talking to you that much now.”

“Then give me your number? Like your personal one and we’ll keep it off the clock,” Eddie said quickly, and Steve raised his eyebrow at that, even if his stomach fluttered at the request. Eddie seemed to realize what he did and quickly added, “please?”

“Hm,” Steve hummed thoughtfully, and he hoped it sounded as playful as he had intended it. “I’ll consider it. I have to go now.”

“Steve, I really am sorry,” Eddie said quickly, and Steve chuckled a bit.

“I know, and thanks. For apologizing, I mean,” Steve replied, and finally he was apparently able to drop the bitchy tone, as if the mean, hurt part of him was waiting for those two words to finally drop its guard. Eddie seemed to hear the change in his tone, sighing out a small laugh.

“I will apologize as much as you want,” Eddie breathed, and Steve chuckled.

“Goodbye, Eddie,” Steve said, his voice soft and quiet, and he hung the receiver up before Eddie could respond.

Steve smiled down at his phone as he typed out a quick text, but he didn’t send it immediately. It wasn’t entirely intentional, as he was called away from his desk because Tammy needed assistance with one of her clients up in the meeting rooms. When he finally had a chance to sit back down and unlock his phone, it was roughly an hour and a half later.

‘Hey it’s Steve,’ his text read, and Steve got back to his work. When his phone almost immediately vibrated, lighting up with the notification from Eddie, Steve’s stomach filled with butterflies.

His good mood was interrupted when his computer pinged, reminding him that he was at work. Putting away his phone, he saw an email in his inbox from the sales manager he hated. Steve didn’t want to open the email, not wanting to be misgendered for the first time in weeks, but the woman had marked the email as “urgent” so he couldn’t reasonably ignore it.

“What the fuck?!”

Steve jumped and looked over at Joyce’s office, eyes wide as she continued to rant with a truly creative use of expletives. It wasn’t uncommon for Joyce to cuss, far from it even, but she wasn’t known to go on a tirade for that long.

Suddenly, she appeared in the doorway of her office with her kindest smile on her face as she looked at Steve. “Steve, can I speak with you for a minute?” she asked, and dread settled in his gut.

‘Oh fuck, she knows about Eddie,’ he thought as he nodded and locked his computer.

When he sat down across from Joyce’s desk, she glanced at her monitor and made a disgusted sound before meeting his gaze. “Why is Carol calling you by that name, Steve?” she asked calmly, and Steve just blinked at her, his mouth dropping open.

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“The email she just sent, she referred to you as your birth name and then your real name in parentheses to the client. Do you know why she’s doing that?” Joyce asked again, and when he just blinked at her, still confused. “Did you look at the email, Steve? She copied me in it, so that’s why I saw it.”

Steve grimaced. “I was… stalling opening it. I was feeling good and didn’t want to be misgendered. I know it’s marked urgent, so I wasn’t going to ignore it forever, I promise, just—”

“Steve, honey, slow down! I’m not mad at you, you’re not in trouble, I promise! Are you telling me this has been going on for a while?” Joyce asked, horrified.

Steve shrugged and looked away, his face hot with embarrassment. “A couple months, I think? She didn’t always do that, so I dunno,” he said quietly, shrugging again.

“Why didn’t you say anything? No, don’t answer that, that was worded terribly. Let me start over,” Joyce said, waving him off when he tried to interrupt. Taking a deep breath, Joyce started again, “I want you to feel like you can come to me when you’re having problems, Steve, and this is a huge problem.”

Steve swallowed thickly, a bit emotional at how fired up Joyce was about this without him bringing it up to her first. Realizing she was waiting for some kind of response, Steve nodded quickly and looked at his knees.

“Carol’s behaviour must be addressed, Steve. If you don’t want to talk to me about this, I can absolutely bring HR in on this. Just let me know what would make you most comfortable moving forward,” Joyce said gently before she quietly added, “And I’m sorry, Steve, for anything I’ve done that made you feel like you had to deal with this on your own.”

“You didn’t do anything, Joyce,” Steve said quickly, looking up to meet her eyes. “I just—I don’t think I can really explain how it feels, but I just—standing up for myself about this is scary. It’s—yeah, so far I’ve had a ton of support, but that’s all been because it’s been easy. What Carol’s doing…”

Steve trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck to stop himself from shrugging again.

“Is there anyone on the team you worry about siding with her if this becomes a problem?” Joyce asked and Steve quickly shook his head.

“It’s not like I think anyone’s secretly hating my guts, just… in my experience, people show where they actually stand the second I get firm about my name and pronouns,” Steve said carefully, staring at the ceiling. “I’d rather deal with the dysphoria than find out who only respects me when I’m not making a fuss.”

Joyce let out a slow breath and when Steve looked at her she had tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this, and I’m even more sorry that you feel that way. Unfortunately, I still have to deal with this now that I know she’s doing this. It’s up to you how involved you are.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“You can either file a formal complaint against her with HR, or I can take it to HR and file the complaint myself as your manager,” Joyce said, holding her hands out on the desk between them. “I can make it about how I feel about my employee being discriminated against like this.”

Steve considered the options, and he was tempted to let Joyce file the complaint. At the same time, he knew Joyce had his back, even without him asking, and that alone felt like enough to deal with whatever fall-out came of this.

Shaking his head, Steve said, “I’ll file the complaint.”

Joyce tilted her head with a soft smile. “Only if you want to, Steve. I don’t expect you to, and this isn’t a test,” she insisted, and Steve laughed a bit at that.

“I know, Joyce. Just—I’ll file the complaint,” Steve replied. “How do we actually do this?”

“We’ll take this to HR, and they’ll help us with the next step. Since this is a sensitive subject regarding discrimination in the workplace, they will likely take over completely and work with Carol’s HR department to do an investigation,” Joyce answered, taking a deep breath. “Can you forward me every email you’ve received from her that you still have?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve agreed.

“And can you also forward me any emails you’ve sent to her with your signature attached?” Joyce asked, pulling up a blank email on her screen, starting the message to HR.

“Yep, absolutely,” Steve said, nodding quickly. At that, Joyce turned in her chair to face him fully.

“Steve, I really want you to know that I’m in your corner, no matter what. I will deal with anyone—and I mean anyone—who treats you poorly,” she said, her voice deathly serious before she turned back to the computer. Then her face scrunched up as she asked, “You know what’s stupid?”

“What?” Steve asked with a startled laugh.

“She has her goddamned pronouns in her signature, and she can’t get yours right?” Joyce said and Steve laughed.

“Right? I thought I was having a stroke when she first deadnamed me and I noticed those,” Steve joked, and Joyce made a disgusted sound.

“And right at the start of Pride Month, too? The CEO just sent out an email about inclusion, especially around trans rights, and she sends this?” Joyce ranted before shaking her head and then shaking out her hands. “Okay, I need to calm down before I send this email. You want a coffee, Steve? Let’s go grab a coffee.”

Just like that, Joyce was jumping up and grabbing her blazer and wallet. Steve barely had time to react before she gestured impatiently.

“C’mon, Steve, let’s go,” she insisted, and Steve jumped up with a laugh, following her out of the office.

❖

When Steve got home, he forced himself to get changed and make himself dinner before he picked up his phone and responded to literally any of the texts Eddie had sent. Yes, there had been multiple over the day, though Steve could tell from the previews he saw when he glanced at his phone that they were largely just stream-of-thought type messages. None of them were demanding his attention immediately.

It was cute, surprising even.

Finally, Steve settled on his bed and opened the texts from Eddie.

Munson [sent at 13:41]: hi❗❗❗ ur off at 5, right? 😁😁😁 Munson [sent at 14:01]: u have to see this ✨✨ugly✨✨ ass bug i just found❗❗❗ Munson [sent at 14:01]: wait r bug pics okay 😬 i'll wait til u tell me before i send it😋😋😋🐜🐜 Munson [sent at 15:46]: gonna be playing tonight 🎸🎸🕺🏻 but w timezones and shit we should still be at the hotel when u get home 😋 Munson [sent at 17:00]: lmk if i can call u 👉🏻👈🏻 txting is fine too tho❗❗❗ just like hearing u 😚

Steve grinned at the messages, especially the liberal usage of emojis. It was honestly adorable, especially imagining a man who looked like Eddie Munson punctuating every sentence with at least one emoji. The last message made his heart give a fluttery little squeeze, especially when he noticed it was sent around the time Steve was clocking out.

Steve [sent at 18:21]: hey, home now, u can call whenever. I’ll be up for a few more hours probably Steve [sent at 18:22]: bug pics are fine, btw

It took about five minutes for Steve’s phone to start vibrating with the incoming call.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, just to be met with raucous laughter and the wailing of his name from the other band members. There was even a voice that sounded suspiciously like Chrissy in the mix.

“You’re a bunch of embarrassing fucking animals!” Eddie was barking at them, and by the way their laughter got suddenly quieter with a click, Steve could guess they had been hanging out in one hotel room. “Sorry about that,” Eddie said into the phone, his voice quiet and nervous.

“It’s all good,” Steve said, blushing deeply at actually hearing that dumb bit live.

“They’re so dumb. I swear, the moment they start dating anyone outside the band I’m gonna be ruthless,” Eddie promised grumpily, but it was punctuated with a chuckle. “Anyway, how was work?”

Steve’s heart squeezed again, overwhelmed by the question in a way that was beyond stupid. It was small talk at best and taking it as what, domesticity? Just setting himself up for heartbreak later.

“Work was work. Getting into the summer here, so tours and entertainment groups are picking back up and it’s getting pretty busy,” Steve responded, shrugging a shoulder despite Eddie not being able to see him. Then he said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Eddie immediately replied, and Steve could hear the sound of a door shutting. Steve assumed that meant Eddie was now in his own hotel room.

“Why did you actually lie? Like, assuming I would stop talking to you aside like… why was it so important that I kept talking to you?” he asked, frowning a bit. “You didn’t really know me for the first few calls, so I just… don’t think it started with your feelings about me.”

Eddie let out a huff of laughter followed by a small oof as the phone was jostled a bit. “You’re so fuckin’ smart, Stevie, it’s scary sometimes,” Eddie muttered, and Steve blushed.

“Not a whole lot of people would agree with that,” Steve teased, and Eddie made a disgusted noise.

“Those people are just lying to themselves,” he said firmly before sighing. “I haven’t had like… a real conversation with someone in, like, forever. Since we started proper touring as openers and stuff. The only people I could talk to about things were the boys, Chrissy, and my uncle.”

Steve frowned at that but didn’t interrupt, even when Eddie paused for several seconds.

“When you called it was nice to not be Eddie Munson Of Corroded Coffin, and when I flirted with you, you—it was just nice. The way you reacted when I flirted,” Eddie said, his voice quiet. “It made me feel like I was a normal guy.”

“What—I don’t even remember how I reacted the first time,” Steve said, trying to recall that conversation two months ago.

“It wasn’t just the first time; it was every time. Like you would get shy and then give it back as good as you got, y’know? I’m used to flirting with people and them just…” Eddie trailed off, groaning. “I hate how this sounds out loud, but people normally just… throw themselves at me. Like, if I’m giving them attention, they need to get in my pants immediately, as if getting to know them at all is off the table. Like they think I won’t want to spend time with them if I actually knew them.”

“Sounds really lonely,” Steve confessed, his heart aching for Eddie and a new wave of guilt washed over Steve about the ‘groupie’ comment.

“I’ve got the boys and Chrissy, plus my uncle back home,” Eddie deflected, and Steve let him have that space.

“I’m sorry, too. For the groupie thing,” Steve said instead of pushing it, and Eddie laughed.

“Hey, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not. That was—I was hurt, and sometimes when I’m hurt I get mean,” Steve insisted firmly, talking over Eddie. “It’s something I’ve been working on, and you can’t let me get away with it, even if you think you deserved it, got it?”

There was a pause. “Got it, Stevie,” Eddie replied, laughing softly before he hummed. “I just want you to know I’m really happy you’re giving me a second chance.”

“Honestly, Eddie, I regretted telling you off pretty much immediately,” Steve admitted, chewing on his bottom lip.

“You still sounded pretty angry when you answered the phone earlier…” Eddie pointed out and Steve grimaced.

“Like I said, when I’m hurt I can be an asshole, and I was still a bit hurt because you did lie and it was kind of embarrassing as a professional fumbling like that in front of Chrissy,” Steve pointed out. “I’m lucky Chrissy isn’t super uptight, because that alone could’ve cost me my job, Eddie.”

“Yikes, sorry, again,” Eddie replied sheepishly. “What changed your mind?”

“I, uh, looked you up,” Steve admitted, and Eddie went very silent on the other line.

When Steve didn’t elaborate further, Eddie let out a strangled little, “Oh?”

“Yeah, kinda just figured out what band you’re in first and stuff, saw some of your promo stuff for your newest album, read an article about your disability,” Steve explained, clearing his throat nervously. “Then while I was reading another article, I clicked a link to your YouTube—”

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie groaned, his voice muffled as if he had buried his face into a pillow. Then, with his voice a bit clearer, he added, “Please tell me you haven’t watched the Tour Diaries, I’m begging you, Stevie, even if you have to lie.”

“I don’t like to lie, Eddie,” Steve said with a grin, blushing as he thought about videos again. “They were sweet—”

“It’s so embarrassing, and I swear I was only letting Gareth keep the stupid Steve Spotting segment in there because Steve is a super common name and you said you didn’t know or care about who we were, but I can absolutely get Gareth to remove the segments—” Eddie rambled, sounding a bit panicked.

“Eddie, the segment is fine! It’s great, I don’t—Gareth can keep the segment in the videos. It was that segment that got my bitchy head out of my ass,” Steve interrupted, and Eddie sputtered, and Steve liked to imagine that he was blushing.

“But… can you pretend to have a problem with it so the boys will leave me alone?” Eddie asked in a dramatically pouty voice.

“Absolutely not,” Steve replied with a grin.

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned before sighing, and letting the conversation lapse into silence that was not awkward or uncomfortable.

“Tell me something about yourself that you haven’t told me before,” Steve said quietly after a minute, smiling at Eddie’s soft hum.

“I can tell you about how I got burned,” Eddie replied and Steve frowned.

“You don’t have to. I know you don’t like answering questions about that—”

“I only dodge that question with strangers, especially strangers who are reporters. You, Stevie, are neither of those things,” Eddie said flippantly, taking a deep breath. “In twelfth grade I, uh, set myself on fire.”

“Oh shit,” Steve said, eyebrows shooting high on his forehead.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t just like… oops, dropped a lit match on myself. I had the bright idea to do the whole… flamethrower thing with a can of hairspray and a lighter,” Eddie continued and Steve grimaced. “Before you ask, there was next to zero thought process behind that decision, it was almost entirely impulse.”

“How’d you end up on fire though? I thought the hairspray flamethrower made the flames pretty directional,” Steve asked, though he was definitely not completely positive on that either.

“Yeah, well, the wind changed direction and suddenly my pants, my shirt, and my hair was on fire,” Eddie replied with a put-upon sigh and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “The worst part was the hair. Not only did that shit stink, but man, my hair was glorious.”

“I don’t know, your hair is pretty glorious now, too,” Steve said appreciatively, thinking back to the black and white photo and the way his long curls spread across the vanity and fell over his shoulders.

There was a slight pause before Eddie let out a soft, almost shy giggle. “Stevie, I don’t know how to handle compliments from you now that I know you’ve actually seen me,” he admitted and Steve grinned.

“Good to know,” Steve hummed cheekily, laughing when Eddie groaned a bit.

In the background at Eddie’s end, Steve could hear a knock and a muffled voice. “Yeah! Heard you loud and—shut the fuck up, we’re only talking!” Eddie yelled, before saying to Steve, “Duty calls, Stevie. Can I call you after the show?”

“If I’m still up,” Steve replied instantly, still grinning up at the ceiling of his room.

“Awesome, I’ll text you! Later, babe,” Eddie said in a rush and hung-up before Steve could properly respond.

Steve held the silent phone to his ear for a while, repeating the term of endearment in his head over and over again while blushing up at the ceiling. His phone vibrated and startled Steve out of his thoughts.

Looking at the screen, it was a picture from Eddie, and for a second Steve was excited about potentially receiving a selfie from the man. When he opened it, he was confused to be faced with an image of a truly hideous bug.

Munson [sent at 18:57]: look at this ✨✨ugly✨✨ ass mf❗❗❗❗❗ he's so ✨✨uuuuuuuglyyyyy✨✨  Munson [sent at 18:58]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Steve laughed, grinning at the image and the truly comical number of crying emojis that followed the message.

❖

Steve and Eddie spent the next couple of weeks talking daily. During his breaks at work, Steve would text Eddie, and when he would get home for the day, they would call each other. Most of their conversations were Eddie retelling a few stories about himself without the lens of Chris talking about the “frontman”. Even though Steve had heard the stories before, they were so much richer being retold in first person and had more details that Eddie had to previously omit.

They also made a few video calls, usually when production brought the boys to a local landmark to film them “seeing the sights” and Eddie wanted to show Steve something cool. Steve was pretty set on limiting how much time they spent on video calls, knowing it would just make him even more obsessed with Eddie.

Though, that ship had definitely already sailed, and Steve knew it deep in his heart. Even on days when he was too busy at work to spare a few moments to check his texts, he would look at his phone every time it vibrated and grinned when he saw Eddie’s name in his notifications.

When there was only two weeks before the band arrived, Steve went upstairs to meet with one of the front office supervisors, Will.

He was largely responsible for doing room assignments and communicating about groups to the rest of the team. Will was a great kid, super polite, charming, and great with guests to the point that literally every guest that dealt with him and left a review mentioned him by name. So many guests seemed to actually fall in love with the kid, and most of the time that seemed to go over the kid’s head.

Regardless, when Steve left the front desk to join events, he put Will’s name in to replace him.

“Hey Will, you got a minute?” Steve said as he poked his head around the corner to look in on Will’s workstation.

Will looked up at him with wide eyes before smiling and reaching over to his phone to pause his music. The song that had been playing was familiar to Steve, even if it was heavier than the music he typically listened to. After a moment, it clicked that he knew exactly what, or more whose song that was and grinned.

“Yeah, Steve, what’s up?” Will asked, turning to face Steve expectantly. He paused when he saw the gleeful expression on Steve’s face, raising an eyebrow.

Grabbing one of the other chairs in the back office, Steve sat down and handed Will the group summary for Eddie’s band. There was nothing identifying on the page, as it only contained the information that had been turned over to him and then elaborated on by Eddie and Chrissy over the past couple of months.

“We’ve got an entertainment group arriving in a couple weeks. I wanted to go over this with you personally, along with the riders,” Steve said as Will began reading the summary. “It’s a band and film crew. They arrive on the thirteenth, depart on the sixteenth. Their concert is on the Fri—”

“Who is it?” Will interrupted, a bit uncharacteristically, and Steve smirked just a bit when Will’s eyes shot up to meet his.

“They’re a metal band,” Steve responded airily, his smirk fighting to become a grin when Will seemed to vibrate for a second.

“Who is it, Steve?” he asked again, leaning forward.

“Corroded Coffin,” Steve finally said, grinning properly when Will actually stomped his feet excitedly. The kid tended to be pretty reserved, except when he was passionate about something like Dungeons & Dragons, or apparently metal bands.

“This is so cool. I love that band,” Will said, turning his music back on.

“You going to the concert?” Steve asked, and his smile fell a bit when Will frowned.

“The show sold out before I could afford a ticket. They went on sale right after rent and my student loans got pulled,” Will complained, shrugging slightly, but his expression was still excited. “This is so cool though. If I promise not to be weird about it, would it be possible to meet them?”

Steve laughed and nodded. “I think I could make that happen for you,” he said with a wink before standing up.

As Will exploded into a full rant about Corroded Coffin and their music, Steve took that moment to unlock his phone and read the steady flood of texts he had received from Eddie over the day.

Eddie [sent at 10:03]: holy shit i saw another ✨✨fucked up bug✨✨ wth 🤮 Eddie [sent at 11:17]: garebear thinks these candies taste good 🤮🤮🤮 pls tell me ur normal and agree theyre the nastiest shit on the planet 🤢🤢🤢🤢 Eddie [sent at 11:21]: ik ur busy but i'm taking ur silence as agreement and saying u agree w me to garebear 😤 Eddie [sent at 12:02]: wtf 😤 the pigs pulled us over for no gd reason❗❗❗ searched the whole gd bus and now we’re gonna be fuckn late for soundcheck❗❗❗ wtffffffffff 🤬 Eddie [sent at 12:37]: yo baby isnt it lunchtime there?????? u better be taking ur break soon❗❗❗ gotta eat food and stay big and 💪🏻strong💪🏻 and 🥵hot🥵❗❗❗ Eddie [sent at 13:07]:  srsly stevie u better be eating 😠 even if ur not texting me back❗❗❗ 😘

Steve smiled fondly, his heart squeezing at the concern about his eating habits while he was at work. Turning his attention back to Will, he decided to keep what he had with Eddie a bit of a secret as it wasn’t something he wanted getting into the gossip pool. Anyway, Will didn’t need to know that Steve had some extra privileges with the band, or at least the frontman.

❖

The bus was noisily driving down the highway as Eddie lay on his stomach, propped on his elbows in his bunk and talking quietly on the phone with Steve. The curtains of his bunk were drawn closed for as much privacy as he could manage, and he was using earbuds so that his hands were free to fidget with all of his pent-up energy.

They were only a few days away from arriving in Chicago and Eddie was practically vibrating out of his skin about it. Currently he was in the middle of picking his nail polish off, which was making an absolute mess of his bunk that he would be super annoyed about when he finally hung-up with Steve and went to bed, but whatever. 

Eddie would deal with that when he had to.

“Have you listened to any of our music, Stevie?” Eddie asked and he hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt asking. He’d been avoiding bringing up their music with Steve, worried that he wouldn’t like it at all.

“I’ve listened to a couple songs, yeah,” Steve responded with a chuckle.

Eddie waited a couple moments for Steve to say more on his own before asking, “What did you think?”

“I don’t really listen to metal, but your stuff is good,” Steve elaborated, and Eddie couldn’t help the way he wiggled happily at that. “There’s this kid at my work, at front desk, he loves your band. I told him about a week ago that you’re coming to the hotel, and he nearly vibrated through the floor.”

“Oh shit, that’s awesome,” Eddie said, his grin huge.

“He asked if he’d be able to meet you guys while you’re on-property,” Steve added, his voice full of mirth. “I said I would see what I could do.”

“Oh, Stevie, are you trying to exploit our little thing to get your coworker an exclusive meet and greet?” Eddie teased and Steve snorted.

“Nah, I was just gonna ask if it would be possible with your schedule. You can let me know when you do or whatever. No pressure,” Steve replied, and Eddie could tell he meant it.

“Well, he’s going to the show, right? I’ll see if I can upgrade his tickets,” Eddie said easily as he picked another chunk of nail polish off, but Steve sighed a bit sadly.

“Your show sold out before he could buy tickets,” he said at Eddie’s questioning hum, and Eddie frowned.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He’d have to talk to Chrissy about that.

Then Steve let out a little moan that Eddie knew was the noise reserved for stretching. He’d come to learn that Steve made a lot of little noises, when he stretched or was thinking particularly hard about something, or even the few times he fell asleep while they were on the phone. Each little noise was precious and drove Eddie insane with thoughts about the many other ways he could make Steve make such sweet little sounds.

So he cracked the same joke he did every time Steve stretched and moaned directly into his ear.

“Touching yourself over there, baby?” he asked, tone teasing and ready for Steve to scoff, tell him to keep it in his pants, and then go back to the conversation they were having before.

But Steve just hummed thoughtfully before asking, “And what if I was?”

Eddie’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as he tried to come up with a response to that. “What?” he asked stupidly, grimacing at himself.

Steve laughed. “What if I started touching myself?” he asked, his voice turning downright sultry.

“A-are you?” Eddie asked in a whisper. See, the rest of the boys could tolerate his late-night chats with Steve, but they wouldn’t for a second put up with Eddie saying filthy shit into the phone.

“Maybe… was considering it,” Steve replied, and Eddie could hear him shifting, maybe even undressing. That had Eddie’s attention and he shifted his hips as he felt his cock filling out against his bed. “Been thinking about our date a lot lately.”

“Steve, I can’t—I’m on the bus,” Eddie hissed into the phone and Steve made a small sound.

“Alright, I’ll hang up then—”

“No, please don’t hang up,” Eddie quickly interrupted, and if he wasn’t so hot and bothered already, he would’ve been embarrassed at just how desperate he sounded. “I just can’t, like, say anything right now.”

“Don’t have to,” Steve breathed down the line and Eddie shuddered. “Just have to listen, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, quiet and strangled. “Video call?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” Steve sighed, even if the thoughtful hum sounded interested. Eddie would file that away for later.

“Then tell me what you’re doing,” Eddie whispered, biting his bottom lip roughly as he reached down to reposition his cock between himself and the shitty mattress of his bunk.

On the other end of the line, Steve let out a sound that was breathy and sweet, and Eddie wanted to taste that sound so desperately.

“Just touching my dick, thinking about getting your mouth on it,” Steve moaned, letting another sound tumble out that was much deeper, more guttural, a sound that Eddie felt all the way to the tip of his own cock. “Bet you—oh, fuck, bet your pretty mouth was made for eating cunt.”

Eddie shivered, staring down at the mess of nail polish on the bed, eyes wide as he tried to understand what was happening. Obviously, he was listening to Steve jerk off, listening to him openly fantasize about him, but that didn’t make sense to Eddie. He wasn’t going to complain at all, except for the fact that he couldn’t actually respond. Eddie knew that if he tried, if he opened his mouth and tried to speak right then, he would just moan and alert the three assholes plus Chrissy to their activities.

“Jesus, Eds, I’m so fucking wet thinking about it,” Steve sighed, letting another deep sound of pleasure loose.

Eddie let out a strangled, breathy sound and rocked against the mattress, a furious blush overcoming his face, ears, and throat as he literally humped his bed like a fucking teenager.

“Shit, Eds, gonna—fuck, can’t concentrate anymore. Gonna get myself off, just listen,” Steve eventually said around a thick, desperate groan.

“Got it, Stevie,” Eddie managed to say, his tone shockingly even and quiet.

Then he was treated to the sounds of Steve getting himself off, the way he gasped and moaned, the guttural noises as the pleasure mounted and strangled whines as he seemed to back off a bit. Like he was edging himself, just a bit, dragging it out to torture Eddie.

And fuck, if Steve didn’t moan like a goddamn porn star, like he was being paid to sound so fucking hot. There was a delirious moment where Eddie thought about recording these sounds to sample in a song somehow while he grabbed his body pillow and shoved it between his legs for better friction. Grabbing another pillow, he bit it to better muffle his own noises as he got closer to his own release.

Eddie Munson was about to come in his own boxers while humping a pillow. The thought of it was so humiliating, it looped right back around to being the hottest fucking thing to ever happen to him.

“Shit, Eds, gonna come,” Steve whined, and Eddie shivered, imagining Steve arching in his bed, fingers working his dick and cunt furiously. Then Steve gasped, his voice wavering just before he shouted, “Fuck, Eddie!”

That was it for Eddie. Grinding his teeth around his mouthful of pillow, Eddie rocked his hips hard and fast, breathing heavily through his nose as the front of his boxers became sticky and warm against his skin. With gasping, panting breaths, Eddie quickly rolled onto his hip to avoid too much cum seeping through the layers and defiling his body pillow more than he already had.

“Holy fuck, that was way hotter than I expected,” Steve gasped through is own post-coital panting. “Fuck, Eds, you sounded so hot trying to be quiet.”

Eddie laughed breathlessly. “Wish I didn’t have to be, but hey, as long as it worked for you,” he teased, pushing his sweaty, curly hair up off his forehead.

“It definitely worked,” Steve confirmed with a tired hum, then he audibly yawned and sighed. “Okay, I’ve gotta get to bed, okay?”

“Same. I’ve gotta also change real quick,” Eddie replied in a whisper, grinning at the groan that got out of Steve.

“Shut up, you’re gonna get me going again,” Steve laughed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie agreed. “Night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds,” Steve yawned just before hanging up.

Before Eddie could even really think to move from his spot, the curtain of his bunk parted just enough for Gareth’s upside-down face to poke inside with an unimpressed glare.

“If you ever keep me up with freaky phone sex again, I’m putting Nair in your conditioner. Do not test me, Munson,” he bit out.

Eddie just narrowed his eyes. “You’re just jealous I’m getting freaky phone sex and you’re not,” he replied with a haughty sniff. He knew better than to call Gareth’s bluff.

“Of course, I fucking am,” Gareth snapped back before wrinkling his nose. “God, now the whole bus is gonna stink like jizz. Chrissy’s gonna strangle you and I’m gonna let her.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Garebear,” Eddie cooed as he began stripping out of his wet pajama pants and boxers, not even waiting for Gareth to look away. Honestly, it worked better to threaten his childhood best friend with his nudity to get him to look away faster.

“You’re fucking gross, man,” Gareth groused as he disappeared from view, and Eddie just grinned.

[ NEXT ]

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[nc-vb]

𝐎' 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

So... this is a culmination of that monster dream I had a few weeks back, and the weed-induced dream I had of Ayato a couple of nights ago, that no one asked for, nor was it even in my wips until two days ago... yeah. Uh, it didn't exactly go in the direction I was meaning to send it, but I think it's still good enough to post. Haha.

pairing -> body-snatched!kamisato ayato x afab!reader

warnings -> 18+ (minors & blank blogs dni), afab/fem-bodied reader + no pronouns used (unless i missed any, pls lmk); modern Genshin AU, major character "death" + mild description of a dead body; mild-yandereism + identity theft (is not a joke); noncon -> dubcon segue (agreement/contract involvement); mild smut (honestly like barely, ok), tentacles... not beta'ed.

notes -> "Ayato" is a body-snatching shapeshifter w/tentacles bc my dream told me so. -> it & he pronouns are used interchangeably-- "it" for the body-snatcher & "he" for "Ayato". -> italics are used for when it is specifically the "creature" speaking; normal text is for when the "creature" is using Ayato's voice.

word count -> 6.2k

No matter how stubborn you could be, the creature knew you would never be able to hold out against him indefinitely. Lately, you seemed intent on treating him no differently than a housefly, like some pest that needed to be swatted away— ignoring him when he hovers almost too closely behind you to watch you complete a task, ignoring him when he watches you bathe, when he watches you change clothes, just watching, it seems, all done to discomfort you, you’re sure, for to speak is to grant permission.

He knows you can see him, though. And the times he made it so you couldn’t see him were the times he enjoyed you most.

When you met his eye for the first time, it had been less than two weeks after the funeral service you’d attended. The sad, sorry part of your mind would tell you that you’d finally snapped; that the news and the loss and the forced acceptance of your fiancé’s death finally embraced the effects of the sheer insanity you’d been forced to engage in. An assassination? Despite the overwhelming proof, it’d been too much to try and accept so soon. By the time you bothered to, it arrived.

Maybe it was for the pure shock and awe of things, why it arrived carrying Ayato’s stiffened body in its numerous arms in the dead of night, like it only waited for you to turn the lights on in your formerly shared home so you could tie up the garbage bag and drag it to the curb— it waited for you, so you could see with your own two eyes as it absorbed the love of your life into the blackness of its own body. You’d only just begun to grieve. So why? Why… something so awful? So horrific? And why couldn’t it just finish the job?

Thinking back on the incident, you clearly lost your mind; not checking into a hospital’s psych ward for an obvious psychotic break was a mistake, wasn’t it? Maybe that had been the case before it proved itself to not be a hallucination from over-exhausting yourself. You’re stuck, now, latched onto by this being all because you acknowledged it once as your former lover— you’re stuck, and you know it. It knows this, too.

At half after five in the evening, you’d finally returned home from your place of work, the rush hour traffic at least a little forgiving on behalf of you and your sore feet. But rather than take an immediate break as you wish you could’ve, and as the creature expected and hoped that you would, you’d trudged into your room to change, only to stumble back to the kitchen to begin tackling last night’s dishes that needed soaking after you’d had the oven on too high, only reminded of them after catching a whiff of burnt food from your attempt at a veggie deep dish.

If it wasn’t such an awful smell, I’d have left it, you think, draining the overnight water into the “dirty” half of your dual sinks. But I can’t afford to be distracted.

You don’t even need to raise your head to know that the shadow looming over half of the kitchen belonged to the creature. You do your best not to react, not to look up at it and see just what kind of face it wears behind your back. Its own, or… Ayato’s.

“Perhaps I should have tossed the thing and done you a favour. Then you could put all of your focus into ignoring me the second you walked through that door rather than tending to such a tedious chore...”

Save for its eyes, the creature is mostly formless, able to twist and contort its obsidian-shaded body in all the ways the physics of reality should and do deem perverted. But those lilac eyes it wore, like a trophy of sorts, could not be touched, the “windows to the soul”. You’d wished this weren’t the case. You wish it would’ve “taken” his eyes, too. You wish that you wouldn’t have to see them again— not like this, anyway.

In forcing away a particularly stubborn piece of broccoli with your steel wool scrubby, your own eyes teary and burning, your elbow rams itself into the waist of the creature hard enough that you flinch; he, however, chuckles in faux discomfort.

“Ouch,” the creature says. “Though I can appreciate just how much energy you’re putting into cleaning this dish, you might end up injuring yourself, while you’re at it… Calm down, dear one.”

Don’t call me that, your thoughts hiss, and you only wish he’d been the type of creature who could read minds. Don’t call me that with his voice.

What on earth is with this strange concern of his— ah, its…? If anything, it’s only done you more harm than good— receiving such warm regards by something that shouldn’t exist by any means, using someone’s voice that should no longer have one, and yet it’s attached itself to your home like black mold— to you, like some true fungus. And somehow, it still allows you to leave it, believing in your return.

Is it because it absorbed Ayato? Whatever similarly human feelings it displayed for you must be because of this, must be because it has taken on his former memories and thoughts, his former feelings— at least, every science fiction movie you’d ever watched encourages this belief. So then, it must also mean that this is why you keep returning to your home, because despite such an impossible situation, this creature still has his body; it still defiled Ayato’s grave to retrieve it and claim it like a prize…

Really, what was stopping you from leaving and never coming back? No other person had been around that it could bother to threaten in order to keep you shackled to it— not that you received many guests ever, anyhow, but the mere mention of “plumbing issues” had been enough for your family and coworkers to steer clear of your home. It had never displayed any signs or actions of malice; it never made to harm you nor even the random strangers who would approach your home with their business agendas, and not even the sweet Shiba Inu pup you and Ayato purchased just months before his untimely passing.

What agenda did it have, itself, then?

“What a sour expression you’re making. Oh, if only I could read your mind, my love,” the creature laments. You rinse the scrubbed away food from within the dish before submerging it in the opposite, sud-filled sink— the current the movement creates beneath the foam has it slam into the sides.

You sure you’re not playing dumb? you think, embittered by the coincidence.

“Then I might know of the hate you covet behind those beautiful eyes of yours for me— the hate, and perhaps, the depravity.”

My ass. It takes every inch of willpower stored up within you during your time away not to slam the dish into the draining rack.

“Perhaps you think of me as often as I think of you while you’re away. I know I was never present when I was… well… you know.”

The creature shifts, carrying the wind with it when it leans further over the counter. You do your best not to move, other than in regards to your dishwashing, focusing whilst reciting an ad-libbed internal monologue on the history of glass-blowing— the molten glass, with a consistency of molasses, gathers at the end of a hollow pipe to be inflated to a bubble, where it is then formed by blowing, swinging, or rolling along a smooth marver — whatever you could remember from the old How it’s Made television show that would pop up on one of those free cable channels as a kid. It does little to distract you from the warmth now curled against your spine or the strangely comforting scent it suddenly begins exuding, such a familiarly sweet spiciness that has you breathing in just a little deeper—

You shake yourself out of your stupor, wincing. Thankfully, it isn’t full-bodied.

“Perhaps you think of me as deeply as I do of you… And isn’t it just so kind of me to allow you to leave this place and return, as if nothing? “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”— you humans and your silly little phrases. I quite like this one, though.”

There is another shift, one that moves into and past your peripheral vision in front of you— two black tendrils, dark as the charr you’d just discarded, dark as the rest of him, creep toward where your hands remained busied rubbing away bits of florets of broccoli from your colander beneath running cold water, and tear the dish away from you to rinse, himself.

“I do believe I’ve been quite patient for you,” he whispers from above you, voice still carrying into your ears from a distance. You watch the water from the tap roll over the tendrils as they twist beneath it, another desperate attempt to remain distracted. “I’ve kept my “hands to myself" and minded your privacy per our agreement…”

The tendril releases its grip on the colander, placing it loudly into the draining rack. You jump.

“But the longer you choose to ignore me, the more severe your circumstance at the end of our agreement will be.” You fear your lip will split with how hard you bite down on it is. “I now ask of you… to amend our agreement. To add another clause to it, even.”

It doesn’t continue speaking. It won’t be the first to do so now. Even the strange hum-like purr from deep within its chest cavity ceases. And you know why. This isn’t an offer. It’s an ultimatum. It’s the true meaning behind “fuck around and find out” to the nth degree. The longer you choose to ignore this creature, whatever secret plan it had in store for you would only be made worse by your stubbornness. You also know what it means for you if you do speak.

Your original agreement was simple: allow the creature to remain at your side, within the confines of your home; to share the same space you and Ayato once shared; converse and engage with it, and in return, it won’t harm you. But after spending the past few months forced into an exchange of dialogue that had you on the verge of tears whenever it spoke in Ayato’s voice, you could barely bring yourself to get a word out besides the odd, dry response to appease it, until radio silence.

The creature didn’t like this. Still, it never resorted to violent acts to frighten you. As if it drew inspiration from Ayato’s memories, it followed you through the halls and rooms of your home, keeping a conversation going one-sidedly, and studied your expressions and body language to its heart’s content. Whenever you expressed annoyance, anger, or petulance, this had been something Ayato did while alive, too, until you would cave in and discuss the problem.

It wants me to renege our contract? you bite back the scoff that tries bubbling out of your throat. What worse can it do than keeping me an emotional prisoner?

Because as much as you do wish you could flee, this creature still has Ayato’s body. Your Ayato. It has his voice, and his eyes. How can I possibly abandon him twice?! You find your brain is close to tearing from the weight of each choice hanging from either half— renege, or take whatever consequences might eventually come out of your refusal.

You grit your teeth and reach for the hand towel you’d tossed onto the clean part of your counter prior to starting, pat your sudsy hands dry, and turn on the spot. You don’t immediately look to the creature, your gaze focused on any other part of him— its narrow-but-still-large waist, its broad chest, the tendrils floating through the air from all part of its body, wiggling and writhing with such eagerness that makes you writhe uncomfortably in return.

Your esophagus burns, bile threatening to rise and spew out on an almost dramatic scale, when your eyes finally meet. They still belonged to the man you once loved, after all. To see them free-floating within the voidal mass has been… an incontrovertible pain to be felt.

Its eyes narrow down at you, too obviously pleased by your submission through its intense and perverse stare. You know it’s just thriving; simply by making itself tall enough to look down at you (by nearly four of your own heads) provided it with the control over you it so obviously desired. Despite the forms you’d seen it take, “human” was never one of them— until you submitted, you don’t think it would bother. Not until you submitted.

All of which, explains your confusion, as the creature before you starts to morph.

You’d never seen it happen first-hand; it had always been while you were away at work or to run errands (the only two tasks it permitted you to perform as it meant keeping you alive) or while you slept, both circumstances meant to provide shock and awe (questionable) to its target (read: victim). And yet, in all of its threatening forms, it never once harmed you. Too obviously so, it yearns for you, and it still does, hence its desire to have you change the agreement.

The first night it appeared, it made this known through its visceral ignorance of your personal space— standing before it now, closely enough that you could feel its warm breath bear down on your neck where it indulges in you — you, your own human warmth, your scent, the pulse hidden beneath your jawline — you’ve only allowed it to do so again.

“The amendment,” you say, your voice catching from its disuse. “What… what is it.”

The creature smiles at you, a barely noticeable split appearing where its mouth should be. Strangely, it’s one full of mirth, of relief that you’d consider its new proposition.

“First,” it says, that strange purring in its chest beginning once more. “Revoke our current agreement. One cannot be made as another exists.”

You refrain from sighing at it, and instead draw your arm up from where it’d been tucked between your bodies, recalling how the previous deal had gone down— an exchange of handshakes. “Fine. I… I revoke our current agreement.”

Your first mistake.

The creature chuckles almost excitedly, and it draws your gaze up from your own hand to look to him, eyes wide with expectant fright when its tendrils rise altogether. “Excellent.”

“W-Wh—”

There’s simply too many to count, too many to try and evade or fight off when they curl and unfurl toward your flailing limbs. You’d turned at the last possible second in an attempt to break past the barricade it’d managed to create with its body, even bothering to half-climb the counter for a height advantage against it. The tendrils free-floating near its head reach out for your waist, wrap around it and tug, dragging your one leg bent along the counter’s surface away and along with the rest of your air-suspended body.

“S-Stop!” you shriek, your panic clear and evident in your expression and tone, in the way your arms flail around to squeeze at the closest tendril, in the way your nails dig as deeply as your flesh would allow to no obvious effect. “Let go of me—”

“______, I thought you loved me,” the creature nearly trills; you’d caught the way Ayato’s voice warbled out of pitch with what you could recall the creature’s original voice to sound like. “We’re getting married next month, aren’t we?”

You tremble in its grasp, your eyes quickly filling with tears of frustration. Its hold on you is unrelenting, but not painful— it only restricts your movements and prevents any semblance of freedom as the rest of the tendrils join in, wrapping around your middle and pulling you into it— i-into, into h-him?

“______, dearest.” Ayato calls out to you, his kind lilac eyes shadowed by his pale blue bangs— not only would the creature intend on violating your — broken — agreement, but it would defile Ayato’s memory, your last memory of him. Hands still freed, you brace yourself against the creature’s body and meet his stare, and the tears accumulated on your waterline finally fall. “Why do you cry?”

You sniff loudly; Ayato reaches over your lap to grab the small package of tissues tucked into your nightstand’s drawer and hands you one. “Weren’t you watching the same movie as me?!” you weep, your hands rising to press into your eyes.

“Of course, I was, dearest,” he answers. “I chose it, after all.”

“You could have warned me it was going to be sad!”

“I-In hindsight, I suppose it would have been smart of me to warn you, but I just didn’t wish to spoil it for you…”

“I’m not mad or anything; gosh, I just—” your eyes drift down to the end of your bed where Taroumaru watches the two of you, only whimpering when you meet his eyes, and your eyes begin to water again. “I could’ve used a warning…”

Ayato pats his lap once, and ever faithful, Taroumaru rises to lay across yours— Ayato knows that when your cries grow a little louder, it’s out of relief for their tag-teamed comfort, and you squirrel a little deeper into his chest.

“Hm… Wasn’t that one line nice?” Ayato hums, only to rest his cheek atop your head. “You should never forget anyone you have loved”… If Hachi wasn’t the embodiment of loyalty, I couldn’t say what else is.”

“… h-he really was so loyal,” you say, voice muffled by his sweater.

“Then why do you cry, dearest?” Ayato thumbs away the freshly fallen tears. “What can I do?”

“... you can let go of me.”

You’d stilled, hands still resting upon its voidal form— once more, you avoid its eyes, Ayato’s eyes, because beyond it is the pale flesh of Ayato’s face; seeing it and knowing what truth exists for it is too much to bear.

They creep up carefully, these smaller tendrils that have deviated from the one curled around you, slithering across your cold, trembling skin with an unfortunate vigor until they reach your neck, your chin, your lips— you shudder, eyes squeezed shut when your head is tilted up and forward.

“Do you no longer value my loyalty?” it inquires in Ayato’s voice. You leap in its grasp when what feels like a thumb swipes across your lower lip before it rubs away a fallen tear. “It’s all I’ve wanted since my death… to return to you… to prove my loyalty… to show you I haven’t abandoned you.”

“You’re not him. You’re not Ayato. Y-You’re not… what I want, I-I don’t want your loyalty!”

“Isn’t this enough?” Two “hands” take hold of either side of your face and force you to face him. “Isn’t it enough to see his face and hear his voice?”

“They should still be buried six feet beneath the cold earth!” you shout at it. “What you’ve done to his body…! There’s nothing loyal about it! What the hell are you that you can’t comprehend this?!”

“I… I am… Kamisato Ayato.”

Is it… confusion? Is it instinct? It never explained why and how it chose your fiancé out of every other corpse that lies in that graveyard. Had it been because he was the newest to be lain there? More nefariously, did it see you and stake a claim on you?

“You… are not him,” you spit. “You stole him. Get…” You raise an arm, the only free one, to try and rake at the creature’s face. Instead, it grabs your wrist and forces your palm flat against its cheek. “… get… off… s-stop—”

“I have Kamisato Ayato’s mind,” the creature says. “I have his voice. I have his face— his whole body. Now, I have the human he loved. How… am I not Kamisato Ayato?”

A sob trapped in your throat escapes you, fuelled by the creature’s sudden decision to begin morphing again. It shrinks, though not by much, and the pale flesh of Ayato’s skin spreads lower, down its neck, into its broad chest, into its arms and torso, lower and lower and lower— your trailing eyes snap upward and away as it manifests all of Ayato’s former self. He is naked, unlike the way you saw him that night it appeared to you by the curb, cradling your dead lover in its arms.

“Do you not miss him?” the creature asks. “His voice? His face? Are you not… loyal?”

“S-Stop.”

“Do you not miss his touch?” Ayato’s hand squeezes yours. “You loved these hands… and he… thought about it so often…”

“S… stay out of his memories—”

“— thought about you so often—”

“— get out—”

“He loves you dearly. When I claimed his body… and assimilated with him… it was his last thought before his death.”

“— no… I—”

“He could not tell you then, and so I…” The creature’s hold on you slackens, allowing you to rest on your bare feet again, but despite your adrenaline, your knees buckle— instead, the creature raises two thicker tentacles to hold you up beneath your arms, Ayato’s hands still cupping your face.

Don’t say it, your thoughts plead.

“I love you.” Lilac eyes flicker between your teary ones and your trembling lips. “He… I… I love you…”

Ayato dips his head low to capture your lips, this time, and easily spreads yours apart to slot his own between them. You grab for him, fingers squeezing along the length of his forearms from his wrists, traveling quickly up the naked expanse of his chest and up to his face where your fingers curl beneath his jaw to hold him closer.

Oh, god… what am I doing?

“You—” your mumbling against its lips is nothing more than a nuisance to it; this, you know, by its insistent attempt to shove its long tongue into your mouth to silence you “— are not my Ayato…” Gently but firmly, you shove him away with a sharp exhale. Ayato licks his lips. “… but you have him, and that has to be enough for me… or I’ll lose my mind. You aren’t going to let me go, I… I know this! And so I… I have to accept this… but…!”

The creature draws back, its eyes so focused and trained on you that it becomes less unsettling, and more so embarrassing after you’d allowed it to kiss you.

“Don’t think of this like that,” it says, once more reverting to using Ayato’s voice rather than its own pattern of trilling and warbling. “This is a second chance with your beloved Ayato. Is this not what you’ve dreamt of?”

Another tentacle emerges, wriggling around from behind Ayato’s back to press against your abdomen. Through your teeth, you seethe.

“S-Seeing his face and body being used by some… tentacle m-monster—” you inhale sharply, the tendril’s reach extending into the pant leg of your shorts; it squirms itself past the hemline of your panties with clear intent, and curls in time to dip into you. “W-Why…!?”

Ayato hums disapprovingly as it twists in your entrance.

“You’re too dry down there, dear,” he notes, his own human-like hands falling to hold your hips, thumbs rubbing the line of your waist with anticipatory fervour.

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you demand through your teeth, and when the tendrils push just a little further, your eyes slam shut— you fear not even your glass-blowing knowledge will distract you. “Do you think any of this i-is… a turn on?”

“… I do suppose you have a point.” The tendril retracts completely from you, disappearing behind Ayato’s back; you’d winced. “If I want your understanding, your… affection… I don’t think we’ll be able to proceed with anything but him present. So, I will wait my turn.”

Somehow, the creature manages to shrink down to a more human form, this time, the same height of Ayato’s own body. Your fears shift priorities. The eyes that once contained so much adoration for you that now held inhuman perversion; the flesh that would warm your own so easily, now cooled and pale, not even bordering life and death when his body already met and crossed its threshold; the hands that once cradled you so delicately, so intently— you fear the truth in the creature’s words: With Ayato present, you know it will get what it wants.

“Why,” you start, hands shakily rising to try to push his thin wrists away when his hands slide down your thighs, dragging your shorts and undergarments down with you. While alive, Ayato had been averagely strong, yet you were still able to put up a fight in times where it mattered— too much teasing, too many tickles. This strange, gentle strength the creature displays while in his form doesn’t even allow you to budge a finger of his— “why me? W-Why Ayato? I-I don’t—” and as a result, your clothes are dropped to your ankles.

“Going after this man was not so specific, you must understand,” Ayato says, his fingers skirting across your abdomen, your body twitching at each touch. “My kind simply are attracted to the warmest body.”

“A-Ayato was dead,” you try to reason awhile pinning your shirt at your side— his eyes flit up to yours, lidded in a silent warning. Hands off. You lose your hold, lips spreading thin as they instead reach to hold the counter behind you almost bruisingly tight. “… he was dead… h-he was cold—”

“I did not mean him. Choosing which body to inhabit comes down to how soon after it dies— how much time has passed since they took their last breath. Crossing paths over his ceremonial burial had been a coincidence; it could have been any other body newly buried in that cemetery.”

Frustrated, flustered, and confused, the creature deigns to continue its explanation.

“You deceased humans are either burned or buried, and when you are buried, your organs are preserved during the embalming process. It is sometimes difficult to find humans so recently intact; many times, the organs are missing from their bodies for donation to other humans. When we inhabit their cold bodies, they never feel the same warmth they would while alive— their hearts do not beat, so their blood does not circulate, nor is there any blood to circulate. But they can sense another’s warmth. A lover’s warmth.

“At the time, I still hadn’t fully been able to understand humans and their need for a true connection. My kind doesn’t normally ask politely. But you were there that day— his lover. Your tears, your cries, your warmth, is the reason he was chosen. I desired your warmth. Your love. Your tears. I wanted to sense them for myself.”

“… and you thought using his body for your desire was the best way?” In steeling yourself, you cast a look at the creature, at Ayato, and this time, you don’t bother to attempt to keep the tears at bay.

You really messed up. You knew this earlier, but now... the realization of it just senses like having a sledgehammer connect with the back of your skull, like experiencing severe whiplash or like having been stuck upside down on the loop-de-loop of a rollercoaster— all uncomfortably painful things you pray you never have to experience firsthand. You’ve seen enough painful things play out in the movies and television shows you’ve watched, and so you’ve been fine with playing it safe in recent years— you’ve tempted your god with your arrival far too many times as a teenager and, for the most part, you’d have learned your lesson since.

Almost as if by means of a hallucination, you can just see Them standing in wait for you, at the end of your failed pursuit of euthymia. Breaking your agreement to “coexist” was a catastrophic mistake. Because now, coming to terms and accepting your fate is what your definition of euthymia has turned into. Coexisting is… likely no longer a viable option. It has become almost wholly one-sided, to be caught in a net made of tentacles. To embrace it all as you’d tried to moments before is to turn your back on whatever god you can bring yourself to believe in, to turn your back on your weak idea of overcoming your grief and moving on.

“It is like I already said,” the creature murmurs, much closer to your ear than you cared for, “my kind doesn’t normally ask politely.”

It just doesn’t seem possible anymore.

You feel them before you see them— the tentacles. They extend toward your limbs with a will, curling around each limbs tight enough to elicit a gasp past trembling lips— “Ayato” leans forward into you, forcing your lips apart with an abnormally wet tongue, an abnormally long tongue, that has you wondering if it’s the saliva or its length that chokes you as they both slide down your throat. You squirm in his multi-appended grip, body fruitlessly thrashing against his unmoving form; you can’t even draw your head back with the cool grip he has on either side of your head.

Your gag is loud, messy, and it makes the creature shudder, Ayato’s eyes rolling back slightly when its tongue travels just a little deeper down the back of your throat, swirling and curling along, tasting; testing. Your chest lurches forward, unable to ignore the awful gagging and tickling the creature had been intent to end your life with any longer, and with a sharp gasp, he’d finally retracted it. Your heart seems to race at the same speed your rapid breaths take, and you can’t seem to will it to grow calm again, not when it begins to matter most.

There’s no longer a barrier of clothing barring him from you, your blouse and brassiere lifted away during the brief respite the creature gave you to breathe, tongue extracted quickly and with an all-too unsettling, devil may care expression to match.

It’s unfair, you think, shutting your eyes once more so you don’t have to see it approach you with its tongue again. This is so unfair.

This time, he is gentle, not so intent on stealing your submission and instead curious on how best to earn it— it’s already learned the trick of getting you to respond, the trick being using your former lover’s image to stoke your flames, using his memories to recall what he’d last done for you while in the throes. Strangely, it feels shame for doing so— the last time you’d spent tangled together had been the morning of the incident. Human emotions are… complicated. But it is not without the understanding of loss.

His hand rises to rest along your sternum, a delicate gesture that sends a different kind of tingling down your spine. Your eyes snap open to find Ayato’s staring back at you, and your skin grows hot under his lilac gaze; surprisingly, when you pull away, he allows you to.

“W-Why are you looking at me… like that?” you demand, panting heavily. “S… stop looking at me like that…”

“He loved to look at you,” the creature answers. You swallow harshly. “Out of everything he had and everything he owned, you were his most prized possession. Ah, he also knows you don’t like that word.”

“That’s oddly hypocritical of you to bother saying.”

“… perhaps. But he thought you to be most beautiful. Hm, yes…” The creature’s eyes lower for a moment as if in thought. “Yes; most beautiful.”

Once more do you flush with heat. How cruel.

Still under its hold, the creature feels you go slack rather suddenly— Ayato raises a brow in confusion. Are you planning to give in again? This time, honourably? A part of it wishes you won’t. Not for the sake of winning the fight, but to have won you over. To have earned your loving gaze the way the real Ayato did; to have earned your warmth. It’s aware it may be deluding itself into ever receiving such a gift.

“… all of this has been for your own benefit… with zero consideration of me, the source of that warmth you so desire…” The palm resting at your collarbone travels past it, sliding up the curve of your neck until it reaches behind your head, his fingers running along your scalp as if to soothe. You bite back the whimper that tries to claw its way out of your throat, the anticipation of the creature’s next move almost too much to bear waiting for, and instead of drawing away, you force yourself to lean into his palm.

Ayato’s eyes widen— the creature is sure that if the man before you had any blood still pulsing through his body, he would be flushed pink.

You hate that the feeling of being held this way doesn’t make you angry— the acid in your stomach doesn’t bubble, doesn’t rise up into your throat and burn along the way. And you know why.

What desperation existed after you’d heard the news to find him the day of his attack, to be with him, to help and promise him that he’d be alright, to tell him that “it’s not as bad as it seems” and hold his cheeks with your hand— the guilt of being at his side would eat at you, even up until this moment.

By some sick twist of fate, Kamisato Ayato stood before you once more, offering the forgiveness you would beg any god to receive from him. This creature is not a manifestation of the heavens— this, you also know. Guilty of the crime of body snatching to its apogee but untouchable by humanity’s laws, you were stuck with him. You, the only person made privy to its secret. No longer would you be able to look his sole living kin in the eyes and share your feelings of grief without thinking of the monstrous betrayal of trust you’d just committed by not telling her of such a truth, but Ayaka would never be able to accept such horrendous news. You, alone, are the lucky one, now saddled with the grandest of burdens to bear.

Your mental state already carved as a rickety slope, what is one more notch to its road?

“Have it, then. My warmth.” The creature’s surprise by your words is made obvious by the flickering in his visage; for a moment, the skin of his face goes pitch black, a nod to its natural voidal form, only Ayato’s eyes remaining and seemingly hovering in the center of it. “Our new agreement… whether you’re willing to be capable of it or not… No harm is to come to me nor anyone around me. You can’t leave this apartment, not until I c-can… figure something out. You can’t be seen; Ayato was too well-known.”

“I understand,” the creature says, nodding, and its visage slowly gradients itself back into Ayato’s palette. Bound by the parameters surrounding the creation of your contract with one another, the creature’s tentacles are forced to retract— you ignore the subconscious curiosity that questioned his intent, his next moves, and instead force yourself into collection — while his arms remain on either side of you, pressed into the counter. “But… your exchange… you said I have zero consideration for you. I don’t wish for that to be truth. What… can I offer?”

“Time,” you immediately answer. “Your patience. My pain is overwhelming and you have done nothing but… sow its seeds and encourage the speed of its growth! And don’t manhandle me! That’s the whole reason that first agreement was made. D-Don’t… You can’t do scary things like that anymore, okay?”

“I—” the creature huffs in response, casting Ayato’s gaze down at the floor between you almost… petulantly? He was just chastised, and probably for the first time. “I will refrain.”

You exhale, yourself, adrenaline still coursing through your veins like fire in its attempt to keep you on high alert. It truly took making a deal with the devil to keep it at bay; at least now, you know your general safety is secured.

If I truly have no choice… if this creature were to simply follow me for the rest of my life… at the very least, I’ll live that life on my own terms.

“G-Good,” you nod, turning slowly on the spot to face the small pile of cookware remaining,. “Then… let me finish these dishes… They smell.”

You nearly shrivel up when in the corner of your eye, you see his elbows bending, and soon, you feel its cool breath on the back of your neck before its icy lips land at its curve.

“… that’s not quite the smell I was hoping we’d prioritize, dearest,” Ayato murmurs into it. Another smaller breath escapes you.

How cruel, indeed.

@c-a-v-a-l-r-y @leis-stuff @auraee @rvisn @plinkuro @vcvoxu @minty-vxnilla @ChaoticHearts-19 @stygianoir @imeanwatever @n-akaharachuuya @katelynwithpaint @sadflightlessbirds @sunnyf4lls @mydickisbigger @endlessmari @chocogi @hunterluv @kwelibeeery @okadahimeko @junephantom21 @kom4ya @barbatosfavouritenun @amilium @whorerificstuff @swivy123 @kwelibeeery @keelszet @aikxo @aliensatemymemories @jooniebearsworld @aydene

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[imashoe69420]

Hey! Can I request a rise!Donnie or rise!Raph x fem!reader with a reader who is usually very loud and optimistic but has gotten depressed recently due to a boarder-line traumatizing ex attempting to make contact with them at their workplace?

Omg so specific lol and scary

I will try my best! :)

====================

All In Your Head

Rise!Donnie X Fem!Reader

Prompt: Your ex shows up to your job, putting you on edge for the rest of the night.

Pronouns: Feminine (she/her)

Relationship: Dating (not official)

Timeline: Post!Movie

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of mental illness

===================================

You were never good at dating. In fact, you only had one boyfriend in your life, and that only lasted for a few months. But, god, was it one of the worst experiences of your life.

During your time together, your ex-partner was a complete control freak. They never put a hand on you, but the mental manipulation and serial cheating they put you through almost pushed you to the edge.

Often, they made you feel crazy like you couldn’t trust your own self. Your ex had no ability to take responsibility for their actions, so everything was your fault. Obviously you hid their keys when they were in a rush. You obviously wanted to break up when you were hanging out with your friends; you were excluding them.

They would constantly have you thinking you’re the worst girlfriend ever as if you did all those things your ex accused you of.

Eventually, they confessed to you that they were no longer in love with you. They had found someone else and wanted to be with them, not you.

The breakup caused you to slip into a month long depression. You didn’t go out with your friends anymore. You didn’t talk to your parents or siblings. All you did was lie in your bed watching overrated TLC shows.

Gradually, you became your normal boisterous self. Your worried loved ones finally felt some relief as you started hanging out with them regularly, talking, laughing, and extroverted as usual.

You’d also met someone else. Donnie.

Unlike your ex, Donnie cared about you. He always wanted you to be safe, especially since him and his brothers had several enemies and you weren’t equipped to fight any of them off. Sure he could come off as a bit aloof, but you knew he never had the intention to hurt your feelings. He just had trouble understanding certain emotions.

That was better than anything your ex put you through.

•••

You tap away at your phone, texting Donnie that you’d be at your apartment soon. Your boss had basically forced you to take the night shift at the dumpling restaurant even though you had school in the morning. Whatever. Fuck it. You’re graduating soon anyways.

The scientist soon FaceTimed you, which he often did and demanded for you to stay on it until you locked the doors.

“You’re lucky my manager doesn’t care if we’re on our phones or not.” You giggled as soon as Donnie’s face popped up on the screen.

The purple clad turtle shrugged lazily, leaning back in the rolling chair he was sat in. “They’ll have to deal with it either way. Making sure you get home safe is a priority for me.”

Your heart nearly leaped out of your throat when he’d said that so nonchalantly. “Aw, my knight in shining armor.”

“Hardly.” Donnie spoke firmly with a deadpan expression. “I like to think of myself as the literary Bad Boy archetype: a social outcast going against the grain in the name of science.”

With a shrug, you placed the phone on the counter, propping the device up on your bag. “Eh, I’d say you’re more of The Outlaw.”

His drawn-on eyebrows furrowed. “You think I’m ‘potentially criminal’?”

“You remember talking to me about that weird crystal you stole from Draxum?” You smirked at him as you picked the phone back up and ambled over to the front doors to lock them.

Donnie hummed to himself before raising an eyebrow. “Touché.”

After locking the doors, you turned around to gather your belongings. You angle the phone up, facing you at eye level.

“Okay, I’m almost done. Just gotta…” your words trail off as Donnie had leaned closer towards the screen, a concerned yet curious expression adorning his features. “What…?”

“Who’s that behind you? At the door.”

A cold sweat soon overtook your body. Donnie would never mess around with you like that.

Instead of turning around, you gazed at your reflection in the phone. What you saw made you drop the device and press your hands against your lips.

It was your ex.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), what happened? (Y/N)!” Donnie’s voice was laced with worry.

Without replying to him, you scooped your phone off the floor and ran into the back where your manager, Collin, was counting drawer.

When he saw you shivering with your back pressed against the door, he instantly stood up. “(Y/N), what happened? Are you all right?”

“I-I—” you stuttered heavily. “Someone’s… someone’s at the door…”

Collin cocked an eyebrow as he gently pushed you aside and opened the door. He’s silent for a few seconds before shutting the door, shrugging while doing so. “I don’t see anybody. Do you want me to walk you home anyways?”

You immediately nodded, grabbing your stuff as you waited for Collin to finish counting drawer.

• • •

At your apartment, you remain on FaceTime with Donnie. He had been interrogating you for like fifteen minutes: “who was that?”, “why did Collin have to walk you back?”, “Was it a supervillain?”. On and on.

“Donnie, please just relax.” Your voice shook slightly. “It wasn’t anybody you know.”

Right after that statement, there’s a loud pounding at your bedroom window. You dart your eyes over to it, but your fears are instantly nullified.

You sighed deeply as you slid the glass open to allowed the purple clad turtle to enter your room. “God, you scared the shit outta me.”

He shut the window behind him before surveying your empty Red Bull can littered room, the fixing his gaze onto you. “What did you mean by ‘it’s not anybody I know’?”

You felt your stomach drop as he reminded you of work’s events. “Donnie, I duwanna talk about it right now. Just know that that person is awful.”

The turtle’s eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t normally talk like this. If anything, you would say some sort of quip or reference to American Literature. Something his younger twin would say. But now you just seemed shaky and afraid of something he didn’t understand. And that bothered him. But nonetheless, he didn’t like seeing you upset.

Donnie exhaled. “Okay, fine.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence—both you and Donnie tapping away on your phones—for several minutes before you made a proposition.

“Can you… do you think you could maybe… stay over?” I’d been a few months since he stayed over the whole night. Often, the scientist would say that he had projects to work on or a mission to go on or something like that.

He shrugged lazily with a slight smile on his face. “I suppose so if that’ll make you feel better.”

Your sigh of relief causes Donnie to question your behavior. “It’s just… you usually have something to do instead.”

The purple clad turtle hummed to himself. “Well, I can tell you’re afraid of that person at your job, and now you’re afraid to be by yourself. And I think you’re a little more important to me than a project that isn’t even half way off the ground.”

You weren’t sure if Donnie fully understood how much that meant to you: to put off a project just because your ex decided to show up to your job out of nowhere and fuck up your entire night. All you knew is that he was definitely 10x better than your ex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: this fanfic is kinda bad but I’ve been sick for like 3 days so that’s why I haven’t been posting 😭 but I’ll try my best to get all the requests out.

[writerownstory]

I’m bad with titles and just wanted to post this finally! Happy Juke Jeudi! 🥳

I really had this just sitting in my Notes app 🤧 There was more to it, but if I kept going I don’t think I’d ever finish…

part two to this.

~

It starts with secret meetings in the castle gardens after dark, with Rose keeping Ray busy while Julie slips out for an “evening walk” on her own as long as she stays within the palace’s boundaries. 

Then it’s meetings in town where Julie dresses like the next plain-clothed young woman with a red baseball cap and dark sunglasses obscuring her features as Luke whisks her into the little coffee shop that he works at with Reggie who also keeps an eye out for the royal security or anyone who might get Julie in trouble.

It can only happen while Rose runs her daily errands and the guards are occupied. Ray thinks Julie is with her mother, and neither Molina woman lets him know any different. Rose knows Luke will keep Julie safe and she trusts Julie not to do anything that would put herself in harm’s way.

And it’s perfect until it’s not. 

Julie and Rose are out one night to attend a music charity gala—naturally they both are excited to go and Luke gets a selfie of the two of them from Julie just before they head out. It’s the last time he talks to her for the night, until he’s awoken out of his sleep by his phone buzzing incessantly. 

The stormy weather made for a turbulent trip and there is a terrible car accident from which the queen doesn’t survive. The Molina family, along with most of the country but specifically the capital city, is absolutely devastated. Queen Rose brought so much life and love into the lives of everyone around her. She ruled the Costa de Estrella with a firm yet caring hand, and her absence is felt throughout the country. 

Julie takes it the worst, walking away from the crash with only a few scratches and a broken wrist, but her heart is shattered into a billion painful pieces. She disappears from the public eye, and though Luke had every intention of coming to see her, he hasn’t been able to sneak inside the palace since it happened. 

Her physical injuries heal with time, but Julie has felt like she’s been underwater ever since that night. Most nights she calls Luke because she can’t sleep, and she falls asleep listening to him talk or sing or play guitar, even though they both wish they could be together. Her father and Parliament are strangely understanding, allowing her time off her usual duties to grieve. 

Until a month later, and the Council has already planned a ball for her to host–her father’s idea–as part of her search for a suitable partner. Julie is immediately against the idea and when she confronts Ray, they have their worst argument yet and she hasn’t spoken to him since. 

Julie hasn’t spoken much to anyone besides Carlos and Luke if the few texts they manage to exchange count. (Ever since they announced the ball, the Council has been keeping Julie extra busy with preparations so she hasn’t had much of a chance to breathe, much less check her phone.) 

The night of the ball, the door to her bedroom slams open, startling her in her seat in front of her vanity. “Geeze, Flynn!” 

Oh, and she talks to Flynn. But Flynn won’t hear of anything differently. 

Flynn Taylor is one of Julie’s ladies in waiting but they both have always made faces at that title because Flynn has always been much more than that to Julie. Though Flynn works as her assistant, Julie knows that Flynn has her back more than anyone. 

“Sorry, you know I’ve got to make a grand entrance,” Flynn apologized as she rushes over to where Julie is sitting. “But I’ve got very important updates.” She brings her arm out from around her back, placing an elegant white lace mask over Julie’s eyes. 

“A mask?” 

“Yes, my dear princess Julienna, because I have convinced Victoria to make tonight’s ball a masquerade.” Flynn’s smile as she meets Julie’s gaze in the mirror tells her Flynn is not only excited but also incredibly pleased with herself, but Julie is still confused. 

“But… why?” Julie removes the mask from her face to turn and look at her best friend. 

“Just trust me on this one, J. I promise it’s worth it. And it matches your absolutely stunning gown.” 

“Except I don’t want to look stunning,” Julie says, turning away from the mirror to face her friend. “This whole ball is to look for a partner, Flynn. But I have Luke.” She knows she sounds whiny and maybe ungrateful, but the idea of looking for a partner that her father and the Council deems suitable feels ridiculous, not to mention wrong. There’s no reason to look for someone else when her heart already belongs to Luke who would do just about anything to protect it and her.

Flynn’s smile turns into a sympathetic look before she gives her a small grin. “I promise, it’s all going to work out.” She squeezes her shoulders before offering to help Julie finish getting ready. 

By the time Flynn leads her to the ballroom doors to make her grand entrance, anger and sadness are warring within Julie, making her incredibly grumpy and on edge.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Her mother should be here and this shouldn’t be happening. Though if Rose was still here, this would’ve never made it past a mere mention among the Council.

And the thought makes her stomach drop just as the doors open. 

Julie plasters on a fake smile as she makes her way over to where her father and Carlos are waiting. Her father says a few words, thanking everyone for coming  and plenty of other things Julie doesn’t really hear. She accepts dances from a few different men, and it isn’t so bad, but all she can think about is how she’d rather be dancing with Luke. 

She has to hand it to Flynn though, the masks do add an air of mystery and elegance to the night, though she’s not entirely sure how she’s supposed to tell who exactly she dances with. 

Julie finally catches a break between dances when a man walks up to her in a deep, navy blue suit and a matching black mask. 

He bows, as is customary when someone below nobility approaches Julie. When he straightens up he takes her hand and brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

Her immediate response is to give this man a piece of her mind, until he leans toward her, his whisper clear as day over the noise of the rest of the party, “May I have this dance, Princess?” 

Julie’s eyes widen as she meets the eyes of the masked stranger in front of her. “Luke?”

Despite the mask covering the top half of his face, Julie would recognize the bright, perfect smile on his face anywhere. “It’s me, boss,” he confirms as she reaches up to cradle both sides of his face.

“How are you here?” she whispers with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Flynn convinced Victoria to make the ball a masquerade. Your dad can’t kick me out if he doesn’t know its me.”

Julie takes a moment to take Luke in. Between the tux, the mask, and…his hair was done??? “Your hair,” she giggles, reaching up to brush her fingers over it.

“Flynn said it would help with the nobody recognizing me thing,” Luke says with a sheepish grin. She definitely owes Flynn for this.

A watery smile spreads across her face. “I missed you so much.” She hadn’t realized until he’s standing right in front of her just how much.

“I missed you too, Jules. You have no idea how much.” He reaches up to wipe away a few tears she hadn’t realized were falling, and ends up cradling her face like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

Like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

And suddenly none of it matters: the ball, her deteriorating relationship with her father, or looking for a partner. As long as she has Luke by her side, they’ll figure it out somehow.

[joshym]

Lilac Moon: Chapter 2

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!Reader

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: (specific to this chapter) mentions of cheating, anxiety, and death of a parent, alcohol use, cursing, nauseating fluffiness, some passionate kissing (future chapters WILL contain 18+ content, so minors STAY AWAY)

Chapter 1

a/n: i’m so excited to share this story with you all. it’s been heavy on my mind for months now, and seeing it all written out makes me SO happy.🥹 i hope you love this installment. don’t be afraid to let me know what you think! and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.🤍 this story is just getting started. buckle up, my loves.

-lis🤍

Last night felt like a fever dream, the kind that leaves a fuzzy feeling in your head that you can’t shake. Had you actually agreed to touring with Greta Van Fleet? And they approached you about it?

This kind of thing just doesn’t happen- at least not to bands as small as Lilac Moon. Yeah, you’ve got a pretty decent following locally, but you’re certainly not big enough to open for them, right?

♪°•°∞♬°•°♪°•°∞♬°•°♪

It’s the early afternoon the next day. You’re still in bed as you didn’t get home until around 3:00 in the morning. Even as you finally laid your tired body in the comfort of your sheets, you couldn’t shut your mind off long enough to acquire any sort of restful shut eye. 

Your mind has been racing with pure excitement and a little bit of disbelief. You also couldn’t shake the vision of Josh locking eyes with you, his cheeks flushing a pretty pink hue when his brother teased him about watching you on stage…and his hug. His body was so warm, his arms so intent on squeezing you in the softest embrace.

You knew that, more than likely, this all meant nothing. He’s quite a generous and loving person, this is just how he treats everyone.

You’ve been telling yourself since last night to not read into it much further…

But damn, if you didn’t crave another hug from him…one that wouldn’t break so easily.

Today you have a meeting to attend regarding the upcoming tour that’s set to begin in just under two months. You’re not sure what his process entails, but you have a feeling it’ll be a bit extensive.

You decide it’s about time to start getting ready for what the day has in store. You make it through a quick shower to freshen up a bit, feeling yourself slowly come back to life after the last few nights of gigs. 

You put on a little bit of makeup, just enough to give you a boost of confidence. You decide on a simple white summer dress that compliments your figure, your favorite pair of white sneakers, and, of course, the loads of gold jewelry that you never leave the house without.

You look yourself over in the mirror a bit to be sure you looked presentable. You’re doing your best to get rid of the nerves that have steadily been creeping on you since you woke up, your thoughts plagued with the unknown in this adventure you're gearing up for. 

You’re suddenly startled by your phone vibrating with a slew of text messages coming in back to back.

Ivy: Jay is pissed.

Ivy: He just found out about the tour…

Ivy: And he’s not happy that we made the decision without him. 

Ivy: Y/n, he’s threatening to not come today. You need to call him, you’re the only one that can calm his ass down. Please talk him down. I hate it but we need him.

You: Why the hell is he mad? This is literally what he wanted. This is so fucking stupid. This is what he does when he doesn’t get his way.

You: I’ll call him, just give me a sec.

As if your anxiety wasn’t bad enough, now you get to deal with the mess of calming Jay down and getting him on board. You knew that he should’ve been part of the decision making, and you do feel some guilt for that. But you knew better than to approach him after he’d been drinking. And to be honest, you didn’t want his horrible energy infiltrating the moment. 

You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly to relieve some stress as you get ready to press the ‘call’ button. You know that you need him, that Lilac Moon needs him. As much as it pains you to admit, the band simply can’t do this without him.

The ringing on the other end seems to go one forever, and you’re almost sure he’s waiting to answer until the last minute just to keep the ball in his court.

“Hey, y/n. Care to fill me in on what the fuck is going on?”

“Jay, I’m sorry. We should’ve gotten you before we said yes. That wasn’t fair to you. But this is exactly what we need. This will get us out of here. This is huge, Jay. We have to do this and we need you.”

“Funny that you need me for this fucking tour but didn’t need my permission to sign my life away for months on end.”

“Please just come to the meeting today. We don’t know all the details yet, we haven’t even signed with booking agents or anything. Just come and we can get it all worked out together, okay? Please, Jay. Don’t do this right now. This is too big of an opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” His voice was laced with sarcasm before he forced out a fake laugh. “K, I’ll be there.”

He abruptly hangs up the phone and leaves you even more worried about how this meeting will go today. Jay has never been the best at controlling his temper, and he often says whatever is on his mind without a second thought.

How you ever fell for this man is beyond you. You hate that you’re stuck with him for the promise of any sort of career. 

♪°•°∞♬°•°♪°•°∞♬°•°♪

Ivy showed up to your apartment shortly after your phone call from hell. You two had decided to carpool to the meeting together. 

You rushed down the stairs of the apartment building to meet her, hurrying so you could get on the road as soon as possible. You didn’t want to make a bad impression by being fashionably late, and neither did Ivy. She was yet again blowing up your phone with ‘I’m here!’ and ‘HURRY!’ messages. 

You finally made it to her car and she sped off quicker than you were ready for.

“Holy shit, Ivy! I’d like to make it there in one piece if you don’t mind!”

You both bust up in laughter as your entire body is flung back violently against the carseat. 

You’re so grateful for her, for her knack of calming your anxious thoughts without even trying. She’s a safe place for you, and you are for her. Friendships like these are a rarity. 

You’ve finally made it to their managers house for the meeting. You’re shocked to see that Jay, Julien and Joe are already here and inside. You both hurriedly make your way to the front door, embarrassment setting in as you’re assuming you’re the last ones to show.

“Ah! There they are!” Joe stands up to greet you both and show you where to sit.

The meeting seems informal enough, which eases your anxieties a bit. There’s charcuterie boards laid out across the tables and mimosas placed at every seat.

Joe introduces you to the bands manager, the booking manager and their social media manager. They’re all incredibly kind and friendly, not at all what you were expecting from such a famous band. They each greet you with a hug and a smile that instantly wipes away any remaining worry you still had.

As you take a seat, you can’t help but notice four empty chairs and the obvious absence of the quartet.

Their manager takes notice of your confused expression. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here. They’re notorious for being behind on schedule.”

You all sit around and chat while you wait for the boys. You even get to go over a few of the minor details of the tour, including the dates and cities you’ll be playing.

The schedule seemed a bit rigorous, but you knew it was nothing you all couldn’t handle. You’ll be playing the first fifteen shows on this tour, and the cities were a bit spread out which meant lots of time on the road, which also meant that you all would have to invest in a tour bus very soon.

Right as Joe was beginning to nail down some of the finer details, you hear the loud screech of tires coming to a complete stop from outside and four doors slamming almost simultaneously. You can’t quite make out what’s being said, but you hear plenty of loud exclamations being made as their voices get louder and louder as they approach the front door.

Josh is the first to grace the room, bursting through the door as if he owned the place and causing you to jump a bit.

“Hello, dear friends! It’s wonderful to see you all on this lovely day!”

He makes his way around the table giving everyone in attendance a hug, asking them how they’re doing and throwing in the occasional “you look nice today!”

He finally makes it around the table to you and you stand up, eager to meet him in another hug. 

“And you, y/n, you look very nice today.'' He put a little emphasis on the word ‘very’, even tossing in a wink as he sat down right next to you. You try, but ultimately fail to hide the blush that so graciously creeps on your cheeks almost every time you interact with this man.

Jake has already made it inside, walking around the table to pat everyone on the shoulder. He stops at you and Ivy to give you hugs. He pulls away from you, smiling at you both and dipping his sunglasses downwards to show his eyes.

“Ladies, welcome to hell.” 

“Oh, Jacob. Don’t be so dramatic.” Sam shoves Jake aside to have his turn hugging you and Ivy.

Danny follows shortly after, wrapping you both in giant bear hugs that are almost reminiscent of Juliens’. You start to wonder if it’s a drummer thing.

“So great to see you ladies again!” 

With the boys all here, the meeting is ready to continue. Joe does a lot of the talking for you as none of you really know what you’re doing or how any of this works. Joe’s a bit more seasoned with this sort of thing so you’re more than happy to let him take the reins. 

You’re able to get a few more details in, but you’re having a hard time focusing. Josh is incredibly close to you, so close that you can feel his breath slightly tickle your face. Your senses are filled with his scent of eucalyptus and a little bit of lavender. You glance at him every so often to find him looking at you, smiling every time your eyes meet. 

Jay has taken notice of this and his eyes are practically burning a hole through your soul as he watches the silent flirting taking place.

He’s beginning to get visibly more and more annoyed, and now he’s starting to ask questions that are coming off as more demanding than inquisitive. He’s asking the uncomfortable questions that have to do with payment and whether or not they will help in providing a means of transportation for the tour. Things that, to you, just don’t seem to matter as much at the moment.

He’s humiliating you, Ivy and Julien with his harsh tone, acting as if he believes he’s better than everyone else in the room. You’re starting to really become uncomfortable, eyeing Julien and Joe in an attempt to send the signal that they should step in and stop him.

Julien finally gets the hint and chimes in, grabbing Jay’s shoulder in a bit of a makeshift hug and cutting him off before he can say anything else. 

“Well, I think those things can be worked out later on. As far as I’m concerned, and I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say this, we’re so honored to have been given this amazing opportunity. This is a huge shot for us. We just want to thank you for giving us this chance.” 

You and Ivy agree and share your own notions of gratitude, while Jay’s only response was a dramatic sigh accompanied with a roll of his eyes.

You just so happen to catch that Danny appears less than impressed with Jay, his tongue aggressively gliding on the inside of his cheek as it seems he’s biting back a few choice words.

This tour could get interesting.

♪°•°∞♬°•°♪°•°∞♬°•°♪

The meeting has finally hit the point of conclusion and it’s time to sign paperwork with the booking agent. Your hands are shaky as it’s your turn to sign your name, being the last one from your team. Josh is watching you with a sweet smirk laying across his lips.

“You’ve got this, y/n. I mean it’s not like you’re signing your entire life away, just most of it.”

The whole room bursts out in laughter at his clever joke, making your nerves disappear as you sign your name.

“It’s official!” Josh shoots up from his chair as soon as you set the pen down. “Cheers, my friends! This will be a wondrous adventure!”

Everyone stands with full smiles and mimosas in hand to join Josh in his celebratory salute to this new beginning. Well, everyone aside from Jay, that is. He’s just mindlessly scrolling on his phone, ignoring the situation entirely.

Danny shoots him a look of pure annoyance but decides to ignore him.

“I think we should celebrate. Bartaco, anyone?” he says as he finishes off the last few drops of his drink. Sammy perks up at the idea.

“That sounds like a great plan, Daniel.” He motions to you, Ivy and Julien, even Jay in his attempt to make sure he feels included despite his asshole behavior.

The three of you happily agree, but of course, Jay has other plans.

“You know, I think I’ll sit this one out. I’d rather spend what little time I have left before this tour starts to get some rehearsing in.” He looks at the three of you with disgust. “I expect you all to be at my house sooner rather than later.”

Why can’t he just be fucking grateful?

He stands up and leaves in an angry rush, leaving you embarrassed once again at his actions. Julien, being the peacekeeper that he is, decided to follow Jay to avoid a complete tantrum from the guitarist.

“I’m sorry, guys. I’ll go with Jay to hold him off a bit. You all have fun.” He made his way around the room offering his hugs and handshakes, thanking the boys and their team once again before walking out the door.

“I’m so sorry about Jay, guys. He’s going through a bit of a rough patch, and-” Ivy quickly cuts your explanation off.

“He’s just a dick. That’s all there is to it. Always has been. You don’t need to make excuses for him, y/n.”.”

Josh grabs your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Who’s ready to eat?”

♪°•°∞♬°•°♪°•°∞♬°•°♪

You, Ivy and the four rockstar boys all decide to go to Bartaco together, the rest of the crew opting to stay back to work out some more details for the tour.

The six of you walk into the restaurant together and thanks to the status of your dining pals, you were seated almost immediately. The boys frequent this place often and the staff always makes special accommodations for them.

You all take your seats, Josh choosing to sit directly across from you next to his twin who’s sitting across from Ivy, and Sam is seated next to you opposite of Danny.

You all take turns ordering food and drinks, and you’re so impressed with how kind and respectful the guys are to the wait staff. All the famous people you’ve met before were entirely too entitled and too full of themselves to treat anyone with any sort of dignity. Not these guys, though. They’re so down to earth, so humble, so genuine.

You all talk amongst each other while you wait for your meals. Ivy and Jake have sparked quite the debate over gibson guitars while Sam and Danny are off in their own world with their conversation, leaving you and Josh space to talk.

“Well, y/n, how are you feeling about it all? With the tour and such?” He gives you a soft smile.

“I…I mean I seriously couldn’t be more excited. This is just…I can’t quite articulate. It just means the world, it really does.”

“Well I for one am thrilled to have you all along with us. I think this will be really great.”

“Can I ask you something, Josh?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“Of all the acts, all the bands you could’ve chosen, why us? We’re not anything special. We’re not very well known, we’ve never even been on an actual tour before. So, I guess I’m just curious. What made you choose us?”

Josh reaches across the table and grabs your hand, rubbing the top of it gently with his thumb.

“There’s something really special here, y/n. I’ve only watched you perform once, but I was utterly blown away. The musicianship is astounding. The lyrics are poetic. You have so much emotion when you’re on that stage. Your audience feels it with you, I feel it with you. It’s truly a beautiful thing. You don’t see it often. We just knew we had to be a part of it.”

His fingers are now intertwined with yours as he stares directly into your eyes, which are beginning to well up with heavy tears at his beautiful words. You instantly feel an overwhelming sense of peace, of comfort. It’s as if you’re the only two in the room. Maybe even the whole world.

“And don’t worry. I’ll be sure to show you the ropes of life on the road. You’ll love it, I just know it.” He gives you a wink while continuing to caress your hand. 

Just as you’re about to respond, the waiter makes it over to your table with the food. Your trance is broken by the interruption; you’ve suddenly been flung back into the real world.

Ivy looks at you and notices the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks quietly so as to not draw attention.

“Yeah, everythings pretty damn great.”

You all enjoy your meals, continuing to talk and laugh together as if you’ve been lifelong friends. You’re quickly finding that their energy matches yours and Ivys’ perfectly. You haven’t felt this contented in a very, very long time.

After sitting in the restaurant for a few hours, you all decide it’s time to head out. They all walk you and Ivy to her car, saying their goodbyes and ‘see you laters’ one by one.

As you’re about to open the door on the passenger's side of Ivys’ car, Josh quickly stops you and takes over so he can open the door for you.

“Well thank you, kind sir.”

“Pleasure is mine, m’ lady.”

You take a seat and Josh gently closes the door for you. He starts to walk away, still looking at you and waving goodbye.

Just before Ivy takes off, you’re startled by a knock on your window. It’s Josh again, and he’s motioning for you to roll your window down.

“Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, actually.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. “You should probably put your number in there, ya know, just in case something were to come up with the tour planning and what not.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course! I bet it’s important to have each other's contact information, just to be safe.”

You type in the digits of your number, saving your contact in his phone. You hand it back to him and he immediately presses the ‘call’ button and your phone starts ringing.

You look at him with an amused smile.

“Just had to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number.”

He waves another goodbye as you two drive away.

“Yeah, he’s into you.”

“There’s no way, Ivy. Look at him. He could have any girl he wanted.”

“Yep. And he wants you, dumby.”

♪°•°∞♬°•°♪°•°∞♬°•°♪

You and Ivy spent the rest of the day at Jay’s house. He wanted to practice, so that’s exactly what you did. He carried one with his pissy attitude but you still felt it was a successful practice.

You were finally home, exhausted after the long day. It’s nearly 1:00 in the morning and your body is worn out from all of the late nights you’ve had recently. You decide to take a long bath to relax before bed. You poured yourself a glass of wine, lit your candles, and placed your lavender epsom salt in the water. You hunkered down in the tub, ready to melt the day away.

Just as you could feel yourself starting to drift to sleep, you hear your phone vibrate.

Who the hell is texting me this late? 

You reach to grab your phone sitting on the side of the tub and unlock it, surprised when you see who the message is from. 

Josh: I just wanted to apologize for being so mushy earlier at the restaurant. I hope I didn’t frighten you. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and I’m a bit of an oversharer, lol. Regardless, I truly meant everything that I said.

You feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. You’ve been a fan of this man for so long, just met him less than 48 hours ago, and now he’s texting you? 

You: You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for! Your words meant more to me than I can explain. Especially coming from you. 

Josh: How come you're still awake? I honestly didn’t expect a response until tomorrow morning. I don’t having anything else prepared haha

You: We had to go to Jay’s for practice and it took forever. I just got home about 30 minutes ago. But I should be asking you the same thing! Or is this just the normal rockstar schedule?

Josh: I like to stay up late. It’s usually the best time for me, creatively speaking. Something about it inspires me endlessly. 

Josh: How did your practice go? And why does it seem that Jay is perpetually pissed?

You: It went about as well as I could’ve hoped, I guess. And that’s a bit of a long story. Got all night? lol

Josh: Well, I do, actually. Care to join me for some wine and story time?

You: That rhymed perfectly. I would love to join you.

Josh: My place in 20?

You: Sounds great! 

You nearly leap out of the tub to get ready to leave. You want to put on something cute but keep it simple and comfortable, so you go for a pair of biker shorts and a cropped tank top. You don’t bother with makeup of any kind, but you make sure your hair looks nice.

You’re heading to your car when Josh sends you his address with a ‘see you soon’ attached to the message.

Putting his address in your maps app, you realize he only lives about 10 minutes away from you. He’s been this close to you this whole time. How is it that you’ve never run into each other before now? 

You make it to his home that’s surrounded by acres of land and beautiful trees. There’s a long driveway leading up to the house, heightening your anticipation as you slowly drive it.

You’ve finally made it to the front of the house. You hesitate a bit before stepping out of the car, your nerves are starting to get the best of you. You shove them down and get out of the car to head up to the front door. Right as you're about to ring the doorbell, the door flies open, startling you a bit.

“Hey, y/n! Come on in!”

“How did you know I was already here?”

He points up to the frame of the front door.

“Security cameras. Kind of a necessity. You’ll probably want to invest in them soon.”

He leads you inside. His place is breathtaking. It smells wonderful, like fresh patchouli. The decor is very minimalist with a touch of mid century modern. Large, flush plants grace every corner.

“Oh my, Josh. This is beautiful.”

“Well thank you, my dear. Would you like a tour?”

“Please!”

He walks you around, showing you everything, explaining every single detail. Everything is intentional. Each part of his home has a story, and you love hearing him tell you all about it.

“I designed most everything myself. I knew exactly what I wanted and I found the perfect architects to help me bring my vision to fruition.”

“Josh, this is amazing. I love it. There’s such a calming aura about it.”

“Oh I’m so glad you said that! That’s exactly what I was going for. I’m happy you can feel it, too. I needed a place of serenity and peace to come home to. My life can get a bit hectic sometimes.”

He resumes the tour to the backyard where you are entirely stopped in your tracks at the set up. 

There’s a large pergola with billowing curtains draped at each opening and tons of hanging string lights cascading throughout the structure. Inside, there’s a small couch covered with a white, chunky knit blanket and throw pillows with intricate colorful patterns. Large rugs cover the ground with a few bigger pillows for extra seating. There’s also a lovely accent table in the middle of the space with gold features and a wine bottle with two glasses placed on top of it.

“Holy shit, Josh…this is, I…I’m not even sure what to say. This is stunning.”

“Is this a good enough spot for our wine and story time?”

“Are you kidding? This is perfect.”

He grabs your hand and leads you to the couch where you take a seat. 

“I hope you like Chardonnay.” He begins pouring your glass. “This is a bottle of Domaine Ramonet Montrachet Grand Cru, straight from the Montrachet vineyard in France.” He swirls the drink a bit in the glass before handing it to you. “You’ll notice notes of lemon and citrus. It’s quite delicious.”

You take a sip and are immediately blown away.

“This is amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite like this. Was this expensive?”

“Ah, don’t worry about that.”

He pours himself a glass and sits next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he sits close.

“Josh tell me! How much does wine like this go for?”

“It’s not as much as you’d think. A measly $1200 a bottle. That’s all.”

You gasp, nearly spitting out the sip you just took.

“What do you mean that’s all? That’s more than my rent! Utilities included!” He laughs the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh thus far, grabbing your knee to stabilize himself.

“Okay, so while you drink your rent WITH utilities included, catch me up to speed on your pissy guitarist. What’s the story with him?”

“Well, I guess I should begin with the fact that we dated for a spell.”

“What? You dated that guy?”

“Yeah. Not my most shining moment. Can’t say I’m proud of it.”

“So what happened? How come you broke up?”

“He cheated on me. A lot. With lots of different girls. And he’s also just a huge jerk, as you’ve witnessed.”

“Wait…he cheated on you? What the fuck, y/n. I can’t fathom that. He should’ve counted his lucky stars for landing you.”

Your cheeks blush at the compliment and you take another large drink of your wine as Josh grabs the bottle to top off your glass.

“Yeah, he cheated. And shockingly, I didn’t break up with him right away. That’s why it kept happening. I thought I had to stay with him for the sake of the band.”

“How did you guys even meet?”

“When Ivy and I moved here, we had one goal in mind- to play music. But we didn’t know anyone. We had no idea where to even start. I met Jay when I was looking for apartments. He was working at the complex that I eventually moved into. I don’t know how, but we just clicked in the beginning. And it helped that he had the same passion for making music. We decided to start making music together, along with Ivy. Julien came out of the woodwork one day, and thus, Lilac Moon was born. Jay and I started seeing each other somewhere during that time. I fell in love with his drive for music, with his talent. He was even teaching me to play guitar. I just didn’t see the red flags in the beginning, or maybe I just ignored them. Ivy and Julien saw right through him, though. I didn’t listen to their warnings. I wish I would have. But now, we’re stuck with him. As much as I can’t stand the man, he’s a damn good musician. I don’t think we’d have a band without him.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his eyes locked on yours as he’s taking in everything you're saying.

“I’m sorry. I told you it was a long one.”

“No, no. I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry he did that to you. You know you deserve better, right? You deserve the best this world has to offer.”

His hand is now embracing yours with a firm hold.

“Well, thank you, Josh. But you barely know me. How do you know I’m not some crazy, pathological liar?”

“I know I’ve just met you, but your soul radiates a kind of genuinity that you only find every so often. It’s rare. You’re rare. From the moment I met you when you crashed into me, my spirit felt a warmness from you that I don’t feel with many people. You know, I told Sam I knew that wouldn’t be the last time I’d see you. And I was right. The universe is mysterious that way.”

Here come those tears again that you shed more than you’d care to admit. You’re emotional, sometimes to a fault, but his words are caressing your heart in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t doubt your effect on people. You’re lovely, y/n.”

“You know, you really have a way with words, Josh. You’re one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever encountered. I’ve wanted to meet you for years, literal years. I’ve always been enamored by you. I’m so grateful our paths crossed, even in the embarrassing way it happened.”

You both laugh at the memory of you running into the back of him on the streets of downtown Nashville.

“I actually think that’s the perfect way to meet someone. I will never forget it, that’s for sure.”

His grip on your hand hasn’t let up one bit. In fact, you’re now holding on just as tightly. You’re almost afraid to let go, afraid this moment will end if you do.

“Tell me a little more about you, y/n. Tell me about where you're from, about your family, where your love for music comes from. What makes you who you are?”

“Oh gosh. That’s another long story.”

“The night is still young, there’s still plenty of wine, I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”

You smile wildly at him and his devotion to hearing your story.

“It’s 2:30 in the morning, Josh.”

“Exactly! We’re still in the wee hours of the evening.” He shifts his body to face you completely now, helping to maneuver your legs to intertwine with his. This feels so intimate considering you’ve only just met, but it feels absolutely right. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, I guess my love for music started with my dad. He introduced me to music at a really young age. He bought me my first record when I was five years old, Tom Petty’s Wildflowers. It’s still one of my favorites. My love for music really took off from there. I mean, I hardly remember a time in my house that there wasn’t music playing. My dad had this old record player that he’d had since he was a kid in the 70’s that still worked perfectly even after all those years of constant use. We’d sit at that thing for hours on end just listening to albums all the way through, hearing the stories the artists were telling. George Harrison's All Things Must Pass was one of his absolute favorites, and Gather In The Rain by Melanie. He loved everything that Sam Cooke recorded. So many albums and artists that hold so much sentimentality to me. He always told me he knew I’d make music my career, with as much passion as I had for it. He always encouraged me to chase my dreams.

When he died, my mom got rid of everything. The record player that he loved so much, every single album in his giant collection…she just sold all of it. It didn’t matter to her. In fact, she hated that we shared that bond. She never understood it. I wanted to keep that part of him alive, alive in me. To not chase after my dreams would feel like losing him all over again. I’ve never had the same support from my mom. Ever. But I didn’t let that stop me. I decided that moving and going after what I loved is exactly what he would’ve wanted me to do. So, I did it. And I did it with my best friend so the two of us could live out our dreams of making music together. The rest is history, I guess.”

Josh’s hand was moving up and down your shin to offer you some comfort, and his eyes appear more glassy as it seems your story has truly moved him nearly to tears.

“Shit. Now I’m the oversharer. I’m sorry, I told you it was a lot.”

“Y/n. Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me enough to share that part of yourself with me. I’m…I’m honored. I’m touched, really. I know he’s proud of you. You’re doing just what he wanted you to do. Love doesn’t leave, you know. Love lives on. His love lives on in you.”

You’re the most vulnerable you think you’ve ever been. You’ve hardly talked about this with anyone, Ivy being the only person in your life that knows everything. You don’t like to talk about yourself very often, but Josh has made you feel so comforted, you feel so heard. You can’t remember a time that you’ve felt this much validation from anyone. This feels good; this feels like home.

You try so hard to stop it, but tears begin streaming down your face in an instant. Josh places his hand on your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful, y/n.”

“Thank you, Josh.”

Your faces have become so close that your noses are touching, his hand still cupping your face. It feels like silk brushing against your cheek, and he smells like that familiar eucalyptus and lavender scent you noted earlier. That aroma has infiltrated your senses. It’s your favorite.

It feels like time stands still for a moment. All you see, all you feel, all you hear…it’s only Josh.

“Y/n, I want to kiss you.”

His voice is but the sweetest whisper.

“Do it, then.”

At last, your lips meet his. The kiss is soft at first, you both wanting to take the time to savor each other. It slowly grows in intensity and passion. You move to wrap your arms around the back of his neck to bring him even closer to you, with both of his hands now gently cupping your face. His lips are so warm. They feel like crushed velvet against yours. You taste the sweet lemon and citrus from the wine on his tongue, and you realize that the chardonnay alone pales in comparison to the taste of him mixed with it.

You reluctantly break the kiss, only to catch your breath. Your eyes are instantly locked on his, taking in the beautiful amber hue.

“Can I stay with you for a little while? I know it’s late but,-”

“You can stay with me for as long as you like, y/n.”

With that, Josh lays back on the couch, bringing you down to rest your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes become heavy as you feel yourself drift to sleep in the safety of his embrace. 

To be continued…

join the taglist!

Chapter 3

taglist: @jakeyt, @fwzco, @jessicafg03, @blissfulbellss, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @arsonkween, @sicksadandrad, @gretavansara, @witchofendora, @andtherestishistory13​  @slaythelightfantastic 

 (I’m pretty sure I got everyone, but pls let me know if I missed you. tumblr is a little weird with tags, as we all know, so I hope this worked lol)

[phenomenalgirl9]

Namjoon x Reader: Ghost of You

⚠️ Warning: This is just despair and goes spiralling down. Major character death, indication of bad mental health, depression and suicide. Read at your own discretion.

Summary: He thought you were doing well. Maybe he was too busy to see through the facade you built for the world, or maybe you were too good at doing it.

A/n: This is just a coping mechanism of the blow to the heart that I received today.

W/c: 2.1k

_____________________________________

"Young blood thinks there's always tomorrow"

The songs resonated through the little mikrokosmos speaker that Namjoon had bought the mood light set to the specific light that you loved. He sat on your high back chair that you always sit on, smiling at the ceiling watching the lights move. He closed his eyes..

_____________________________________

10 months Ago

There you were sitting on the bed hair messy, your specs rested right on the bridge of your nose. You intently looked at the screen eyebrows in a frown. "Hey baby" Namjoon cooed, but there was no response, as he walked closer he realised why, he noticed the little bobs of your head as music played through your airpods. He slowly walked behind you and hugged your back. "Fuck!" You exclaimed on being startled but immediately eased at the familiar feeling and the warmth creeping onto you from him. "How long were you here?" You asked him, pulling out one of the earbuds. "Not that long" he said, pulling you into him, you turned yourself in an angle so that you could rest your head on his chest.

"How much longer would you need?" He asked. "Not much, just 20 minutes and I'll be done" you said. "Then complete it, I'll order some food and set up the couch and we can watch a movie" he said and you nodded.

_____________________________________

8 months ago

"You look tired, aren't you sleeping well?" He asked when you yawn for the 4th time in the past 5 minutes. "No, I just had a lot of work to do, it's okay I'll catch some sleep later, you'll spend the night at the studio right?" You said pouting. And he nodded, "Yoongi hyung said we'll need to complete the tracks today itself". "It's okay baby" you said, snuggling further into him. "I'll be busy for the next week too" he said "If we could just you know-" he stopped in the mid way, you knew what he was talking about. "I've told you Joon, that we can't move in yet, you still stay at the dorm. You do know that my sister and Yuki both come to my house often, what will I tell them if we move in? I can't hide your existence from your house" you scolded him and it's his turn to pout. You and Namjoon have been in a relationship since the past 3 years, and it was strictly prohibited by the company that Nobody, not even your friends or family could know. So half of your friends think this whole boyfriend may be made up, and the rest suspect you are dating a ghost. But, you didn't mind as long as you had Namjoon by your side. The only down hill was that Namjoon wanted you to move in with him, but you couldn't because it would complicate things. That was the last thing you wanted to happen between Namjoon and you.

_____________________________________

6 months ago

You were startled by a knock on your door, you looked at the time and it was 11:00pm. You splashed your face with water and were wiping it, while contemplating if you should open the door at this hour. That was when you received a text from Namjoon to open the door and you realised it was your boyfriend at the door.

You opened the door and he walked in and hugged you, placing a kiss on your lips and forehead. "I thought it was some creep knocking on my door at 11 at night" you joked and he hugged you tighter. "Tired?" You asked and he groaned. He has been promoting and practicing non-stop for the next BTS world tour. The tour's gonna be bigger this time round. "I wish you could just come with me" he groaned again into your shoulder. "I wish I could but I can't, I can't explain to my mom why I will be touring the world for 3 months with this boyfriend whom she hasn't even seen" you laughed, patting his head. And he held you tighter.

_____________________________________

4 months ago

"Are you sure you're okay?" Namjoon asked and you nodded. "Yeah Joon, I just don't want to go out" you said, and he nodded his head in understanding. "It's okay, let's order in" he said and sighed as you cuddled deeper into him.

_____________________________________

Another day 4 months ago

"Did you eat lunch?" He asked through the phone, "yeah~" you said. The tone seemed different, and Namjoon knew you were lying. "Y/n?" He called your name and you knew you were caught. You could never lie to him. "I wasn't that hungry, I'll eat something in a bit" you promised.

_____________________________________

3 months ago

"I'm always a call away" he said and kissed your forehead. He was on his way to the airport but he made a quick stop at your place. You nodded and sniffed trying to keep the tears at bay. "Eat well and sleep well" he said and you nodded. "You too, take care and don't overwork yourself" you said "take care of the boys as well" you said as the two of you kissed. Him leaving for tours has been a common thing by now, but this time it all felt too difficult. He just couldn't bring himself to let you go. "Joon? Your phone is ringing" you said, and pulled it out to see Jin's name flashing. "You have to go," you said, almost snatching the words from his mouth. He nodded, he kissed you for the last time and hugged you tight.

"I'll see you the moment I get back, okay?" He said. And you nodded and waved him bye.

_____________________________________

2 weeks into the tour

Namjoon has never regretted anything in his life as much as his decisions. He couldn't shake off this feeling that something is wrong back there, with you. You've been so out of it recently. Barely answering his calls, you've been avoiding his video calls with various excuses and he keeps feeling this dread.

"Maybe you're overthinking?" Hoseok suggested and Namjoon shrugged. "I hope so," Namjoon said. "Try to call her often, if she doesn't want to video call try to get her on it but don't force her give her time" Yoongi said. Yeah, only BTS themselves were acquainted with you. They are all concerned because they all knew you, growing up with troubles you've always had lots of struggles. But with the help of your surroundings and Namjoon you were doing much better.

Namjoon just regretted leaving you alone back there, he wished he would have tried to make some arrangement with the company to bring you on tour. It didn't help that he missed you like crazy.

_____________________________________

3 weeks into tour

"Finally, you accepted my video call," he said, and you smiled. "I miss you, I've been really busy, I barely had time" you said, "I miss you too, are you wearing make-up?" He asked. You nodded and said "I'm going out with Yuri, she'll be here soon" you said and smiled. "At Least you found some time to show me your face," he said, showing his dimples. "I wanted to say that I love you Joon, so so much and you must take care of yourself and don't worry, okay. Everything will be fine. I love you" you said. "I love you too, babe. Please take care" he said. "Yuri must almost be here. I'll hang up, take care. Always remember I am always with you, I love you, Kim Namjoon" you said and waved and hung up. Namjoon felt glad to finally see you but your words were stuck in his mind.

The next day he texted you and waited for your text, which never came. He thought you were probably out till late and slept, or tired or busy.

"She must just be busy, she'll surely reply to you" Hoseok assured him. Even Namjoon himself was dead tired, doing shows in different cities and more schedules.

_____________________________________

2 months ago (2nd week)

It's been a week since he last spoke to you or even got the time to text you. He's been on schedules and concerts non-stop. Now when he realised, he felt extremely guilty. You didn't pick up his calls or reply to his texts, maybe you were angry. He will make it up to you for sure, once he goes back.

"I need more time, but time can't be borrowed"

_____________________________________

2 months ago (3rd week)

"It's been more than a week hyung. She still hasn't replied" he said. "She's probably angry and busy" Jin said and shrugged. "It's fine, don't you have anybody else's number?" Hoseok asked gulping his sprite and Namjoon shook his head a No. "You dated for 3 years and you don't have any of her friend's or family's number?" Jimin asked in shock. "Nobody was supposed to know, so she never told anyone. And I never got the chance. The only people who know are the pr team, Hitman Bang and you guys" he said and they all frowned.

_____________________________________

2 months ago (4th week)

Still no reply.

Your only social media, Instagram, had no activity. Namjoon was now desperate, he even asked Hitman Bang to send someone to your flat but your neighbor said, they haven't seen you in days and your apartment was locked from outside.

Namjoon kept trying to contact you, but to No avail. He has to wait 2 more weeks until he can reach Korea. He'll first go home, he remembered he had a package from you once and you sent it from you home, it might have your address if he can find the box. He'll immediately go to find you, it was his (and even the rest of BTS who promised to help him) topmost mission.

_____________________________________

1 month ago

He reached the dorm, and checked he had mail. One box caught his eye and he picked it.

"To Joon" the box said and he knew the handwriting like second nature. He dropped his bags as the other members piled in and went to their respective rooms. Namjoon dropped his bags and rushed to his room. He ripped the package open, it had your favourite plushie inside it and a journal, your old journal that you had stopped writing for a while, or so he thought. Dread filled every sense of his and overflowed. His hands shook as he picked the notebook and found a page marked, tears brimming his eyes, as he read page after page of entries. The page was marked at 6 months ago, the previous ones were much much older. The words crushed him, how he failed to notice all the pressure that was piling up on you. How he failed to notice the tears that you hid from him, the sleepless nights you passed up saying you were working. The spiral you tried so hard to come out of slowly pulling you back into it. All the small triggers that added on and on until you were back to square one. But this time around you hid all of it.

He dropped on the ground when he realised how his absence overweighed on all those pressure. The self doubt and hate you were goin through. Your pain. The last page has one entry, "don't tell them, it won't do any good. And don't even dare to blame yourself. THIS is all on me."

As if on cue Hoseok rushed into the room with his tablet a news article in hand, he noticed the notebook, the plushie and Namjoon tear filled eyes on the ground. "Oh no Namjoona, I'm so sorry" he said and hugged his mate.

Namjoon shook his head and read the article it was almost 1 month old, "Y/n L/n a resident of ABC complex, fell from the 15th floor passed away on spot. An investigation was held but upon seeing the fact that she was wearing make up, was well dressed and lack of any sucide note, the case was ruled out as an accident……" he couldn't read anymore. He sobbed out loud in Hoseok's arms.

_____________________________________

The others had pulled some string and found out where you were buried and they all had visited you. They all shed tears that day except Namjoon. He was sad and angry at himself and you. You always tried to take on everything on your own, even though he had told you not to.

He now realised all the hidden messages between the things you said. And what you said, that day.

"Always remember I am always with you, I love you, Kim Namjoon"

_____________________________________

"I know you crossed a bridge that I can't follow"

He opened his eyes as a tear slipped his eye. He glanced at the clock it said 12.00am. "Happy Birthday Y/n" he whispered in the air.

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Taglist: @bbl32 @back2bluesidex @cherryblossom-2004

[collecting-stories]

Attention - JJ Maybank

Request: Please, please, please can we have 22, 43 and 71 from the prompts list with JJ <3

A/N: I made this kinda angsty and I feel like that wasn’t even my intention. I put the prompt text in bold so you would know what they were. 

Outer Banks Masterlist | Get tagged

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The rain had significantly altered the humidity that had been hanging around all day, replacing the permanent feeling of stickiness on your skin with a light breeze. Out on the bay side, goosebumps littered your arms and legs as you sat on the edge of a jetty, your toes just touching the water. You still only had your bathing suit on, having run inside to beat the rain and forgetting your clothes out on the deck of the rental property you were currently at. You were here, technically, for a date. Some touron asked you out at a party on the beach the night before.  

“I can’t believe you’re seriously going to go out with this guy! He’s like a complete stranger!” JJ had protested that morning. He’d crashed at your place with Pope after partying too hard and when you’d woken them up to tell them you were leaving, he’d begun his mini tantrum.

“That’s kinda how dating works,” Pope pointed out, between bites of a bagel sandwich, “you meet someone you don’t know and go out with them to know them better.”

“Yeah, except this guy’s literally leaving in two days. Where’s he even from?”  

“I don’t know...Ohio or something.” You shrugged, holding a pair of shorts against your bathing suit bottoms and looking to Pope for outfit advice (as if he cared or would offer more than a thumbs up).  

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Ohio or something?” JJ continued, not missing a beat, “that’s great. You seem real interested.”

“Pope, can you grab my phone? I left it upstairs?” You asked, casting a glance your friend’s way and hoping that he got the actual message (‘leave the room, I need to talk to JJ’).  

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He took the other half of his bagel sandwich and disappeared up the stairs as you turned on JJ.

“It’s none of your business who I date JJ, you specifically said you didn’t wanna ‘get tied down to anything serious’ or do you have some sudden amnesia about that conversation?” You snapped, glaring at him as you pulled your t-shirt over your head.  

“I didn’t mean ‘hey, go date everyone on the fucking island’.”  

“You are such a fucking hypocrite!” You hissed, “you do this to me all the time. I literally watched you with your bullshit ‘pay attention to me’ routine last night with that girl from Kitty Hawk. I guess you’re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want and I’m just supposed to sit around and wait for you to decide maybe...maybe, you want to actually date me?”  

“Oh cause you’re gonna date this kid from Ohio?” He asked, following you as you stopped in the hallway to put your shoes on. Pope re-emerged from the upstairs, holding your phone out to you.

“Who I date is none of your business J, you made that choice.” You took your phone and left both of your friends in the front hall, slamming the door.  

The date itself was alright, nothing particularly life altering. You grabbed lunch together and walked back to his rental and when it rained halfway through you ducked inside to wait it out. The guy you were with, Jason, he said his name was, was nice enough. He spent most of the time talking about how cool it must be to live in the OBX all year long, as if the island never stops vacationing. As a pogue, you knew all too well what a lie that was but you weren’t going to have some socioeconomic argument with some random guy who, in two days, you’d probably never see again.  

His parents were out the whole day which saved you from any awkward encounters. Though, by the time the rain stopped and you went back outside, you were sort of hoping you could be gone too.  

“Take my jacket,” Jason offered, already draping the denim over your shoulders as he sat down next to you on the jetty, “it’s cold outside.”

“Oh yeah, tha-” your sentence was cut off by the sound of someone calling your name over the familiar sputtering motor of the HMS Pogue. The boat was cruising through the bay, toward the house that you’d dropped a pin at ‘just in case’ for Kiara’s state of mind. You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you stood up, watching the boat get closer and closer until it was docking up alongside the jetty.  

Jason looked baffled at the sudden intrusion, grip tightening around his bottle of beer. At the front of the boat, JJ was trying to keep his balance, arms teetering out to the sides like he was surfing on waves not riding on a moderately calm bay.  

“Uh, Jason, these are my friends...are you sober?” You asked, looking between your date and your friends. It was just John B and JJ on the boat, Kiara and Pope clearly declining to take part in breaking up your date.  

“I’m moderately functional,” JJ laughed, almost missing the jetty altogether as he stepped off the boat. The walkway swayed a little and you reached out to help him keep his balance.  

“I’ll take that as a no,” you looked passed him to John B, grinning like he thought this whole thing  was funny, “what are you guys doing here?”

JJ shrugged, detangling from you to walk over to Jason. He flipped some of Jason’s hair as he scrutinized him. Jason, to your surprise, stayed cool. You were expecting him to call you a bitch and stalk off, maybe kick you off his property. It’d happened before. JJ didn’t want to date you but heaven forbid anyone else ever wanted to. “Hey man, hows the date going?”

“John B,” you didn’t bother trying to reason with JJ, “what the hell?”

“Oh chill out,” John B laughed, obviously buzzed himself.  

“We’re just hanging out...isn’t that right Jackson?”

“Jason,” your date clarified.  

“JJ, leave.” You insisted, pushing him away, back toward the boat.  

“What, you don’t wanna hang out with us, you and your touron too good for us all the sudden?” He teased, an edge to his voice as his eyes met yours. Glassy and wet from drinking too much and (more than likely) smoking too much.  

“Leave.”  

Jason touched your arm, catching your attention for a moment, “let’s just go inside,” he offered, nodding back to the screen doors.  

“Aw come on, we were gonna go fishing, coming fishing with us.” JJ continued, pulling your arm toward him.  

You pulled away, taking a step back onto the paved patio. “I’m gonna go inside with Jason,” you announced, crossing your arms as you looked at John B and then at JJ, “sober up...I’ll see you later.”

“But-”

“I swear to god JJ, get the hell back on the pogue and leave.” You snapped, harsher than before. You turned and headed for the doors of the rental, Jason following behind you. JJ called out your name one more time but you ignored him, not wanting to make a scene here when you were on a date. His stupid behavior didn’t surprise you but it did piss you off.  

As Jason stepped inside you turned to look behind you again to find JJ just standing there, looking, for all the world, like a lost puppy. His eyes met yours and you almost felt guilty for everything that had transpired between the two of you that summer but then you remembered this morning and all the times he’d given you shit for dating but remained uninterested in dating you himself. It was like a cycle that you were desperately trying to eradicate yourself from.  

John B called for him and JJ finally turned away from you, stumbling a little as he climbed back on the pogue. You turned away too, heading inside and sliding the glass door shut behind you

-

tagged: @maybankbby @alanniys @stylesyourmine @nicolee-anne @dudenhaaa27 @alexoberlinluthor @luversgirl @lemur46 @mariahlaufeyson @beth-gallagher22 @swagmoneydrew @xivilivix @americaarse @scenesofobx @alexademiesluvr @butterflymoons @allisonxmcu @milkiane @inwonderlandwritemealetter @phxntom-2021 @iamasimpingh0e @aureamelendez @unbelievablystillafangirl @caitlyn-winchester @truewdw1 @randomwriter1021 @bjrmaybank @rebelangelwings @izzydixon @unbelievablystillafangirl @thelaststraw3 @cu-pidarrow @thecaptainsgingersnap @purple-flamingo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @my-baexht-ls 

[iturbide]

holy shit I made a book

Last year my birthday present to myself was a book about bookbinding, with the intention to try some out on fanfiction. I did a few pamphlet style books last year, starting with @banyanas Send the Scourge and my own Proof of Life, but my initial hardback experiment got held up by kittens up in my space and making trouble and it's been sitting on the craft table untouched for the better part of six months.

Well, yesterday I was feeling fidgety and decided to sit down and try to finish it off.

Several mistakes were made (test-sanding the endpapers on the textblock led to some faint blue staining on the edges of the pages, an accidental mis-cut left only a very small cover paper margin on the front cover, some areas probably could have been glued more thoroughly, and the endpapers I picked turned out very wrinkle-prone when wet), but the end product holds together so much better than I'd been expecting when I set it to press last night!

This has me really excited to try out more long-form stories in this format! I'd like to try out a round-back book in the future, too, but for now I'm just looking forward to doing more trials!

Specific details of the formatting and materials under the cut!

Text Block

Title and Chapter Headings: Reliant Shadow Free

Body Font: Baskerville Old Face

Front Matter and Appendix: Garamond

Center Ormanents: Cornucopia of Dingbats Four (Robin) and Cornucopia of Ornaments (Chrom)

Sewing: Black Irish Linen

Case

Cover Papers: Grey/Black Books by Hand Marbled Paper

End Papers: Black Ink Screenprinted Mulberry Paper (Moonflower, Midnight with Gold)

Book Cloth: Jet Black (Pearl) Starched Linen

Headband: Solid Black Cotton

Bookmark: Offray Double Faced Black, 3/8"; Oxidized Brass end crimp and Antique Brass charm

[wheelercore]

Henry and Jason's Monologues: Are They Mirrors of One Another?

Also, as usual, will make this about rosegate/the wheelers (threat).

Anyways, the show has never shied away from making the point that abusers/ bigots are the real "predators" and this is done repeatedly by Hawkins itself being contrasted with the monster-filled UD. In the same vein, Jason's monologue in the church is paralled to a portion of Henry's monologue (Henry's monologue is way too fucking long man).

The biggest irony here is that while Jason was scapegoating the Hellfire club, full of what he would be considered "freaks", the true evil he was hunting was... a reflection of himself.

I didn't utilize screenshots because there is a 30 image limit on text posts but I have the transcripts of both monologues here from the scripts. It's hard to tell because I've broken them up into excerpts, but the monologues are very similar structurally. As in the themes/sections I laid out here follow one another in the same way for both speeches, so it seems intentional. Both excerpts have a theme of seeing a truth under a lie, the spread of a "disease" that both Jason and Henry respectively find intolerable, and the belief that they are both morally "good". there are similarities in word usage:

A spread of something pervasive and intolerable

Jason:

"We've all heard how satanic cults are spreading through our country like some… some disease. And Eddie Munson is the leader of one of these cults. A cult that operates here in Hawkins. The mall fire. All those unexplained deaths over the years. Some people say our town is cursed. They just don't know why."

Henry:

"You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world, all while enforcing a structure of their own. A deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket. A cruel, oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day."

(The "unnatural" structures that Henry is talking about here are religious- specifically Christian since this is set in small town America- structures. This is paralleled to Jason talking about the spread of satanic cults via DnD)

Feelings of hopelessness as it spreads

Jason:

"And now this cult is protecting its leader, Eddie. Hiding him. Allowing him to… to continue his rampage. Last night, I became overcome with this feeling of… of hopelessness."

Henry:

"I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness. I could not pretend."

(The intentional conflation between these DnD "cults" that Jason is afraid of and conformist Christian culture/nuclear families that Henry despises is made here again)

Their own conviction that their own actions against this force are "good"

Jason:

"Then I remembered Romans. "Do not be overcome by evil."  "But overcome evil with good." And God knows there's good in this town. So much good. It's in this room! It's in this room, right here, right now. So I came here today, humbly, to ask for your help. To join me in this fight. Let us cast out this evil and save Hawkins together."

Henry:

"And I realized I didn't have to. I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world. A predator… but for good."

(In the same way Jason wants to "cast out this evil" and save Hawkins, Henry wants to restore "balance to a broken world". Notice how Jason does not describe himself as good, but everyone in the room as good. The people that would become that mob that try to hunt down this "evil". Pack predators, but for good)

Now the one that is the most interesting to me personally:

DnD as a roleplaying game and conformity as a silly little play to hide a terrible truth behind a lie

Jason:

"Last night… Last night, I saw things, things I can't explain. Things the police don't wanna believe. And things that I don't wanna believe myself. But I know what I saw. I know. And I've come to accept an awful truth. [...] They just don't know why. Now… Now we do. Now we know. They call themselves Hellfire. A club. A club. A harmless club. That's what they want you to think. But it's a lie. A lie designed to conceal the truth."

Henry:

"Where others saw order, I saw a strait-jacket. A cruel, oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. [...]  I could reach into others, into their minds, their memories. I became an explorer. I saw my parents as they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal people. But like everything else in this world, it was all a lie. A terrible lie. They had done things, Eleven. Such awful things. I showed them who they really were."

(both Jason and Henry state that they have seen through the curtain. For Jason its the supernatural, seeing Eddie for who he really is. For Henry, it's seeing through the roles people play to fit in ie. conforming to societal pressure. They both make an example out of someone. In the case for Jason, he believes that Eddie is hiding behind a "harmless" DnD roleplaying club while committing this heinous acts- the "awful truth". Henry makes an example out of his nuclear family, stating how he was able to see how his parents truly were, how they hide behind a "terrible lie"- one he equated to a silly terrible play earlier in his speech)

The mind-boggling thing? Being an explorer who saw their parents for who they truly were, parents who have done awful things and hide behind a façade of normalcy, is paralleled to Holly.

In fact the shot pans over the Wheelers when Jason states that the "harmless" club is a lie designed to conceal the truth:

In fact there are many more associations with the Wheelers in Jason's speech. "We've all heard how satanic cults are spreading through our country like some… some disease."

Wheeler women are associated with cancer

The running gag of Mike's asking if his Nana has cancer in s3

2. Karen didn't need to be in the s3 scene on the phone when Mike is lying to El about his Nana's cancer, but they did intentionally include her regardless, having her ask if something is wrong with Nana and if she's sick.

3. Jonathan describes the resentment Nancy will feel for him if she has to give up her dreams for him and the continuation of the family cycle as a cancer (which is like, Karen's whole thing)- finally spelling out to us that the cancer, in this case of unsatisfied wheeler women at least, is a metaphor for female oppression/conformity:

And then we see El in California, clad in roses choking against the rose on the creel door, which we also see Karen, Nancy, and Holly associated with, spreading the disease... through the country.

(Steve brought a bouquet of roses for Nancy in an effort to get her back in s2)

"... spreading through our country like some… some disease."

Flashback to s4e1 when Mike just arrives across the country in California, he is bringing her yellow and purple flowers, which he explicitly mentions how he chose the colors when handing it to her:

Which is familiar... the spread of the UD is repeatedly compared also to an infectious disease in s3 with Mrs. Driscoll's rats being a reference to the spread of the Bubonic Plague and Driscoll being the first to "contract" this disease straights from the "source".

Mrs Driscoll wears a shirt with purple and yellow flowers on it (and red/white), similar to the ones that Mike handed El when he got to California:

(Steve brought a bouquet of roses for Nancy in an effort to get her back in s2 and Dustin jokingly asks which Wheeler parent its for)

Mind you we see rose symbolism with other female characters also. Robin Rose Weaver, who is adorned in pink and white + pearls (like Holly also) and a flower-shaped hair accessory. Robin is uncomfortable with this look as it "not her". Tammy Thompson- implying that femininity is a "performance". Angela, who represents how women bully each other into conforming with her actions towards El. Billy's mother, who wears a red flower on her beach outfit. I spoke about it here, no need to repeat it again.

Tabitha, Suzie's sister, also shares this style while in the same style while pretending to choke, like El.

As for the Wheeler men- beyond the obvious clothing parallels, we can see conflation of Eddie and Henry's parents, who have done "awful things" but hide behind a role. Ted and Mike have paralleled serial killer references in s4, which I spoke about more extensively in this post but Ill put a bit here:

Three serial killer name drops in s4: Michael Meyers, Ted Bundy, and Freddy Krueger (predators).

In fact when they name drop Ted Bundy they conflate him with Eddie Munson. Twice in that one scene actually.

The most simple play on names is apparent here. Both Eddie and Ted are short for Edward.

(and this line which low key reminds me of the The First Shadow casting call - [GUNSHOT])

But also just the focus on the Wheeler (Nancy) when serial killers are brought up as Robin is speaking about Vecna in this scene:

Also Jason's little list of where to look for Eddie specifically says Wheeler's (apostrophe designating a short hand for saying the Wheeler home) although in the show itself there is no indication from any character or scene that Jason ever checked out the Wheeler home personally unless he counts just observing briefly it from the Sinclair's next door that morning:

Anyways, if Jason's and Henry's monologues are meant to be mirrors of one another (Eddie's DnD roleplying club as a front = Conformity/nuclear family as a role to hide a "terrible lie" and "awful things" that were done) what does this line double meaning from Jason's monologue mean to you in the context of the Wheelers?

"We've all heard how satanic cults are spreading through our country like some… some disease. And Eddie Munson is the leader of one of these cults. A cult that operates here in Hawkins.[...] A club. A club. A harmless club. That's what they want you to think. But it's a lie. A lie designed to conceal the truth [shot to the Wheelers]. And now this cult is protecting its leader, Eddie. Hiding him. Allowing him to… to continue his rampage."

Which is analogous to: "I became an explorer. I saw my parents as they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal people. But like everything else in this world, it was all a lie. A terrible lie. They had done things, Eleven. Such awful things."

Of course, abstractly, this is all a metaphor for how the cultural enforcement of the nuclear family only perpetuates the cycle of broken families.

Women are pressured into marrying men with no other choice -> they grow unsatisfied and resentful of their husbands for being abusive/emotionally neglectful and all the opportunities they gave up (cancer) -> an unhappy and resentful mother is not adequately there for her children emotionally -> her sons are not emotionally supported and are taught regardless that "boys dont cry" -> son then go onto marry a woman (even if he doesn't wan to) -> son mirrors his own upbringing having not unlearned it and becomes the emotionally neglectful/abusive/distant husband with an unhappy and resentful wife (infection spread) -> the cycle repeats

Interestingly enough when Nancy was vecna'd we get an interesting scene, shifting from miketed's Fred's mangled body to the rose door:

Idk about the serial killer stuff imma wait until TFS for that

But what does Lucas say at the end of s4 to Jason?

"normal's just a raging psychopath"

[alcorian]

listen, I… the red triangle is used by Hamas to identify targets? That they’re going to kill? How is saying that a survivor of the shoah should be murdered by Hamas not Jew hating by your standards? Why are you bending over backwards to defend heritageposts, a guy who recently literally made a huge list of Jews he didn’t like with that fucking ‘Zionist blocklist’ bullshit? Listen, I get it, you’re a goy, so the only form of Jew hatred you think exists is nazism, but I’m a mizrachi Jew, and I don’t take kindly to people claiming that Islamic fundamentalism is not Jew hating. I hope you actually start listening to Jews instead of the people who hate us

hi. the website i was given to read up on the red triangle did not mention hamas anywhere in the main body of the text.

there was a section mentioning how it was used by "palestinian resistance fighters" in videos showing their "daily operations against invading Israeli forces" to highlight what they'd done, but most of the article focused on the idea of non-palestinians looking at and seeing the destruction caused by israel:

i have since been informed that this site is biased and very pro-hamas, and have re-read it with a more critical eye.

(i will also add the caveat that while this is no excuse, it was around 1 am after a day of errands and preparing to move when i read this and was replying to things last night. i was very tired and not absorbing information as well as i could have been. i should not have been talking about things like this in that condition, but i have to add the context that it probably affected my reasoning. so i should add that i also re-read that article with a more awake eye.)

and i still dont like heritageposts, but the fact remains that my information in the original post was factually wrong. ("i cannot think of any other reason they would use the upside down triangle in this context except to wish the holocaust or similar on this man.") my disclaimer was meant to reflect that. "thus, heritageposts may not have been invoking the holocaust as i assumed." this intentionally leaves room for them to be lying about their intentions, and for audience interpretation. it also specifically is about them invoking the holocaust, not antisemitism in general. that disclaimer doesnt mean they didnt still say something fucked up. that means i may have been wrong about what they were invoking.

i still think its fucked up to wish for someone to get bombed, even if they are a horrible person and a murderer. (i dont believe in capital punishment in the first place, even for types of people i hate.) but i was trying to be factual and keep accidental misinformation from spreading. that was my intention with the edit, just as my intention with the original post was to keep people from uncritically getting their news from a possible antisemite.

[clonerightsagenda]

I'm stuck watching broth simmer for a few hours, so I am finally making a post I have been sitting on for a while because I was laughing about it again last night.

In the past, I have made posts arguing for interpreting two relationships in Wolf 359 as pseudo-parental. The writers were pretty emphatic that while they had no objections to shipping, none of the characters were written as romantically involved or interested in each other. While they didn’t say if they *were* trying to write a specific kind of dynamic, I thought I picked up on some - whether intentionally written that way or not. (I feel the need to reiterate that I am not accusing anyone who ships those pairings of being morally wrong or supporting incest, which would be ridiculous but sounds like the kind of take you would see on this website.) But anyway, today I am going to make my case that I believe there was a *third* shitty dad in this podcast, and it is Warren Kepler.

As you read this you may be asking, Kat, are you trying to make enemies of everyone in the w359 fandom. The answer to that is no, honestly, but I am burdened by a fondness for Shakespeare allusions.

I will get to the Shakespeare bit, but first, some narrative parallels. In both Maxwell and Jacobi's backstory minisodes, Kepler is introduced in a way that aligns with their relationship with their parents. Maxwell has a restraining order against her family; in "Language Mapping" she refers to Kepler's behavior as harassment, says she's trying to get him to stop, and implies she *had* been looking into legal solutions but Goddard stayed just within the limits of what was allowed. In Jacobi's backstory episode, he admits he tried to join the military because of his dad, and Kepler is the one who gets him to join Goddard.

Thin, I admit, so let's get to the Shakespeare quote. "You have that in your countenance which I would fain call master" is from King Lear. You can read the wikipedia summary, but the play is a bit portentous. Lear falls for empty ego-stroking by bad actors while alienating people who have better intentions. One of those people is the Earl of Kent, who, burdened by fatal feudal loyalty, disguises himself to get back into Lear's service and follows him around for most of the play until Lear realizes he messed up and then dies about it. Invoking this scene is a bit of a self-own on Kepler's part. It comes from when Kent is interviewing (in disguise) to rejoin Lear's retinue. While Kent is flattering Lear, he's also tricking him, albeit for his own good. You could see this as foreshadowing of Jacobi blindsiding Kepler in season 4. Most relevant for this post is that King Lear is a play very focused on the relationships between fathers and their children, and Kent at one point says he loves Lear as a father. This says nothing good about poor Kent's actual family considering Lear is a shitty dad, but most? (all? I’d have to reread) of the family relationships in this play suck, so maybe it's still a step up. Among other things King Lear is about finding out your boss/dad is kind of an fuckup and yet remaining mired in his drama anyway as it develops a body count. If the shoe fits.

My last piece of evidence is extra-canonical, but in one of the AMAs one of the writers or VAs (I do not recall which) described SI5's relationship as a tired soccer parent and his two awful children. If it's not in the text it doesn't count, but I take this as evidence I am right.

So, does this actually land? Not really imo. Longtime followers know that I do not approach media with shipping goggles glued to my face (I don't even own shipping goggles) and even I was raising my eyebrows at points. I lay most of the blame for this on Noah Masur’s performance, and if the AMAs are any indication, he did it on purpose. If my immediate takeaway had been reading Kepler as an evil dad, I would have liked him more. That being said, torpedoing your relationship because you are clinically incapable of admitting you made a mistake and then dying.... that might be the oldest Bad Parent move in the book.

If you have read this whole post I'm not sure why, but the conclusion is that it's shitty dads all the way down. Truly the Fullmetal Alchemist of podcasts.

[keroanya]

hey, if you write for souya, id love to request something for him :) my boyfriend broke up with me a couple days ago and told me he didnt love me and lied about loving me for a long time, broke our promise and left. id like to request something that would be the exact opposite with souya, this can be a headcanon or oneshot.

souya, who loves reader like no other, knows about readers ex and how she was treated, and always reassures her he will love her no matter what, and would keep loving her to no end. taking her on little dates, getting her things that made him think about her, texting her goodmorning and listening to her soecial interests, cuddling her to sleep, comforting her while she cries, kissing her goodnight, rides at night, cooking for her, you name it. he just wants to make reader happy </3

if you’d like, you can do from before they were dating and so on ( souya confessing and then how their relationship goes), or an already established relationship!

thank you so much, i hope this wasnt to specific :) no pressure to write it!

hello! thank you so much for requesting! truth be told i've never considered writing for him (/▿＼ ), i hope i did alright!

i am incredibly sorry for what your ex did, (＃`Д´) and i truly hope that writing this can help cheer you up^^ i've been in a similar situation, and i know exactly how much it hurts going through it, but stay strong! you've got this! (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

(i hope you do not mind, but i made this with a gender neutral reader^^)

souya kawata, the loml

characters included: souya (angry) kawata

warnings: pure, pure fluff. mentions of past (below-par) relationships. gender neutral reader^^

a/n: reminder to drink some water to stay hydrated ^^ this is my first time writing for angry, so i'm incredibly sorry if he is out of character. i've done some research though^ (by research i mean reading two souya x reader fics)

(f/m) - favorite movie

souya, in all honesty, was not expecting you to talk to him, considering his appearance. there was a reason his friends referred to him as "angry", but you didn't seem to mind him, in fact you often talked to him while working.

he was so happy he decided to walk into that run-down corner store, because now he's sitting on the couch with you. your head in his lap, watching a movie. in all honesty, he wasn't really watching the movie, he was mostly watching you watch the movie. after you put on (f/m), he attempted to watch with you but he eventually got bored and stuck to playing with your hair as you watched intently.

"y/n, you know i love you, right?" he whispered, looking down at you. as you looked up, a small tinge of red crossed your cheeks, and you smiled back at him. he swears that smile of yours could cheer him up at any time.

"i know you do, and i love you too," you responded, bringing a hand up to caress his face.

"i want you to know this won't be like last time. i'll always be there for you, and we'll always talk through things if needed, " he spoke with a smile. at his words, your eyes glossed over. souya noticed, and he was quick to pick you up and hug you, rubbing circles on your back as you let it all out.

"souya kawata, you're the love of my life."

this belongs to @keroanya . please do not repost, translate, or distribute.