#Dwight still sitting in his closet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Note

Charles jealous and possessive, i love your writing! Smut please!

Expensive Affection || CL 16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x stripper!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, rough sex, choking, biting WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist

You weren’t even listening to the song as your body fell into the familiar routine and the metal of the pole warmed in your palm as you twirled around it. Cold hands reached from the bar stools lining the stage, their fingers damp from the condensation on the beer bottles they nursed. You plastered a fake smile on your ruby painted lips as they slipped cash into the flimsy thong and helped themself to a grope of your ass despite the keen eyes of the bouncers standing in the wings.

It galled you to dance for these men night after night but living in Monaco wasn’t cheap and it beat working minimum wage. There was one perk to working at the exclusive strip club and he was sitting in the shadows at the back, a bottle of Belvedere Vodka unopened on the table of the large booth he had to himself.

Charles never came with anyone, not like the other men who brought their friends or business partners, or the girlfriends their wives didn’t know about. He always came alone and he always left alone. But you made sure his time in the club was never lonely.

The song ended as your feet touched back down and you gathered the diamante bra that you had come off during the chorus along with the cash that littered the stage floor before blowing one final kiss to the top tippers and sashaying off so Roxy could take over. You didn’t even make it to the changing rooms behind the stage before a finger snapped your way and Dwight pointed to the dark corridor leading off from it.

“Room three,” he said as he tapped his watch. “One hour.”

You nodded and rushed into the changing room so you could toss the cash in your locker and change into the red lace babydoll Charles loved so much. With a quick check in the mirror, you reapplied the lipstick that matched the outfit and swapped the thigh high boots for the pair of Louboutins he had gifted you.

The man had an obsession with red.

Charles was already in the room when you closed the door behind you and you waited for the blinking red light in the corner of the room to stop before either of you spoke. The cameras were supposed to record every second of the private dances but Charles paid enough to ensure his privacy was kept exactly that, private.

You drank in the sight of him, lounging comfortably on the velvet chaise with a crystal tumbler of vodka dangling from his fingers as he swirled the clear liquid around. At some point between leaving the mainstage and arriving here he had tugged his tie from his collar and now the top two buttons were open, teasing you to reach forward and bare even more of his skin.

“You’ve been busy,” you said as you poured yourself a drink and watched him over the rim of the glass. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”

He curled a finger and you stepped closer as he beckoned you to take a seat on his lap. “If that were true, you wouldn’t still have this waiting in your closet for me.” His fingertips teased across the hem of the babydoll across your thighs as his lips whispered the words across your collar before he kissed your racing pulse.

“It was wishful thinking,” you purred as your fingers pulled his shirt from where it tucked into his suit pants. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” He took a deep breath in as he took your glass away, reaching over to place it with his on the table. When he turned back you caught the way his eyes narrowed and he stood up abruptly, turning and caging you beneath him. “It didn’t look that way when you were shaking your ass for those guys out there.”

You bit your lip to stifle your laugh but the corners of your lips still curled up in amusement as he pressed his in a tight line.

“Something funny?” he dared as he traced a thumb over your ruby lips before his hand trailed down the column of your throat.

The weight of his body pressed against you and your lips parted with a gasp when the cold metal of his belt buckle touched your clit through the thin lace. “Yes…” you answered as you reached between your bodies and began unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s hilarious actually. I couldn’t give a shit about anyone out there. They can look all they like but there’s only one man who can have me.”

“I hate that they see what’s mine,” he growled before he crushed his lips to yours, his tongue dominating yours as his fingers tightened enough to remind you of their controlled strength. He bit your lip enough to draw a surprised yelp from your lungs before he tore the babydoll open and roughly palmed your breasts. “I hate that I have to share these with those fuckers.”

He pinched one nipple and rolled it between his fingers as his mouth sealed over the other, sucking it to a stiff peak before dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. “Who do you belong to?” he asked as he spread your legs and bit the soft skin at your inner thigh.

“Ah, Charles!” you cried out but the pain quickly turned to molten fire that ignited your core.

“That’s right,” he chuckled against your skin before licking your pussy through the lace that was already damp with your arousal. He hummed deeply as he tasted you before pushing the thong aside so he could devour you completely. “You belong to me.”

Charles’ nails left half moons in your skin as his fingers gripped your thighs and tugged you closer to push his tongue deeper inside you and your head fell back as you saw stars. His name filled the room but not a sound would be heard outside the thick walls so there was no holding back when he replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them deep into your cunt while he lapped at your clit.

“Oh, Charles, right…there…” you moaned as you combed his hair back, your fingers clutching the soft strands to hold him right where he was as the tightening in your core erupted into ecstasy.

Your fingers released the hold on him but he wasn’t finished with you just yet as he added another finger and sucked your puffy clit until your legs trembled around him. You screamed with the rapid orgasm that chased the first and wet warmth gushed from you as his fingers found that perfect spot that left you helpless to the release.

“Fuck, you are perfect,” Charles stated proudly as he rose to his feet. His half unbuttoned shirt was damp from where you had squirted over him and he licked his fingers clean before snapping his belt off and shoving the trousers down his legs.

You wanted a taste of him when you saw the creamy beads of pre-cum that he smeared around his tip with his thumb before fisting his thick shaft and pumping it lazily. You were ready to beg for a taste until he erased your ability to think and speak when he slapped your overstimulated clit with his dick before spearing your cunt with a hard thrust.

“Oh, fuck you’re tight,” he moaned as your pussy stretched with a sweet burn.

Your nails dug into his ass, spurring him to move as he tried to be a gentleman and wait for you to adjust to his size. “Just fuck me already, Charles. Make me yours.”

He rose to the challenge, grabbing your knees and pushing them up to your chest so he had the perfect view of his cock disappearing inside you as he slowly rocked his hips. You knew he was teasing you, you knew he wanted to drive you wild. From the frustrated sound that came from deep in your belly he knew it was working.

“Touch yourself, bella. Touch yourself like you did while I was away.”

You reached between your legs and circled your clit as he started to move faster and he moaned as your pussy clenched in response. His bottom lip pinched between his teeth when you took his hand and brought it up to your throat where he didn’t need any more encouragement as he gently squeezed the sides.

“Harder,” you begged breathlessly.

He didn’t question you, he knew exactly what you could handle as his fingers tightened and his hips snapped forward until the sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room as loud as your moans.

Unintelligible words tumbled from your lips as lightning flashed across your vision and your clit throbbed beneath your fingers as you came again. Your walls clamped down on Charles and his hand slipped from your throat to your hips so his grip could leave bruises where he pulled you against his thrusts. His rhythm faltered and he buried himself as deep as possible with a shuddering breath and you felt his cock pulsing inside as he painted your walls with his release.

He collapsed breathless atop you and left delicate kisses across your shoulder that were a stark contrast to how rough he had been. Charles was complex that way, and more expressive than anyone you knew. There was no hiding with him, if he was upset he wasn’t afraid to show it, if he was jealous…or sated. He could express himself freely within these walls.

You lazily brushed his hair as he rested his head between the valley of your breasts and asked him about his time away. He huffed at the question and muttered that it wasn’t good before explaining how everything that could go wrong with his race did.

“I just wanted to come home,” he said as he peered up at you, “see your beautiful face.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted before sighing and pushing him back so you could sit up.

He moved off you, tucking himself back into his trousers before catching your hand as you stood up. “Where are you going?”

“You only paid for the hour,” you said as you forced your shaking legs to carry you to the door, his fingers slipping from yours. “I have to get back to work.”

“How much?” he asked as he reached into his jacket hanging over the back of the chaise and pulled out his phone.

Your hand froze on the door handle and you turned to him with a frown. “For what?”

“You.” He turned his screen to show his bank account, more zeros than you could comprehend in his balance. “How much for every hour?”

“Charles…”

“I’m done sharing you.” Two long strides brought him chest to chest with you and he pinched your chin to keep you from looking away as he shoved his phone into your hand. “You are mine, I don’t care what it costs. You belong to me.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine

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cupidjyu · 7 months

Text

don't think so

sunwoo x reader

when you hate the man who sits in front of you at the office, but end up getting stuck in a closet with him

genre: office au, enemies to lovers (pretty one-sided), setup like jim and dwight from the office, bickering, close proximity in a closet, teasing, flusteredness notes: hey so.... i don't have any other excuse besides school is trying to murder me. so busy i haven't even been able to keep up with tbz so it's a little hard to write for them at the moment 😭 i hope you enjoy and not sure of the coming months :( word count: 3.1k

Avoiding him was the main goal.

And when you set a goal, you meant it. You would sacrifice anything to achieve it: your sustainment like the lunch breaks that you’ve purposely missed to avoid seeing him, your enjoyment like when you sat in the very back of the meeting rooms where you couldn’t see to avoid sitting next to him, and… your sleep.

It was an ungodly hour in the morning. Your eyes were threatening to glue shut but at least you would be early enough to work that you wouldn’t have to see him.

But then again, there was the disappointing fact that he still sat at the desk in front of yours. Waking up early only stalled your time away from him. When your shift actually started, you would still be forced to look at his obnoxious face.

With a yawn, you walked over to your desk and put your stuff down. When you looked up, you quietly gasped at the sight.

Sunwoo.

Sunwoo was sitting at his desk, you know, the one right in front of yours, dozing off. He was dressed in his usual work attire–a suit and a tie–but the only thing that was different was that his hair was messy. Like he had just woken up recently.

The whole plan was to avoid him yet you still failed. Suppressing a groan, you walked over to him, leaned down, and slapped him right on his cheek. He startled and his eyes shot open.

“What was–” He looked up at you before narrowing his eyes. With a grumble, he thumped his head down onto the desk. “What do you want?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “You were sleeping. So I woke you up.”

“It’s cause I came early,” He mumbled, ruffling his own hair as he sat back up, leaning back in his office chair.

“And why’d you do that?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching over and purposely knocking over one of his figurines. A raccoon to be exact. It looked like him.

“Because you usually come early,” He bluntly replied, picking up the figurine and threatening to throw it in your face. He smirked when he noticed you flinch, annoyingly enough.

You scoffed. “Yeah, for a reason.”

“The reason is me, I presume?” He looked at you unimpressed.

“Precisely.”

Turning on your heel, you walked back to your desk, narrowly avoiding the fact that he actually ended up throwing the figurine. And apparently, bickering with your office enemy causes time to fly because you already had to start your work. You turned on your computer and began to type, ignoring the man in front of you who was kicking your desk.

Then, you heard footsteps behind you and a cup being placed down on your desk. You widened your eyes, noticing that it was your favorite drink–warm and inviting, perfect for the weather. You looked up, coming face-to-face with Sangyeon leaning against your desk.

“For me?” Your eyes brightened.

He nodded, smiling kindly. “It was on the way.”

“Thank you so much!” You beamed, waving as he walked away. You stared at the drink lovingly. Already, you could feel that it made your day.

After you took a sip, you were about to turn back to your screen when you realized that there was a certain someone glaring daggers at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he obviously looked annoyed.

You eyed him, your smile souring. “What?”

“Nothing,” He curtly replied. “You’re just irritating when you’re happy.”

You frowned, reaching over and moving his monitor until it completely blocked his face. “Then don’t look at me,” You gritted out.

He peeked around the monitor anyway. “I can’t help it.”

You huffed, choosing to ignore him.

Whenever you were getting focused, you liked to put your hair up. It didn’t matter what style, as long as it didn’t bother you. And so, bringing your hair up, you were about to put it up when you could feel a presence staring at you.

You looked at him, unimpressed.

“You know you’re really creepy right?”

And it seemed that you actually caught him off guard because he quickly sat up and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I wasn’t staring.”

After working with Sunwoo for–unfortunately–a while, you found that he hated it when you showed no interest in him. If you acted unbothered or bored with him, he would quickly become annoyed. That was your favorite way of pestering him.

And so, you simply shrugged, turning away.

“Okay.”

And just like you had expected, he huffed in disbelief. You could tell from your peripheral vision that he was getting irritated.

“Actually,” He decided to speak up. “I was staring at you.”

So, that wasn’t what you expected him to say. You expected a mere insult but for him to admit that he was actually looking at you tying your hair up was something else.

“Sunwoo,” You whispered, getting up from your chair to lean over his desk. “Wanna know something?”

He leaned in to hear you. “What?”

“Shut up.”

He leaned back with a roll of his eyes. “No. Also, there’s a piece of hair sticking out.” He motioned to the side of your head.

You groaned, got up from your desk, and rushed to the bathroom. Except, when you looked in the mirror, you realized that he was in fact, lying. Your hair was perfectly fine.

“That asshole.”

“I don’t think it’s all too bad,” Sangyeon said, sipping on the new flavor of coffee that your boss insisted on replacing the old one with. The old one was perfectly fine.

“It’s not,” You groaned. “The coffee’s the only reason why I come to the break room.”

Sangyeon shrugged, taking the cup from you. You’ve counted that he’s already drank four cups of coffee. This is his fifth. A little worrying in your opinion.

Then, you stood up and twirled for him. Sangyeon lifted an eyebrow at your sudden action. You huffed.

“It’s a new outfit. What do you think?’

“Oh,” Sangyeon laughed. “I was confused for a second. It looks good and suits you well,” He answers, smiling. You were about to thank him but you noticed that he was balancing his coffee in one hand and his computer in the other. He groaned. “Sorry, I have to go now. Eric’s been bothering me on how to send a stupid email.”

You shake your head and say goodbye. Going back to work is the least ideal thing that you wanted to do so you attempted to stay back and look busy. In the break room.

“Someone’s awfully happy to be talking to Sangyeon,” A deep voice sounds from behind you.

You yelp in surprise and quickly turn around only to accidentally elbow Sunwoo in the stomach. At first, you tried to say sorry but when you realized that it was him and that you both mutually hate each other, you kept your mouth shut.

He winced, holding onto the spot that you had just elbowed.

“Why?” He managed to say.

“You scared me.”

He simply hummed as a response. You peered at him curiously, noticing that something was a bit off with him. He looked more grumpy than usual, his eyebrows furrowed with what you could assume to be frustration.

You decided not to beat around the bush. “Why do you look more pissed than usual?”

“Because I am,” He snapped.

Though it was common for Sunwoo to be a bit snarky, you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback.

“How come?” You tilted your head.

He froze and you could have sworn that his eyes wandered away from your face, down to your outfit. “Just that…” He trailed off, fidgeting nervously. You could tell he was stalling. You could tell that he wanted to run. But instead, you stepped closer, staring straight into his eyes.

“That?”

“That you’re wearing that outfit.”

The small light of hope in your heart quickly dimmed into nothing. You took a step back, a frown taking over your curious smile. “You’re mad because I’m wearing this outfit?”

His eyes widened. “No, I–” But he sighed. Though it almost looked like he wanted to say more.

You stayed quiet, taking even more steps backward. “I mean,” You started, your voice laced with hurt. “If you’re that bothered by my existence, you might as well just stop talking to me at all.” Without giving him a chance to reply, you turned around and walked away.

You laughed, watching as Sangyeon desperately tried to get the printer to work. Then he approached you with a tired look on his face.

“Can you go to the supply closet and get more paper?” He asked, his tired look turning into a pleading one.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

As you got up, you let out a small sigh of relief. Sunwoo’s nowhere to be seen. Good, because you were still angry at him. Of course, you were always annoyed, but this time it was different. Walking past his desk, you headed towards the closet.

It was incredibly small–not the best for people who might be claustrophobic. Still, you just needed to get the paper and get out. But, just as you were leaving and opening the door, you almost ran straight into someone’s chest.

Startled, you were about to apologize, only to realize that of course, it was him.

“What’re you doing here?” You clenched your jaw.

“I have to get a mop,” He calmly replied. “Eric spilled coffee all over the floor.”

But of course, he didn’t let you exit. Instead, he cornered you into the closet. When he noticed you stumbling and backing up against the wall, he smiled in amusement which you grumbled at.

You could hear the door closing behind him, engulfing you two in only the dim light that the closet provided. It was harder to see and so you gulped when he reached around you for the mop, touching your waist briefly before backing away.

Then, he paused, setting it to the side for a second.

“About earlier…”

You frowned, not really in the mood to talk about it right now. “Can we at least argue outside of this small closet?” You didn’t even allow him an answer as you’re already pushing past him. But, as you try to turned the handle, it doesn’t budge. You shook it, pushed down on it, everything, and still, the door refused to open.

That’s when you realized that you’re doomed. You stood there, shoulders stiff and brooding over the handle as you prayed that maybe this was all just a prank.

And what made it worse is that you’re stuck in a closet with the man who you pronounced a long time ago to be your sole enemy. He stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“Too weak to open a door?”

You sighed, turning to face him, only for your breath to hitch because you completely forgot just how close he was to you. “It’s locked.”

“It’s what?” He widened his eyes, searching your gaze to make sure you were not messing with him. He reached around you and tried to turn the handle as well. You truly hoped that maybe he had magic and would open the door. But again, it wouldn’t budge.

You hung your head back and leaned against the wall, trying your best not to curse. Meanwhile, Sunwoo turned to you and set a hand on the wall, right next to your ear to keep his balance. That’s when you realized that he was practically pinning you to the wall.

“This is uncomfortable,” You bluntly stated.

He stayed quiet as he tried to move around to create more distance. Instead, he only ended up stepping even closer with most of his body against yours.

“I can’t move,” He sheepishly said.

“Don’t try,” You mumbled, shutting your eyes with embarrassment. And as if it would help at all, you placed your hands on his chest. He stared quietly before looking away. But even under the dim light, you could tell that he was suppressing a shy smile.

“I’m sure someone will start looking for us soon,” He spoke quietly. “Just wait.”

“Fine.” You let your hands fall to your sides. For such an annoying man, he smelled awfully good. And for such an obnoxious man, he was… handsome up close. But before he would tease you for staring, you spoke up again. “So what were you going to say about yesterday?” You looked up into his eyes.

He cleared his throat and quickly broke eye contact. It was almost like he was too… shy to look you in the eye.

“I wanted to apologize.”

You were shocked, to say the least. “Apologize? You?”

“What, is that so shocking?” He grinned. “But seriously, it was all a misunderstanding.”

You tilted your head. “Then what’d you mean to say?”

“I was mad because you… you didn’t ask me what I thought about your outfit.” His voice was quiet before but now it’s barely audible.

You stared at him in surprise. And then your lips began to widen into an amused smile, your eyes twinkling.

“Hold on,” You giggled. “You were jealous of Sangyeon?”

He stuttered profusely, “I wouldn’t put it like that but–” He paused, accepting defeat as his shoulders sunk. “Maybe, I guess.”

You laughed even more at his reply. “Why would I ask you? Don’t we argue all the time?”

“Because,” He sighed. “I was going to say that you look pretty. You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You froze at that and you felt your cheeks warming. You could see and sense the way his eyes wandered over you. Was it always this warm in here?

“I guess I would,” You mumbled, looking down to try to hide your reddening cheeks.

He chuckled. And yet again, he surprised you as you felt a gentle hand come up to your ear, tucking a stray piece of hair. You swallowed thickly, choosing not to look into his eyes. You wondered if he was regarding you with a teasing look or a glare.

But when you gathered the courage to look up, it was neither. Instead, his eyes were soft, full of an emotion that you couldn’t quite name.

Sunwoo, who you pronounced to be your sole enemy, wasn’t all that bad. He liked to bicker with you sure, but he never went too far. He even looked out for you sometimes like the time you tripped and fell. He had put a bandage on your knee.

You stared at him in wonder, seeing him in a new light.

“Sunwoo,” You whispered.

He smiled softly. “Hm?”

“Why do you hate me?”

He paused. You could tell he was getting nervous as he shifted awkwardly.

“Because you’re annoying.”

Except, when you looked closely, you noticed that he was blushing. His eyes were avoidant of yours, his cheeks and ears were flushed… he was shy.

The corner of your lips lifted up with mischievousness. And so, you let your hands crawl back up to rest on your chest and this time, it was you who leaned in closer as you held the eye contact. He inhaled sharply.

“I don’t think that’s why,” You teased.

And you expected him to try to refute. But instead, his eyes only softened further as he gave you a fond look.

“You’re right,” He whispered back. “It’s not.”

Slightly taken aback, you quickly recovered. “Then why do you hate me? And tell the truth this time.”

But then, your composure came crashing down when he leaned closer. It was like a game: who would accidentally initiate a kiss first? He stared down at you with a teasing look, a small smirk on his lips.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your heart thumped in your chest. “Wh–”

Suddenly, the closet was flooded with light. The door was open and the two of you turned to the source. There was Eric, out of breath and full of stress. He also seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that he interrupted a tense moment.

“I found you!” He exclaimed. “I thought you two died!”

Sunwoo looked at him in disbelief. “Why would we?”

You didn’t allow any further conversation. With a new pounding in your heart, you shoved past Sunwoo and made your escape.

The next day, you couldn’t even look Sunwoo in the eye anymore. Every time you tried, you would be reminded of the scent of his cologne, of his teasing smirk when he said that he didn’t hate you, and of the new feelings that had bloomed in your heart.

As you were packing up your things, you realized that Sunwoo already left. But that was when you noticed a cup on your desk. It was your favorite drink.

“So he remembered,” You mumbled to yourself, turning it and picking up a note attached to it.

Meet me outside

When you exited the building, just like he said, he was waiting for you. He was of course still in work attire, leaning against the wall. His hair was slightly tousled and his features shone in the setting sun. He really was handsome when you didn’t hate his guts.

You approached him cautiously.

“Hey,” He greeted.

“Hi.” You offered a small smile. Small steps would do. Step by step.

You saw him hesitate for a moment before pulling out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. He held it out to you.

Okay, so that was a pretty large step.

You stared at it in surprise, the colors pretty and vibrant. “What’s this for?” You gasped.

He smiled charmingly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Because you’re annoying.”

You huffed in amusement, rolling your eyes. Still, you took it and smiled at him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Right,” He whispered, leaning closer just like before.

This time, you laughed and took his hand in yours. No more small steps–might as well be bold. You enjoyed the sight of a flustered Sunwoo staring down at your connected hands. Swinging his hand, you started walking home together.

–

A thump on your desk.

Sangyeon’s hand as he leaned against it.

“Y/n,” He warned. “I have something to ask.”

“Hm?” You turned away from your computer.

“I went to the convenience store yesterday.”

You stared at him, bored. “Is that the question?”

“No,” He laughed. “But that’s on your way to your apartment, right?”

You paused and looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

And then he smiled teasingly. “So why did I see you pressing a kiss to Sunwoo’s cheek?”

It was like an arrow straight through your chest. Standing up, you slammed on the desk, causing everyone in the office to look at you.

“We were–”

Sangyeon smiled wider. “Your collar’s messed up by the way.”

You looked down at it before flushing and turning away. But just as you did, you caught a glimpse of a smug Sunwoo, sitting at his desk, watching the whole ordeal. You mouthed to him a silent, “I hate you.”

“Admit it, I’m a great kisser,” He mouthed back.

You couldn’t respond to that.

#the boyz imagines #the boyz reactions #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo fluff #tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #drabbles 💞#requests 💞

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negandarylsatisfaction · 2 years

Text

[SUMMARY: Esme gets caught stealing from Negan.]

Smut

Negan was leaving the sanctuary, this was a perfect time to sneak into the supplies and grab a few things you needed. A few of your friends had fallen ill and you knew they were stacked in the supply closet with all sorts of medicine that was needed. Waiting for it to be clear, you grabbed your tiny blade and broke into the closet. Quickly closing the door behind you, you hadn’t noticed one of the men spotted you sneak inside. Before Negan had actually left, the man ran out to the gate and stopped Negan letting him know what he had just seen.

“Who snuck in?” Negan asked with a raised brow.

“Esme, she’s still in there now.”

Negan chuckled with a grin.

“This should be fun,” he climbed out of the truck and instructed the others to go on without him as he made his way back inside.

Going through all the boxes as quickly as you could, you stuffed your bra and your underwear with a few when you suddenly heard the door knob. With a gasp you turned to find Negan himself entering the room.

“Esme, Esme, Esme…what do we have here?” Negan closed the door behind him as you stared at him at a loss for words.

“You know..out of everyone, I least expected you to pull something like this,” he began to slowly walk towards you.

“So tell me, what cha got there?” He motioned towards your hands that lay in front of you.

“Negan..I’m…my friends needed medication..I-“ you placed 3 small bottles on the table beside you.

“Is that all you got?”

“Yes,” you lied making him raise his brows.

“You know I give it to you, Esme, you got balls.” Confused by what he meant you remained silent. He stepped even closer to you, leaning his face close to yours as you nervously stood still.

“You sure that’s all you’ve got, princess?”

“Yes,” your voice came out a lot softer than expected. He began to laugh which only made you more nervous.

“Geez, you just aren’t giving up are you? I tell you what…” he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“How about we play a little strip game-“

“I don’t-“

“Ah ah, you want to break rules this is what happens. I mean you seen after all what’s happened to Dwight and the others who have broken my rules, haven’t you?” Remembering the screams from Dwight as half is face was burned with an iron made you sick to your stomach.

“Here I’ll go first if it makes you feel any better,” Negan began to take off his leather jacket and threw it to the side. You knew what he was doing, you knew that he knew you weren’t being honest with what you had. Looking down at your outfit which was just a tank top with shorts you looked back up at him hesitantly.

“Not much to take off,” he chuckled before grabbing a chair and sitting right before you. Anxiously you began to pull off your tank top over your head, revealing a black bra underneath. Just as you threw it aside, one of the bottles fell out of your bra.

“Was that one of my bottles?” He spoke sarcastically as he stood up from the chair and grabbed it from the floor. He towered over you as you looked away, he got a perfect view of your cleavage and instantly noticed another bottle just between your breasts.

“Well this is going to get interesting.” He licked his bottom lip.

“You have anymore under there?” You looked up at him with guilty eyes, you gave up, yet you stayed silent.

“Should I get them myself?” He spoke in a low voice and winked at you. He noticed you swallow nervously as his fingers slowly reached between your breasts and grabbed the bottle. You noticed his eyes stayed on your breasts before he locked eyes with you again.

“I have to admit, Esme. This is kind of making my dick hard.” In all reality you had to admit, feeling his hands just above your breasts was a touch you hadn’t felt in a long time. It excited you.

“Anymore, sweetheart?” He whispered until you slowly began to unbutton your shorts and looked up at him.

“Yes,” you responded making him bite his lip with a excitement.

“Don’t tell me I get to see for myself there too?” You had to admit, fear was slowly leaving you with the excitement he was making you feel.

Negan slowly slid his hands in your pants as he stared down at you. He felt the thin fabric of your underwear as a tiny gasp escaped just as he gently slide his finger down the middle of your slit. It was just a tease but it was enough to arouse you. Quickly he found the two bottles you had taken. Pulling them out he threw all of them to the side.

“Hm, seven bottles you wanted to steal from me, seven whole fucking bottles,” his voice suddenly turned angry.

“Negan, I’m sorry, I-“

“Your sorry?” He stepped towards you with a death stare that almost made you step back, your nerves now coming back.

“Yes I’m sorry,” you whispered as he stared you down.

“Show me your sorry!” He yelled making you jump.

“How do you want me to-“ you gasped as he suddenly pulled you against him and shoved his hand back down your pants. Looking each other in the eyes you froze as you felt his finger slide beneath your underwear. He watched as your eyes began to role back as he began to gently play with your clit.

“You wanna show me your sorry?” He spoke low as he continued to move his finger.

“Yes,” you responded breathlessly.

“Cum for me,” he didn’t take his eyes off you, as you stared up at him in shock with the way he was touching you. You weren’t one of Negans wives, you never had expected to be touched like this by him. He pulled his hand out and roughly pulled down your pants and underwear together, his hand between your thighs again as he unbuckled his pants with his free hand. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back before looking down and noticing his hard cock in his hand. Without warning he turned you around and grabbed your hips, sliding your feet apart with his foot you soon felt him begin to poke at your entrance.

“You thought you were gonna get away with this huh,” he thrusted into you making you whimper. You leaned on the wall as he held onto your hips making you bounce on him. Moaning you threw your head back, feeling his hand slowly creep up your chest and grab your throat. He grunted in your ear feeling his hand slide back down between your legs. Negan began to rub your clit.

“I want you to show me your fucking sorry and cum all over my cock,”

“Oh yes..” you moaned as he held still inside you and rubbed your clit as fast as he could. Your legs began to shake against him as you grabbed onto the wall for dear life.

“Oh shit!” You screamed.

“Go ahead fucking cum for me,” you leaned yourself back against him with your mouth open before finally crying out like you never had. Negan grinned as he felt you trembling against him, his hand slowing down. You gasped for air before he got back into place and grabbed your hips thrusting hard. You could barely keep up as you felt your cum splash each time he slammed into you before he finally pulled out. Moaning roughly you felt him cum right on your ass.

Out of breath you turned to him as you both cleaned yourself off and fixed up your clothes, he couldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk.

“Just so you know, there’s a slot open if you know, you wanna be my wife,” he chuckled as you shook your head with a laugh.

“I’m serious, I’ll fuck you like that as much as you want. I could tell you were backed up,” you crossed your arms and raised a brow at him.

“Oh yeah?”

“What? It’s true, I felt it all over my dick,” he stepped closer to you as he spoke more seductively. He looked down at your lips before looking back into your eyes, leaning in closely he gave you a warning.

“Don’t you ever try to steal from me, again. Got it?”

“Got it,” you whispered as you looked down. Negan turned and grabbed one of the bottles before tossing it to you and left the room.

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #negan fan fiction #the walking dead fan fic #negan fanfic #negan twd #negan x ofc

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lucy-268 · 2 years

Text

One Night Special

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Samantha Carlson)

Disclaimer: Most characters belong to PB, Sami is sort of mine

Rating / Warnings: M (NS*W) if you’re under 18, DO NOT READ!

Summary: Tomorrow is the first day of Samantha’s internship. She needs to step out from her tiny apartment to relax.

Comments/Notes: Fits into the @choicesficwriterscreations naughty and nice event. Prompts will be in bold.

Word count: about 1,620

Samantha pushed open the door of a bar and was greeted by loud music from the jukebox in the corner. She headed to the bar, hoping this wasn’t a mistake since she would be starting her first day at Edenbrook tomorrow morning. She just needed a break from her tiny apartment. Just one drink, she promised herself.

As she was sipping her wine she sensed someone sit on the bar stool next to her, leaning over. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Samantha sat up straighter to pull away from him. “I have a boyfriend.”

He didn’t take the hint. “So? Every story has a villain.”

Samantha swiveled to face him when she felt a hand lightly touch her back. The voice from behind her was soft but had a commanding tone. “Look, buddy, I believe she told you politely that she isn’t interested.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the boyfriend.”

The guy stood up. “Sorry to bother you.”

Samantha watched him walk away and rejoin a group of his friends. He shrugged as he grabbed his beer from the table. She turned to face the man standing behind her and smiled. “Thank you. I was really wishing he would take the hint.”

The man nodded to the bartender as he sat next to her. “Here I am, what are your other two wishes?”

Samantha laughed. “That’s an even cheesier pick-up line than his.”

He joined in her laughter. “You opened yourself up to that by saying you wished he’d leave.”

The bartender approached and set a beer in front of him and another glass of wine in front of Samantha, who protested. “Oh, I didn’t want another.”

The bartender nodded at the man whose name Samantha still didn’t know. “It’s on him.”

“Thank you. I’m Samantha.”

“I’m… Tobias.”

She raised a brow. “You sure about that? Most people don’t hesitate that much.”

He laughed. “I was going to tell you I was Dwight Theodore Lewis III. But at the last second I decided to be honest.”

“Wow! Now I don’t know whether to trust you or not!”

Tobias pulled out his cell phone and tapped a few times before handing the phone to her. She was looking at the directory of doctors at Mass Kenmore. He leaned over and hit Trauma and then tapped Dr. Tobias Carrick. His profile came up along with his picture.

“That’s me.”

She handed back his phone. “Dr. Carrick, I’m Samantha Carlson. Tomorrow I start my first day as an intern at Edenbrook.”

He let out a whistle. “I hope you’re prepared. Residency will challenge you. Where did you go to med school?”

“Brown. I did my undergrad at Michigan.”

Tobias picked up his beer. “What made you decide to study medicine?”

Several hours later, after another beer for him and a mineral water for her - “I want to be clear-headed for my first day” - the bartender announced last call.

“Oh, I need to go!”

“I’ll drive you.” Tobias stood.

“You don’t need to.”

“You came here to relax with one drink and stayed to talk to me. I do need to make sure you get home safely.”

She smiled. “I could say the same, and you’ve already driven over six hours today. But as I don’t have a car and I’m not familiar with the area yet, I will gladly accept a ride to my tiny room.”

“You have a studio, too?” He unlocked the door of his Porsche Cayenne.

“Calling it a ‘studio’ is generous; it’s a closet that has a miniscule bathroom with a not quite normal size shower and it barely fits a full size bed.” Samantha ran her hand over the leather on the dashboard. “Too? You drive a Porsche and have a studio?”

“I rented the apartment when I moved here for my residency. I spend more time at the hospital than at home. I drive to Rochester every few months, so Ingrid," he patted the dashboard, "is comfortable, and being an SUV handles well in winter.” He smiled at her. “The car makes more sense.”

“Ingrid? You named your car?”

“German name for a German car. Beautiful actress.” Tobias finally started the car. “Do you want me to drive you to your tiny room or to my larger, but still small, apartment?”

Samantha rolled her eyes before she answered him. “I think I’d like to go to yours.”

Soon Tobias opened the door to his apartment.

Samantha smiled. “This is cozy. I thought I was signing up for cozy, but I’ve learned not to trust ads on social media sites.” Shut up, Samantha! she screamed to herself. “I don’t… I don’t do this.”

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Ever?”

“Not this, I’ve done this before. But not with someone I just met.”

“If you don’t want to, I’ll drive you home.”

“I want to! It’s been a while, with med school, and getting ready for my residency. But talking to you, hearing about your experience from your residency to now, I felt comfortable. And safe.” She stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders.

He slipped his arms around her and leaned down, he pulled back just a bit to capture her lower lip lightly with his teeth.

Samantha dragged her hands down his chest and stomach, gripping the bottom of his shirt and pushing it up. They broke the kiss long enough to shed their shirts. Tobias touched the front clasp of her bra and looked at her, silently asking permission. Samantha covered his hands with hers and helped him release it.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against her lips before leading her over to the bed.

She unbuttoned her jeans and lets them drop around her ankles as he opened his drawer, tossed a condom onto the bed. She smiled. “I knew you’d be safe and careful.”

Samantha settled back on the bed as Tobias unzipped his jeans, her eyes traced his body. “Like what you see?” he asked.

“Very much.” Samantha answered.

He crawled onto the bed and settled between her already parted legs. His hand traced up her thigh and he slid a finger inside her. “So wet.” Soon a second finger joined and he felt Samantha clench against his hand.

“I can’t wait much longer, Tobias. Please.”

Tobias buried his mouth against her neck. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you patience is a virtue?” His teeth nipped against the skin of her neck.

She heard the condom wrapper as he ripped it open. She helped him roll it on, stroking his cock in the process. She moaned as he pushed his cock slowly inside her, letting her adjust to him.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

Her legs curled around his waist, as she arched against him, matching his thrusts. Samantha bit into his shoulder to keep herself from crying out as she came, but it wasn’t her apartment at med school and there wasn’t a roommate who would hear. Just as she yelled out Tobias covered her mouth with his, effectively silencing her.

I've been really tryin', baby / Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long / And if you feel like I feel, baby /Then, c'mon, oh, c'mon, whoa

Samantha’s eyes flew open as she felt the bed shift right after the music blasted from his phone. It took her a few seconds to recognize the song. Tobias looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Morning.”

Samantha smiled than sat up, before grabbing the sheet and pressing it against her chest. “What time is it?”

“Five am. We have an hour to get you to Edenbrook. I’ll drive you home so you can change and drop you for your first day.”

“Won’t that make you late?”

Tobias shook his head. “I’m not in charge of interns, so I’ll be there in plenty of time.”

Forty-five minutes later they pulled up in front of Edenbrook. She’d gotten home, brushed her teeth and pulled on a pair of scrubs. Before she opened the car door, Tobias leaned over and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Have an amazing day today.”

Throughout the day, everytime Tobias saw an intern at Mass Kenmore, he thought about Samantha and wondered how her first day was going. As he was leaving the hospital, Terrance asked him if he was stopping at The Pour House.

“Not tonight.” Tobias shook his head. “I had a long day yesterday and didn’t get much sleep, so I’m going to head home.”

He started his car. I’m gonna head home as soon as I stop at Donahue’s. She probably isn’t there, but I’ll check, he thought. Tobias pulled into the parking lot and headed to the back of the bar and crossed through the beer garden.

As soon as he stepped inside he heard a voice he hadn’t heard for a while. “To your intern year. In the hopes you don't completely blow everything you've worked your whole life for.”

Ethan was answered by another voice Tobias recognized. “Morbid. I like it.” He watched as Samantha clinked her glass against Ethan’s. Maybe it’s best to leave it at one night, he thought as he turned and headed out.

After finishing a drink with Ethan, Samantha returned to the booth. Landry was still there, glaring at the girl he said he didn’t want to talk to. She was now dancing with a surgical intern that Bryce had introduced to her earlier. She unlocked her phone and opened the Mass Kenmore website. She typed Tobias Carrick into the search bar. There was his picture along with his phone number. He wouldn’t be at the hospital, but she could leave him a message. Her finger touched the number, 617-555-8925. She hit cancel. Maybe it’s best to leave it at one night.

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Perma - @a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @danijimenezv @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @writer-ish @cariantha @crazy-loca-blog @quixoticdreamer16 @starrystarrytrouble @zahrachoices

All Open Heart - @annfg8 @coffeeheartaddict2 @utterlyinevitable @differenttyphoonwerewolf

Open Heart - Tobias & Samantha only - @burnsoslow @kat-tia801

#open heart #tobias carrick x f!mc #cfwc fic of the week #cfwc naughty & nice #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #ns*w

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itsxcowboyrocksteady · 1 year

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Movie Night at Dwight’s (Part 1 of 2)

Movie Night at Dwight's (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Dwight Fairfield x (GN) Reader

Contents: Smut (sort of, that’s more in pt 2). And, idk, the beginnings of a really cute relationship, too, maybe? Friends to lovers.

Content Warnings: Bondage, Blindfolding, Edging (pt2), Soft Dom Reader (sort of)

Summary: You’re hanging out with Dwight, watching a movie in his room, when you make a request that pleasantly surprises him.

A/N: I thought about this as I got ready to start my day this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I’m breaking what I said about posting order and I’m just gonna leave this here. Dwight isn't as super nervous in this one because he's just that comfy with the reader. Friends to lovers seems to be my thing with Dwight fics. Part 2, with the really NSFW stuff, drops tomorrow lol

***

Maybe it's his new cologne? Or his messy hair that seems to really be working for him tonight? Whatever it is, it doesn't help that he absent mindedly bit his lip a couple of times during points of high tension in the movie you were watching together, sitting on his bed. Of course you’ve always been into him, but today, it’s too much for you to handle.

You shift yourself right next to him. He looks at you and smiles for a moment before looking back at the TV.

"Hey, Dwight," you whisper softly in his ear.

"Yeah?" he asks. He hears the flirtation in your voice, but he doesn't react to it. You know him well enough to know that he thinks you're joking around with him.

"This movie is fun and all, but... I've got another idea I want to run past you."

"Oh?" he says, chuckling a bit, and raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Dwight," you say, still whispering, but with a neediness you can’t hide. You place your hand on his thigh. "Would you please let me strip you down and tie you up if I asked nicely?"

After a bit of surprise, and a brief discussion about the nature of your feelings for each other, Dwight found himself already mostly nude except for his boxers and being kissed by you with an eagerness and passion he never imagined anyone might have for him. Least of all you. You're his best friend. He thought that was all you saw in him. He was never happier to be wrong in his whole life!

He's the one that suggests using his work ties to bind him to the bedpost, and you grin at him, asking if he's thought about this sort of scenario before, too. He was already blushing, nervous about everything that was going on, but his face gets a bit redder as he laughs.

"Maybe," he says. "You made a comment about being into bondage at a party that one time and... Yeah. Maybe I've thought about you tying me up a few times."

Your grin gets wider as you go to where his ties are hanging on his closet door. You pull four off of their hooks, then pause a moment to think before pulling a fifth. Draping them around your neck, you return to the bed. You straddle Dwight, kissing him again, before gently pushing him down on the bed. You flatten your body against his, planting a few more soft kisses on his lips, before slowly sitting back up and positioning his arms, one at a time, and sliding a tie off your neck each time to bind him to the posts by his wrists.

You dismount him, getting off the bed as you do, and take the blanket off the bed, tossing it onto a nearby armchair. You place the sheet over his lower body at his waist before reaching underneath and sliding his boxers off of him. He looks at you quizzically.

"If I'm going to be teasing you, it's more than fair that I'm a bit teased, too, no? I don't want to spoil myself too much right away," you say with a wink, which makes him smile at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

Still standing, you reach beneath the sheet again, caressing his leg and positioning it to tie him by his ankle the post at the foot of the bed, repeating the same process for the other leg on the other post. You take a moment to look at him, spread out for you and waiting eagerly to feel your touch.

"Hm... Something's missing," you say, tapping your chin and pretending to be in deep thought. "Oh! That's it! I still have this one left!" you add as you slide the fifth tie off of your neck.

From the foot of the bed, you slowly crawl up and over him, occasionally giving him a kiss or a quick flick of your tongue on his torso as you make your way up. You feel him move beneath you, his body rising to meet your lips every time. Finally, you’re straddling him again, sitting upright, and looking at him. You smile before gently removing his glasses and put them on his nightstand. He doesn't say a word as you use the last tie to blindfold him, but you see a smirk spread across his lips.

“What’s so funny?” you ask pretending to feel insulted.

“You took my glasses off. I can’t see you, anyway.”

You both laugh, calming nerves that you didn’t realize you had until now. You notice that he relaxes a bit more, too. You pause again to look at him before lowering yourself against him once more. You bring your lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe, and then you whisper, “You’re lucky you’re cute, Fairfield. I’m going to make you feel so good… But I am going to need you to behave.”

#dead by daylight dwight fairfield #dead by daylight #deadbydaylight #dbd #dwight fairfield #dead by daylight dwight #dbd dwight fairfield #dwight fairfield x reader #dwight fairfield x you #dwight fairfield x gn!reader #dead by daylight x reader

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 4,772 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N moves forward with a plan to get both herself and Daryl out of The Sanctuary and away from Negan.

Your name: submit What is this?

You lay awake the next night, tucked into the bed beneath the cool sheets. Negan was spending the night with Tanya. All you could think about was Daryl. When it was late enough that you knew the guards would be back loafing in the guard room, you threw the covers off and bent down beside the mattress, grabbing the bag you had hid underneath the bed and pulling it out.

You went to the door of your room and opened it, checking in both directions down the hall. It was blessedly empty. You wandered around the corner, glancing at the familiar sliver of light under Dwight’s door. You slipped past it on your tip toes and rushed to Daryl’s cell.

You withdrew the ring of keys and quickly fitted the right one into the lock. Daryl was wide awake this time, waiting. You were the only thing he had been thinking about for the last 24 hours and he found that it made sitting in the dark both more and less bearable. The realization that you were in that place, with Negan, sent fear and rage through him like he’d never experienced. And the idea that Negan could do with you whatever he wanted made him see red. Every second he was wondering if his hands were on you, if his lips were… But the fact that you were close, that there was even the slightest possibility that he would get to see you that day, touch you no matter how briefly, hear your voice… it sustained him.

The door of the cell opened and you slipped inside, following the same routine you had the night before. You laid the towel down at the bottom of the door and pulled out the small lantern, clicking it on. You set it on the ground between you and Daryl. His heart skipped a beat as you gave him the best smile you could muster. “I told you I’d be back,” you whispered.

“I believed ya,” he said. This time he was the one who sat up on his knees and grabbed you hastily into a hug, throwing his arms around you. His touch was desperate, needy, and you melted beneath it.

You wrapped your arms around him in return and sank into him, leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing.

Daryl suddenly snapped back into reality and felt that wave of humiliation again as he remembered how filthy he was. He pulled back from you abruptly and you gave him a questioning look as he sat down again, his back against the wall. “Are ya—are ya alright?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that,” you replied.

He shook his head. “M’fine. But you—” His deep voice was heavy with gravel as he spoke. “You’re in with the wolves in a completely different way than I am.”

You didn’t say anything and just held out the canteen and some bread with meat and cheese you had swiped from the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding as he grabbed it from you, quickly devouring it.

You were much quieter, more reserved than you were the night before and Daryl immediately noticed.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked you, concern clouding his face.

“Nothing,” you said. “It’s just—I wanted to warn you. You may hear a bit of a commotion in a bit, after I leave. It’s nothing to worry about.”

His brow furrowed more deeply and his blue eyes narrowed, peering at you intensely through the strands of his hair hanging around his face. “Y/N… what are you doin’?”

“I told you. I’m getting you out of here.” You sighed and glanced at your bag. “This is just Part 2. I’m not busting you out tonight. But we’re getting closer. And don’t worry. They’ll never know it was me.”

He stared at you, chewing his bottom lip as he always did when he was worrying or deep in thought, the canteen clutched tightly in his hand. “What are you doin’?”

“Can’t get out of here on foot. It’s not fast enough. Once they realize you’re gone, Negan will send out everything they have. Gonna need a vehicle. They store all the keys for the motorcycles and trucks on the first floor, but there’s a patrol through there frequently at night… unless they’re distracted.”

“You’re gonna somehow distract them and steal a key to a vehicle,” he said.

“Yep. Not just a vehicle. Your bike. We’re getting it back.”

Daryl licked his bottom lip nervously. “How are ya gonna do it?”

You gave him a look. “Uhh… blow a steam pipe on the first floor…”

“How the hell—” he stopped himself, remembering your speedy assembly of those nail bombs in the hospital, which felt like a lifetime ago. “Ya build a bomb? Ain’t they gonna know it was deliberate?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s a tiny charge, just very strategically placed. But it will make a noise, and steam is going to be pouring out into the room. It should be long enough to distract them so I can get into the room and get the spare key.”

Daryl just stared at you. You could see his mind spinning, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s gonna work. Just—if you hear a commotion, don’t worry. There’s supposed to be one.” You grabbed the plastic the food had been wrapped in and gave him an apologetic look. “I have to go. If I’m doing this tonight, it needs to be now,” you said. “I wish—I wish I could stay with you longer. I hate leaving you in here…” He handed you the canteen back and nodded.

“S’alright. Just be careful.”

“I will.” You studied him for a moment and then threw your arms around him again in one last hug. You squeezed your eyes shut as you held him tight. “I’ll try to come tomorrow night.”

He shook his head. “Nah. You’re risking too much. Ya should just be worryin’ ‘bout yourself.”

You met his eyes and sighed. “No. I’m only worried about you. I’ll be just fine.” You slipped from him, leaving an empty feeling in between his lungs. You grabbed the lantern and clicked it off, followed by shoving it and the towel in your bag. Slipping out and locking the door behind you, you snuck around the floor and the small charge you had built from its hiding place in a janitorial closet down the hall. You crept down the stairs and through the halls until you were outside the guard room. There was a rowdy game of poker going on inside.

Everything worked flawlessly. You placed the bomb and raced around the corner to wait for the commotion to begin. The uproar was so loud it even drew guards from the floor above, but you were safely stowed out of sight. As soon as the ruckus was reaching a crescendo, you slipped into the room where the keys were stored and quickly found the spare key for Daryl’s bike. You grabbed it off the nail and shoved it in your pocket, heading up the stairs around the back way. You were crossing in front of Dwight’s room again, almost back to your own, when he stepped into the hall. You froze.

“Hey,” he said, shutting his door softly behind him. “What the hell is going on down there?” he asked you.

You shrugged. “I think I heard someone say one of the steam valves broke,” you explained.

He nodded. “Oh. Huh… Well, this building isn’t exactly brand new,” he said. “Can’t sleep again?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be a habit.” He paused a bit awkwardly. “Hey, do you, uhh, have a smoke?” he asked you.

You shook your head. “No. I don’t smoke.”

“Ahh, right,” he nodded. “Ya know, Sherry used to get on me about it but now she smokes, too,” he said, leaning back against the wall. You nodded.

“I remember.” You watched his face turn sad and had a sudden realization that even though you did want to beat the shit out of him for what he was doing to Daryl, for having no backbone and becoming one of them, he’d had a pretty fucked up run himself… “She talks about you still,” you said softly. His eyes shot up to meet yours. “Sherry. She talks about you.”

“Huh,” he nodded slowly, staring back down at his boots. “Well, that’s over,” he said. “I’m sure Negan is taking real good care of her. And you too.”

You felt like a knife had just been twisted into your chest. You nodded. “Yeah. Night.” You left him behind and rushed back to your room, leaning heavily against the door behind you after you shut and locked it.

You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath for a long time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were sitting in your room reading, not absorbing a word of it, when there was a knock on the door the next day. Your heart startled at the thought that you had been discovered and it was essentially the Grim Reaper calling, but you quickly dismissed it. You’d been careful. No one knew. You went to the door and pulled it open to see Negan standing there with a charming smile on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, looking you up and down. You were wearing jeans and a tank top with a loose flannel button-up over it. He let out a low whistle. “Hot damn. You look good in anything. I’m tempted to just have my way with you right now,” he said.

You glanced away from him briefly, licking your lips, before meeting his eyes again, raising your eyebrows. “What do you want?” you asked, purposely giving him a sassy response.

He chuckled again and straightened up from where he was leaning on the doorframe. “And that’s why I like you. You have the guts to try and put me in my place.”

You crossed your arms, surveying him, your heart pounding. “Sometimes you need it.”

He leaned in close to you his eyes flitting down to your lips and back up to your eyes repeatedly. “Sometimes so do you.” There was a deep, almost animalistic growl in his voice. He bit his bottom lip after a moment and broke into a smile again. “God, if only you were on board with my process. You’d probably be the best damn soldier I had. And then you’d come home and slip into a dress and turn every head in the damn room. Beautiful and badass, a rare combination.”

“You know I don’t approve of what you do out there,” you said, unable to prevent the cold edge in your voice.

“I know. That’s why I said if. It’s a damn shame. Anyway, why don’t you throw on something and come join us in the lounge? I put in a special order with the kitchen.”

“Alright. I’ll be there soon,” you said.

He gave you another smile and turned to leave. You did your make up and grabbed a short, form-fitting dress out of the closet, pulling on some heels, and left your room behind, feeling like a parading piece of meat as you walked through the halls. You had a suspicion that you wouldn’t be able to slip away to Daryl later and it left you feeling vaguely lightheaded and sick…

You arrived in the lounge where the other wives were milling about, chatting, all drinking cocktails. As soon as you came in, Negan grinned at you from his place in a cushy chair and he tilted his head at you, beckoning you over. “Come and sit down right here,” he said, patting his knee.

Your stomach twisted, but you obeyed, crossing the space to him and sitting down sideways across his lap. He pulled you against him and you draped an arm around his shoulders.

“My special request,” he said, dipping a strawberry from a nearby tray into a bowl of chocolate fondue and taking a huge bite, closing his eyes as he savored it and tilted his head back. “Mmm. Goddamn. Holy shit, is that good! This is the life, isn’t it?” he asked, catching your eyes.

You managed to give him a small smile and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You forced yourself to kiss him back and pressed a hand to the stubble along his jaw. You could taste the chocolate on his lips and tongue and felt a wave of revulsion.

He pulled back and gave you a satisfied and fiery look. “You are making it up to me, aren’t you?” he asked in an undertone.

Just then, movement in the hall caught his attention.

“Dwight!” Negan yelled. It was Dwight going past the doorway, pushing Daryl ahead of him. They stopped and backed up, Dwight forcing Daryl just over the threshold.

Negan tilted his head. “Bring Daryl over here. I want to talk to him.”

Dwight pushed Daryl hard in the back until he walked over and stood in front of you and Negan. You were very consciously controlling your breathing and stared down at the carpet, but you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you before he too looked down at the ground, unwilling to take in the scene before him with you cozied up on Negan’s lap. His blood was boiling and he was starting to feel out of control.

“Hot enough out there for you, Daryl?” Daryl was red-faced, dripping with sweat, and there was walker blood splattered on his clothes. “Rhetorical question because you look like shit,” Negan said laughing. He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand up and down your bare leg.

“You see this, Daryl?” Negan asked, gesturing around the room. “All of this? You could be a part of this. I’m sitting here with a beautiful woman on my lap, eating chocolate covered strawberries.” Negan quipped. He glanced at the bowl of chocolate beside him and dipped his index finger into it, biting his own lip as he raised it to yours, watching your expression with relish. You felt a hard pit form in between your lungs, like indigestion. My God, how could you do this in front of Daryl? But you had no choice. You met Negan’s eyes for a brief moment before glancing back at his waiting finger and parting your lips. Negan slowly inserted it into your mouth and you closed your lips around it, pressing your tongue gently to it, tasting the dark chocolate. He pulled it back out excruciatingly slowly, the smile on his face growing all the while and you felt his growing erection below you, too. He laughed with satisfaction and you felt it deep in his chest as you licked your lips and averted your eyes away again.

Daryl saw every moment of it. He was shaking with rage and disgust and horror…

“Did you see that shit?” Negan continued. “And later, I’m going to take this beautiful woman upstairs and fuck her brains out,” Negan said, looking back at Daryl, clearly pleased with himself. You felt your face flush with embarrassment and anger. You’d never felt so horrified, humiliated in your life. Negan didn’t seem to notice. “Now, I’m not saying if you start to play nicely that you’ll live as good as me, because—well, no one lives as well as me. But you’ll get a little slice of it.” Negan ran his fingers up and down your bare thigh absently as he talked. “So, I want to remind you of your three choices here. You can die and decorate my fence, you can live in that hole for the rest of your life, or you can join up, be a man like Dwight here, and get a little slice of paradise for yourself.”

You ventured a glance at Daryl and his blue eyes were narrowed in hatred as he stared at Negan. The muscle in his jaw was flexing as he ground his teeth together and you thought you could see him shaking slightly. Negan laughed. “Are you trying to stare me into submission, Daryl? Because that shit don’t work on me. Think about what I said. We’ll talk about it soon.” Negan straightened up a little in his chair, adjusting you on his lap and turned his attention back to you. He leaned into you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes, breathing you in, the scent of your hair and your skin, letting out a satisfied smile and trailing his hand up your thigh. “Dwight, take Daryl back to his little hidey-hole. I have some other matters to attend to.” Negan pressed his lips hungrily to your neck and you had no choice but to shut your eyes and receive it, knowing Daryl was watching the whole thing.

You couldn’t get away that night. Negan was asleep beside you in bed as you again laid awake, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. You felt like you were carving off a piece of yourself each day and giving it away. You slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and clicking on the light. You pulled on a t-shirt and some shorts and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your fingers found a bruise on your neck, left purposefully by Negan’s lips. He liked marking you. It was ownership. It wasn’t tender or loving or reciprocal. He might as well brand you with the iron.

That night, Daryl seethed in the darkness in his cell. After what he’d been forced to see, he didn’t expect you to show up and you didn’t. All he wanted was to stop thinking about you on Negan’s lap, you taking his finger into your mouth, Negan’s hand trailing up your bare thigh, Negan’s lips on your neck, Negan taking you back to your room and—but he couldn’t think of anything else.

Daryl’s breathing was coming hard and fast and he finally let out a growl and punched his fist into the wall repeatedly before breaking down, letting out an agonized cry, cradling his now bleeding knuckles. He hated this. He hated that you were there because of him. The guilt was threatening to crush him. It wasn’t worth what you had to do to get him out. It wasn’t…

Sometime the next afternoon, Daryl heard a soft noise beside him and felt the floor blindly. His hand pressed down on what he knew was a slice of bread. He held it in his hands for a moment, feeling his stomach rumble. The bodily hunger was replaced with a deeper one, to get you out and make sure you were safe. To make sure Negan never touched you again. But how helpless he was… locked up like an animal in a cage, while you submitted to what you had to in order to rescue him. He felt useless. He felt like a burden. You’d be better off if you’d never met him. Then you wouldn’t be here. He rubbed his fingers over the swelling on his hand from punching the wall the night before and heaved a sigh. He gratefully ate the bread and went back to strenuous waiting, doing everything he could to keep his mind blank.

That night, you again laid awake in bed. You wanted to see Daryl. You wanted to give him more water, more food… make sure he was still in one piece, but you weren’t sure if you could face him after what had happened with Negan the day before. You were overwhelmed with shame and revulsion and just the thought of it flushed your face and turned your stomach. But Daryl’s well-being was more important to you than allowing yourself to avoid facing the ugliness, so in the early hours of the morning you slipped out of bed and grabbed your bag, making your way silently to Daryl’s cell.

He heard the key slowly insert into the lock and turn and he breathed in a hurried breath, straightening up. The door opened just enough for him to see you silhouetted in the dim light. You stepped inside and shut the door.

When the lantern clicked on, your eyes were downcast and he noticed you were taking deep, slow, measured breaths. You wouldn’t look at him.

He studied your expression, his eyebrows furrowing over his narrowed eyes. “Y/N,” he rasped. He saw you gulp but you still didn’t look at him. “Hey. Look at me,” he said.

Your face contorted slightly as you fought emotion, but you eventually raised your eyes to his and Daryl saw that they were glistening more than they should have been for the dim light. Far from what you expected, you saw no contempt, no disgust on Daryl’s face. You should have known better. All you saw was anger and concern and worry. “Ya ain’t gotta do this,” he said softly. “Not this.” You watched his eyes find the bruise on your neck left by Negan’s lips and you reflexively covered it with your hand. A flash of anger exploded in Daryl’s eyes for a moment and he let out an exhale that was mostly a growl, clenching his teeth. You stared back down at the floor of the cell, half wishing you could melt into it and disappear. Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and felt his stomach twist.

“I do have to. It’s almost done,” you said in a harsh whisper. You pulled out the food and water you had brought for him and he accepted it but he didn’t start eating. You could feel his eyes on your face still.

“Hey,” he whispered again, sounding a bit hoarse. “Y/N. C’mon, look at me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling tears pouring down your cheeks. You covered your face with your hands and shook your head. Your shoulders heaved with shuddering breaths.

Daryl got up from where he was seated in the corner and moved over to you. “C’mere,” he said softly. You felt his arms around you, pulling you to him. “S’alright.” You were stiff at first but soon collapsed against his chest, your fingers clinging to him almost desperately. Daryl gently smoothed your hair. He rested his chin on the top of your head and held you tighter, his heart aching and fury burning in his stomach. “Ya ain’t gotta do this anymore,” he said. “Just get out.”

That snapped you out of it and you pulled back from him so you could look up into his face. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, shoving your shame in a box you could open later. Daryl’s hands stayed steadily around you. “No,” you said quickly. “I knew what I signed up for when I came back. And I wish—I wish you hadn’t seen any of that yesterday.” You straightened up and took a steadying breath. “But you’re getting out. Tomorrow,” you said softly, again meeting his eyes.

“Ya mean we are,” Daryl said.

You gulped again and averted your eyes away from the intensity of his gaze, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

“Y/N. Ya mean we are,” he repeated vehemently.

You shook your head. “Just you.”

“Like hell!” he growled.

“Daryl, if I stay in, I can help Alexandria and everyone from in here. I can—I can get information. I can sabotage whatever they—”

He shook his head firmly. “Nah. Nah. Fuck that. No. Ya ain’t stayin’.”

“Daryl—”

“No!” he exclaimed as loudly as he dared.

“Just listen—” you pleaded.

“No, ya listen to me!” he rasped. “If ya ain’t comin’ with me, then I ain’t leavin’. And that’s that. I won’t leave this goddamn cell. I’m not leavin’ ya in here with them, with him! I ain’t. So, you can forget about it. I’m not leavin’ ya behind. So, either adjust your plan, or we both stay in.”

You stared at him and from the look in his eyes and the way his jaw was set, his chin stubbornly inclined, it was apparent that there would be no changing his mind. There were flames in his eyes, like a wildfire. You nodded almost imperceptibly. “Alright. Okay.”

He nodded and grabbed the canteen and food you had brought him. As he raised the water to his lips you saw that his knuckles were swollen and bloody with dark bruises across them. “Your hand,” you murmured, reaching out and taking it in yours, inspecting it carefully, your fingers light on his skin.

“S’nothin’,” Daryl said, shrugging. Your touch raised goosebumps on his skin.

“What happened?” you asked him, again finding his blue eyes.

He just shook his head and didn’t say anything more. His eyes moved back to your hand on his and they caught on the silver wedding band Negan had slipped onto your finger. You suddenly realized what he was looking at and you withdrew your hands from his and ripped it off your finger, shoving it into your bag.

Daryl watched the turmoil on your face for a moment before he spoke. “What’s the plan?” he asked, taking a bite of the apple you had brought.

Your mouth dropped open and you thought for a moment. “I’ve got the keys to get you out of here and get us out of the building. And I got the key to your bike. Negan will be gone tomorrow with a lot of his best soldiers. I heard them talking today—they’re going for a pick up at Alexandria.” You sighed. “We sneak out through the south side, where they keep the bikes and trucks. I can walk around freely and make sure the coast is clear before I come and get you. We get on the bike and we go.”

“Go where? We can’t go back to Alexandria obviously.”

You nodded. “Hilltop. I’ll bring some clothes for you to change into when I can before we leave. We gotta get you out of that awful sweatshirt,” you said gently.

Daryl considered you for a long moment, his blue eyes drinking in your face. He nodded. “It’s simple. S’good. It’ll work.” He paused again. “What about weapons?” he asked.

You shook your head and he read worry on your face. “That’s the one thing I haven’t been able to solve. I don’t know where they keep them and I don’t have access to anything. I could maybe slip away with a knife from the kitchen but—”

“Nah. It’s fine. We’ll figure it out,” Daryl said. He nodded again. “We’re gettin’ out,” he said. “Both of us.” You thought you saw his bottom lip quivering.

You nodded back at him. “Yeah. We are.”

His face contorted a little as he bit back emotion, his head slumping forward and his broad shoulders rounding. Your hands flew to his shoulders, and you brushed his hair aside gently. He gripped onto your wrist tightly. You moved closer to him, your heart breaking. You pressed a kiss to his forehead as his eyes were downcast but they snapped up to yours in surprise again at the tenderness you were showing him, despite where you were and what you were being subjected to. Your face broke into a teary smile and he was amazed at it. Everything you had been through… and you’d thrown yourself into it again, for him, risking everything. You were sitting in this shithole with him, smiling at him. He couldn’t make goddamn sense of any of it.

“We’re getting out,” you whispered.

Daryl nodded and straightened up. “We are.”

It was safe to say that even after you left, locking Daryl back into his cell for what you hoped was the last time, neither of you slept at all that night.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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mara-xx217 · 3 years

Note

I cannot stress, how much I love how you write Dwight. *Inhales deeply* Nowpleasedoascenewheredwightandthereaderaredoingitintheoffice!

You can also do a scenario where his S/O is also an employee giving a presentation and Dwight has this remote to control a certain toy... If you catch my drift.. 👀

Ohhhh how fun! And kinky~

Warnings: Semi/Public, Toys, Pretty Vanilla Otherwise

You were going to be the death of Dwight one of these days. He sat all hunched up in between four other coworkers, in a meeting room that was stuffed to the brim with people that were sure to catch the two of you doing something that you had no business doing here at the office. He just knew his face was beet red, given how many awkward side glances he’s received already. Dwight readjusts his glasses for the hundredth time, glancing at you out of his peripheral vision.

The meeting had only just started, but Dwight already was on the verge of crawling out of his skin. Am I really going to do this..? You were sitting in the row behind him, just to his right. If he turned his head slightly, he could clearly see you sitting there, chin resting on your palm. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful smirk. Something inside of Dwight twitched. M-Maybe I can do this. Worrying his lower lip, he reaches into his pocket, idly palming the remote that you had given him earlier in the day. “C’mon, Dwight! It’ll be fun! And besides, no one but you or me would ever know!” Dwight could feel his face darken and his pants tighten. He attempted to nonchalantly rub the back of his neck, rapidly working up his nerve before pressing a button.

You involuntarily jump, accidentally kick the chair of the person sitting in front of you. A pleasant vibration spread in between your legs, not enough for you to make a scene, but more than enough to bring some colour to your cheeks. You glance over to Dwight, who was nearly doubled over and beside himself in giddy embarrassment. You wondered if he was the one wearing the vibrating panties after all as you rubbed your thighs together, shifting positions. It’d be a lie to say that you didn’t adore Dwight for his reactions…

Neither of you were paying any attention to the meeting- really, no one was paying much attention. Your boss was all hot air, and everyone usually just did their own thing anyways. It was still pretty surreal that Dwight was actively participating in this little exhibitionism stunt that you had decided to pull. He was always so shy and usually didn’t like going out of his comfort zone, so to have him steadily cranking up the vibrator that was laying directly on top of your clit was simply exhilarating.

It was becoming quite difficult for you to keep a neutral expression, given that little vibrator was now making your legs jerk and jump every few seconds now. The coil in your gut was becoming unbearably tight, and at this rate, you may actually cum in front of all your coworkers. All you could think about was dragging Dwight into one of the various supply closets in the building and having your way with him. You had a white knuckled grip on the side of your chair as you worried your lower lip. F-Fuck…

That damn meeting couldn’t end soon enough. The second it was over, you rose from your seat, giving Dwight a firm tap on his shoulder to signal that you wanted him to follow you as you left the meeting room. It took every ounce of your will power to remain calm and collected, lest someone calls you out for your… odd behavior. That or someone’s going to ask Dwight if he’s feeling alright, with how flushed and jittery he was.

As casually as you could muster, you checked over your shoulder, biting the inside of your cheek as what little self control you had was rapidly slipping away. No one’s following us. Good. You grabbed Dwight by the collar of his shirt, a smirk creeping onto your face as he squeaked in surprise. Dragging him to a nearby door, you quickly throw it open and shove him inside, never minding how cramped it was in that tiny room.

Before the door had completely closed, you were already on top of him, pinning him to the wall as you gave him a heated kiss. Dwight fumbles, moaning into your mouth as you slip your knee in between his legs, idly grinding it against his arousal. He had to screw his eyes shut, afraid that if he saw your lust filled expression that he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. You broke the kiss, trailing your wet mouth sloppily down his jawline and to his sensitive neck.

You wasted no time in unbuckling his pants, all but growling into his neck as he whimpers softly behind a bitten lower lip. You lavish that sensitive spot on his neck with your tongue, smirking to yourself as he bucked against your flattened palm. Clothes couldn’t be removed fast enough, in your professional opinion, and by the time you had ripped off your own pants, you didn’t have an ounce of patience left.

Shoving Dwight to the ground, you straddle his lap, not giving him a chance to protest as you sink his cock inside of you to the hilt in one, fluid motion. He had to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the sound of his voice. It wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you had fooled around at work, but it certainly was the first time you both were so… riles up. Balling a fistful of his shirt into your clenched fist, you released a shuddering breath against the shell of his ear. Dwight couldn’t stop the involuntary buck of his hips against yours, causing you to bite your lip as you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

You began to move your hips, pace jumpy and rushed given the limited time the two of you had before someone would start asking questions. It was rapidly becoming hot and humid in that little closet. Every time your hips met his, both of you had to hiss your pleasures in between clenched teeth for fear that someone passing by might hear either of you. Dwight could only hold onto your hips and screw his eyes shut as he struggled to stay remotely composed. He couldn’t, of course, but you didn’t mind so much. Not when he was this damn cute…

Being as worked up as you were, it didn’t take you long to rush to your peek, and Dwight, bless him, was hot on your heels. As you grinded the head of his member against your sweet spot, he jerked and twitched underneath you. Burying his face in your shoulder, he released a high pitched whine as he reached his end. As soon as you felt his hot seed gush inside of you, you climaxed as well, biting the inside of your cheek as you shakely rolled your hips at an off beat pace.

Panting, the two of you focus on calming your flustered minds and bodies, knowing that you’ll have to go back to work sooner than later. As much as you’d like to bask in your post orgasm glow, you really don’t have the time for that. Straightening up, you gently drag your fingertips across Dwight’s cheek, tipping his face towards your own as you give him a soft kiss. He readjusts his glasses a few times, barely able to maintain eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but to smile. Dwight might appear to be a vanilla bean, but he certainly has some kick to him.

You’ll have to do this again, sometime.

@prettycutebunny @randomyklol @kennbb @furanshinufuransu @beanie-weenies

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd dwight #dbd dwight x reader

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

If the World Was Ending

Summary: Based on the song If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels. Give it a listen! Some of the lyrics are used as the text messages between Chris and the reader.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: A little angsty and curse words.

Word Count: 1,350

A/N: Just a quick one shot I came up with while trying to get passed this writer’s block.

“If the world was ending, you’d come over right?”

The words etched into your brain for the better part of the day. Probably forever. The words stopping you in your tracks. Mug of coffee in your left hand, phone in your right. The phone pinged and flashed his name over the e-mail you had on your screen. Chris.

In the early morning hours of the day, a small earthquake struck, waking you from your sleep. You were fine as was your house. You spent the next hour texting those closest to you. This had to be what caused him to reach out.

It had been over a year since your phone had betrayed you with that name. A year. But who was counting? Oh yeah. You.

Work was busy, but it always was. That was your excuse for not addressing that nagging text. It was a good excuse. A sturdy, trustworthy excuse. He was an expert at excuses, so he couldn’t fault you. Not that you responded. You had three meetings; two down and one to go before you could even consider returning a text message from an old boyfriend. Friend. Acquaintance. Guy that broke your heart.

***

“We know you weren’t down for forever and it’s fine.”

Shaking your head at your response, you took another small sip from the whiskey in your glass. It wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve had that brown bottle for years and tonight seemed like the perfect time to indulge.

“We know we weren’t meant for each other and it’s fine,” you added.

You needed to stop. The two of you talking again wasn’t doing your heart any favors.

Chris was a friend of a friend. That’s how it started. While out to lunch with a client, your friend Ethan walked into the restaurant with Chris at his side. A firm handshake and an attractive smile had you swooning. Working for a management agency for athletes and those in the film industry meant you had more than Ethan in common. After that day, Chris seemed to be everywhere you were. Your agency didn’t represent him, so he wasn’t off limits.

It started with a dinner. And then another. A walk with Dodger. Then there was a party that you went to together.

The pinging of your phone brought you out of the memory. He didn’t make you wait all day for a response like you had.

“Remember that night of drinking? We stumbled out of the Lyft and didn’t make it past your kitchen.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one reminiscing. Although he was ignoring your responses.

“It didn’t end in the kitchen,” you typed back.

You lost your favorite wine glass that night when he not so smoothly lifted you on to the countertop.

This back and forth wasn’t good for either of you. Especially not you. It’s been over a year and today he’s going down memory lane. You refilled your glass and took it outside, wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders before sitting on the padded lounge chair.

“Did you feel it?”

The pain of him letting me go? The quake?

“I did,” you replied back.

Taking a large gulp from your glass, you leaned your head back, the alcohol finally allowing you to relax.

“But if the world was ending, you’d come over right? The sky would be falling and I’d hold you tight.”

Tipping the glass back, you swallowed it down. The alcohol temporally burning your throat and warming your stomach.

“We let the communication die out. I just figured out how to let you go.”

Alcohol made you too honest.

Chris had introduced to you his brother Scott, then his sister Carly. He met your mother and your sister. You were together. He worked a lot, so did you, but sleepovers and dinners on the couch were plentiful. Until they weren’t.

He started to call less. Returned texts a lot slower. Missed dates became more and more frequent. After a week without a word, you went over to his place. Knocking on his door, he answered and let you in with a kiss on your cheek.

“Where have you been?”

He continued to walk until you both arrived in his bedroom. A suitcase was on the floor and one at the end of his bed.

“I’ve been busy,” he replied while arranging some of the clothes already in the case.

“I can see that,” you said pointing at the open bag on the bed. “Going somewhere?”

Chris walked into his closet, coming back out with a few shirts in his hands.

“Heading to Massachusetts,” he replied, eyes focused on folding each shirt.

“Oh.” You took a breath in. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“I don’t know, maybe a month.”

He turned away again, this time going into the bathroom and coming back out with a small bag, placing it in the suitcase.

“A month? You weren’t going to tell me?”

He zipped up the bag and then turned to you. “I’m sure I did.”

You took a step closer to him. “You didn’t.”

Chris shook his head. “It’s not that big of a deal. I just need a break.”

Holding your breath, you willed the tears that stung your eyes to go away. “A break from L.A. or a break from us?”

“We’re not that serious. Stop.” He zipped the suitcase and set it on the ground.

“Could have fooled me,” you hissed before walking out the door and eventually each other’s lives.

“I messed up. When the quake hit, it was you who I thought of first. I know I have a lot to make up for. Would you let me try?”

Drinking probably wasn’t the best idea. Especially when Chris Evans was involved. You didn’t know what to say. He broke your heart. More like ripped it out.

Maybe it was rude or maybe it was just, but you didn’t reply. The alcohol made you dizzy and your emotions were all over the place. You went to sleep or at least you tried.

The midnight sky slowly turned to pink and orange. A small pang in your head made you regret drinking as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Chris’ text was still on your mind. But your heart still felt lost.

If the world was ending…

You couldn’t find your phone. Of course. It wasn’t charging. It wasn’t in your bed. It wasn’t in your handbag.

“Fuck!”

Not only did you have to be at work in an hour and traffic usually took that long, but you had a meeting to still prep for. You didn’t have time for this. Grabbing your bag, you dug out your keys and headed for the office sans phone. Chris would just need to wait.

You left work after lunch. Concentration was completely out the window. Your memory foam mattress was calling your name with the lack of sleep you had the night before.

After dropping your bag on your dinning room table, you made a quick stop on to your patio to grab the throw blanket you forgot out there last night. Picking up the blanket, you heard something heavy hit the cement.

“There’s the damn phone.”

Inspecting the damage, you thanked your lucky stars the screen didn’t crack. Ten missed calls and twelve missed texts wasn’t bad for a Thursday afternoon.

You scrolled through the texts stopping on a new message from Chris.

“I’m sorry. I hope one day we can talk and maybe move on. Together.”

Scanning through the other messages and replying to the ones that needed attention, you slowly made your way to the bedroom. You slipped out of your heels and shimmied out of your skirt, leaving the blouse on but changing into pajama shorts. You scrolled through last night’s messages with Chris, asking yourself if you heart could forgive.

“…When the quake hit, it was you who I thought of first.”

If you were honest, he was the first one you thought of to.

You clicked on the message to respond, watching the cursor blink several times before starting to type.

“Bring me dinner tonight.”

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#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans au #cevans #chris x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Twenty Four: A Severe Attitudinal Problem

Word Count: 3.6K+

Author’s Note: Agh! Sorry! My week has been hectic and I just haven’t had the chance to sit down and write properly. But, I have finally produced something with this chapter that I wanted to share, and I quite like it. So I hope you enjoy.

Warning: discussion of past abuse (briefly. We bring up Brian again, remember that asshole?)

For previous chapters, click here.

June, 2008.

"DID I STUTTER?" Stanley asked in a raised voice, his question directed to Michael. Your boss had messed up, you knew it: no-one bothers Stanley enough to get him shouting, but Michael interrupted his crossword. The entire conference room fell silent in the wake of Stanley's address, Jim glancing over at you, his hand sat comfortably on your thigh, drawing little circles. A few minutes ago, he was winding you up, having you thinking that he would propose in the middle of a meeting. And however much your boyfriend's teasing would border on anxiety-invoking, it was so much better than the sheer silence around you now, and the look of shock on Michael's face. The same face that had been submerged in cement earlier that morning... What fun times you let fly by you...

"Good... This is good." Michael said quickly, turning away from his paper chart board with the word 'Energise' scrawled over it, now facing the door. "I'm going to get myself a glass of water." He exited quickly, leaving his employees to their own devices, and you knew he had gone into the storage closet to cry. Michael did it a lot.

You were the first to move after a minute or so of Michael disappearing, the phone at reception beginning to ring and seemingly shaking the rest of your office from their stupor. You squeezed Jim's hand before rushing out the conference room to answer the phone, taking a seat at your desk with a happy sigh as you tried to bring back your cheery tone of voice.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Y/N." You answered, smiling as the rest of the team exited and returned to their desks, sending a wink Jim's way. You listened for a moment, hearing heavy breaths on the other end of the phone, causing you to frown a little. "Hello?" You asked.

"Sorry, who am I calling?" The voice on the other end was male, gruff, and you cleared the lump from your throat when replying.

"That's alright sir. This is Y/N Y/L/N, at the Dunder Mifflin Scranton branch. Is there anything I can help you with today? Have you dialled the wrong nu-" Before you could finish your second question, the caller hung up, and you let out a note of confusion as you set down the phone. You spun in your chair, quickly gathering some files for Toby, and getting up from your desk, Jim grabbing your hand as you walked past.

"Y/N..." He said seriously, reaching into his pocket and causing your breath to hitch. The reaction made him grin, and you knew he had got you again. "I propose that you tell me who was on the phone." He suggested with a cheeky smile, and you hit his arm lightly, his other hand retrieving a pack of gum from his pocket.

"Some old guy, I think he called the wrong number." You said with a shrug, taking one of the fruit gum strips and unwrapping it. You popped it into your mouth quickly, Jim following suit.

"You know, it might be your stalker." Dwight interrupted, not looking up from his computer, causing you and Jim to look over at him. you almost choked on your gum.

"Run that by us again, Dwight." Jim asked quickly, tilting his head to make sure he heard his co-worker right the second time.

"Y/N's stalker." Dwight restated, and your eyes went wide. Since when had you had a stalker, and since when did Dwight know?

"Dwight, you really need to expand on this on, buddy." you said quickly, a little off-guard. Dwight looked over at you, rolled his eyes dramatically, and turned his chair away from his computer.

"There's a man, who hangs around the building sometimes. Especially in the last couple of weeks. He watches the cars come and go, I saw him last week watching you leave." Dwight said nonchalantly, and Jim looked up at your shocked expression which matched your own.

"Why wouldn't you tell me this, Dwight?" You snapped, your heart beating a little faster in your chest. the subject of your anger shrugged.

"It's not my fault you aren't observant."

"I'm... This is a prank right, Dwight? You're getting back at Jim for last week by pranking me?" You let out a nervous laugh. "Good one!" Before either of the men could refute what you were suggesting, you tapped on the papers in your hand. "I need to get these to Toby. Excuse me." You were quick to hustle your way to Toby's desk in the annex, shaking Dwight's prank from your mind. It had to be a joke, right? Scranton isn't the place you have a stalker. It just isn't.

Unless Brian was back, then you had a whole other problem and a restraining order to keep him away.

"Oh, thanks Y/N. I was just about to ask for these." Toby said with a weak smile as you handed over the stack of paper, and you returned the facial expression. He went on to ask how your day was going as Michael walked past the pair of you, a tub of ice cream in hand as he shuffled back to his office from, now confirmed, the storage closet.

"You know, might be an idea for you to talk with him about the whole Stanley thing..." You suggested, and Toby sighed, responding with a nod. You weren't sure what was meant to happen when an employee shouted at their boss, but Michael needed to at least talk about it. You gave him a final smile, quickly poking your head over the separator to ask Kelly if she wanted a coffee. When she politely declined, you headed back to the kitchen,dumping the gum in the trash, making yourself and Jim up some coffee, Angela and Andy sat at the kitchen table playing some sort of madlib on thier break.

In all honesty, you were surprised they were still together, but glad it seemed to be working out. Even Dwight seemed to be moving on, what with the photo Michael shared the other week of Dwight swapping saliva with a six foot two college athlete in New York.

"Hey, you guys." you got their attention with a quick smile, the pair looking up form their rather tame madlib. "Sorry, I just had to ask... Has there been a guy hanging round the office? Brian, maybe?" The final question was directed more towards Angela, who seemed to see how anxious you were about it. She stood up and walked over, placing a hand on your arm before helping herself to a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I haven't seen Brian in over a year, Y/N. Probably more. If any of us saw him, we would let you know." Angela assured you, and you felt yourself relax a little. Despite the on-off friendship you shared with the small blonde, when you finally had to ask Pam, Oscar and Jim to testify at your court proceedings for your restraining order against your ex, you made it clear to the office that Brian was not a good man. You didn't go into much detail, but everyone got the jist, and since then he had been put on a banned list for the business park.

"Thank you... Dwight must have been joking." You explained, topping yourself up on sugar and creamer before heading back out to your desk, setting a cup of coffee on Jim's as you went. You sat yourself down, taking a sip of your own beverage as the phone rang. "Dunder Mifflin, this is Y/N." you said quickly.

"I propose that you are the best girlfriend ever." Jim said over the phone, and you looked over, rolling your eyes at him. "Thank you for my coffee."

"You are very welcome, Mr Halpert. Now get off my line, I have clients to transfer and voicemails to answer." You couldn't help but giggle as you spoke. The pair of you put down your phones, you continuing about your business answering emails and calls, catching Toby heading into Michael's office and closing the door behind him.

As morning turned to afternoon, and Michael's attempts at denying Stanley's outburst at the morning meeting became even more futile, oyu had the displeasure of welcoming Ryan into the office, the scrawny temp having done his best to ful full douchebag with his permanent stubble beard and blinding white shirt. He walked past you without a second glance, throwing his coat onto your desk as he typed away at his blackberry.

"How's my favourite branch doing?" He asked, a habit he had gotten into when visiting his old workplace, before heading straight into the conference room with Tboy at his heels.

You looked at his coat in disgust, using a pencil to scoop it up an throw it onto the coat rack haphazardly, earning a chuckle from your approaching boyfriend. He leaned onto your desk as you wheeled back to your usual position, smiling up at him.

"Were you about to go for more coffee?" You asked, running a finger along his exposed forearm. "Because I propose that you get me a fresh cup." You teased him, switching his game on its head, and getting an impressed look from your boyfriend.

"Touché." Jim said simply, giving your hand a quick kiss before grabbing your mug, along with his own and heading for the kitchen. You watched him in your peripheral, enjoying the view of your extremely good-looking boyfriend fetching you coffee, but tried to stay focused on the email you were drafting to send to corporate. You were doing it so Stanley didn't have to, trying to keep on the older employee's good side. It seemed to have worked, he smiled across the room at you as you sent the draft his way, getting a nod of approval.

Jim, on his way back to deliver your coffee, was stopped as he passed the conference room door, called in by Ryan.

"Hey Jim! Come here for a second!" Ryan called him in, and Jim gave you a quick shrug before heading into the room, a coffee mug in each hand. "Can you answer me something as, as a true Eagles fan?"

"Oh boy..." Jim sighed, a smile appearing on his face.

"How do you live with a franchise this bad?" Ryan asked, and Jim let out a chuckle, one you could hear from your desk when you listened hard enough.

"On a wing and a prayer mostly." Jim responded, sharing a quick smile with Toby.

"All right, whatever you say. Uh, listen. While I have you here with Toby, I need to give you a formal warning about your job performance."

"A formal warning?" Jim let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's actually not a joke." Ryan cut him off, dead serious. "I know how you spend your time here. And I know how little you care about your job. And, honestly, if spent as much time selling as you do goofing around with Dwight and hanging out a reception with your girlfriend, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I'm sorry..." Jim was shocked, to say the least. "Is this because I talked to Wallace about your website? Because I really didn't mean to go over your head." Jim asked. He had been against the idea from the beginning, a voiced his concerns about Ryan's twisted version of your website idea with David Wallace at Christmas time. Ryan, undoubtedly, hated Jim for a number of reasons, and Jim did not liked Ryan. The problem was, one of them was in a position of power now, and it wasn't your boyfriend.

"This has nothing to do with that, all right? I always appreciate constructive criticism about my job performance. I thrive on it." Ryan said decidedly, leaving Jim a little lost.

"I'm sorry, then do you mind explaining a little better?" Jim asked, looking down at the mugs of coffee in his hands, starting to go cold. "Because I'm not sure what's really-"

"Woah, don't get all defensive, all right?" Ryan cut him off, holding his hands up in faux surrender. "It's just a warning. If you want the details, Toby can provide.you take it easy, all right? Say hi to Y/N for me." Ryan dismissed Jim with that line, the lanky shaggy-haired man walking out with a face displaying puzzlement as he walked over to you, setting your cooling coffee on your desk. You took a sip, trying your best to hide a grimace as you drank the too cold to drink coffee, and glanced back at Jim.

"Everything ok?" You asked him as he took a sip of his own coffee. He frowned as he swallowed.

"Just talking about bureaucratic stuff. Let me make us some fresh cups." He said softly, taking your mug back and heading to the kitchen, not saying another word on the subject. You kne he would talk to you in time, he always did, so you let it go, continuing to type away on your computer. When Jim returned a few minutes later, he dropped off your coffee with only a smile, heading back to his desk to start making calls. You hadn't seen him so focused at work in months.

It was coming on half four when Michael finally emerged from his office, conveniently the second Stanley left for the bathroom. Ryan had only dropped in for an hour or so, taking time to pull in a few employees about HR problems, corporate benefit changes, the boring bureaucraatic stuff Jim had told you about earlier. Luckily, he was gone by the time you had come back from your lunch break, and you had enjoyed the more relaxed afternoon.

That was, until Michael decided to ruin it.

"Ok, everbody, shh. Listen up." Michael stage whispered as he entered the main office. "Earlier today, Stanley sassed me. And Toby gave me some suggestions on how to discipline him. They did not work, obviously, because they were stupid. So I am now going to fake fire him." Michael explained, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Michael, what does that mean?" You asked, looking up as you sent an email away. You loved your boss, you really did, but sometimes he was so, so stupid.

"It's like a mock execution."

"That's not a good idea." Jim injected, inhaling sharply.

"Yes it is a good idea." Michael defended. "It's the only possible solution I have left."

"Well, you can actually fire him." Toby suggested.

"No! Ok, I've had enough of you." Michael scolded Toby, who just sighed.

"Why are you telling us this?" Oscar asked, voicing the question you were all thinking.

"Because I want you to behave like I'm actually firing him, Oscar, ok?"

"Michael, if you hadn't told us this, we would have thought that you were actually firing him." Kevin chimed in, and Michael seemed to get even more distressed.

"I'm not firing him! I'm not! I just- what I'm going to do is I'm going to pretend that I'm firing him. And I need you to act like I am firing him. Do you get that? Do you get it? I'm teaching him a lesson." As Michael spoke, you watched Dwight, who nodded along with every word the boss said like it was gospel. "He needs to learn humility. All right? that's all I'm-" The creaking bathroom door set Michael on alert, his eyes darting around as Stanley exited the bathroom. "Ok, here he comes. Let's just play act." As Stanley walked back into the room, Michael composed himself. "Stanley, may I talk to you for a second?" Michael asked, the older gentleman sighing and walking round to stand face to face with Michael. "Stanley Hudson, you are fired."

"Are you serious?" Stanley asked quietly, looking around the room. You instinctively averted your eyes, glancing back down at your computer.

"I am serious. We are all serious. You are fired like a heart attack." Michael had his arms folded over his chest, doing his best not to break.

"You're firing me over three words?" Stanley clarified, and when Michael nodded, Stanley took a deep breath. "Have you lost your mind? Do you think I'm going to let you do this to me? I've watched you screw up this office for ten years, and I'm filing a lawsuit, and I'm going to tell them about every stupid thing you've ever done up in this office." Stanley said with confidence that only came with honesty, and you shared a look with Jim.

"Alright, ok. You know what? Now you know how I feel." Michael took his turn to speak, holding out a hand as he spoke, managing the distance between him and the disgurntled employee. "This was a fake firing. Lesson learned. Good work everybody. Very nice." Michael sent a thumbs up your way, and you just sat your head in your hands.

"So I'm not fired?" Stanley was beyond confused, and getting angrier by the second.

"That's it." Michael nodded. "And do you have anything to say to me?"

"Ooh, yes.. I do" Stanley almost growled the words, before taking a deep breath. Everybody in the office mentally prepared for Stanley raising his voice for the second time that day. "You are out of your damn little pea-sized mind. What is wrong with you? Do you have any sense? At all? Do you have any idea how to run an office? Everyday you do something stupider than you did the day before! And I think there's no possible way he can top that! But what do you do? You find a way, damn it, to top it! You are a professional idiot!"

"HEY! Stop it!" Michael yelled back, causing Stanley to go silent, the two men facing off. Michael took a breath, and you saw his eyes were red and watery, sending a pang of pit to your heart. "Ok, everybody out. Everyone except Stanley." Michael ordered, the office quickly clearing, Jim taking your hand to lead you out the door quickly. Neither of you needed to see what happened next, no-one in the office did, so you all filed into the elevator for the parking lot.

Stood out in the parking lot as Stanley and Michael discussed upstairs, you looked up at Jim, who, like so many others in the office, had been smart enough to leave with his bag and coat, the latter draped over your shoulders to block out the chill that came with the approaching night.

"Y/N, will you do me the honour..." Jim started, leaning onto one knee, causing you to gasp and glance around. Most of the office had gone home, the few stragglers stood by cars while you waited at the door. Jim looked up as you inhaled the air, his hands tying his shoe and his lips forming into a wide grin. "Of coming over to my place for pizza tonight?"

"You bastard." You muttered, kicking him lightly in the foot, more of a tap than anything. Your cheeks were flushed red, you heart just slowing down. "You can't keep this up, Halpert." You said with a small smile, and as he stood up his lips connected with yours. It was soft, delicate, but you melted into him, eyes fluttering closed. Everytime he kissed you, it felt like you were getting a taste of heaven.

"You want to head now?" He asked. Almost everyone else had headed home, Dwight being the only person waiting until it struck exactly five o'clock. You shook your head.

"I left my stuff upstairs, I'll be at yours within the hour?" You promised, and Jim kissed you once more, shorter this time, before heading to his car. As he pulled out, Stanley walked out the door past you, smiling quickly at you as he walked to his own car, and you took it as a cur to head back inside and pick up your stuff.

When you got into the office, Michael was leaving, the pair of you sharing a quick smile, wishing the other a good weekend. Michael seemed more excited than normal, no doubt having a date the next day. Ever since he and Jan had broke up, the man was just happier. It only took you a few minutes to gather your things, sitting down to send the last few emails of the day before closing up the office for the night. You had been in the office no more than thirty minutes, but the sky was already dark, no doubt in part because of the fog that seemed to have settled.

You took the stairs down to the ground floor, notcing Hank had left early, though you couldn't blame him. Driving in the fog was going to be a nightmare. The parking lot lights helped a little, and you rummaged through your bag as you exited the building, looking for your car keys. Quickly grabbing them, you unlocked your car and headed over, putting your stuff in the back seat.

A sudden rustle of the hedge leaves cause your eyes to snap towards the sound. Was your mind playing tricks on you? There was no-one there, no-one left in the building. You shook it off, opening your phone and dialling Jim's number, hoping to offer to collect the pizza on your way back, but it went straight to voicemail, Jim no doubt on the phone to the restaurant at that very moment.

Another rustle, followed by the snapping of a twig, caused you to tense up. Insinctively, you slide your keys through your fingers, this time entering 911 on your keypad as you walked round your car to the driver's door. You knew how horror movies played out, and you weren't going to be a victim.

In the few seconds it took to shift your attention to unlocking your door, you looked up at a shadowy figure. Your heart seemed to stop for a moment before speeding up, fear taking over. Surely Brian knew what would happen if he tried anything?

"Look, Dwight, it isn't funny!" You said, a small part of you hoping this was all just some elaborate prank. But the figure kept moving towards you, and you stumbled back, rushing round your car door, planting one foot in the car before the figure finally spoke up, in turn entering the light given by the street lamp above you.

"Hey, kiddo." The voice was gruff, familiar, for more than one reason. The man in question had his hand shoved deep in his jacket pockets, with polished shoes and a jacket and suit that looked more expensive than your used car. In fact, he looked more expensive than anything you had imagined. Photos of him from years before had him as overwight, with no grooming tendencies whatsoever, a proclivity for beer. This wasn't the same man, but those eyes were your own, and the pit in your stomach opened wide.

"Dad?"

Tags: @imsuperawkward @poppirocks @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm @aziggya @suitelifeofafangirl @legendaryoafhairdozonk @dxbriksx @retrodrummers @sugar-snap @art-flirt @biwwie-iwish @im-a-writer-right @hiyaitssans

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yoongiverse · 4 years

Text

hireath

(noun) a homesickness to a home which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

summary: when home no longer feels like “home”

pairing: yoongi x female!reader

genre: angst and lots of it

rating: sfw

word count: 1.8k

warnings: foul language, very sad yoongi

index: bolded marks the date and time, bolded and italicized marks a flashback with the date and time, (e/c) means “eye color,” (y/n) means “your name,”

song: when i was your man by bruno mars

author’s note: this was originally a levi ackerman fic but because i stopped writing for the attack on titans fandom, i’ve since then decided to change the character to be yoongi! the prompt of this came from ! please enjoy… unless you’ve read it already

december fifteenth, two thousand twenty

eleven forty-eight p.m

after what seems to be millions of years, yoongi comes home from work. being an idol at bighit entertainment was not an easy job. he’s either dancing his ass off with the rest of the members in the dance practice room, having photo shoots for god knows what, producing more songs than he can count on his hands, for fucks sake he’s just over worked with whatever the hell the company throws his way.

walking into his decently sized condo, yoongi slides off his heavy winter jacket and places it into the shoe/jacket cabinet that was ever so placed in probably the best spot ever, right next to the front door. following his jacket, he slides off his work shoes and places them on their designated spot.

now free from the constricting clothes, he walks into his study to place his bag down, which was full of the songs lyrics he didn’t manage to finish because he was way too damn busy doing some other shit that bang pd made him do. weirdly enough, yoongi doesn’t immediately launch into the comfort of his bed; instead, he walks out of his study and into his living room, which lies a very comfy white couch.

instead of sitting down on the couch like a normal person, his gaze lingers on the very prominent dent on one of the couch seats, and right next to it is another dent,

before, the couch was a safe haven, meant for two bodies cuddling closer in the harsh winter temperatures, but now, the white couch is barren holding onto the memories of him and his significant other.

december fifteenth, two thousand eighteen

ten twenty-five p.m

very prominent spells of laughter echo through the living room of yoongi’s condo. here he was laying down on the white couch with his girlfriend (y/n).

“yoongi, stop!” yells his dear girlfriend of two years as he places small, fleeting butterfly kisses down the side of her neck. to (y/n) and even yoongi himself, as something as simple as placing small kisses down her neck, it was a big surprise to both of them since yoongi never acted so openly loving.

never did it cross yoongi’s mind that he would ever have a girlfriend, yet here he is. for someone as busy and straightforward as him, he always thought that people would never love him, much less like him, but somehow, fate always seems to surprise. for some reason, that thought always seemed to cross his mind ever so often and it just so happened to make yoongi have such an urge to kiss her that he did.

“babe,” yoongi begins, ceasing his kisses to his and her dismay. calming down, she looks down at him, curiosity gleaming throughout her beautiful (e/c) eyes. ever so quietly yoongi says “i love you,” and proceeds to hold onto her tighter while stuffing his red kissed cheeks into her shoulder.

with her heart so full, she responds back with “i love you too yoongi, so much,” and hugs him back with all her might.

present

breaking away from his trance, he scoffs at nothing in particular and walks past the couch to the kitchen. within a few steps from the couch, he makes it into his semi-used kitchen.

he really never had the time to use the kitchen since he was always coming home late and eating mediocre takeout food. but over the past few years, the kitchen seemed to be a place to wind down.

looking around the counter tops, he notices the little details floating around. he noticed the small container of sugar next to his coffee maker. the sugar definitely did not belong to him, he fucking hated sugar in his coffee and was an avid black coffee drinker. he also noticed the coffee mugs with stupid sayings like “a.m juice” and “dwight you ignorant slut” placed around the counter tops of his kitchen, and for sure those mugs did not belong to him.

he then notices the very lonely ring placed on the counter top placed on top of a pink sticky note. a single “i’m sorry yoongi” is all that is written.

moving slowly and with a blank mind, he takes the ring and simply admires where it came from.

august fifth, two thousand nineteen

four thirty-two a.m

“(y/n),” is all he says as he stops walking. behind him, tree leaves are blowing softly through the wind, chirping birds creating a song that he’ll never understand. people clear of the surrounding area, it truly was just him and her.

“yoongi?” she questions, turning around in what seems to be the most beautiful manner yoongi has ever seen. her hair lightly billowing behind her, her dress ruffling from the wind, and her eyes so clear, brightly gleaming towards his.

it was clear to her that yoongi was extremely nervous, something quite shocking to her as yoongi was somehow a professional at hiding his emotions. so to ease his nervousness, she places a soft hand on his bicep. this causes his downcast eyes to meet hers as yoongi brings his dark chocolate eyes up.

with a sigh, he composes himself and manages out “(y/n), i’m not the best when it comes to giving what you want. i don’t give you the hugs or kisses that you want. i don’t always give you the words you want. honestly, i don’t give you anything that you want. but you stayed with me. you stayed with me even through the tour even when i wasn’t there with you. even through it all, you’re still with me. and even if i don’t show it, you mean so much to me. you are the very reason why i am here today, you’re my rock, you’re my home. and i know i don’t say this enough, but i love you so much. i love you so much that i want to stay with you forever.”

he pauses as he goes on to take the black, velvet box out of his jacket pocket and kneels on one knee.

“will you marry me?”

present

he swallows back the pain and walks away heading to his bedroom. he opens the door to his bedroom and continues to walk to his closet. he debates on what to wear, ultimately deciding to wear a black t-shirt with matching sweats to shield himself from the winter’s cold.

with his newly acquired clothes, he walks into the bathroom dismissing the clear doubles of everything. the blatant fact that there are two toothbrushes, two cups, and nearly two of everything, leaves his thoughts quicker than they came in.

without paying too much mind he quickly changes into said clothes and walks out padding over to the bed, finally hoping he can relieve the stresses of the day.

walking over to the right side of the bed, he takes the covers and lifts them up giving him the opportunity to slip under. gazing to the other side, he notices the emptiness of it clearly remembering the times that the space next to him wasn’t empty.

without him wanting to, his steel eyes take in the lack of a body that no longer lays with him, memories flowing back up to his conscience.

january nineteenth, twenty seventeen

ten forty-three p.m

“you ready to go to bed yoongi?” (y/n) asks from the door frame of his study. pointing his gaze up to his girlfriend and admires her choice of clothing. all she wears is a shirt way too big that is definitely his and shorts that are way too short, but he doesn’t care.

“hm, i’m coming, head off to bed first. i’ll be there shortly.” he returns back without bringing his gaze towards her. he hears her pad off to the bedroom.

yoongi then begins finishing up his last piece of his song, as he starts organizing his studio desk, putting his headphones back where they belong on his stand, pushing his mic back into its own little corner, and most importantly saving the file before closing the browser.

once he deems the papers to be organized enough, he turns off the light as he walks out of his study and into the bedroom. let me just say, the view that he sees when he walks in should be painted because damn she was cute.

she was cutely holding onto his side of the bed, it was as if she was trying to catch his scent. her legs were tangled between the comforter and tucked up to her chest, hair splayed out behind her, hands placed so gently by her face grasping yoongi’s pillow.

snapping out of his thoughts, he walks over to his side of the bed. carefully, he lifts (y/n) up and wraps her legs around his torso. now, in the comfort of his wonderful bed and his significant other, he feels all of the stress and tension leave his body.

with a sigh, he takes a quick glance at the girl hugging his chest and places a quick kiss on her forehead. “goodnight (y/n),” he whispers.

“i love you,” he finally says.

present

quickly, he turns over, no longer facing the empty side of the bed, not wanting to deal with the fact that the love of his life is absent from their bed.

“she’s gone.”

“she never loved me.”

“where did i go wrong?”

“i wasn’t a good enough fiance.”

“i wasn’t good enough.”

he kept chanting over and over again in his head. spiraling through his mind were all the things that he’s done wrong as a boyfriend and the things he should’ve done. everything and anything bad floated through his mind, making him feel like such a shitty person for how he treated you.

now, yoongi was a man of action, never was he able to clearly speak out his emotions and the thoughts floating through his mind. it seemed to him and others that his actions were very simple, never really portraying his love for her.

(y/n) always seemed to understand. she never cared, every action yoongi did no matter how small they were, she understood the weight of them. she simply understood him, unlike everybody else he’s come into contact with.

but, he’s lost her. she’s no longer his. she’s no longer here.

she’s gone.

to yoongi, the weight of those words brings him down further than he’s ever been. it brings him down so far, a lone tear escapes his eye.

more and more escape his eyes and he doesn’t even notice it, too caught up in his thoughts to even notice. soon enough, he’s sobbing quietly in the expanse of his lonely room.

time passes and he’s on the brink of falling asleep with tears still damp on his cheek. right before he falls into slumber, he whispers out:

“i’m sorry (y/n)”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts x reader #bangtan x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #agust d x reader #min yoongi x reader #myg x reader #yoongi angst #suga angst #agust d angst #bts angst #myg angst #agustd x reader

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et-lesailes · 4 years

Photo

title: baseball bets

pairing: chris evans x jules (personalized request)

word count: 1758

summary: you and chris make a bet on a baseball game. you lose, but do you really?

themes: fluff, smut

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @inactivewhore, @hurricanerinwrites, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername

notes: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope you love it :) ** if you are interested in my commissions, please check out this post right here !

“Whew! Look at that fuckin’ home run!” Chris cheers proudly, up on his feet in front of the TV with his large arms crossed in front of his broad chest. His biceps are practically bulging out of the sleeves of his t-shirt, and if it wasn’t a Red Sox one, you would be even more turned on. “Yeah, they did need that, considering how badly they’re losing right now.” You challenge with a smirk, popping a few chips into your mouth. Chris scoffs, suddenly coming towards you and scooping you up with ease, slinging you over his shoulder and making you squeal. He always gets energetic and hyped up like this while watching games, it’s a miracle your smaller frame is still intact considering how much he likes to roughhouse. Not that you’re complaining- if anything, you find it kind of hot.

“Keep up that kinda talk and I’m gonna spank you all the way to next week,” he growls playfully, giving your ass a little smack as he holds you as though you’re a sack of potatoes. You laugh loudly, squirming in his grip. “What, you know I’m right! My boys are totally going to win this one.” He arches an eyebrow, tossing you back down onto the couch playfully. “Yeah? Then why don’t we keep things interesting with a little bet?” He leans over to pick up his beer from the coffee table, taking a swig before continuing, “If the Sox win, you gotta give me that hoodie back.” He nods towards the oversized piece of clothing you’re currently wearing and you pout playfully but nod in agreement (you know you’re just going to steal it back anyways). “Fine. And if I win, you buy me ice cream whenever I want it for the next month.” He blinks but laughs amused, extending his hand. “Alright, deal.” You shake it as firmly as you can, smiling confidently. “I know the Jays have totally got this. You’re going down, Evans.”

“Noooo!” you cry out dramatically, collapsing onto the ottoman in the center of the room upon witnessing the last inning of the game. “What happened? They were doing so well!”

“My boys happened, that’s what!” Chris yells proudly, pumping his fist in the air as he looks at the television with pride and delight as if he coaches the Red Sox himself. “Well, baby doll, come on now. The hoodie comes off, and back in my closet.” You pout and sit up again, running your fingers through your slightly tousled locks. “Fine. You want your hoodie back?” You suddenly stand up and lift the hoodie off your torso and up over your head, tossing it to him without warning. His blue eyes widen as he stares, subconsciously nibbling his lower lip. You casually walk right past him and off to the bedroom- wearing absolutely nothing but the leggings he loves so much, giving him a perfect view of your ass wiggling slightly as you strut with confidence.

“Fuck, did you know this bet was happening or something?” The hoodie’s forgotten on the floor of the living room as he immediately follows after you, ogling your bare back. “Not even a bra, Jules? You’re killing me here.” You barely smirk, nonchalantly going for the closet as if looking for another top. “I was lazy this morning.” You shrug, rummaging through your clothes. “Now thanks to you, I have to actually get dressed.”

“No, no,” he immediately replies, reaching out to grab your arm with a mischievous twinkle in his pacific hues. “I don’t think you do, actually.” With that, he pulls you in for a rough and passionate kiss, fingers tangling through your light colored hair while his other hand roams your fit figure, squeezing your waist. You giggle softly against his lips, immediately melting into his hold as you kiss him back, your hands moving up to hold his bearded face. He scoops you up into his arms without breaking the kiss, carrying you out of the walk-in closet and over to the bed. You can’t help but tease a little as you press your breasts against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and opening your mouth for him to allow his tongue access.

He groans quietly as he falls down onto the bed with you, hovering over you as you lie on your back. He briefly breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt off his head, his soft hair ruffling slightly as he does so. “It’s really annoying what a fuckin’ tease you are,” he mutters in a husky Boston accent, leaning back down to pepper your jawline and neck in kisses. You smile as you tilt your head, sighing in content as you run your hands over his chiseled abdomen. “As if you’re much better,” you retort, rubbing your fingers firmly into his muscle- something you can never get enough of. He’s so much bigger than you, but it only makes you feel more secure. Not to mention it’s definitely a turn on that he can simply pick you up and throw you around like a little doll.

He continues moving his lips down, kissing your collarbone slowly and lovingly before getting to your breasts, his fingers playfully teasing your nipple as he starts sucking on the other breast roughly. You can’t help but moan, arching your back towards him as your hands reach for his hair, pulling slightly. “Chris…” He simply smirks, teeth barely toying with your nipple to make you squirm just a little more before his lips continue their journey down your flat stomach. Once they reach the hem of your shorts, you can’t help but shudder slightly, already beginning to feel sensitive. “Take them off,” you whine impatiently, and he chuckles deeply, glancing up at you with a raised brow. “Getting a little bossy, hm, baby? Wasn’t I the one who won the bet?”

“Please,” you whine, and he grins, obliging as his fingers tug down the shorts and the underwear along with them. He pulls them completely off your legs before spreading them open, tongue running over his lips. “Ya know, Jules,” he breathes out as he dips his head down, “I think we should make bets more often.”

You can’t even respond before his tongue is already swiping across the slick of your wet folds, a soft and shaky gasp escaping your lips. After what seems like ages of teasing kitten licks, making you whine and whimper desperately for more, he finally pushes his tongue inside your heated core, a low growl of content rumbling from deep in his throat. You feel his beard scratch against your skin, but you love every second of it. Your head is rolling on the pillow, your fingers curled tightly in his fluffy brown hair, your eyes fluttering shut every now and then, your cheeks completely flushed- it’s almost overwhelming how damn good at this he is. His tongue works you so easily, as if he knows just what each and every small movement can do to you- he knows how to pleasure you better than you know how to pleasure yourself.

When you finally release, moaning in pure ecstasy, he laps it all up with delight, his breaths heavy from arousal and his blue eyes practically piercing through yours. “I fucking love eating you out,” he murmurs with a small smirk, lifting his head and letting out a satisfied exhale. “I could do it all day, but fuck, I need to be inside you right now.”

“Then feel free,” you practically beg; he immediately removes his pants and boxers, moving back up on the bed to get on his side next to you. Grabbing your waist, he flips you onto your own side, his large hand running down the light curves of your body before reaching your ass and smacking it roughly. “You’re so fucking perfect, Jules,” he groans, squeezing and groping it as he leans down to suck hungrily all over your neck, pushing aside your strawberry blond locks. “Are you ready for me to fuck you right into this damn mattress?”

“Y-yes, yes,” you whimper breathlessly, reaching behind to run your fingers through his hair, arching your back so that your ass is even closer to his hard on. “Please, please fuck me already, Chris…”

He growls turned on simply from hearing you, glancing down to guide his shaft into your entrance, holding your waist tightly. “Shit.” He hisses as he thrusts into you from behind, his other hand wrapping around you to play with your breasts, his hips bucking forward roughly. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight…! God damn!”

You’re a mess of delighted moans and mewls, your head tilting back- he takes advantage of this as he leans over to kiss you hard, the hand roaming your waist moving to give your bouncing ass another smack. “Mm… mm… you take my cock… so fucking well…” he growls in between steamy kisses, thrusting even harder and faster, his jawline clenched as his teeth pull at your lower lip. “How many times am I going to make you cum today, hm?”

In the midst of the euphoric haze swimming through your mind, it’s almost hard to count. Once. Twice. Three times. You’re exhausted but exhilarated, he’s so damn addicting. He’s finally reaching his limit; he shakes the sweat out of his hair, panting as he practically jackhammers into you. “God damn!! Jules, fuck, I’m… I’m gonna fucking cum!”

You moan in pleasure, your body shaking as your final orgasm rips through you, releasing once again onto him. He cums inside you- his favorite place to cum, after all- his chest heaving and his lips parted. He finally pulls out, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling breathlessly. He pulls you close with an arm around you, shaking his head to himself. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” He finally turns his head to look down at you, smirking slightly. “Ya know, I was a little worried having a girlfriend who doesn’t have the same #1 team as me, but I think if we keep this up we’ll be just fine.”

You laugh, still just as breathless as you lie close to him, playfully smacking his chest. “You’re going to lose next time, just so you know. And then I’m going to have all the ice cream in the world.”

He scoffs amused, propping himself up onto his side to lean down and kiss you lovingly. “Mm? Ice cream? You sure that’s all you’re going to want…?”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #personalized fics

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dweetwise · 4 years

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yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

#dbd fanfic #felix richter #ace visconti #felix x ace #riconti #dbd #dead by daylight #dweetwrites

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tamorasky · 3 years

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Rise to Me Chapter 11 - February 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

Note: Not the greatest chapter, I know. But we're starting to get the ball rolling with this one! My partner pointed out to me that Gerda is like a mix of Dwight and Angela from the office, so we're just gonna roll with thatAlso thank you all so much for the support, leaving kudos, comments and reblogging/likes on tumblr. It means so much to me to see support for this fic and I always look forward in what you guys think 💕 💕

Her auburn hair is tied up in a messy bun and is dressed in a green satin robe as she stands in front of her closet, pulling out various outfits and throwing them over her arm. At this point, Anna has removed most of her clothing out of her closet. She carries her clothes to the single bed with her arms straining, discarding the garments on the bed next to her suitcase.

Anna places her hands on her hips as she stares at all the items; there is no way she’ll be able to get all of this into one suitcase. But Kristoff had made her promise only to bring one reasonably sized bag.

“You won’t be able to get everything into that.” Gerda’s voice startles the young woman out of her trance. Anna glances over her shoulder to see the Norwegian woman entering her room, placing fresh towels on the dresser next to the door.

“I know.” Anna sighs. Gerda places the laundry basket, resting on her hip, onto the ground as she comes to stand next to the auburn-haired woman. The older woman looks at the pile of clothes.

“That blue dress looks better with a hat.” Gerda points at the dress second on the pile.

“I don’t have room for hats,” Anna responds with her hands on her hips. “Mr.Bjorgman said I’m only allowed one suitcase.”

The older woman hums in response. “Smart man, you have too many clothes.” Gerda steps forward, grabbing the blue dress she just pointed at.

“Hey, wait!? What are you going with that?” Anna’s brows rise as the other woman makes her way across the room, placing the dress into the closet.

“You agreed it looks better with a hat, yet you can’t bring one. So, this stays behind.” Gerda responds, meandering back toward the bed. Anna sigh, glancing back at her pile of clothes.

“I-I guess I haven’t done this in a while.” Anna giggles, embarrassed at her inability to pack for her journey.

Gerda shrugs her shoulders, grabbing any dresses or outfits that she’s seen Anna wear to work or formal gatherings. “I came to England on a boat with only my purse. No silk, you’re going to France with a man who is not your fiancé. You don’t want to look like a whore.”

Anna stares at her landlady, taken aback at the blunt insult. Although the older woman did have a point, it did reduce the number of her clothing. “Alright, no formal wear.”

Gerda shuffles back towards the closet, hanging up the pieces she had rejected on behalf of Anna. She returns to the young woman’s side, handing appropriate items to Anna.

“Take your brown tweed skirt and the olive blouse with foxes on them.” Gerda hands the outfit to Anna, who quickly packs the garments into the suitcase. She flattens the pussy bow on the blouse as Gerda passes her a navy cable knit sweater to match.

Gerda hands Anna an a-line tartan skirt along with a white blouse while saying. “You can match the navy sweater with this outfit.”

The younger woman nods, placing the second outfit next to the other. She is given a slim grey skirt which stopped a few inches below her knee along with a short sleeve light blue collared blouse.

They pack a few more pieces, mostly short sleeve and collared dresses; blue, mustard yellow and a tartan patterned. All of which would match with her navy and burgundy sweaters, along with a pair of grey slacks.

“So, this Mr. Bjorgman…” Gerda trails off, handing a pair of heels to the young woman. “Is he respectable?”

Anna raises a brow at her landlady. “What do you mean respectable?”

“I mean, you are a single woman and man travelling together. I worry about your reputation.” Gerda shakes her head, handing a pair of black flats to her.

“I’m not a single woman. I’m happily engaged, remember?” Anna sighs, placing them into the suitcase. Her gaze shifts to the large square diamond ring on her finger.

“Even still. You’re an engaged woman, travelling with a man who is not your fiancé.” Gerda shakes her head. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at the older woman. The notion of travelling with a man who isn’t her fiancé being scandalous is completely ridiculous.

“It will be fine, Gerda.” Anna sighs, placing her undergarments into the suitcase. Much to the young woman’s relief, the doorbell rings throughout the house. Gerda glances towards the door, shuffling out of the room without another word.

Anna shakes her head, placing her three pairs of stockings into the suitcase along with a few pairs of socks. With a sigh, she puts her hands on her hips, glancing around her room while contemplating what else she needs to pack.

The letters are in her purse, and she still needed to pack her makeup. Although due to Kristoff’s instructions, she couldn’t bring her hard makeup case. She had to pack them into the small side pockets in the suitcase. Even still, she had to limit herself to four lipsticks, one grey eye shadow for the evenings, her liquid mascara, powders and blush. However, she had cheated and packed three more lipsticks into her purse.

Her ears perk up at the sound of someone walking up the stairs, turning toward her door to not see her landlady standing in the doorway, but her best friend. Olaf gives her a toothy grin, taking off his hat as he enters her bedroom.

“Bonjour, comment ça va?” Olaf asks as he settles himself in the desk chair. Anna shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she places in a third pair of shoes; her oxfords.

“I don’t need to speak French until arriving there,” Anna responds, closing the suitcase and buckling it shut.

“Yeah, but you haven’t spoken it since you were in fourth year.” Olaf points out, opening the drawers in Anna’s desk. “You’re going to need to practice.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” Anna shrugs, sitting on her bed’s edge with a sigh. Her friend’s brows are raised in surprise, staring at her with amusement.

“I don’t think it is.”

Anna shrugs, unconcerned about her language skills. “I mean, if you’re more confident in French than I am, why don’t you join us?”

“I have a job. Besides, if you want someone to join you and your second yank, why don’t you ask Hans?” Olaf inquires, pulling out light green ribbons from the desk.

“Because Hans doesn’t speak French, and he’s busy trying to plan our passage to America,” Anna explains, resting her hand on the leather suitcase.

“And how does Hans feel about you travelling with Kristoff?” Olaf crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair. She shrugs, her fingers now running against the bag.

“He’s fine with it.”

“He is?” Olaf raises his brows, not entirely convinced.

“We talked it over, and he trusts me.” Anna shrugs.

“I wouldn’t.” He states bluntly. “Have you seen Kristoff?”

“Olaf.” Anna groans, throwing her head back in exasperation. “It isn’t like that, at all.”

The blonde man chuckles, staring at her incredulously. “No? because I’m not entirely convinced, and honestly, if Hans noticed anything around him, he should be concerned about his fiancé running away to France with a handsome man.”

“Ah yes, post-war France.” Anna sighs, rolling her eyes. “The most romantic place to run away to with a rude drunk yank.”

Olaf stares at his friend. His smile fading as he regards the young woman. “Why didn’t you ask Hans to go?”

“I just told you.” Anna’s brows furrow. “He’s busy here and trying to arrange our travel to America. I can’t just ask him to up and leave with me.”

“Anna,” Olaf stands from his chair, grabbing Anna’s suitcase and placing it on the ground. He sits next to her, slipping his hand into hers. “We’ve known one another since we were children.”

“And?” She questions, drawing out every syllable of the word. Completely unsure where her childhood friend is going with this.

“Why isn’t Hans going to France with you?” Olaf questions again, not convinced of his friend’s excuse for her fiancé. Anna’s gaze falters from Olaf’s going to the ground, staring at the brown knit rug.

“H-he’s just busy.” Anna insists. She didn’t want to get into it with him at the present moment, Kristoff would be here at any point, and Anna knows that the American would not take well to waiting for her.

“Alright.” Olaf nods. It falls silent between them, both of them knowing that she is lying. “So, when does Kristoff come?”

“He said he’d be here quarter to 10,” Anna responds, meeting Olaf’s gaze once again. “It’s about 2 hours to Portsmouth, so we’ll have lots of time to catch the ferry to Le Havre at 12:30. And then a 3-hour drive to Arras. We should be in Arras by 8:30 or 9 at night.”

“That’s quite a journey.” Olaf comments. He gives her a sympathetic smile, knowing Anna’s attention span did not fare well on long travel, as he recalls their road trip to Dover last summer.

“I’d rather spend 10 hours travelling with the grump than spreading it out into days. Something tells me that a lengthy road trip would result in the death of one of us.” Anna jokes, her heart swelling as Olaf chuckles.

“As long as your body doesn’t end up in the bottom of a steamer trunk, I’m happy.” Olaf quips back, nudging his shoulder against Anna’s.

She looks up at him, beaming. “I would also be very happy, if I don’t.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Olaf places his free hand on top of their clasped hands.

��I won’t be gone for long. Maybe only for two weeks at the most.” Anna shrugs, trying to reassure her best friend.

“Two weeks?” He questions, brows raised. Unconvinced that his friend would be able to complete this undertaking in only two weeks.

“Yeah, I mean. We know she deployed to Arras; it really shouldn’t take us a long time.” Anna explains as if trying to convince herself. She and Kristoff only have until the end of this month to find Elsa. She leaves for America at the end of the month.

“Well…” Olaf trails off, squeezing her hand. “I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”

He smiles at her reassuringly. She leans her head against his shoulder. “You will.”

They hear a car honk from the street below her window. Olaf laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, he is impatient.”

“You have no idea.” Anna rolls her eyes, standing from her bed. She goes to pick up her suitcase, only for Olaf to slap her hand away and pick it up for her. She smiles, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Plus, you pack so much I’m not even sure you have the ability to carry this.” He jabs, stalking towards the door.

“I didn’t even pack that much!” Anna huffs, grabbing her purse and green reefer coat from the end of her bed. Olaf disappears through the door without another word as Anna places her reefer coat over her navy overalls and white-and-black striped sweater.

Her purse hangs on her shoulder as she walks towards the door. Anna sighs, glancing around her room, flicking off the overhead light and closing the door behind her. She makes her way downstairs, her hand sliding against the polished wood railing, expecting to see Kristoff standing in the foyer with his arms crossed.

Instead, Hans stands in the foyer next to Olaf, staring up at her with a grin and a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“Hello.” Her fiancé’s voice rings throughout the old house.

“Hi!” Anna beams down at the auburn-haired man, tripping on the last step of the stairs and catching herself on the bannister before falling on her hands and knees. Hans chuckles at her catch, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up this morning.”

“of course, I’m going to say goodbye to you.” He shrugs, taking a step forward. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Hans lingers near her ear, whispering. “You left so early this morning; I didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye.”

Anna feels her flush at his comment as he flashes her a smile. “W-well I’m glad you came.”

“These are for you.” He hands the roses to her, which she takes, burying her nose into the flower closest to her.

“They’re lovely!” She beams up at him, somewhat saddened that she’ll have to leave them behind. “I’ll put these in water.”

Anna withdraws from the foyer, her fiancé following after her into the kitchen. She pushes on the swinging kitchen door with her shoulder, flashing a smile at him as she backs up into the room. Hans stands against the wall next to the door, watching Anna as she places the flowers on the counter temporarily.

“Is um…what is his name?” Hans pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to recall the other man’s name.

“Kristoff.” Anna answers, standing on her tiptoes to grabs a crystal vase from a high shelf.

“Right, Kristoff. Has he arrived yet?” The auburn-haired man inquires, folding his arms across his chest.

“No, he hasn’t. I thought I heard him honk, but I must’ve been someone else. I have the feeling he would be banging down the door if it had been him.” Anna responds, turning on the tap to fill the vase with water. Hans simply chuckles at that, glancing around the small kitchen as she unwraps the flowers and places them into the water.

“Well, I’m glad to see the Nazi will enjoy my flowers on her dining room table while you’re gone.” Hans comments, changing the subject. Anna rolls her eyes, turning to her fiancé to scold him. In the corner of her eye, Gerda stands in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Her eyes narrowed at the young man.

“Anna, your other American is here.” The older woman announces, shuffling through the kitchen to take the flowers from Anna as she mutters. “Calling me a Nazi in my own home, fucking Yankee.”

Anna snorts in response to Gerda’s not so quiet mutterings, glancing back to her fiancé with a smirk. “You deserve that.”

“I know I do.” Hans sighs, opening the kitchen door for his fiancé, following after her into the foyer. Kristoff stands in front of the door, making small talk with Olaf as he waits. The blonde turn towards the couple, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Kristoff offers her a polite smile, standing up straight. “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” Anna trails off, surprised that he didn’t immediately snap at her for making him wait. She and Hans inch closer to Olaf and Kristoff, preparing to say goodbye to her fiancé and best friend. “Hans, this is Kristoff. Kristoff, this is my fiancé Hans.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kristoff states, extending his hand out to Hans, who accepts the gesture. The auburn-haired man smiles at the other man.

“You’re American.” Hans states, grinning.

“Uh…yeah, I am,” Kristoff responds with an awkward smile.

“I’m from Arlington. What about you?” Hans inquires, clearly pleased with running into a fellow patriot, travelling with his fiancé.

“Ah, Sheridan.” Kristoff blinks, his gaze flickering at Anna briefly. He had tried to disclose as little information about himself to Anna as possible. She is about to insert herself in the conversation, not needing to know her escort’s personal life but is interrupted as Hans holds a hand up.

Hans’s brows furrow in confusion, trying to recall the name of the city. “I’m not familiar with that name. What state?”

Kristoff clears his throat, saying almost inaudibly. “Wyoming.” Anna stares up at Kristoff with knitted brows. She had no idea such a place could exist.

“Oh… I’ve never been,” Hans says politely, quickly adding. “But I’ve heard it is quite beautiful.”

“It’s nice…I guess.” Kristoff nods. The two men stare at one another quietly, neither of them knowing what to say. Anna glances between the two men, figuring out if they are finished with their odd exchange.

“This is very awkward,” Olaf announces to the room, playing with the buttons of his gray peacoat. Anna slowly turns to her friend with a small smirk, shaking her head in disbelief at him. She glances back toward Kristoff with raised brows.

“Are we all ready?” Anna clasps her hands together.

“Yes! We are.” Kristoff announces. She nods, walking over to where Olaf had discarded her suitcase. Kristoff is the first to leave the house, going to start the car for their long journey. Anna follows the large blonde outside, while Hans and Olaf remain in the foyer.

As she exits on the street, she glances to see Kristoff standing in front of a truck, an old one. Looking at Kristoff in horror, she begins to shake her head. “No, no, no, no. You did not tell me about that.”

She points at his green ford truck, the metal around the wheels beginning to rust and ready to break down at any moment. Kristoff glances back at the truck with wooden slates making up the truck bed’s edge. “What? It’s fine.”

“That is not fine. That.” She points to the truck, puttering. “Is barely a vehicle.”

“Oh, Jesus. It’ll be fine.” Kristoff takes the suitcase from her, carrying it to the truck. Anna stares at the car; she hadn’t been expecting this. He is about to place her bag into the bed, but she calls out to him. “Wait! Is there like a little space behind the front seats?”

“Why?” Kristoff cocks a brow as Anna takes the suitcase from him with force. Opening the door, Anna comes face-to-face with a large brown Irish wolfhound. The dog stares at the woman in front of him, lifting his head from the seat of the car.

“Oh, hello.” Anna greets, reaching out to scratch the dog under his chin. She begins to panic as the massive dog shifts forward, attempting to leave the truck.

“Sven, stay,” Kristoff calls, standing behind the woman in case the dog made his escape. The wolfhound looks at his owner with wide eyes before laying back on the seat. Anna raises her suitcase over the seats, placing her suitcase in a small space behind the front, which holds another bag.

Anna turns away from the car, nearly running into Kristoff, still standing behind her with his hand resting on the door. She stares up at the man wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, I’m…sorry,” Kristoff repeats, sidestepping out of the woman’s way. Anna walks back towards the building as Olaf and Hans emerge onto the street. She hears the car door slam behind her; glancing behind her, she sees Kristoff walking around the truck.

Anna approaches Olaf with a smile, throwing her arms around his neck without any hesitation as she states. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Me too.” Olaf chuckles, withdrawing from his friend. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Absolutely!” Anna beams up at him, squeezing his hands before reluctantly letting go of her friend. She turns to her fiancé with a smile, allowing herself to be swept up in his embrace as he crushes his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise as he dips her slightly, making her grasp the lapels of his jacket in case his hold around her waist were to falter.

Hans pulls away from her with a smile, as Anna feels her head spin. He tucks her hair behind her ear as he cups her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She responds, placing her hands over his. They stare at one another tenderly as Hans runs his thumbs against her cheekbones. “I’ll be home in 2 weeks.”

“I know.” Hans nods. “I’ll have our travel arrangement for home ready then.”

She nods, standing on her tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, lingering as she doesn’t want to pull away from him just yet. But Anna knows she has to. Reluctantly, she pulls away with a sigh, peering up at him.

“Goodbye.” Her hand lingers in his for a moment as she walks away from him. Only detaching as she walks an arm’s length away from him. She opens the car door, glancing at the dog sitting on the seat next to Kristoff and her own.

Anna slips into the seat, closing the door hard with her purse on her lap. Immediately the interior of the car smells like the dog’s breath and is humid. Kristoff turns the wheel as Anna glances out the fogging window, waving to her fiancé and best friend as her driver pulls away.

As they pull onto Charlotte street, Sven whines, staring at Anna with wide eyes shifting closer to her until his head rests on her lap. Kristoff glances down at his dog, patting his bottom before re-focusing his attention on the road.

“You’re in his spot.”

“Oh, is that right?” Anna coos, scratching the hound’s head and behind his ears. “I’m sorry, but you’re such a good boy. Aren’t you Sven?”

Sven begins to wag his tail, hitting Kristoff in the process. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, rubbing one spot behind Sven’s ear. She stares out on the street, her heart pounding in her chest as it finally hits her.

She is finally doing this. She is once and for all going to bring Elsa home.

#kristanna #elsamaren #anna #elsa #kristoff #honeymaren #Rise to Me #Post WWII AU #WWII au #frozen #myfic

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moretapes · 3 years

Note

okay i'll bite tell me about connor dwight

THIS GOT SO LONG IM SORRY PJH;GKLJKL

Sexuality Headcanon:

oh connor gay. connor homosexual gay. well in theory. i can’t actually see connor being attracted to anyone (expect for... well.) i feel ‘aromantic’ would be the wrong word choice here because connor’s just a dumb shithead who doesn’t have the sympathy in him to see other people.

connor only comes out of the closet when he realizes it gives him a pass to call stan a f

Gender Headcanon:

i cannot see him as anything other than aggressively cis. connor’s gender is toxic masculinity.

A ship I have with said character:

my favorite specific relationship dynamic of "the only two people in the world who could understand what the other is going through, but they also can't stand each other"

i don’t really “ship” stan and connor romantically so much as i am just fascinated by their relationship. like. obviously stan and connor are extremely extremely toxic for each other in a way that you could not ‘fix’. connor doesn’t want to ‘get better’ and stan could never forgive him. even if, and that’s a strong if, he could forgive connor personally, he wouldn’t allow himself to because connor’s other victims don’t have the chance to and he needs to be held responsible for that.

but at the same time, in this brief, private universe between them, they were all each other had. it’s was horrible and toxic and unhealthy but. :( ??? :((((

the closest i can think of for a stanconnor Good Ending requires one or both of them still being completely fucking miserable because they’re so apposed to each other on a fundamental level. and that’s what i like! i like that they’re so tangled together the series itself kind of frames meeting connor as the moment that doomed stan for LIFE.

like ok!!! ok!.

...there’s also uh. kind of a scene in the old series that alludes connor had feelings for stan at one point? and it’s definitely just because of the series being written on the fly and not considering the implications very thoroughly but. it’s there. and. miserable angry teenage connor confusing his fierce possessiveness over stan for romantic feelings immediately before stan ditches him is. hm. hoo boy. i gotta sit down.

A BROTP I have with said character:

genuinely do not think connor is capable of extending an emotional connection to anyone to form a legitimate friendship.

i guess in a real world setting, i do like playing connor as susan’s overprotective brother. i don’t think they’d be close exactly, but it’s... better terms than canon. (side note i personally see connor not having a good relationship w david or the rest of their family so it’s kind of a ‘susan is the only one willing to take his side out of pity, even though he’s probably wrong’)

A NOTP I have with said character:

honestly? anyone else. connor has extremely bad ideas on what a platonic relationship would involve, my brain shuts down trying to think about what he would be like dating.

not to mention he only interacts with like, what, 3 people? who would you even ship him with lmao

A random headcanon:

oh god i’m so bad at these without a prompt.

uhh connor is a massive straight-edge because he hates feeling ‘out of control’ and applies that to everyone in his vicinity.

connor is insistent on being referred to as the older sibling despite only being born 7 minutes before susan.

he’s a very light sleeper. he’s someone who is always awake before everyone else but also stays up past everyone else. very few people have actually seen him asleep.

General Opinion over said character:

maybe i like him, just a little bit.

tbh a LOT of the reason i like connor so much is just that it is hard to separate his influence from who stan is. this isn’t a good thing in any capacity btw.

oh god how do i contextualize this like YES he’s the WORST ever and i love him so much so fucking much. honestly the worst someone portrays connor as the more enamored i become. maybe i just have a specific hang-up that if i see a character die i immediately become more sympathetic towards them; and seeing connor die like 3 fucking times just caved my skull in.

but godddd there’s these super tiny things he does that just crawl into my brain and die there like WHAT is this kid’s problem!!! is it the abandonment issues from being passed around foster homes since he was born. is it the paranoia from being constantly stalked by an otherwordly beast his entire life. is he just kind of a dick. WHO KNOWS!!!!! I LOVE HIM

plus i think he’s really fascinating in the context of the slenderverse as a whole. there are plenty of ‘proxies’ (i’d argue he doesn’t count but i’ve seen other people call him such so idk) who do bad things because they’re being controlled. but connor is just... some kid? he was a scared 17 year old with bad morals who only wanted to save himself, and became a monster in the process.

and that’s way more interesting for me to dig into!! he made the choice to harvest other people, he is the one that approached stan for help, he decided to kill people. slenderman was there, yes, and his influence obviously drove connor to desperation but connor was never without control. at any point he could’ve stepped away but didn’t. and it just got worse and worse and worse until it killed him. by the time stan stepped into the picture connor was probably already beyond help. and that just... fuckiening. bro that makes me SAD

and connor ceased to be connor. he’s lines. he’s a corruptleum. connor as a person doesn’t exist in the record. he’s the literal ghost of stan’s past.

it’s sooooooooooo auuuuuuuGHHHHHHHHHHHH *CLAWING AT THE WALLS*

BOY

#a-flickering-soul #i am forcing myself to stop typing now because if i don't i'll be at it all night

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zippiestdraws · 4 years

Text

Choking Curiosity Chapter 3

Michael Myers x (ftm) reader

Read on ao3

It rained last night as you expected. The sound of dripping rips you out of your half-sleep state in the dark, rushing you to grab anything that can hold water. The leak was coming through the ceiling of one of the rooms across the hall from yours. You expected for something like this to come up, but to say this disappointed you was an understatement. How are you supposed to fix a roof issue? Then you realize if it’s dripping in here, the attic must be worse.

You add roof leaks and water damage to your list of repairs.

You could see the color of the sky changing slowly out your window and flop back onto the mattress, annoyed with the rough sleep you’ve gotten.

You work the morning shift today and you don’t trust yourself to wake up in time after this so you let the sleep deprivation sink in while you stare at the ceiling. The sun rises over the horizon before you finally get up and yawn your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

You consider having cereal, but decide it’s too early for it. You hate cereal anyway. Peering out the back window, you see the dummy from last night lying in the mud and snort. It reminds you of that last movie you saw before everything went down the drain. Maybe you should keep it as a halloween decoration? If it’s still around after your shift you’ll sit it out to dry next to the steps.

You don your uniform, knowing you’ll regret not having breakfast long before getting home- but you’ll live. You apply some chapstick before leaving, relishing one of the few luxuries you could travel with. The keys were in the same spot you left them for once, maybe today won’t be too bad?

*** Dwight, the manager, greeted you a bit too chipper for the morning as you go to clock in. You manage a half smile and a “‘morning”.

He worries his fingers when you take his place behind the counter.

“Sorry- not a morning person?” A genuinely concerned look takes the place of his awkward smile as he quickly adds, “I can always put you on the night shift with Quentin, if you want…”

You shake your head and assure him you’ll take whatever you can get, but thanks anyways.

You don’t see him again until your lunch break, he catches you as you grab your jacket to get a breath of fresh air. He looks like he’s trying to say something but he just swallowed water down the wrong pipe. He flounders, opening his mouth and closing it again before you take pity on him.

“What’s up?”

“I support you-”, he spits up like he’s out of breath.

As much as what he’s trying to tell you is probably supposed to be nice, your stomach drops.

“What are you talking about,” you’ve played dumb before, just cross your fingers.

Dwight squeaks in an undignified way. He’s red in the face and looks like he might die of embarrassment, but you hold your ground with a tilt to your head and an inquisitive expression.

“I-...you’re...I mean- uh”, he panics. “I’m gay.”

You’re so tired that the shock just bounces around in your head and comes out as a laughed ‘okay’. When your brain returns, you thank him, smile, pat him on the arm, and go to take your break before his brain implodes. It would be nice to have people like you to hang out with.

*** The back door swings open with a rusty squeak, Michael does nothing to hide the dull thud of his footsteps inside. He watched you leave.

Michael was never cautious, but your routine never seemed to stay the same. He’s been spending more time outside than he would like, your unpredictability slowly growing aggravating.

He heads straight to the pantry in the kitchen, pulling out at least one of everything to dump on the counter. He rips open a granola bar and brings it to his mouth only to bump into latex.

He pulls his mask off with one hand. The cold rush of air around his now bare face is uncomfortable, but a man’s gotta eat.

The light shines harsher without the shadows of the mask to protect eyes. Michael squints as he devours his small hoard and stuffs the wrappers in his pocket to throw in the garbage outside. Ghosts don’t eat and he doesn’t want you figuring out his presence just yet.

A small tube rolls off the counter as he brushes away his crumbs. Maybe he’ll leave it, he likes to see you squirm when you find things he’s moved. Chapstick. He saw you use it briefly through the kitchen window.

Michael crouches, picking it up and uncapping it as he stands. It looks well used, correlating with the incoming chill. With his mask still off, he runs it over his own chapped lips.

The chapstick stared back back at him, begging to be stolen, but he stood it back on the counter. His self control will win over instant gratification this time.

Michael moves on, up the stairs to the bathroom. He opens the door, mask in hand and stops.

A grimacing confusion takes hold of him at the odd flesh toned object sitting in the sink. He steps closer before reaching in to examine it. It squishes oddly as he rotates it in his hands.

It’s obviously a penis, but recognition ends there. Michael’s seen fake ones in some victims’ bedrooms, and he knows what they were used for, but this doesn’t look like it would work very well.

He puts it back and turns on the shower instead. His fingers linger on the hair of the mask after he gets undressed before reluctantly leaving it to step under the spray.

The water rhythmically runs his mind blank. Michael opens his eyes without realising he had closed them, his wet hair obscuring his view. A hefty amount of your shampoo is dumped out of the bottle and he begins to scrub at his head. The scent curls around in the steam and he breaths it in greedily. You must smell like this, he hasn’t gotten close enough while you sleep to tell.

He’s going to change that tonight.

*** You get home while it’s still light out and your stomach sends you straight to the pantry to grab a packet of ramen. While heating the water, you absentmindedly reapply chapstick.

Michael watches from just out of sight in the next room tonight. Adrenaline surges through him as you rub where his lips had been over your own. Using it must make them soft.

Unceremoniously, you eat out of the pot, savoring the flavor your tongue hasn’t yet worn out.

Your routine flies by under his gaze. He liked the way you yelped when caught off guard by the water temperature after running a shower. You grumbled something about the stupid old water heater and entered your room covered in goosebumps afterwards.

Michael must’ve used all the hot water. Funny.

He watches you read in bed until your eyes begin to droop. Turning out the light, it doesn’t take long until your breaths come low and steady.

The closet door slides open silently and Michael steps out just as quiet.

He gets as close as he dares to, that is to say, right up to the bedside. He has to squat down, the lack of bed frame has you close to the floor. His eyes pick apart the way your hair lies on the pillow, the moonlight in the room is just enough to observe the details of your face like a map.

The tension feels like a quickly rising tide he has to wade through, Michael can feel the energy radiating from the edge of his knife as he draws it out. Like an extension of his limb, the tip traces the outline of your legs underneath the blanket until it reaches your uncovered arms.

Michael’s breathing excites and echoes louder underneath the mask. Light as a papercut, he drags the sharpened edge down your exposed forearms as if he were an artist. He can feel the slight pull where it digs shallowly into your skin each time he traces down to your wrists.

His hand stills when you shift in your sleep, his breath hitches at the impulses that your exposed throat alighted. The sound of clattering cans outside shatters the moment, causing Michael to stand up with irritation, investigating through one of the front windows.

Teenagers.

He can see the spray paint cans that spilled across the ground that the two scramble collect. His eyes follow them as they look around, deeming it safe before finishing their work.

Lucky him. An outlet for his pent up energy presents itself.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #male reader #trans writers #choking curiosity

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