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[comicalbliss]

ugh, can’t find any good miguel fics that aren’t just straight smut. send help.

[comicalbliss]

Nadie Más Que Tú

I wanted to try writing something, I love reading everyone’s beautiful work on here so I thought I'd write my own for funsies.

Just to preface I've never actually written anything before so I'm sorry if it's straight booty cheeks and doesn't make a whole lotta sense.

general warnings/cw: 18+ pls no minors ty, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/going to a bar, eventual smut. lmk if I’ve forgotten anything!

♡o .✿ฺ ✿ฺ ♡o.✿ฺ。✿ฺ♡o.✿ฺ。✿ฺ♡o。.✿ฺ。ฺ ♡

You’ve been casually dating for six months now yet you only ever really see him on weekends and even that’s rare, hell you hadn’t even been intimate with the guy. But today was different. He didn’t have work due to a company dinner he was taking you to. So he decided to take you to the mall. Like a date?

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I already told you it’s fine if you use my card.” Miguel said, trying to persuade you into buying something.

“I’m fine, I don’t need anything.”

This was true, what more could you want? You have a closet full of clothes and literally anything else you could want thanks to him.

“They have a boutique here, we could buy you a dress for tonight’s dinner.” He suggested.

It was like he was trying to get you to spend his money. Kinda cute honestly.

“Mm.. I guess?” You said a bit hesitant, still not wanting to spend his money.

You head over to the boutique and you start trying on different dresses with the help of one of the workers. Though none of the dresses seemed to be “the one”.

“We just got a beautiful dress shipped in if you want to try that one on.” The worker said.

“Let’s see it!” You said enthusiastically.

The worker goes into the back and brings out a gorgeous burgundy dress. It was long, had intricate lace backing, and a thigh high slit. You excitedly get into the changing room and put it on.

You walk out of the dressing room, it fits perfectly. The fabric hugs your curves in just the right ways, not to mention the color and how well it compliments your skin.

“You like it?” You give Miguel a little twirl to show it off and you SWEAR you saw him blush a little.

He pauses for a second, like he’s lost in a train of thought before he speaks. “It looks fine.” Is all he says though. A little disappointing of a response but.. at least he liked it?

“I’ll take it..!” You say with a smile.

You and Miguel walk out of the boutique, new dress in hand. You have a huge smile on your face.

“Thank you!” you say giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“It’s no problem.” He says with a faint smile.

He then wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked back to his car to leave and get ready at his place for dinner. Weird.. he isn’t usually very affectionate or the type to touch you in public…

— — —

About 30 minutes before dinner you were about done getting ready, putting on your new dress and some other accessories.

As you’re getting ready you just can’t shake off the thought of Miguel putting his arm around you like that, it makes your heart flutter a bit just thinking about it. What did it mean-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Miguel’s voice.

“You ready?”

He was still putting on his tie when he walked in the room.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Are we leaving now?” You looked up at him.

He kinda just stands in the doorway for a second, staring…

“Ah, yeah. Let’s go.” He cleared his throat and walked out.

Weird.. what was that about… he’s been like this ever since you left the boutique...

— — —

Dinner was pretty normal. If normal was horribly boring. All they were doing was talking about business stuff that you had absolutely no interest in. You were bored out of your mind.

Eventually the conversation shifts in a different direction. “So, how did you two meet?” One of Miguel’s co-workers asks. “We had no idea Miguel had a girlfriend.” Another spoke up.

You were a little caught off guard by the question and the response it got from the other co-worker… How did you guys meet..

“We met through a mutual friend.” You replied, sheepishly picking up your drink and taking a sip.

That was a lie. You actually met at a bar, nothing too crazy but it doesn’t sound very professional and you didn’t wanna embarrass Miguel.

You were down at a bar late at night with some of your girlfriends when you spotted a cutie all by himself. He looked a little older, just your type. With a little “Be right back!” you made your way over to him and started some small talk.

“This seat taken?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

Nonchalant type. I can work with that.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

You sit down and scoot yourself closer to him.

“What’s that?” You say pointing at his drink

“Whiskey.”

“Ugh, so boring..”

You picked up his drink and were about to take a sip when he gently grabbed it back.

“That’s unsanitary.” He gave a fake scowl.

“You almost didn't stop me.” You smile up at him proudly.

He scoffed.

“You got insta?”

“Excuse me?”

You rolled your eyes

“I thought you were older but I didn’t think you were that old.” You smirked. Sliding your already unlocked phone over to him.

He looked at you hesitantly before taking your phone and typing something in. He set your phone down before getting up and walking away without another word. Rude. With a giddy smile you pick up your phone and read.

don’t have one

That bastard…

— — —

“She’s just as amazing as the day we met.” Miguel chimed in.

“That’s really sweet!” The co-worker cooed.

You looked up at Miguel and smiled. He then rested one of his hands on your thigh, causing a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. He was doing it again.. so oddly affectionate.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. However, you still couldn’t shake off that weird feeling. Up until this point things with Miguel had never been this way. You treated each other like close friends most of the time.

The time to leave eventually rolled around and you both headed home, you could feel a strange tension in the car. You kept looking over at him but he looked fine.

I’m probably just tired..

Once home you noticed his demeanor had changed, he was acting a little strange but you tried to think nothing of it, he was probably just tired too.

You headed to his bedroom with him. As you went to close the door you turned around to find Miguel was standing in front of you, arms crossed.

“What are you doing..?” You ask fully confused on why he was standing there like that.

Miguel stepped closer to you, pushing you against the door. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, faster than you ever thought possible. He was much bigger than you, and that was very clear in this moment.

He leaned his head down close to your ear.

“You have no idea how fucking good you look in that dress.” Miguel whispered the vibration of his voice going straight to your core.

You could practically see the lust in his eyes.

“I thought about doing this in the dressing room at the boutique.” He said now running his hand down your curves.

You laughed nervously, squirming a bit. This has to be a joke… right?

“Miguel–” You tried to speak.

He turned you around on the door pressing himself against you again, you could feel his hard-on against your ass. Nope, definitely not a joke.

“How much did you have to drink?” You asked nervously as he pressed kisses on the back of your neck.

“I didn’t drink tonight.” He replied.

He then wrapped his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder.

“I just want you, I’ve wanted you..” He whispered into the shell of your ear, the words coming out of his mouth like honey. You could feel the wetness pool in your panties at the sound.

Fuck. He’s so hot. Why is he so hot? What is happening?!

[comicalbliss]

Lapdog

🐩staring: NerdMiguel x QueenBee!Reader

💗 preview: 

“Sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter laughed, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter which only made your smile broaden. 

“It does…

Doesn't it...?”

🌸Summary: You, Queen Bee, have been desiring a little assistant for a while—someone who can fetch you things, do your work, assist you in any way possible, and just make life much easier. However, after witnessing a surprising occurrence with one of the lamest students on campus, Miguel O'Hara, you believe you've found just that, and maybe something even better…

🐩tw/cw: Blackmail, Demeaning, Desperation, Dirty talk, Dominance, Handjob, Orgasm Denial, Ownership, Public Masturbation, Sex toys, Vibrator, etc…

💗rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🌸Word count: 9k

Small quiet whimpers left the lips of the burly man to your left. His head lowered in an attempt to hide as he did your college work. His large, left hand trembled whilst he solved long math equations, expressions, logarithms, and whatever else the packet held. You looked from the four-eyed male to look across the table at two people who also sat at your booth. 

Peter B. Parker, the captain of the football team, and golden boy of the school sat across from you, alongside his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, or MJ, who was the editor of the college newspaper. They sat snuggled up against each other, MJ on his chest and his arm wrapped around her. 

The two were your “friends” at your university. You all formed the famous clinique that instilled fear and envy into all of the student body. 

But between the adored football jock and the news girl, you, on the other hand, were a much bigger deal. 

Everyone knew you and your name and if you didn't, you were seen as an utter disgrace due to your cluelessness. 

You were known as the university’s queen bee.

Everyone loved or hated you, you didn't care, any attention was welcomed. You were the leader of the notorious sorority house of baddies with a rich family that can drop and sue anyone with a drop of a hat. 

You could control the student body in masses with just a word, and had everyone, even the staff, around your pretty manicured finger. Whatever you say goes and don't you fucking dare think otherwise, you'll be an idiot to challenge the queen. 

Having the ability to turn any person into a complete nobody, withering away in debts and charges, kept everyone in their place.

But you wouldn't exactly say Peter and MJ were your friends. Just students at college that had a certain kind of power that was highly useful to have in your corner. 

Peter and his kind and sweet persona were able to solidify bonds with other universities, and the dean, themselves. He was the face of your campus and was hella popular.

MJ was the head of the media. Whatever she said or wrote in the newspaper or the college blog was believed by any and everyone on campus, even if it was false.

Not like anyone would know…

Peter, MJ, and yourself were all on the top of the food chain at your university, no one else mattered, and was worth the time…

So why the hell was this lowlife sitting at your booth? 

Miguel O'Hara, known as the nerdiest of the nerds on your college campus, sat beside you at your usual booth in Mama's diner. 

Your cliniques’ usual hangout spot. 

To be fair, you didn't classify Miguel as such, more of a loner because he didn't look at all like a nerd. 

His body was covered in muscles, bulging ones that contrasted greatly with his quiet persona. He had a towering height that rose above most of the football team, and he got girls.

Or well…

Girls gave him attention, not like the guy minded them. 

He kept to himself, always having his nose stuck in a book and to make him even more of a dork, he worked at the school library. 

Many hated him because of him being so hard to categorize. 

Was he a jock due to his bulging muscles, a bad boy, due to his mysteriousness and his constant desire for solitude, or was he a nerd for always being found reading and whenever he spoke, only intellectual things came out. 

He was a tricky case.

And not one you cared about until today…

You never would have paid the introverted male any attention if it wasn't for you, this morning, stumbling into the library in search of a peasant to do your homework. Instead of finding a lowlife in waiting, you found something better…

You found Miguel in his office, in the far back of the library, moaning and jerking off under his desk. To make it even worse, AirPods adorned his ears, blocking out his auditory senses of your presence. You even leaned over his shoulder to find that he was clearly watching porn.

He was an amateur for sure…

But a needy little thing he was…

The sight before you was an honest gold mine, something that would be great for MJ to post on the school blog as you captured a little video of the surprising occurrence. 

You couldn't possibly think how much his reputation, if he even had one, would tank once the whole school got a look at this. 

But then, being the brilliant queen you were, you had a better idea for that video.

You decided to make use of it, as a way to have an around-the-clock lapdog that would come running at your every beck and call, at any given time...  

It was a great idea, especially with the lowlife being not so bad on the eyes.

So now here he was, being a good little puppy for you and doing your homework.

Except…

It didn't seem as if your associates were too happy with your puppy's presence. 

You met Peter's gaze, his amber eyes furrowed in a look of confusion as he glanced from you to the muscular loner and back again. “Okay, why the hell is he here?” He finally asked, after a while of just staring at the two of you. A smirk spread across your lips at his question.

“I believe you have eyes, Peter. He's doing my homework.” You simply said with a sly grin, continuing your subtle movement under the table which only made the geek clench his pencil even more. 

Peter and MJ knew that look on you. That sneaky smile you did whenever you were up to no good; but this time, they couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, and how it involved the four-eyed freak.

MJ looked between you and Miguel as well, her cherry lips pursing. “Why here though?” She asked, her head still resting against Peter's chest. “Most of the time when we meet at Mama's diner we gossip, we talk about deep stuff. We can't do that with him here.” She acknowledged, motioning to Miguel in the corner, looking to be very concentrated on solving a long-ass math problem. 

You smirked at the sight of his heavy breathing and his faintly red cheeks, before looking back at the confused expressions of your associates. You huffed, giving them a fake pout. “Come on. Miguel won't utter a single word to anyone…

Now would you?” 

You asked, turning to look at the large Latino, his eyes covered with a pair of black eyeglasses. His lips trembled, trying to avoid eye contact with you. You gave him a tight squeeze, followed by a deep stroke making him jolt. His eyes briefly rolled, his mouth stammering, trying to find his words. “No. I won't.” He said so low and deep you had to lean in to hear him. You can visibly see him struggling, the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tries painstakingly to control his breathing.

You grinned, watching him return to work on your math packet. “See? He can be trusted.” You explained with a smirk, continuing your tantalizing play on the nerd which only made the Latino male suck in a breath and grip his pencil tighter.

You swear you thought the wooden tool would snap in two any second now…

“Fine, but what made you want to bring him of all people?” Peter asked, turning your gaze back onto him. “He holds no power at our Uni.” He said with a chuckle, running his fingers through his girlfriend's red hair. You smirked, eyeing your two “friends” across the booth. “You know how much I wanted my own little assistant for some time. Someone who can fetch me things, do my work, 

Satisfy my every need…” 

You abruptly squeezed Miguel harshly once more, a sudden audible groan passing his lips which gained everyone's attention. Peter and MJ glanced over at Miguel before just brushing it off as the geek having one of his weird moments. 

You shot the dweeb a glare, making his ears redden. You watched him erase a mistake he made before turning to give your friends a nonchalant smile.

“Sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter laughed, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter which only made your smile broaden. 

“It does…doesn't it?”

You whispered, glancing over at Miguel who was avoiding your eyes, seeming to be very interested in the ways of Calculus II. You continued stroking the trembling male, feeling him strain underneath his black jeans. You brushed your thumb over his sensitive tip, making him whimper loudly, despite his attempt to suppress it by biting his lip.

You shot him another stern look, as you were slightly relieved to hear a groan of annoyance from MJ at the same time. You looked to see her glance over at the workers in Mama's diner. “Gosh, we've been sitting here for 20 minutes and our order still isn't here.” She whined, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Come on baby, it should be out in a little bit,” Peter whispered, trying to comfort her. You rolled your eyes at her dramatics. “Actually, why don't you two go check it out? See what's the hold-up?” You proposed with a sly smirk, glancing over at Miguel to see his defined Adam's apple bob at your words.

Oblivious, at your proposal and the fact that you, the queen, said it; Peter and MJ nodded and slid out of the booth. You watched in the corner of your eye as they walked away from your table. 

When they were finally gone, you instantly turned your eyes over to the panting male. Instantly, he dropped his pencil, his amber eyes hooded behind his spectacles, and the wooden tool left deserted on the table. His hips thrust softly into your hand whilst his eyes rolled. 

He'd completely dropped his facade of trying to seem normal.

You laughed, glancing down to see the mess he was making in his black jeans. A small wet patch gradually soaked the zipper and crotch of the denim.

“I knew you didn't finish in the library.” You teased with a laugh, continuing to stroke him. “I couldn't. You interrupted me.” He replied hoarsely, making you raise an eyebrow. You abruptly gripped his cock making him whine.

“I interrupted you?” 

You scoffed, tightening your hold on him, making him whimper even more. “You have more mouth than I thought Miguel O'Hara.” You spat, releasing him and drawing his pants down, exposing his huge member fully.

His hooded eyes instantly snapped open, deep pants passing his lips. “What are you doing? Someone could see.” He exclaimed, his amber eyes blown in a mixture of lust and worry as they looked all around in fear of someone being near. 

Your cliniques’ favorite booth was positioned in the back of the diner, completely secluded, so the idiot was fine. 

Not like you cared…

“I honestly don't know what you are so worried about. You didn't seem concerned about someone seeing you when you were jerking off this morning.” You teased, making him growl, his cock twitching a little at that recollection. “Fuck, I didn't know anyone was there. The library is always empty in the mornings.” He said in a low voice, his tone rough and holding so much spite in it. 

You couldn't help but chuckle. He looked so angry, but not like he could do anything about it. His massive body was stuck on the inside of your booth, his well-endowed cock and balls out on display. 

He was completely vulnerable to you…

Your eyes trailed him, taking him in slowly. You bit your lip. 

Even though the dork was a lowly peasant at your school, carrying his stupid little textbooks and allowing the jocks to beat on him when he had the muscles and height to beat their asses 10 fold. 

He had an impressive cock…

It stuck straight up in the air, a small patch of dark brown, coarse hair sat on the top of his shaft, trailing an irresistible line up under his beige sweater. His cock was long and thick and was about 10 inches, with a brown, angry tip dripping with precum and begging to be tasted and played with. 

During your moment of ogling, his large, veiny hand hastily covered the oddly, magnificent sight. You snapped your eyes up at him, eyes narrowing. His face was completely flushed, his hand attempting to cover his enormity between his legs. 

“Move.” You simply said with a hint of anger in your tone as you crossed your arms over your white-cladded chest. Miguel clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from you. 

It wasn't like he had anywhere to go. You've completely trapped him... 

His body was pressed between you and the wall, the table in the center, only assisted in ensnaring him. He cursed under his breath, his cock twitching behind his palm.

Your eyebrows knitted together, a feeling of overwhelming anger building up inside of you. This nerd, loner, whatever the fuck he classified as was something different…

He knew who you were, yet, he was disobeying you, talking back, and worst of all… 

Not submitting.

You've never met someone so fucking infuriating…

Your jaw clenched, trying to keep your composure and hit him where you knew it'd hurt the most. You slid closer to him, your thighs under your short, pink skirt touching his bare, thick ones. 

 “Move your hand or I'll make sure to send that little video of you jerking off to MJ. I think she’ll enjoy posting that onto her little blog for the whole college to see.” 

You said with an evil grin. You reveled in the way his amber eyes narrowed in rage, but a hint of fear could be seen in his brown orbs. His bushy eyebrows knitted together. “You wouldn't.” He said in his rough voice between breathy moans, causing you to laugh. 

You leaned towards him, your face so close to his that you could feel his minty breath against your glossy lips. 

“You and I both know I will.” You smirked, glimpsing down at his shielded hand over what you desired.

“So unless you want the entire college to know how much of a needy little puppy you are, you will move your damn hand and allow me to do whatever I please.” 

You spat, glancing down at his trembling hand and up at him. He held your hardened gaze for a moment longer before faltering. 

He knew he couldn't win here…

He cursed softly, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes. He captured his bottom lip in his teeth, as he moved his hands, placing them on either side of him on the booth. 

You smirked, licking your lips. “Good boy.” You whispered, patting his head like the doggy he was causing him to yank away. You scoffed, shaking your head. 

Glancing down, your eyes met his painfully hard and erect cock. You wrapped a hand around it, feeling how brick and sticky it was in your palm. You gripped it tightly, earning a soft groan to escape his lips. 

“I'm very pissed at you. What to know why?” You asked, squeezing his cock even more, making him hiss. He gripped the cushion of the booth, clenching his jaw once more. “Why?” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Why? You almost got us fucking caught with those outbursts, idiot.” You spat, finding a rhythm and stroking him harshly under the table. He groaned, his head falling back against the booth. ”Maybe you should f-fucking stop then.” He said through pants, which only made you chuckle. “Oh, I'm just finishing what you started in the library, puppy.” You said with a fake pout. 

“I thought you liked getting off in public places.” 

Miguel moaned softly at your words, his cock twitching in your hand in response. You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don't tell me that's the truth.” You teased with a soft chuckle.

No response was heard from him, defending nor agreeing with your proposal; only the occasional low moans and groans left his lips. You snarled, brushing your thumb along his slit, earning a rewarding jolt and a Spanish curse to fall from his lips. 

“If you won't respond to that, then answer this.” You spat, nose scrunched up in disgust whilst you continued stroking. “You act all big and fucking tough when you are alone with me, yet you curl up into a little ball when others are around.” You stated with a smirk. “Why is that?” 

“Because you don't fucking scare me.” He said angrily with a stable voice. You scoffed. “And others do?” You retorted with a snicker, causing him to growl in annoyance, looking away. “It's not like that.” 

“Oh yeah?” You quickened your pace on his cock, fisting him faster and pressing your palm into his shaft. He whined and whimpered uncontrollably, his large hand landing on your thigh, gripping it tightly through your skirt. 

Miguel was so damn frustrating. He was being as mysterious as he always was, beating around the bush and avoiding your questions like the damn plague.  

But you had a solution to that…

You brushed the pad of your thumb over his tip, intensifying his pleasure with every jerk of your hand. “I don't like your fucking attitude with me.” You spat, smacking his hand off your thigh and grabbing his chin.

You roughly turned him to look at you. His eyes dazed through his black glasses and his lips parted. “I hold the power of your entire reputation in my hands. I can get your big ass kicked out of this damn college just by showing the dean that little video of you.” You growled, looking his face over in complete rage. 

Do you fucking understand me?” You spat, your nails piercing into the underside of his chin. Your eyes glared daggers at him whilst you continued to slide your hand up and down his trembling shaft. 

He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as his hand landed on your wrist. Deep groans passed his tanned lips whilst you continued to please him. “Y-yes. Fuck.” He moaned, biting his lip. "Yes to what?" You demanded, running your thumb along the crown of his tip. His grip on your wrist tightened, making you smirk. "Yes, I-I understand." He said, his deep voice sounding rather airy and breathless.

"Good boy." You whispered, tilting your head at him and glancing down to see beads of pre-cum sprouting from his tip to drip down his shaft, coating your hand. 

Miguel growled. “What do you even want from me?” He asked through trembles of pleasure, his cock twitching in your fist. Your smirk broadened, turning your attention from his cock to the four-eyed male, his chin still resting in between your fingers.

 “You heard that conversation between Peter, MJ and I, did you not?” You inquired with a raised eyebrow, making him heave a trembling sigh. “Lapdog, right? That’s what you fucking want?” 

“Indeed.” You chuckled, releasing him. He whimpered, his thighs quivering, as heavy pants passed his lips. He rubbed his chin, pressing his backside into the leather cushions, breathing heavily.

You reached over him, grabbing a few napkins from its container to clean your hands. You could feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you looked over at him. 

You weren’t surprised to see the sight of anger and irritation, but what shocked you was the hint of curiosity found in his intense gaze. 

Was the dork interested in being your puppy...?’

“Why?” He finally asked after catching his breath. You laughed, turning to him with a smirk. “The better question is…

Why not?” 

You replied with a giggle. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed once more. “And you want me to be your damn lapdog?” He said full of spite and rage. His amber eyes appeared redder than usual but it didn’t faze you. “Yes, or that video goes to everyone.” You said with an evil grin. “I think everyone would be rather surprised to see what you’ve been hiding under all that ugly clothing.” You chuckled, motioning down at his massive and still very hard cock. 

He snarled, looking away from you and out the window beside him. You faked a pout at him. You leaned towards him, pressing your plush lips against his ear, and ran a hand over his chest. 

“Come on, puppy. Don’t be so mad, you might even enjoy it.” 

You teased and to your anticipation, his cock throbbed in response. He groaned lowly, your chest, covered in a white crop top pressing into his arm. “Not like I have a damn choice.” He retorted, his voice still resonated with fury. 

“Well, get used to it.”

You uttered, licking a stripe across his sharp jawline, and enjoying how he shuddered at the sensation. You then pulled away, his amber eyes following you like the needy puppy he was. 

“Now, every doggy needs a collar.” You said with a smile, causing him a scowl. “I’m not wearing a damn collar.” 

“So quick to assume, puppy.” You giggled, only seeming to enrage the geek even more. “Stop calling me that.” It was rather annoying how he still believed he held some type of control here. 

He’ll learn sooner or later…

“You’ll grow to love it, puppy.” You emphasized on the name he hated, turning from his faltering glare to rummage in your $500 Prada bag, fishing out a toy you purchased just for your little doggy. 

When you acquired it, you turned to him, twirling the dark blue and red crystalized ring in your fingers. Miguel's eyes followed it, his chest heaving in confusion and disdain, but his cock pulsated in desire and curiosity. 

He could scowl and glare at you all he wanted, but his body gave him away every, single, time

“What the fuck is that?” He snapped, once he regained his composure, his amber eyes looking from the ring to you through his black eyeglasses. You bit your lip. “After our little run-in at the library this morning, I bought my new puppy something special.” His eyebrows furrowed. The geek looked perplexed for the first time.

It was a cute look on him…

“Oh don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise...” You giggled, glancing down at his brown cock, still twitching in desire. You then held your hand out to him, the large ring resting in your palm.

“Now…show me how much of a good doggy you can be and put this on…” 

"Ugh, they are saying it's another 20 minutes.” MJ groaned, climbing into the booth right after Peter. You heaved a sigh in irritation, Mama's diner was never this backed up. It was rather annoying to think you all would have to wait just for three measly milkshakes. 

“So what’s the two of you been doing? He looks like he’s about to fucking faint.” Peter joked, glancing over at Miguel whose bronze face was covered in beads of sweat. His amber eyes trained on the packet of math work once more. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know. The math problem must be stressing him out.”  You said with a smile, subtly glancing over at your phone that rested beside you on the booth, the vibrator app pulled up on the screen that was already at level 2.  

The ring that you had bought your new puppy was nestled around his cock and over his balls, simulating both of his sensitive areas. You gave him the benefit of the doubt to cover himself, you weren’t a total meanie. 

You just needed him to know his place, since it seemed he kept forgetting. 

So you decided to set him in front of two of the most popular students at your college with a pulsating vibrator around his cock. 

What better way would he learn..?

“Okay…” MJ said, brushing off the situation as nothing. “Umm, what even is his name?” She asked, talking about Miguel if he wasn’t even there. You turned to your puppy, giving him a soft pat on the head. “Tell her your name.” You said sweetly, noticing the subtle glare from him. “Miguel.” 

“Your full name.” You added with a smirk. “Miguel O’Hara.” He muttered, hastily returning to solving question 24 of your math packet. MJ looked between the two of you, taking in the interaction before leaning across the table towards you. 

When she spoke, her voice was in a low whisper. 

“Seriously, what are you up to with him?” 

She asked, her red eyebrows furrowed in concern. You scoffed, you couldn’t believe this chick. 

“Why the hell are you questioning anything that I do?” You spat angrily. “The fucking dweeb is just doing my damn homework.” You said, your eyes glaring into hers. 

Maybe it was the load of hair on MJ's head that was straining her brain and neck that caused her to forget her place; but regardless of what caused her sudden amnesia, one thing the little redhead better drill into her head was how much you'll enjoy fixing her errors and kicking her back into line if she'd overstepped.

You've done it to so many others, she'll be no different…

“Hey, hey, settle down,” Peter said, trying to calm the situation between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick, it could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.

“There's nothing wrong with what Y/N is doing,” Peter said, placing a hand on MJ’s shoulder and pulling her back towards his chest. MJ sighed, slowly nodding. “Yeah, my apologies.” You rolled your eyes, dismissing her as you met Peter’s eyes that also looked between Miguel and you. “Although, I must say…” He began, and to your surprise, settled his amber eyes onto Miguel. 

You smirked, loving to see how the aroused geek would handle this, your eyes trained on him. Miguel hesitantly looked up to be met with six eyes staring back at him.

“How the hell are you so…massive?” Peter asked with a chuckle. “You don’t do shit except read, play chess, or whatever else you nerds do.” Peter joked, causing everyone, except Miguel, to chuckle. Your eyes were stuck on Miguel as he glanced over at you and back at Peter. “Genetics.” He said in a low voice. 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. The introverted male’s words didn’t seem to have reached his ears. “What did you say? Speak up, man.” He laughed, causing Miguel to wet his lips. “Genetics. That's all it is.” He repeated in a louder tone. 

“You are telling me, you do not work out?” MJ asked in surprise, her blue eyes roaming over his body. You were certain she was checking your new puppy out. 

Oddly. you shot a glare at her.

Why the hell was she even talking?

MJ, thankfully, shut up after your look, but your puppy answered it anyway. “A little.” He replied, twirling the pencil in his thick fingers nervously. You couldn’t help but look at him. His massive musculature was snug under his beige sweater that seemed to hug him in all the right places. 

His biceps bulging, his hardened pecs defined and you could even sneak a peek at his abdominal muscles that pressed against the warm fabric. You bit your lip, the desire to get him out of that ugly sweater filling your being until you shook off the thought.

The damn dweeb was making you forget yourself…

But you couldn’t lie. 

The geek was exceeding your expectations…

Not only was he impressive for being at the very bottom of the student hierarchy and having the ability to make you feel all hot and bothered, but despite his cock and balls being heavily simulated by the vibrating ring, his voice didn't waver or falter.

Your puppy was tougher than you thought…

‘We’ll see about that.’

With a click of your phone, you raised the vibrations from a mere 2 to a 5. Instantly at the change, Miguel jolted in his seat. You watched with a look of pure innocence on your face as Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. 

He snickered, eyeing the glasses-wearing male across from him at the table. “Man, you are weird, but I’ll let it slide.” He said with a smile. “If the queen here can put up with your presence, which is rare.” Peter snickered. “I’ll be willing to open a spot on the team to see how you do.” Peter proposed, which shocked you.

It was hard to get on Peter’s football team, yet he was practically giving it to Miguel, the most hated male at school, on a silver platter. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit angry at that, slowly becoming a little possessive over your new puppy. 

But thankfully, Miguel said the words for you. “I-I’m not interested.” He uttered, clearing his throat and clenching the pencil tightly in his large hand. You smirked, watching Peter raise an eyebrow in surprise. He glanced over at MJ who had become quiet after your glare. 

“This dude is really turning down my offer, babe.” He said, nudging MJ who snapped out of her trance to turn her blue eyes onto Miguel. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Actually…” You said, instantly drawing their eyes on you. “It’s better if he didn’t. I’ll lose my new lapdog and we wouldn’t want that.

Isn’t that right?” 

You asked, running your manicured fingers through Miguel’s dark brown hair. You watched his jaw clench and a subtle blush spread across his lips.

Seems as if he's starting to like the name or you claiming him…

Indeed, Miguel was a naughty one…

Peter’s stunned expression instantly changed at your words. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. “Of course, but the offer still stands.” He proposed once more, looking over at you as he said it. 

You gave him a small smile before MJ sat up in her chair with a grin. “Since the workers are taking so long, let’s play a game. Never Have I Ever anyone?!” She exclaimed, a smile adorning her cherry lips. You smirked at the idea. “Normally drinks are involved. We don’t have any.” You commented as instantly MJ reached into the pocket of Peter’s red and blue varsity jacket, pulling out his metal flask. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn, I thought you didn’t know about that.” 

“I know everything, baby.” MJ giggled, placing the metal flask in the center of the table. Your smirk only broadened at the sight. You glanced over at Miguel who had his head lowered over the math packet on the table. He was panting, and his thighs were trembling next to your own. He wasn’t writing anything as he seemed like he was just sitting there.

But you knew what your needy puppy was up to…

He was enjoying himself, relishing in the simulation from the vibrator ring you had bought him. You couldn’t help the evil grin that spread across your lips at the sight. 

Whilst Peter and MJ talked amongst themselves on the rules of the game, you leaned closely to Miguel, pressing your glossy lips against his ear. 

“Are you liking your little toy, puppy?” You inquired, causing him to suck in a breath. “Ay cono, turn it off.” He panted, whispering to you in desperation. He turned his hooded eyes onto you and you met his gaze with a smirk. “Why? You like it.” You whispered back with a smile, watching his ears redden and a vein bulge from his forehead in an attempt to suppress his anger, your smile broadened at the sight.

“So no, it’s not coming off anytime soon.” You told him. “Now, you’ll play this game with us and finish my work later.” 

“I don’t want to fucking play.” He growled, making your forced smile falter.

You subtly reached over to your phone, turning the vibrations up from level 5 to 7. Miguel's voice became caught in his throat, his hand landing on your thigh once more. You could even faintly hear the buzzing in his jeans that was slowly making the geek lose his composure. 

His large palm was over your smooth skin as he gripped it tightly whilst he quivered. He cursed under his breath, beginning to softly pat your thigh to call a truce. 

You watched him with a smirk, loving how he was writhing and squirming in his seat knowing you were the sole cause of it. “I-I’ll play.” He whined, lowering his head to hide, his amber eyes on you over his arm. You smiled, lowering it back to a mere 5. 

‘Don’t piss me off.’  You mouthed, turning back to Peter and MJ to see they were, thankfully, still talking. 

You didn’t want to hear what any of them had to say when it came to Miguel and you.

Especially from MJ. 

“The dweeb is going to play too.” You said, hastily gaining everyone’s attention. “Awesome. Do you want to go around as ages? Whoever is the youngest goes first?” MJ suggested. “I think the oldest should go first.” You said with a smirk, knowing everyone would choose the latter since you, the queen bee, said so.

If your intuition was correct,  which it always was, you sensed Miguel was older than the rest of you. His demeanor and rough look showed his maturity, and you couldn’t help but become a little aroused at the assumption. 

“Fine. I’m 23.” MJ said, glancing over at Peter next. “25.” He replied, soon looking at you. “24.” You smiled before finally setting your eyes on the trembling male. His amber eyes shifted from all of your eager gazes. He cleared his throat, tanned cheeks a soft red. “26.” His voice, like usual, was deep and rather low, but you heard his answer loud and clear. 

You were right…

The muscular geek was not only a disobedient lowlife, but he was older than you. 

‘How fun?’ You thought, looking him up and down beside you. It made everything even sweeter. 

“Well, you go first,” Peter said, motioning to Miguel with his head, his dark brown hair swaying with his slight movement. Miguel gulped, merely sitting there for a while. It was for so long that you pondered if he had even played the common game before until he spoke. 

“Never had I ever fallen asleep during a movie.” He muttered, keeping his gaze on the table.

'A boring one, as you thought'

You groaned, nudging his arm. “Come on, that shit blows.” You said with an eye roll. “We want something steamy, hot…” You whispered, reaching over to caress his thigh under the table. He gulped, clenching his jaw. His hand landed on yours to cease your movement. “Fine…”He said, turning to look at you in particular. 

“Never had I ever walked in on someone without knocking.” 

Miguel asked with a smirk that made you pissed beyond anything else.

You growled, hearing Peter and MJ begin to discuss their answer. “Gosh, I walked in on one of the guys with their girlfriends in the locker room.” Peter groaned as MJ didn’t have an unfortunate occurrence happen to her, but not like you cared about either of them at the moment. 

You glared at Miguel, his taunting smirk and stupid glasses adoring his face, the desire to slap them both off overwhelming your being. 

You turned to see Peter already taking a swig of the metal flask, a grimace on his face after the drink. “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have chosen the strong stuff.” He commented, glancing up at you. “Now, what about the Queen bee? Walked in on one of those baddies at your sorority house?” He inquired with a chuckle. You looked over at Miguel, his eyes narrowing as he watched you take the flask, taking a huge gulp of the liquor. 

As Peter said, the shit was strong, it took everything in you not to cough, suppressing the urge by clearing your throat. “No…” You replied, placing the flask back on the table and subtly looking over at Miguel before meeting your two associates' curious gaze. “Then what happened then?” MJ asked, deeply intrigued.

“Well, I walked in on someone jerking off.” 

You noticed beside you, Miguel’s entire body became rigid on the booth; his hand squeezed yours under the table in a rather desperate way. He was begging you with the slight touch to cease any further words.

How cute…

You smirked at the feeling, loving how you had the dweeb filled with anxiety and nervousness about if you'll spill his deep secret or not. 

But you're only a bitch when you want to be…

“That’s all you get though.” You laughed, causing cries of frustration to erupt, although you didn’t miss the sigh of relief that passed Miguel’s lips even though he was the one who called your bluff and dug his own grave. 

“First round, and it seems Queen Bee and I are tied on who’s paying for our order.” Peter laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. “If it ever gets here,” MJ added with a groan.  

“Even more of a reason to continue playing,” Peter said with a smirk. “But it seems as if it’s my turn, being 25 and all.” He said, sitting back against the cushions, humming in thought.

“Ah, got one.” He commented with a grin. “Never had I ever used a mirror during a romantic encounter.” He proposed, his amber eyes looking around the table. 

Of course, being the fun queen bee you were, you took the flask.

“I mean, if you haven’t, you are missing out.” You smirked, taking another swig of the strong liquor, feeling the sting in the back of your throat when you placed the container back on the table. You could feel the heat radiating from Miguel’s body at the mention of you doing something so naughty.

You wouldn’t mind doing something like that with him only when he was ready…

A small blush spread across MJ’s cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to do it.” She said, bringing a sly grin to Peter's lips. He snaked an arm around her, caressing her arm. “Oh really? We can always do it after-

“Oh my gosh. Get a fucking room already.” You interrupted with a chuckle, eyeing the two lovebirds. “Okay, okay,” MJ said with a giggle, eyes turning to Miguel who hastily dismissed it with a head shake. 

Of course, the fucking dweeb doesn’t know how to have fun. 

With you, he’ll know nothing else, you’ll make sure of it. 

“Well, It’s your turn now.” MJ smiled. Finally, it was your turn. Instantly thinking of a proposition that can really spill some deep shit about Miguel. 

Something he's been hiding…

You sat back in your seat, pondering your answer when your eyes met Miguel. Just the sight of the massive male was making your brain sprout with ideas. Who knew how helpful he could be with just his mere presence? 

Why not reward him for the assistance?

Subtly, you sat up, turning the vibrations up to a 7 whilst starting up your round. 

“Never had I ever had a sensual encounter in a public place and secretly liked it.”

You proposed, glancing over at Miguel who was losing it. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head to try to hide his fluttering eyes and heavy pants, but your associates’ words surprised you. “Gosh, both of us.” You heard them say, drawing your attention from your puppy.

“Yeah, we did a vibrator challenge on each other and we went to a mall,” Peter said with a smile and a head shake “It wasn’t enjoyable with the many people around at the sudden bursts of pleasure but overall…it was fun,” MJ added, snuggling into Peter’s chest.

You slowly nodded, retaining the idea for further use and glancing back over at Miguel who was shaking. You felt his hand on your thigh once more and soon his soft pats as if he was a wrestler trying to tap out of the ring. 

But you weren’t a merciful referee, he can endure it a little longer…

You leaned in close to him, pretending to lean down and pick up the pencil that had accidentally rolled off the table due to his squirming. “Lift your head and play the damn game.” You spat harshly into his ear. He frantically shook his head. “Fuck, I-I can’t.” He whined breathlessly. “Mierda, I’m close. I-I can’t.” He repeated, only making you smirk. 

“Be a good puppy, hold it, and play the game, or I’ll raise it to the highest level.” You told him sternly, your fingers finding the pencil in the leather cushions. You soon rose, a smile on your lips as you placed the wooden tool onto the table. “Miguel, how about you?” You inquired in a sweet voice, the lovebirds finishing their swigs of the flask. “Done anything fun in public and secretly enjoyed it?” You asked, curious about how he'd answer and respond.

Like a good doggy, he lifted his head like you commanded. His dark eyes looked between the three of you, before simply reaching over and taking a swig of the flask. 

“Fucking hell!? The nerd knows fun.” Peter commented with a laugh whilst the rest of you looked in amazement with a grin. Miguel placed the flask down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Explain.” You urged, nudging him with a kick under the table. He jolted, shooting you a subtle glare. You raised an eyebrow, reaching over for your phone when Miguel gave you a gentle squeeze of desperation. “Okay…” He began, exhaling and trying to regain his composure whilst holding back his release and being heavily stimulated. 

“I was getting a-a handjob under the table…i-in a diner similar to this.” He said, making you smile, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “T-The girl was fucking rude and mean, but h-had skilled hands.

Very skilled hands.”

He gulped, avoiding your eyes whilst he spoke. “But t-that’s pretty much it. I liked it...Who wouldn't." Miguel said, looking down at his lap and leaving the table speechless.

You didn’t know to be flattered, angry at his description of you, or apathetic. A burning desire in your gut to simply drag him to the bathroom of Mama’s diner and see just how good his cock would feel inside of you.

The geek had surprised you with his answer, this being the only time he had spoken his mind and said his true thoughts since he sat down at this fucking booth. 

“Damn, sounds hot,” MJ said, making you turn your attention from your loyal puppy to her. “Wish I had the guts like that rude girl you described. I could never.” She said lowly, bringing a wave of pride over you. Her compliment only fueled your already replete ego. 

After the steamy encounter that Miguel explained to the group, it was now MJ’s turn, but just when she was about to speak, her phone pinged with a message. She glanced down at the glowing screen, her eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Oh my gosh, babe, we have to go. I’m needed at the university.” She quaked, turning her blue eyes upon you. “I’m so sorry to pause the game and leave so early.” She apologized, standing up from the booth alongside her ride and boyfriend, Peter. 

“I can only assume it's for the newspaper, so I’ll let it slide.” You told her as she thanked you, hastily exiting Mama’s diner. Peter watched with a chuckle, tucking his hands into his red varsity jacket, standing beside you at the table.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing you around, Queen Bee.” He smirked, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You raised an eyebrow, a smile on your lips.

When he pulled away, he gave your knuckles an affectionate caress with his thumb, meeting your eyes. “Call me anytime.” He whispered, giving you that signature charming smile and a wink that made every person on campus faint and die on the spot before leaving behind his girlfriend. 

You couldn’t lie, you were a little surprised at Peter’s forwardness.

You’ve noticed his interest in the great Queen bee, who isn’t, but he had a girlfriend, and unfortunately for him…

You don’t like to share. 

Many whiny groans and the sound of loud buzzing brought you from your thoughts as you turned to look at Miguel in the corner to see something even more astonishing. 

Miguel was panting, breathing heavily with his head pressed against the back of the leather booth. His black denims were drawn down, revealing his strained cock and the beautiful red and blue vibrator ring around his base. His eyes rolled uncontrollably behind his glasses, his mouth agape whilst he rambled in a blend of Spanish and English.

You could only make out the English phrases and words he uttered which mostly were begs and pleas all desiring one thing and one thing only. 

“Please -ay cono. Let me cum. Please, let me cum."  

He implored incessantly, his words so full of need and desperation. You could tell he was slowly losing it, the pleasure was blinding him and he was only at level 7. 

You were hoping to try the highest level on him, but maybe another time…

You didn’t want to completely ruin your new puppy…

You leaned towards him, running a finger over his sticky tip, tracing patterns across it. He whined and squirmed in his seat at your touch. “Aww, you want to stop playing already? I wanted to try level 10.” You told him with a fake pout. He frantically shook his head, gasps of air passing his parted lips. “Goodness no. Please, I-I can’t take anymore.” He begged so perfectly that you almost allowed him to.

Well,

Almost…

“I’ll let you cum on one condition.” You proposed, taking his chin in your fingers and turning him to face you. His eyes fluttered, his hands finding your wrist and grabbing on tightly to stabilize himself. His face was flushed, his defined cheeks, a rosy red, and his forehead was covered with beads of sweat. He was so adorable like that, practically begging you with his hooded doe eyes to allow him to cum. You smirked, caressing his chin.

“Tell me you are my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark.” 

You giggled, eliciting a growl that came out more like a groan. “A-Are you fucking serious?” He panted, making your smile only broaden. “Very, and I’ll only raise the level of the vibrator if you don’t.” You said with a grin, loving the look of defeat that covered his face. “Shit.” He cursed, looking away. 

“No, eyes on me.” 

You hastily yanked his chin back towards you. He clenched his jaw, making eye contact with you. 

“I-I’m your…l-little… 

Puppy.” 

He uttered reluctantly through shaky moans as you waited patiently for the best part of his whole confession. He growled, shaking his head. “I’m not barking.” 

You huffed, giving him a stern look. “Do I have to threaten you again about that video? How about I take that little vibrator and give it to the dean instead?” You said with an evil grin. “It has your…essence all over it. Wouldn’t be hard to discover it’s yours.” You cackled. He shook his head, gazing up at you through breathy moans. 

“You are s-such a bitch.” 

“Are you sure? You are looking more like a bitch than me right now.” You spat with a laugh, piercing your nails into his chin, making him hiss. “Now be my good little puppy and bark.”  You demanded once more, eyes trained on his angry and flushed face. 

You watched Miguel resist you as hard as he could. He put up such a fight, being so quiet for a good while, but just like any wild dog, they break, they snap…

They submit. 

So, it didn’t take long before the most satisfying sounds filled your ears.

“Woof…

Woof.” 

Your smirk widened. You were overjoyed, staring down at your official new lapdog. “Gosh, I’m going to have so much fun with you.” You declared, caressing his chin affectionately. Miguel’s eyebrows rose in surprise and his entire face turned red; even his cock frantically throbbed around the pulsating ring.

Like a dog wagging his tail, he seemed to like that idea very much... 

You wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him at a fast pace whilst the ring continued to stimulate him. “Be a good boy and cum for me.” You whispered. “Make a mess of my hand.”  You told him, kissing along his jawline and earning a loud groan to pass his lips. His hips left the seat, meeting your fist as he thrust upwards. “Oh yes. Fuck.” He cried through closed eyes.

He continued his movements, the leather seat squeaking a little. His cock glided in and out of your palm, completely slick with his precum. You could even feel how powerful the vibrations were on his sensitive cock as he continued to fuck into your fist.

“Voy a- voy a- mierda.

 I’m cumming.” 

A guttural, deep moan erupted from deep within his chest, his thick thighs quivering. His veins bulge along the underside of his abdomen upon his climax. He thrusts one final time into your fist before shooting his load. 

And the four-eyed male just kept impressing you over and over again. 

His release seemed to be endless. More and more of his seed dripped from his slit, coating your hand and the buzzing toy. The vibrating ring and your fisting only seem to milk him for all he’s worth causing him to whimper and whine uncontrollably, continuing to paint his shaft, your hand, his beige sweater, and the leather seats white. 

When he was finished, you looked down at the huge mess he’d made. “Look at what you’ve done.” You purred, grabbing a few napkins to clean your hands. Miguel didn’t respond, only babbling softly, his words unintelligible. 

You laughed at his face which was completely fucked-out. You relieved him of the vibrator, turning it off and removing it from his swollen shaft. The toy was completely coated and sticky with his fluids.

You smirked, eyeing the white-coated ring. It was so enticing and you couldn't help but bring the ring to your mouth to give it a taste. Like savoring the sweetness of honey upon a wand, you ran your tongue along the toy, all whilst humming in ecstasy. 

Your eyes fluttered at the taste. His seed was different…

You couldn't quite put it into words, but his essence was something you’ll definitely want more of in the future…

Something you had to taste straight from the source…

After sucking the ring clean, you placed it into your bag and slid closer to Miguel. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving up and down. His body spasmed as small tremors spread through his massive being. 

You turned his face towards you, a finger resting under his chin. His eyes fluttered open to meet your satisfied gaze. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself, puppy.” You whispered, an airy chuckle passing his lips at your words. “I had no choice…

So I might as well enjoy it.” 

He muttered breathlessly. His response made you even prouder. 

Your little puppy was understanding the game, the fun. You couldn’t help but love the stupid dork even more. 

You leaned closer to him, your nose brushing against his. 

“Finally, you are starting to get it.” 

You uttered, pressing a rough and searing kiss to his mouth. Miguel, completely exhausted and shocked, instantly lost the fight, giving you control. 

You devoured his mouth hungrily. His plush lips felt just right and tasted even better as your tongue entered his parted lips. He groaned, kissing you back, but not enough to dominate nor challenge you.

Which you adored so much…

You kissed him until you were satisfied, sucking his lips until they were pink and swollen and tasting his mouth with your tongue. You then pulled away from his enticing lips, the both of you panting heavily. You looked him over with a smirk, patting his head and running your manicured fingers through his dark hair, and to your satisfaction, he didn’t pull away.

Either from weariness or pure enjoyment, it seemed your puppy had accepted his role…

 But you couldn’t be so sure….

You smiled, sliding out of the booth and picking up your $500 Prada bag from the seat. His amber eyes were full of confusion as he looked you over. You gazed down at your adorable lapdog, standing before him in your lavish clothes of a white crop top, pink Gucci jacket, skirt, and heels. 

You gave him a sly grin, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Clean yourself up and have my homework done by 10. 

I want you at my sorority house tonight.” 

You grinned, watching his tanned cheeks turn a deep red. Your eyes took him in one last time, taking in his little mess, his flustered, stunned expression, softened cock, his massive body, and stupid, dorky glasses. 

All of that and so much more was yours now. 

All yours…

“See you then.” You giggled, blowing him a kiss and turning on your pink high heels ,leaving Miguel flabbergasted.

You swung open the door of Mama’s diner, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the bustling streets of Nueva York. You placed on your pink cute shades, the evening sun beaming upon your face, as an unshakeable smile dressed your glossy lips. 

You were excited, no, delighted. 

You had something better than a measly assistant that you had desired before. 

You had a permanent peasant, a puppy who was none other than the outcast of your college…

The student at the bottom of the student hierarchy and hated by all was officially yours. And you couldn’t wait to have so much more fun with your little bitch boy, Miguel O’Hara.

Your new lapdog…

A/N: I enjoyed writing this soo much!! 😆

I hope u guys do too, I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 but...idk 🤔😏

But hope u guys liked!! 💗💗

P.S: Part 3 of 'A Fate Worse Than Death' would be up next week, my apologies, I just had to write this one. 😌

<3 Taglist:

~@oscarissac2099

~@powerful-niya

(Let me know in the comments if you'll like to become a part of the taglist! ❤️)

[comicalbliss]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 5) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: i had no idea that i posted this almost an entire WEEK AGO?? istg it was only 2 days ago 😭 sorry for the wait lovlies, here's some unhinged content for you ❤️

the next few weeks passed in a dizzying flurry. work became busy and you got caught up between group work and your personal life—an old friend from college visited town, your mom and dad’s memorial service passed in a flash, and you worked at the halloween costumes, carving a few little pumpkins every now and then as decor for the church stands. the halloween festival was just hours away, and there was another group meeting scheduled just before it.

you dreaded it.

Simon and you had not spoken once outside of the meetings. just polite remarks and a yawning chasm that cleaved the space between you. to say it was awkward was an understatement.

you thought back two weeks prior when you were isolated in the church basement.

you didn’t mean it?

yeah. none of it.

the memory was a splintering reminder that Simon didn’t want you. at least, not in the way you wanted him. retracing the footsteps of your mind over and over, you tried to figure out where you had gone wrong.

maybe from the beginning, you thought bitterly, failing to forget your rude, blunt behavior towards him. you guessed you deserved his treatment, though you didn’t expect him to make fun of you the way that he did.

have you never dated before? do you even know how to kiss someone?

just the thought of it made you wince as you entered the meeting room, later than usual. a dozen faces stared back at you, and Kate stopped mid-talk, eyes narrowed with something only you could decipher as worry. you just mumbled a quick apology, settling in your seat in the circle across from Simon, avoiding his eyes.

Sarah nudged you with her foot in greeting as Kate continued whatever talk she was going on about. out of habit, you half-tuned her out as Maya pat your knee softly.

from what you absorbed out of the random bursts of Kate’s words, the group met early to set up the stalls in front of the church. there’d be a costume rack, photo booth, pumpkin carving booth, face painting, and a couple tables for the bake sale—which wasn’t really a bake sale, but free baked goods because it was sinful to sell on church property, or something like that.

the church did the same events every year so none of it surprised you till Kate was saying, “now get dressed into your own costumes.”

what?

that was definitely new, you realized with a stiffness, looking around the group moving toward the exit of the meeting room with bags of, what you assumed, to be costumes.

when you didn’t budge, Sarah and Maya standing and grabbing their own things, they both paused, giving you curious looks.

Maya called your name in question and you just stayed stock still in your chair, feeling like life was being drained from your blood.

“oh my gosh,” Sarah said, a slow, impish smile spreading over your lips. Kate’s head immediately snapped up from her desk, looking pale and panicked.

“what? what is it?”

Maya pointed at you. “you didn’t bring a costume.”

your voice was high strung and tight. “i didn’t know we needed one.”

Sarah laughed out, long and airy, before gliding out the meeting room, absolutely beside herself.

Kate sounded peeved. “did you not look at the email chain?”

email, you thought, a stale taste in your mouth, who the fuck uses email these days?

Maya offered you a look of sympathy. “maybe run home really quick?”

Kate stood at her desk, just shaking her head. “don’t worry. i planned for this.”

she shooed Maya away and tugged over a plastic box from her desk, popping open the lid. inside it were an array of outfits.

she gestured to it. “pick one.”

sighing, you crouched down and pulled out the first costume that caught your eye—a greenish, white airy dress. turning it around, you realized floppy wings were already sown into the back of it. 

snatching up your purse, you tucked the dress under your arm, about to make a beeline for the bathroom when Kate clutched your elbow, pulling back to her.

with a muffled noise of surprise, your brow furrowed at the pinched look of concern over her face. 

“halloween is your favorite holiday,” she chewed out, “why aren’t you acting like it is?”

“what?” you spluttered. technically, halloween was in two days. the festival happened just prior. 

you could’ve been a smart ass about it, but instead you bit back the retort, because you knew what she meant. usually, you’d be ecstatic the whole month before halloween. but these days, only a circling, endless pit of dread followed you to sleep, and was still there when you woke every morning.

“what’s wrong, hon’?” she pressed and you just shook your head with a laugh, lying through clenched teeth.

“nothing.”

you knew she didn’t believe you for a second because her grip only tightened on your elbow. “is there something going on between you and Simon?”

your gaze widened for a split-second, before you blinked it away, eyes darting away from hers. “of course not.”

she just scoffed. “like hell there’s not.”

you rolled your eyes. “not in the lord’s house, Kate—”

“listen to me,” she said, jerking you closer to her, and you muffled a yelp. “if there’s not something wrong with you, then there’s definitely something wrong with Simon. he was doing better. now he’s… acting strange.”

you cocked a brow at her. “he’s always a bit strange.”

she eyed you in return. “not as strange as how you’ve been acting.”

“ouch. that hurts,” you deadpanned, shaking free from her grip. she relented with a low grumble.

rubbing at her temple, she sighed as you turned from before, stopping you when she said, “just smooth out whatever’s going on between you. he’s going back for work soon.”

your blood ran cold. “what?”

“he won’t be on leave for another couple of months, so i suggest you talk to him today,” she said, moving to her desk. 

you stared after her, wanting to ask more, but bit down on your tongue when a couple girls, chattering between each other, returned from the bathroom.

in their stead, you trudged down the hallway and into the old bathroom with a flickering, artificial lighting burning down overhead. in a stall, you stripped yourself and shimmied into the dress, the cheap fabric grating against your skin, but you wouldn’t complain since this situation had arisen due to your own fault.

moving past a couple other girls by the sinks, exchanging a couple words with them, a genuine smile twisting your lips, but then you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost cringed. the dress was a lot more revealing than you would have ever chosen for yourself in public—hugging at your body in the way your baggy outfits did not.

Iris stepped out of one of the stalls, whistling lowly. “lookin’ good, girlie.”

with a blush, you mumbled a thanks, digging around your purse for your makeup bag that you, thankfully, had shoved into your purse on a whim before work that morning. opening it, you began to apply a thing base, then soft shimmers around your eyes, attempting to look as fairy-like as you could.

“who are you trying to look good for?” Iris asked beside you, squinting into the mirror to brush mascara over her lashes. 

with a bitter feeling, you noticed its brand. dior.

you choked a strained laugh, waving her off. “just the endless line of ladies.”

“right,” she sang, and you flinched when she put down the tube of makeup with a loud clunk against the porcelain sink. “‘cause you and i both know that you’re lesbian.”

you paused at that, brushing away the last bits of powder on your face. through the mirror, the girls behind you, Iris’s friends in the group, had fallen silent. 

you glanced at her through your peripheral. “what do you mean by that?”

she turned to you, lips screwed in a thin line, hand on her hip.

“how long have you been fucking Simon for?”

jaw dropping, and you turned to look at her, taking in the intensity of her hot glare and the angry twitch of her features. 

you should’ve denied it, but remembering the way she clung to Simon after the night of the party, all bashful and talkative with him, your own anger simmered to the surface.

“none of your business,” you said in a cool voice, turning back to the mirror to finish with a light blush over your nose and cheeks.

she scoffed. “you’re a bitch.”

your brows twitched together, and you reached up to rub at the spot, willing it away. “okay.”

she stepped towards you, jerking her hand up so it almost knocked against your face, the tip of her acrylic pressed to your cheek.

“you always complain about how much you hate men, but as soon as you go near one, you’re start fucking them.”

you completely ignored her. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. why do you care about my personal business?”

she laughed, long and mirthless. “because you’re airing it out at every meeting, whore.”

you screwed your eyes shut, an icy feeling churning inside you. this was exactly what you were afraid of when new members joined the group. your simmering anger rose to a boil, and you swallowed the heat down, trying to lock it down in your stomach.

“don’t you have a husband? maybe you should pay more attention to that cheating bastard than a random guy you met at a support group.”

“excuse me?” she seethed, and you couldn’t help but give her your most shit-eating smirk.

“what? too boring being a housewife, doing nothing all day long? fucking men for money—”

the noise she let out was carnal, raking a hand through your hair and jerking on it hard, so your head pulled back with a painful snap. the girls behind you screamed, and a blur of a person rushed forward to clutch tightly at Iris’s neck and push her off you.

“you bitch-ass, motherfucking whore—” 

your jaw dropped at the sight of Maya slamming her against the tile wall, clawing at each other like two rapid cats before Sarah stumbled through the scene from a bathroom stall, screaming bloody murder.

one of Iris’s friends came up and fixed the state of your dress and hair, apologizing profusely for her friend, and you didn’t know whether to be angry at the girl, or thank her, as Iris’s friends scurried out of the bathroom quickly. you felt like you were in a daze, watching Iris drag Sarah by her hair before Sarah reached up and ripped through Iris’s hair so they were locked between each other, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Maya was clutching at the wall, gulping down mouthfuls of air before she limped over and stomped on Iris’s open-toed sandals with a ferocity. she screamed, crumpling to the floor, releasing Sarah from the bind as she fell to her knees.

the three women stilled for a moment, panting with effort. 

“what in the actual fuck…” you trailed off, unsure what to say after the scathing events of the fight.

Sarah’s hands were on her hips, knees looking wobbled as she rasped between gasps, “we couldn’t let this whore bad-mouth you like that.”

she jerked a thumb over at Iris who had braced herself against the floor, leaning over her palms with heavy, gasping breaths.

Maya stumbled over to you, wobbly on her heels, and you enveloped her in a hug, trying to smooth out her hair to the best of your ability.

“you guys…” you started, choking up when tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes. Maya only hugged you tighter and Sarah limped over, cooing softly as she joined the hug, squeezing you tight.

“don’t ruin your makeup,” Maya sniffled against your shoulder, your dress absorbing her tears.

you quickly wiped at your face with a nod, clutching at Maya and your other hand holding Sarah’s cheek.

when Iris stood, leaning against the bathroom sink, the hug broke apart.

she glared at you, clawing the hair from her face. “are you done?”

sending Sarah and Maya a quick glance, you gave them a curt nod, and they obliged, stomping out of the bathroom. Sarah turned to flip Iris off on her way out, the latter girl just rolling her eyes at the sight.

when there was silence once more, you turned to the girl, taking in how disheveled and… normal she looked for once.

“your hair—” you said, pointing to your own head, and she whipped around to look in the mirror. hastily, she scrambled around for her brush but you just sighed and picked up your own on the sink, stilling her with a light grip on her shoulder. you brushed through her brunette curls with a soft hand as she glared at you through the mirror.

“let’s talk,” you offered, putting down the brush when you were done. “and let’s be civilized about it.”

she hmphed, not looking at you. “what is there to even talk about?”

you shrugged. “clearly, something is bothering you.”

“yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “your relationship with Simon.”

you bit back your own retort to remind her that she was married. “we’re just friends.”

her brow quirked at that, looking unconvinced. “really?”

“for now,” you said with a nod, and her shoulders deflated.

“i knew there was something going on,” she said, sounding morose, eyes flickering with a distant haziness.

“you could’ve just asked me,” you sighed out, and her eyes snapped to yours again, flashing with irritation now.

“i did.”

how long have you been fucking Simon for?

at the memory of it, you flinched. “maybe more politely next time.”

she just huffed, brushing out the wrinkles of her witchy dress. “you won’t tell Kate about this?”

you scowled at her before, slowly, your lips twitched into a devilish smirk. her eyes darted nervously through the mirror, inching away from you.

“i won’t, because we played fair and square today.”

“what do you mean?” she chewed out, voice icy.

“you got to talk shit, and my girls fucked you up,” you said with a nasty grin, wholly enjoying when she shivered.

stepping away from you, she cleared her throat. “right.”

it was like she remembered where she was and who she was again, gathering her things and shoving them into her stupidly expensive bag with a poised expression. you watched in amazement at the calm, collected veneer that overtook her in a second, turning on her heel to strut out of the bathroom with an elegance before jumping with a shriek at the entrance.

you quickly trailed after her, rounding up your things in one, sweeping armful and shoving them into your own purse, your eyes moving up the way her spin shook to the sight over her shoulder.

a foot away, a man stood in front of the women’s restroom, a white, plastic skull outer layer over a black balaclava. at the sight of him, you muffled a squeak, bristling with shock.

but then your eyes trailed down to the rest of his attire—a sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and… gloves. skull ones, in fact.

“Simon,” you deadpanned, glaring at him from over Iris’s shoulder, “what the hell are you doing?”

“this is Simon?” Iris shrieked, shuffling backwards, knocking into you.

“i heard screaming,” he said, voice gruff and slightly muffled under the mask. “is everything alright?”

you rolled your eyes. he was a bit late for that.

“everything’s fine,” you confirmed, gently pushing Iris out the doorway. she squeezed past Simon, not giving him or you a second glance as she rushed down the hallway and into the meeting room.

the hulking man stared after her, before turning his head to blink down at you. even under that stupid mask, his big brown eyes were still the same.

“what happened?” he asked and you just shook your head.

“you really don’t want to know.”

he let out a low noise of disapproval and you waved him away, edging forward so he stepped further back into the hallway.

“there is one problem though,” you said, cocking your brow at him.

he stepped forward again, reaching a hand out to you, but you just shook your head again with a huff. “that mask.”

suddenly, his eyes pinched, and he reached up to trace the divets of the outer skull layer.

“what’s wrong with my mask?”

the genuine hurt in his voice had you smothering a smile. “nothing. just not for children. you can’t wear that at a church halloween event.”

he was silent for a long moment, eyes narrowed like he was weighing the pros and cons of what you had just said, before sighing out.

“fine,” he grumbled, unclasping the front of it and pulling off the baclava, leaving his hair slicked up in a strange, messy clump.

biting back a laugh at the sight, you made your way back down the hallway. Simon’s careful footsteps were just behind you as you stepped back into the meeting room.

the girls were loitering around for a bit, gathering up needed materials to set up the booths. Sarah and Maya chattered with the better half of them who were blissfully unaware of what had just gone down in the bathroom. Iris eyed you from her posse carefully, watching you move near Kate with a tenseness, but you just passed her, instead moving to the box of adult costumes. you rummaged around in it, struggling and failing to find any size that may potentially fit the massive man.

groping around at the very bottom, your hand closed around something small and prickly, and you pulled it from the box with a snort, eying it in your hand.

turning around, you shoved it against Simon’s chest, and he didn’t even flinch, just taking the thing from your hand slowly.

“no,” he said immediately.

“it’s the only thing we have,” you said, sighing out, gesturing to the box behind you. Kate looked up from her desk curiously now, eyes flitting between you and Simon, then seeing the thing in his hands and choking down a laugh.

he glared at her from his peripheral, his scowl deep when he tugged it over his head.

a smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed them together, failing to hold back a little giggle at the sight of the tinsel cat ear headband on his head.

“adorable,” you cackled, slapping two hands over your mouth, trying to muffle your laughter beneath your palms but you couldn’t cease the shake of your shoulders.

his scowl only deepened, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grumpy look.

Kate hummed approvingly by your side, failing to keep her voice even. “looks great, lieutenant.”

he shot both of you a glare before slinking away and taking a seat nearby, but not before he was flanked by some of the girls fussing over his costume. they insisted on painting a nose and whiskers on him in loud, sharp demands and he didn’t even try to hide their irritation with them. but nonetheless, he relented, and Sarah pulled out her liquid eyeliner.

you watched the whole scene with shaking trembles of silent laughter, crumpling into a seat near you, and he kept glaring at you from his peripheral. once your laughter subsided, you leaned back into your chair, the sight of the girls pester him, full of laughter, and the smallest smile stretching Simon’s face had your chest feeling full of gooey content. he lazily looked over to you, a small black nose and whiskers across his cheeks, dark eyes sparkling as his warm gaze ran over you.

cute, you mouthed, pointing at your own cheeks and he just scoffed, turning his gaze from you, but his smile only widened.

yeah this part's kinda crazy (and maybe borderline cringe?) but iris had it coming for her so idkkkk—

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[comicalbliss]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 4) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.4k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: omg okay i know this is so short but i promise i will be posting the next part (which is quite long!) in a couple of daysss so here's some more flirting and angst for you!! >< also thank you for all the love and support for this series :,))

you couldn’t keep your sworn promises against Simon for long.

the next day, you were already back in the basement of the church for another support group meeting. it was mid-day, and you were showing the progress of your individual projects in the past week.

Kate had forced you and Simon, re-masked and clad in black, to sit side by side, leaving you itching with exasperation, because if you thought it couldn’t get more awkward than when you first met, it was so much worse now.

he made more progress with the sewing project than you had believed he could—a third of his box already finished, you realized, as he presented its contents to the rest of the girls who practically cooed over him.

they almost went ballistic when he pulled out your old hello kitty pouch you lended to him. his glare boring into the side of your face, you scrambled to explain that he borrowed the materials from you—including the pink pouch. they all deflated, the smiles dropping from their faces, and you bit a snort at the way Simon relaxed back into his seat.

he really hates attention, you noted, then wiped the thought from your mind, because since when were you keeping mental notes on him?

the rest of the meeting continued on, dull and boring, till Kate applauded the group for its progress and announced that you all would be going on a little field trip to the pumpkin patch a couple streets down. 

your mouth went stale. pumpkin carving. you almost forgot you’d be sharing that activity with Simon as well.

you glanced at him, finding him already gazing at you, eyes quickly flitting away when your eyes met his. you cocked your brow at him.

weirdo, you thought, though it came out half-hearted and made your stomach feel all warm and gooey. 

you attached yourself to Maya and Sarah the whole walk there, Simon a few steps behind, and flanked by some girls who were eager to get in a few words with him. Iris, a married woman, was one of them, you noticed with a little burst of annoyance.

looking back at him from over your shoulder, Iris flush by his side, you sent Simon a nasty glare and his eyes only narrowed, head tilting like he was confused, but your head snapped forward with a hmph, promptly ignoring him again.

you practically stomped the rest of the way, Sarah and Maya locked in conversation with a couple other girls who paid no attention no mind to your strange behavior. by the time you neared the farmer’s market, your outburst had dwindled, and you were conversing with the girls intermittently, craning your head to get a look at the little pumpkin patch.

side-stepping to catch a glimpse of the market’s vegetable booth outfront, you were totally unaware of the biker making his way down the sidewalk from behind, you would’ve crashed into him if a strong arm didn’t hoist you over by your waist.

you shrieked as the biker whizzed by without a second thought, clutching at the arm snug around your waist.

“careful,” Simon hissed, voice rough and throaty in your ear as he set you down. he smoothed your shirt of the creases he had just created, touch warm against your clothes.

scrambling from his grip, you mumbled a meek sorry, flushed with embarrassment as the other girls checked on your well-being.

“are you okay?” Sarah asked, face flicked with concern and you just nodded quickly, throat tight when you noticed Maya’s eyes dart from you to Simon (who you stubbornly ignored) then back to you again.

Sarah followed Maya’s gaze and strung an arm through yours, pulling you close between her and Maya when she whispered, “what’s going on between you and Simon?”

“nothing,” you hissed, knowing how unconvincing it seemed. 

Maya eyed you carefully. “what happened when you went home together last night?”

your throat only tightened at the memory. “literally nothing. he was kind enough to offer me a ride home and i invited him inside for one drink. just one.”

she nodded slowly, but looked completely unconvinced.

Sarah added with a sincere look, “i thought you didn’t… you know, hang out with guys.”

you grimaced. “i don’t.”

she pursed her lips, sharing a look with Maya, though it wasn’t unkind.

“i’m happy for you,” she said with a light smile, patting your cheek. “i’m happy you’re friends with Simon now.”

you bit back a groan. “we’re not—”

Kate shushed you from the head of the group and you jolted, completely unaware that she had been talking at all. you screwed your lips together at the glare she sent you, sending her a ferocious one of your own, and her face twitched with brief amusement before turning back to the group and dishing out some instructions.

it was simple—you’d be helping some kids from the local daycare pick out their own pumpkins to paint. not so simple was the part where you’d be helping in pairs.

moping, you trudged over to stand beside Simon, still refusing to look at him, and filed into a line on the sidewalk to cross the street. at the farmer’s market, some kids were running around, screaming and shouting and squealing as they played.

you let the smile creep onto your lips at the sight of one of the little girls in a yellow raincoat and big, red rain boots even though it was sunny as ever outside. she ran past you, slowing with a shy look, curls bouncing against her head, before she ran off again to play with her friends.

soon enough, the group dispersed, moving around with the daycare teachers to help the kids. you stood by Simon for a long moment in silence. taking one glance at the hulking man, covered in black, to decide that he needed to take off the surgical mask.

you pointed to your face, mouthing mask, and you were dismayed when his eyes narrowed, slowly shaking his head.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s for the children.”

he sighed, ripping the black mask from his face and crumpling it into his hand, shoving it into his pocket.

you nodded in approval, moving to help one boy struggling to pick up a pumpkin half the size of him. with the softest words you could muster, and a gentle tap on his shoulder, you willed him to move over and let you do it. he relented, and you picked up the pumpkin with a huff of breath, carrying it over to the pick-up truck on the side of the road where you were instructed to put the pumpkins. the boy happily skipped beside you, singing out a thank you as you pushed the gourd across the bed of the truck, smiling after him as he ran off again.

looking back to where your partner was, you bit back a snort at the sight of a couple kids shyly prodding at him, two running circles around him, another hanging off his outstretched arm. 

he stooped down to pick up a big pumpkin when a little girl pointed to one, the little girl in a yellow raincoat and curls, clapping with excitement when he did it with only one hand. the kids bumbled after him as he walked toward you, your heart swelling at the relaxed, content look on his face, saying something to a little boy tugging on his pant leg, another girl clutching at his hand.

when he stopped in front of you, eyes flitting between you and the pumpkin in his hand, you let out a soft oh, snapping out of whatever daze the sight had put you in, and you hoisted up the heavy thing, struggling to push it into the bed of the pick-up truck. two arms came flush around your shoulders and helped you lift it, chest flush to your back and his breath by your ear as he shoved it back so it knocked against the other pumpkins.

“thanks,” he said, voice gravel and breath warm on your neck before he stepped back. your throat closed up, unable to choke anything back except a low hum and nod.

he let the kids drag him back towards the pumpkin patch, a couple of them demanding that they hang from his arms. in response, he held out an arm, and two boys latched on, swinging with squeals as he walked.

your stomach roiled. shit. he was good with kids. in a silent, calm sort of way. 

nothing like your own father, an faraway voice ruminated with awe, and you immediately quelled the thought, the fast thud of your heart in your throat deafening. shit. was this what he meant by maturity?

as much as you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts, it was almost impossible, spiraling around your mind as you helped the kids till they had effectively filled the back of the pick-up truck with an array of different shaped gourds of varying colors.

meeting in a big circle to close the event, the pack of daycare kids said their thank yous and bid their goodbyes, that little girl in a yellow raincoat hanging off Simon even as the rest of the kids were following their teachers back to the little daycare. he had to pry her from him, saying something in a low tone that you couldn’t make out from across the circle, till she nodded with hesitancy, sending him one last bashful look, before scurrying off to join the line of kids filing down the sidewalk from the farmer’s market.

beside you, Maya stared at Simon with a sort of reverence you had never seen on her before, and your heart almost shattered at the sight. curling an arm around her shoulders, her eyes dragged from Simon to you with a confused look. you just returned it with a light smile, beginning a ramble about the events of the day that Sarah happily chimed into, adding her own stories and thoughts with an animated nature.

Kate thanked your group for all the help, dismissing you to the rest of your sunday evenings, and you startled when she made a beeline directly for you, plucking you from the conversation as the rest of the girls began discussing where they’d be eating dinner.

“walk with me,” Kate said sharply, a tight smile on her lips as she looped her arm into yours. you had no time to protest before she was tugging you down a path through the pumpkin patch, away from the rest of the group.

when you looked back, you pretended to not notice Simon staring after you, a couple other girls, including Iris, still flush by his side.

“i heard from a little birdie that you and Simon have been getting along well,” Kate said, and you rolled your eyes.

“i know you’re talking about Sarah, Kate.”

she grimaced by your side. “right. Sarah. she told me.”

you gave her a long look. “i know you asked Sarah, Kate.”

she ignored you this time, stopping when you were at the edge of the forested park beyond the farmer’s market. you were ready for her to begin lecturing you—commanding you to explain yourself and the strange, tense atmosphere between you and Simon…

instead, she asked, a foreign tinge of plea in her words, “how is Simon doing?”

you blinked at her. “how is he doing?”

she nodded. “how is he doing?”

“i…” with a murky feeling of guilt, you realized hadn’t really taken the time to consider it. “i think he’s alright.”

she sighed out, fishing around her pocket, pulling a cigarette from it, and a lighter from her breast pocket.

“do you mind?”

you just shrugged. you were used to the smell from working at the auto shop, your dad going through a pack a day bent over cars to complete an endless list of repairs. it’s no wonder he passed so soon.

pushing the old, stale thoughts away, you pried Kate. “why? is everything alright?”

she took a long drag, politely turning her head to the side to exhale out against the chilly fall air. “just between you and me hon’, i worry for him.”

you rolled your eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “he’s a big boy. i’m sure he can handle himself.”

she gave you a wistful smile. “something like that.”

your brow quirked, eyeing the tired look on her features carefully. “sounds like there’s stuff you’re not telling me, Kate.”

she sighed long and heavy. “i was the one who kind of forced him to do this thing. i’m surprised he hasn’t walked away screaming bloody murder already.”

your brows raised slightly. “why’s that?”

she just chuckled in a dark, mirthless tone, brushing back her hair. “s’just not in his nature. he refused to go to a personal therapist, so i offered the group thing to him instead. i honestly think he’s just doing it to make me happy. or maybe to make me finally leave him alone.”

you swallowed hard, thinking back to the dirty blonde man, tall with a heavy build, skin surprisingly warm to the touch. you weren’t foreign to the same beliefs, avoiding personal, one-on-one therapy your entire life because the vulnerability of it was too…

you grimaced.

“has he told you anything?” she asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“what do you mean?”

“has he opened up at all?” she rephrased, and you blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“he has,” was all you confirmed, and she nodded, looking a bit relieved.

“good. good to hear.”

with that, the conversation ended, and you walked a step behind Kate to the girls who were still chattering about dinner and, somewhat unsurprisingly, Simon nowhere in sight. though the vacancy of his presence still felt eerie.

Sarah pulled you to her, pointing down the street, saying they’d be going to a comfy little joint known for soups and sandwiches, but after your conversation with Kate, your stomach roiled with discomfort. waving them off, you promised that you’d join next time, feeling guilty from all their kind remarks—no, come with us, no, we’ll miss you—but you took off in the direction of the church, ready to rid yourself of all the crawling, creeping sensations of your body after the day’s events.

in time, the familiar white church emerged from the mist, looking ominous in the foggy weather. you swallowed, pushing through its double doors, a thick, eerie silence muffling any sound in chapel except for your footsteps.

quickly, you descended down the stairs, and strode down the hallway, opening the doors to the meeting room and making a beeline for your box of costumes. Simon’s had already been taken, you noted, assuming he had made early headway back to the church for the materials. with a shiver, you carefully laid out each costume over one another into the box and snapped the lid shut, shivering violently from that draft that passed through the basement as you picked up the box and turned when—

“cold?”

you screamed. a real, long scream ripped from your throat as you scrambled backwards and crashed into a chair, dropping your box that split in half, its contents spilling out over the floor again. you tumbled to the floor, and once the world stopped spinning, you groaned out, forehead against the carpet.

“what the fuck, Simon,” you hissed, pushing yourself slowly off the ground. Simon, remasked, was already half-way to you, holding out a tentative hand that clenched and unclenched in the open air.

you just held up a hand. “don’t.”

he nodded, straightening, before edging closer to you with an open palm. 

you sighed out, taking his outstretched hand and letting him pull you to your feet. you rubbed at your shoulder that had slammed against a chair in your fall.

“are you alright?” he asked slowly, voice thick and rough, and you just let out a tight laugh.

“m’fine. don’t worry,” you said, stooping down to pick up the costumes, wincing at the new soreness of your body.

Simon immediately pushed away your hands, crouching down to lay the costumes in your box, so you moved to right the chairs again. but he was over in a flash, doing it for you. 

huffing with frustration, you chided him, “Simon.”

but he ignored you, standing up two other chairs before moving back to the halloween costumes strewn over the floor, careful with each one.

“you have really got to stop scaring me like that,” you grumbled, watching him put the lid back on the box, snapping down the sides.

he paused, stock still a moment. when he didn’t respond, and didn’t even move, you stared at the back of his head with a new confusion.

“Simon—?”

“sorry,” he said under his breath, still not moving.

you blinked, shifting closer to him, and edged around so you could see the eerily blank expression on his face as he stared forward on an untrained point.

you dropped to a crouch beside him. “is everything alright—?”

“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

you stared at the side of his face, your jaw dropping with dismay, then closing again. “it’s okay. you didn’t mean to scare me.”

he shook his head, dark eyes finally moving over to hold your gaze. “i meant yesterday.”

with that, you flushed. “oh.”

he meant last night.

“i shouldn’t have said all that stuff,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze now.

his words were sharp. “just forget that i said anything.”

a cutting ache speared your chest. forget everything he said?

“you didn’t mean it?” you squeaked, unsure what to say. 

he stood, taking your box with him. you straightened slowly, taking the box from his hands. his eyes were on yours but you felt like he was looking straight through you.

“yeah. none of it.”

weakly, you nodded, your whole body feeling heavy as you left the meeting room. a murky, damp feeling weighed down your chest. 

you both walked out the church in silence, Simon just a step behind you, and the mist against your skin enveloped you in a bone-chilling suffocation.

you were hyper aware of Simon’s gaze on you as he watched you pop open your trunk and shove the box of costumes inside. closing it, you turned to him, his own box of costumes in his hands. you would’ve laughed at the sight, such a big, burly military man and his own box of sewn items, the pink, hello kitty pouch stacked on top the lid, but the laughter couldn’t find you through the mist.

you don’t need a ride? you had offered, but he had just shook his head, half-turning from you as he jerked his head down the road. s’just a fifteen minute walk.

you had grimaced, pressing, but what if it starts raining?

he had just shrugged. don’t worry about me.

then you had said goodbye, watching him walk away and into the mist. the problem was, whether or not you chose it, half of you had started worrying for him all the time.

you slid into your car, letting the heavy feeling consume you. turning on the ignition, your grip tight on the steering wheel, you bit back tears when the first drops of rain fell onto your windshield. you flicked on the fog lights and backed up out of the parking lot, pulling onto the road, rain coming down quicker now. by the time you reached your townhouse, which was just a block away, it was pelting, and the tears were streaming down your face.

you clutched at your chest, rubbing circles over it like Simon taught you. it didn’t seem to work nearly as much as when you were in his arms. the strong warmth of him pressed into you. his soft words by your ear.

leaning forward in your seat, your forehead came to rest against the horn of the steering wheel, uncaring for your tears that ran down the leather and the loud blare that cut through the evening, hoping the downpour would drown out the sound.

yeah. poor simon's walking home through the rain. he's probably crying too 😇

next part coming very soon you guys!!! happy halloweenings!!! (my senior halloween day is this thursday..... my friends and i are going as 2010 justin bieber and bringing selena gomez cardboard cutouts bc i think that's hilarious)

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife @froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu @embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99 @mystsee @cosmoscoffee

@hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdream @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @thisuserloveshalloween @soundsfunbutno @enfppixie @tired-bi-ass @http-paprika @xaestheticalien @vonev @garfieldssocks @sapphire-read @moonstonedeluluere @killergoddess97 @cassiecasluciluce @xxkay15xx @mrflyingbanana03 @magneto-was-fucking-right @riverbutghost@palomaxaxaxa @hobiespick

[comicalbliss]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 3) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘸𝘤 — 7.5𝘬

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 & 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵/𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 (𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳), 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨??

note: next part... i liked writing this one 🤭 also for all those wondering: yes the blonde mildly passive aggressive alpha woman is kate laswell <3 i love her with my everything

you rubbed at the temple of your forehead, trying and failing to keep it all together as you watched Simon sew a patch of fabric against a hole in a little pumpkin costume.

biting back a sigh, you fought the heavy frustration on your tongue as you reached over to him, numb to the sensation of your hands brushing against his gloved ones after the past hour of close proximity.

“like this,” you said in an even tone, demonstrating the stitch slowly, and he nodded, taking the needle, looking impossibly small between his fingers, and copied your movements.

leaning back again, you mulled over the day with a bitterness. 

when you pulled into the parking lot of the cafe on smith and wellerstation, you had already been having a shitty day, hands clutched tight around the leather grip of the steering wheel. you had spotted Simon, early as ever, by the front window of the cafe, hunched over and enveloped in black, scrolling through his phone.

for some reason, the sight of him only irked you more. and then it mixed in with that muddled feeling of guilt. or sympathy.

you had realized that you didn’t really know what you were feeling as you stepped into the cafe, a soft chime filling the half-vacant establishment. ordering a drink from a barista at the front counter, you glanced over your shoulder to find him staring back at you, ducking his head a little in greeting.

with a flush, you just snapped your head forward again to pay before picking up the steaming mug on the counter and carefully walking over to Simon, perched in a spacious booth that he easily filled.

you exchanged few words and a sorry excuse for a how are you that boiled down to you look tired and you do too. though it wasn’t unkind, you noted, a bit mournful of the fact that you had seen him three times within one week. two days in a row, no less.

pushing the thought away, you brushed your hair back and sat by him to dive into his first sewing lesson. he picked it up quickly, thankfully, and soon enough he was trying it on his own with a long, charged silence that simmered between you.

then, you had picked up your own supplies and a boy’s pirate costume, restitching the seam along the collar of the costume. 

all was well and silent until he suddenly broke the silence with a blunt remark. “where do you work?”

you glanced up at him with a stale feeling. all his attention was trained on the tiny costume in his big hands, a look of determination pinching his face. you almost laughed at the sight.

“at my dad’s auto shop.”

he nodded slowly. “you fix cars?”

“no,” you said, returning back to the pirate costume, “i do the finances for fixing the cars.”

you cleared your throat. “what about you? what do you do in the military?”

you could see him glance up at you in your peripheral. “it’s classified.”

brows flying up, and your head snapped up to look at him. “really?”

he made a strange noise between a huff and a snort. “no. i’m special ops. sas.”

“oh.”

you gazed into his face, which betrayed nothing, and shifted in your seat. did Simon Riley just joke with you?

for some reason, you felt one-upped in a strange way.

“does your occupation require you to wear…” you stared at his mask. “...masks?”

his brow furrowed for just a second, and he glared down at the pumpkin costume, but the pinched look smoothed away almost immediately. oops. you didn’t mean to piss him off.

“no. i can take it off if you want.”

“no, no,” you spluttered, feeling embarrassed, “whatever you’re comfortable with is fine with me.”

he just nodded slowly, and from the way his shoulders tightened, you could tell the short conversation had effectively ended. you wanted to smack yourself in the face, but instead you just took a sip of your hot drink with a quiet sigh, looking out the window of the cafe.

it was already getting dark in the late fall hours, the street lights twinkling in the night, brown and orange leaves swirling in the breeze across the sidewalk. you jumped when a familiar girl, clutching at her purse, and scot, hands shoved into his sweatpants, were walking side by side toward the cafe, locked in a riveting conversation.

you watched them enter with a half-dropped jaw, their conversation loud, chattery, and bubbly as it filled the now empty cafe. when Sarah spotted you in the booth beside Simon, she waved with an excitement that had your stomach curdling.

you sent her a weak smile back, looking at her, then to the man beside her. they both strode up and Johnny, like always, gave you a, “hey, lass! how you been doin’?”

you withered into your seat. “good.”

you looked to Sarah with narrowed eyes, expecting a good explanation for this… coincidence. Simon had stilled beside you, looking as equally peeved as you felt, staring up at the two of them.

Sarah must’ve sensed the terse energy in the room because she turned between you and Johnny nervously. “i was just looking for you at your apartment, but you weren’t there, but i happened to meet Johnny in the hallway, and he happened to be kind enough to show me the way to where you are, and—”

eyes flitting to Johnny, you tried to conceal the bitter boil in your stomach that spilled out into your face. snitch, you wanted to hiss at the innocent smile on his face, remembering how he had listened with an intensity to the conversation between you and Simon the other day.

then, Sarah dug around her bag and pulled out her phone, waving it around at you with a weak look. “you weren’t responding to my texts…”

you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the notifications, seeing that she had called you twice and sent about ten texts. oops.

you felt a bit more sympathetic for the guilt dripping off Sarah. 

“sorry,” you said, reaching across the table to pat her hand. “i was a bit busy teaching this guy how to sew.”

at that, Johnny’s brows rose slightly, but the look of shock on his face melted off his face as soon as it had been there. you just eyed him with suspicion.

Simon cut in, seeming like he wanted to change the topic of conversation, and said in that gruff, flat voice, “what do you need? is it an emergency?”

Sarah shook her head quickly. “no, no, i just wanted to tell you guys about last minute party plans for tomorrow night. since it’s going to be the weekend…?”

you cocked your head. “party plans for who?”

“for the group,” she said, then added, “but we can invite plus twos. it’s a little fall function at Iris’s place.”

then she gestured to Johnny in a friendly manner and a smile. “so i invited Johnny as well! since he’s your neighbor,” she said, gesturing to you, and then to Simon, “and Johnny’s your coworker! so i thought that’d be fun. right you guys?”

Johnny just grinned at Sarah. for a moment, there was a tense silence, before you exhaled out between gritted teeth. “why didn’t you just text me?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “i did. but i wanted to bring you these.”

she dug around her bag for a moment before sliding a tupperware box of frosted cookies that looked like mini-ghosts.

“a sample for the bake sale. i wanted you to be my taste tester,” she said with a wink, sharing a grin with Johnny, who looked perfectly content with the tense energy of the conversation.

“thanks,” you chewed out, staring down at the sugar cookies. you really were grateful. but with Simon’s presence flush by your side, and Johnny’s eyes darting around the cafe, and flitting over you, you just wanted to shrink away.

“i’ll see you tomorrow then?” she offered, and you nodded, feeling like you were chaining yourself to another death sentence when you said, “i’ll be there.”

Simon nodded beside you, and usually Sarah wouldn’t think it was enough to take that for a yes, but seeming that he barely seemed to talk at all, she gave you both a curt nod of satisfaction before bidding her goodbyes. Johnny gave you a quick farewell, slapping Simon on the back, then turned on his heel and followed Sarah out the cafe.

you both sat in a long unmoving silence, before Simon sighed out heavy and long by your side, taking up the pumpkin costume again. he embodied exactly how you felt, and in a silent truce for peace, you nudged over the tupperware of cookies to him.

he took one, flipping down his mask to eat it before pulling it back up again, and you just returned to your sewing, chewing on soft sugar cookies, a comfortable silence filling the space between you.

it was mid-evening—the setting sun filtering through the foggy clouds above and a teeth-chattering cold falling over the city as you pulled up along Iris’s block. 

all you knew about your fellow group therapy member was that she struck gold in college—married a rich guy and lived in a big suburban home. the kind that had a big pool in the back. the kind that you had always wanted as a kid, but ended up more often than not in your dad’s greasy auto repair shop for a good night’s sleep rather than your own home.

you turned off the ignition, sighing out, and lurched out of your car in slow and sluggish movements, making sure to grab the dish of food you made from the backseat. a childhood favorite that your mom used to make.

walking up the steps, you knocked on the big front door, rubbing at your hands, trying to build a friction between them as you shivered at the front door. when no one answered, you reached out to ring the doorbell when—

“cold?”

you jumped with a yelp, jerking around to see Simon standing a step behind you and his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans. he still had that black surgical mask over the lower-half of his face, but he was wearing one of those leather jacket with a fur lining that looked military issued, dirty blonde hair strewn across his forehead.

he cleans up nicely, you realized with a dry swallow, immediately shaking the thought from yourself.

“Simon, you scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, clutching at the fast thud in your chest.

his eyes flashed, and you could tell he was smirking under that stupid mask of his. 

“sorry,” was all he offered, reaching around you to ring the doorbell. his chest brushed against your back and you flinched away from him with flushed cheeks.

you both waited in silence, the wind whistling through your ears, and you could feel him curling over to peer at the dish in your hands. stomach knotted, you twisted away to send him a contorted look.

“what?” you asked, eyes narrowed, suddenly defensive of the tupperware family recipe in your hands as you concealed it from view.

he blinked down at you before stepping back, staring sightlessly forward. “nothin’. smells good is all.”

your mouth dropped open to make a dry reply before the front door finally swung open.

“hey!” Iris greeted with a smile, donned in a fine cashmere sweater and leggings, holding a champagne flute. her husband poked his head out from behind her shoulder, wearing a freshly pressed button up and khaki pants.

you suddenly felt very underdressed in a cheap, thrifted dress.

“come on in,” he said with a sparkling smile, and you thought with a bitterness that he must be one of those guys who does stupid whitening strips or something, which was entirely ridiculous because you had tried them once before, but nonetheless…

“thank you for having us,” Simon said, filling in your silence. 

you glanced over at him, wishing you could say that you didn’t need him to speak for you. his eyes flitted over to you, offering nothing but a roll of his shoulders. a motion that you discerned as a dry, sardonic, whatever.

looking back at the party hosts, your brow quirked when you noticed Iris eyeing Simon’s mask warily. and for some reason that irked you.

so you said for Simon, “he’s not feeling too well. don’t want others catching a cold, right?”

she just laughed, airy and long and pinched with unease, waving you off and mumbling something that you couldn’t really hear before she motioned for you to step into the entrance hall. you shucked off your jacket, thanking her husband when he took it, and walked into the house—ginormous and very well-decorated. too well-decorated. like they didn’t even live in their own home.

you hugged your own chest, rubbing over your arms, and startled when you felt Simon at your back. looking back at him, he just slightly raised his brows, before gesturing a hand to step further in the house. you shuffled forward, feeling strangely embarrassed from the close proximity, and followed Iris into the open plan of the living room and kitchen.

there were a lot more people than you recognized in your group, you realized with unease, all chattering loudly as you moved over to the kitchen to put out your dish of family food, taking in the wide-array of charcuterie boards and cocktail shrimp and glasses of pricey alcohol.

a group of men you had never seen before stood in the kitchen, sipping on wine, teeth sparkling, looking trim in ralph lauren and very fit. one caught your eye, sending you a smirk, eyes roaming down your body, then up, before taking a sip of wine.

at that, you bit back a shiver and promptly disappeared into the rest of the people. 

you practically deflated when you looked around the room, immediately noting the absence of the big blonde brute at your back—it seemed that he had disappeared just as fast as you wanted to at the moment. 

instead, you moved from group to group, giving meek greetings to the girls you recognized who pulled you into hugs. most of the girls were flanked by a male that you had never met before, and you would scurry away just as soon as you would greet them, till you finally came across Sarah and Maya… talking with a man you knew.

“i finally found you,” you said with desperation, clinging to Maya and Sara’s sides. Johnny gave you an amused look, sipping at a beer.

you found yourself uncaring for his presence when you asked them, “why are there so many men here?”

Johnny just laughed and Maya patted at your head, sending you a sympathetic look.

“apparently Iris’s husband was in a frat. they’re ex-college friends,” Sarah explained, her face twisting between amusement and pity, before handing you a wine glass from a platter perched on a table in the hallway.  “i would’ve told you if i knew, darling.”

you sighed out. of course. ex-frat boys. your absolute least favorite kind. 

“i know you would have,” you mourned, wrapping yourself around Maya’s arm, then took a large gulp of wine.

“i heard you came in with Simon,” Maya said quietly, sending you a look out of her peripheral. 

you froze at that, hoping Johnny couldn’t hear you when you whispered, “don’t worry, he’s all yours, Maya.”

she flushed deeply at that, shaking you off of her. “that’s not what i meant.”

you made sure that Johnny and Sarah were still engrossed in their own conversation when you retorted, “that’s definitely what you meant. you think he’s cute?”

wholly enjoying it when she avoided your gaze, you wiggled your brow suggestively at her with a smirk. “or do you think he’s hot? you think he’s sexy, huh?”

you nudged her shoulder. “huh? huh?”

she swatted at you and you laughed, taking more mouthfuls of your wine as the strangest lump sunk from your throat to your stomach. sticking by Johnny, Maya, and Sarah, you felt shielded from the rest of the… males in the room. yet you still couldn’t help but wonder where Simon had disappeared to. you ended up finishing two more glasses of wine with a nervous sort of tick in your stomach.

dashing the outlandish murmurs of thoughts in your head, you let yourself get swept away with the events of the evening… drinking, talking. talking and more talking. drinking.

by the time your group moved closer to the kitchen, you were unbelievable bored as you searched around for the familiar blonde brute, satisfied when you saw him sitting on a barstool at the island in the kitchen, a glass of bourbon in his hand and a couple girls you had never seen before chatting with him at his shoulder.

they were obviously curious, you noticed, rolling your eyes, a bit worried for Maya when she eyed the scene carefully.

as you neared the food spread out over the island, you could hear those same ex-frat boys, speaking obnoxiously loud, and that one who had ogled you earlier was poking around at the food—specifically, your food.

he was prodding at it with a fork, exchanging looks with his friends, choking back on laughter when he said, “who brought the granny food?”

you stilled at that, staring at them laughing at the meal you had cooked. 

“isn’t that yours?” Maya asked softly, wide eyes trained on the tense situation at the other side of the room.

when you didn’t answer, Sarah’s face twisted as she stepped forward, her jaw falling open with a pinched look of intent on her face, but you waved a hand at her before she could say anything.

“just don’t,” you said through gritted teeth, embarrassed that Johnny was witnessing the spectacle in silence.

you felt even more embarrassed that Simon, down and across the kitchen island, was staring at them too.

but then he suddenly stood, cutting through the conversation of the invasive girls at his shoulder, and put down his glass of bourbon. “i did.”

the boys down the table fell silent, and the one that ogled you earlier let out a soft oh. Simon snatched a plate from the island and prowled over, towering over the rest of them and loaded up his plate with your food. then, his eyes flit up to yours, dark and murky as he took a bite.

you just closed your eyes and turned on your heel, walked back down the hallway with a mechanic stiffness despite Sarah’s protest. from behind you, you could hear Iris chiding David for being so rude.

you didn’t know who David was, and you didn’t care, till you reached a place in the house where no one else was. a study or office of sorts with big windows and a desk strewn with materials, darker here where there weren’t as many lights, night falling fast.

rubbing at your temples, you tried to slow your breath, pacing around the spacious room. you were seething. Kate would tell you that you were living in a reactionary moment—prolonging a feeling of shock or anger. what really lied underneath that was grief.

or, what you deciphered from the bullshit was that you were being overdramatic. overreacting.

you felt stupid when tears welled up in your eyes. 

there were footsteps nearing the office and you quickly wiped at them, expecting to find Sarah or Maya or maybe even Simon but—

it was Iris’s husband.

“hey,” he said softly, clearing his throat, “i’m so sorry about that earlier. my friends can be…”

a sheepish look crossed his face as he scratched at the back of his neck. “...really stupid sometimes. i’m Leo by the way.”

you just gave him a curt nod, sending him a weak it’s fine, but even knew that you sounded entirely unconvincing.

his eyes darted around the room before he added, “i tried your food earlier. i thought it was fantastic. i’m sick of charcuterie boards and cocktail shrimp anyway.”

you laughed at that, thought it came out flat and dead.

when a silence ensued, he asked you, “is that a family recipe or something?”

you nodded, clearing your throat weakly. “my mom made it as a kid. a family favorite.”

he clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels like he didn’t know what to do with the awkward tension of the room. “oh, nice. my mom used to make tuna casserole all the time. i hated it back then, but i love it now, but i can never seem to get it right. and you seem to be great at cooking and all—”

he waved at hand at you and you flushed, thanking him, before another silence followed. 

then, there was a new flint of curiosity in his eyes as he stepped towards you. immediately, you edged backwards, a new taste of apprehension coating your tongue.

“remind me of your name again?”

you gave it to him, slowly, and clutched at the hem of your dress, tugging it down further over your thighs.

“your name. it’s pretty.”

you practically squeaked, “thanks.”

he shifted a bit closer to you, so you were just an arm’s length from him now, and you shuffled backwards, panicked when the back of your thighs hit the desk.

“and your dress…” he said, staring down at your body for a long moment, before his eyes flit up over your chest and to your face. “it’s pretty on you.”

your voice was much more strained now. “thank you.”

he tilted his head, almost in a predatory manner. “why doesn’t Iris invite you over more? you seem like such a lovely girl.”

lovely girl. your skin was crawling, eyes darting around the room, terrified that the only exit meant walking straight through him.

“mhmm,” was all you offered, skirting to the side, but he stepped forward again, almost closing the distance between you.

his hand came up like he was going to play with the end of your dress, but it stopped just short, hovering over the skin of your thigh.

“i’m going to go back to the party now,” you whispered, a fear eating you inside and out that sent a dizzy, hazy spiral through your mind. you wanted distance from him. now. forever.

he leaned forward so that he towered over you, much bigger and broader when he was this close—

“so soon?”

his fingertips just barely brushed over the skin of your thigh when a thick, rough voice cut through the room. 

“Leo.”

Leo scrambled backwards, clearing his throat as he turned to the person who had just stepped into the room. you almost melted in relief at the sight of Simon by the door.

“your wife is asking for you,” he said slowly, voice low and rough. his eyes were darker now, brows furrowed, and he looked terrifyingly big in the doorway.

Leo just nodded, hands clasped at his back again as he hesitated, head flicking from you to the brute’s gaze that bores into him. “right.”

he strode out the room, not even sending you a glance as he squeezed around Simon who didn’t move an inch, stock still as he stared after Leo.

you almost crumpled to the floor, shrinking as you clutched at the desk for support, legs shaking with effort.

“are you alright?” Simon asked, though he didn’t move any closer to you. the relief in that was like cold water splashing over the panicked heat of your body.

“no,” you admitted, turning your head away when tears spilled down your cheeks.

screwing them shut, you felt a deluge of shame and embarrassment rush over you.

“i wasn’t trying anything with Leo,” you said between sniffles, “i swear i—”

“i know,” he said, cutting you off.

you crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing at your arms as you shook. you tried to stop the shaking, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t stop it.

“you’re shaking,” he observed, voice cracked open with a sort of awe that you had never heard before. maybe shock was a better word.

your breath came labored now, and the room went dizzy, so you slowly skirted around the desk, clutching the wall for support as the floor fell out from under you.

Simon called your name, but it sounded distant and muffled.

“i’m fine,” you said, not able to make out his words that only sounded like mumbles in your ears.

slowly, you slid down the wall, crumpling yourself into a ball and digging your nose into the valley between your knees, a wetness sliding over them from your eyes. you just cried as you rocked, unsure what to do with yourself, feeling like you were going to pass out from the rough breaths that ripped from your lungs.

another body slid down the wall beside you, still far, but their warm fingers hooking on your wrist gently. picking up your head, you shifted out of Simon’s touch, his stoney gaze a marginal distance from your own.

“look,” he said, voice soft, as he put his hand into a loose fist and rubbed in circles over his chest. “like this. calms you down.”

between labored breaths, your arms felt leaden and dead when you contracted your hand into a weak fist, drawing small circles over your chest with great effort.

“it’s okay,” he said, sliding his hand between you across the floor in an offering. you curled your fingers around his hand, your own dwarfed by the sheer size of him, and picked it up to press it to your cheek, feeling cool against the uncomfortable heat on your skin.

in your haze, you realized you had never seen him gloveless before, and his skin against yours felt… right.

you slid his hand over your shoulder and to your waist, feeling his fingers curl around the flesh there, gently tugging your forward, and you let him haul you into his lap, his other arm hooking beneath your knees as he nestled you right into his arms.

he buried you in a tight hold, your cheek pressed to his chest as you continued to rub circles into your chest, trying and failing to slow your breath. you clung to him, a hand curling into the material of his shirt. 

you should’ve felt scared, immobilized by a man like this, but you felt impossibly safe, like his arms were the one thing between you and every other dangerous thing in the world.

“listen to me breathe, love.”

his slow breath was grounding, and you tried to match it, forcing the stutter of your lungs to slow. soon enough, you breath was normal once more, and you pulled away from him, crawling off his lap to lean against the wall.

you wiped at the tears that stained your cheeks.

“better?” he asked, and you couldn’t look at him, nodding slowly.

your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, but your body was light and airy, like it was floating off the ground. like you were living in a different world from your own, mind far, far away from your own body. like you could say anything and it wouldn’t matter in the moment.

“it was one of my dad’s friends,” you rasped, voice raw and sore.

when he was silent, you pushed on, “my mom blamed me for it, but i was just a kid. i didn’t know what was happening.”

“my dad didn’t care.” you took a shaky inhale. “he sucked.”

Simon’s hands twitched by his side. “i had a shitty fuckin’ father too.”

you almost smiled at that, thudding your head back against the wall.

“i don’t think i’ll ever recover,” you admitted softly, your heart dropping into your stomach. “i’ll just hate men forever.”

“do you still hate me?” he asked, and you, without hesitation, said, “no.”

he shrugged. “seems like you’ll recover then.”

you stared into the side of face, for the first time, wishing you could look at the other half of his face under the mask properly. it was like you were actually seeing him now, and just how gentle the warmth of his brown eyes could be. 

“what are we gonna do?” you said with a mirthless laugh, trained on the softness in his eyes, “we’re so fucked up we can’t even function properly.”

you could tell he was smiling under that mask.

“maybe a support group could help.”

you snorted at that, knowing full well in the two years that you had been in the group, almost nothing had changed for you. at least, not until Simon.

he stood, offering a hand that you took, and pulled you up gently. you practically clutched at his side, glued to him as he led you back to the party that had swelled into full swing now—loud, spooky music from the surround sound in the living room burst forth, and into the late hours of the night, even more strangers filled the space. it was loud and rowdy and you resisted clutching at your ears, fingers wrapping around the cuff of Simon’s sleeve tightly as you squeezed between different people.

Sarah and Maya were still hanging out near the island, Johnny nowhere to be seen, and talking to some other girls in the group. when they noticed you, Sarah launched herself at you and wrapped you up in a tight, squeezing hug that knocked the air from your lungs. Maya regarded Simon shyly, edging around him before hugging you, too.

she whispered quickly into your ear, “we wanted to check on you, but Iris sent Leo to apologize to you. did everything end up being alright? did he apologize? he wasn’t an asshole, was he?”

you just grimaced in her arms, patting her back softly. “don’t worry, everything’s fine,” you reassured her, and the relief on her face was shattering, concern melting from her features.

looking to Simon, you half-expected him to slink away and disappear into the crowd, but he stayed flush to your side, hands in his pockets as he watched you.

you made steady eye contact with him, slightly rising your brows in question, glancing in the direction of the front door, and he just gave you a curt nod.

“we’re going home,” you shouted over the loud music, and Sarah was quick to take your hand.

“with…” her eyes darted over to Simon, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “him?”

ah. you had forgotten that the girls in your group thought that you hated him. or beyond that, just all men in general.

“i’ll be fine,” you promised them, believing yourself for once. “you stay and have fun.”

“if you’re going, we’re going too then,” she said, determined, Maya’s head bobbing beside her in agreement, but you just shook your head.

“really,” you shouted, glancing over to the tall man beside you, who looked as though he wasn’t listening, eyes trained somewhere distantly into the throes of the party, but you knew he was. “i’ll be fine.”

they looked unconvinced but didn’t push you nonetheless. Simon gave them curt goodbyes that boiled down to a nod and a low grunt, and you waved at the other girls from the support group, grateful for their concern as you packed up your food with a wince, avoiding a pair of eyes from across the room—David or whatever his name was. he lifted his glass of wine to you before tipping his head back, downing the contents in a couple quick gulps.

you resisted cursing him out, avoiding making another scene at all costs, as you quickly strode out the house and shoved yourself into your jacket on the way, Simon just steps behind you.

you stepped out into the night, shivering immediately from the biting air against your thighs, and without a word, Simon strung his huge, heavy jacket over your shoulders.

“hey—” you began in protest, but he just casually walked past you and down the steps, sending a look of question over his shoulder.

are you coming or not?

the words went unsaid but you followed him anyway, digging around your bag for your keys and fumbling with them between your fingers once you located them.

once you neared your car, you stopped by the driver’s seat. he waited by the sidewalk, stock still as he watched you.

“i drank a lot,” you said with a grimace, and he just tilted his head.

“i just had a glass. i can drive.”

“no,” you snapped, immediately regretting the force in your tone when his brows just raised slightly. softer, you finished, “i can drive myself.”

he gave you a long look. “right. i’m a woman, and i just had one glass. i can drive, yeah?”

the words were so bizarre coming from him that you couldn’t resist the choke of laughter that escaped your throat, and you tossed your car keys over to him that he caught with ease.

“you fooled me, Simon,” you said with a deadpan, enjoying the way his eyes flickered with a playful gleam in the darkness as you switched places with him, sliding into the passenger seat of your car.

“does that mean i get the aux too?” he asked, voice even and blunt as ever, and you rolled your eyes.

“now you’re pushing your luck.”

you handed the cord to him anyways, and he just glanced at you from his peripheral, and something in your gut told you it was a look of victory. 

you ignored it with a smile you tried to smother. he was always one-upping you.

“fancy smashing pumpkins?” he asked, and you nodded weakly, feeling bashful for some reason.

he scrolled down the playlist on his phone and tonight, tonight came blaring through the speakers. you rolled down your window, reaching over to turn it up the volume more.

“feel like a teenager yet?” you shouted over the music, and he pulled down his mask with an amused look, shifting the gear and pulled onto the road. your eyes swept over the curves of his face with a greediness, taking in the strength of his jaw and tall nose because you were actually paying attention to the details of him for once.

“something like that,” he mumbled back, but his words were lost in the music, falling deaf on your ears because all your attention was trained on the small smile that twisted his lips.

by the time you reached your apartment, you had fallen asleep in the car, despite the blaring music. by the time he woke you with a gentle touch to your shoulder, the stereo was turned off, and you stretched up in your seat, shaking the blurriness from your head and blinking through the sleepiness.

you lurched from the car, stepping up onto the sidewalk in front of the townhouse with a yawn, Simon just behind you.

you turned to him with a weak smile. “thank you for driving.”

he nodded. “‘course.”

your eyes darted around, looking back to the entrance, then to him again, and you fumbled with your words.

“do you want to come inside?” then, you flushed deeply. “i know it’s late but—”

he cut you off, sounding almost uninterested. “sure.”

biting down on your lip, you nodded, turning on your heel and shouldering through the heavy entrance with a twist of your keys, making your way up the stairs and down the hallway by his side.

it was surreal that the same experience had occurred only two days prior, and yet a completely new feeling enveloped it. you weren’t scared. you weren’t anxious. you were just…

you looked back at him from over your shoulder, his bare face on display, and glimmering with a few scars you hadn’t noticed before. there was a silvery one slashing through his upper lip. 

he must’ve noticed your stare because he cleared his throat, looking away, and you pushed through the entrance to your apartment flushed with embarrassment.

flicking on the lights, you were eternally grateful you had decided to clean up a bit in the early hours of the weekend and moved into the kitchen, putting all your things down on the kitchen table. including Simon’s jacket, you remembered, getting embarrassed all over again as you laid it carefully out, careful not to crease the high-quality leather.

“make yourself at home,” you called out, poking your head through the entrance of the kitchen momentarily to see him standing with an awkward stiffness by the front door. you looked down to his leather boots. “and shoes off please.”

you turned to the fridge to card through its contents, hearing a shuffling behind you, before silence. in a last minute decision, you grabbed two beers and a packet of salted pistachios from the pantry.

“want a beer?” you offered, finding him splayed across your small couch, arm braced against the back.

warily, you sat beside him, curling up into the corner of the couch and pulling your dress further down over your thighs as you handed him a can of beer.

flipping the tab of your can open with a pop, the contents sizzling inside, you took a generous mouthful.

“thanks,” he said, blunt, as he popped open the can with just one hand, tipping his head back to down half of it in a few massive gulps, throat bobbing with each mouthful.

your eyes darted away from the sight, the proximity between you suddenly feeling unbearable, but not a bad unbearable, just…

hot unbearable.

heart thudding, you reached for the remote on the coffee table instead, and flicked on the television. it pulled up your tab on netflix and that most recent k-drama you were watching.

with a squeak, you flipped through the program quickly to get away from it, but Simon was too quick.

“k-drama?”

you eyed him from your peripheral.

“yes.” to take off the edge of your embarrassment, you teased, “why? are you a k-drama kind of guy, Simon?”

he shook his head. “i don’t like ‘em.”

your jaw dropped, spluttering, “you don’t like them? why?”

his eyes flitted to you from his peripheral. “they’re unrealistic.”

you rolled your eyes. “and that’s exactly why i like them.”

“have you never dated before?”

you almost choked on your drink, glaring at the side of his face, willing him to look at you, but he kept his eyes trained forward on the tv.

“yes, i have, actually,” you said, indignant. “have you?”

he turned his head to look at you, head tilting as his eyes flitted up and down your body. you suppressed a shiver, confused by the mixed sensations of your body.

“what do you think, love?”

when you were only silent, his lips twitched, eyes flashing with amusement. 

then he mumbled quietly, “i never like the male leads.”

you smothered a laugh, trying and failing to imagine Simon hunkered over in his free time, watching k-dramas on his phone.

“‘cause they’re not you?” you deadpanned, amused just at the thought of it. blonde, tall, and corded with thick muscle. he wasn’t much like any male k-drama lead you knew.

“no,” he said, leaning forward to set his empty can of beer on the coffee table, “‘cause they’re immature.”

your mind reeled at that, recounting the current k-drama you were watching, and finding him not half-wrong. 

“you into immature men?” he asked, voice dry with sarcasm.

mocking the deep timbre of his voice, you shot back, “what do you think, love?”

he huffed a laugh of dismay, and you just suppressed a smile, avoiding his eyes.

“you want to know what i think?”

the question had a dripping burn in it that made your skin prickle, insides sliding around with a foreign heat you weren’t accustomed to. when you just shrugged, feigning indifference, you knew Simon’s attentive stare sliced straight through the act.

“i think you just need a mature man who can take care of your needs properly.”

your whole body shuddered, thighs pressing together and stomach twisting with heat. you should’ve been irked by the proposition, angry with him even, but you just clutched tighter at the can in your hand, voice careful and poised. “and you think i can’t take care of my own needs?”

“no,” he said, without a second of hesitation, “but i think that you want to be taken care of.”

you bit down on your lip. “what makes you think that you know what i want?”

“doesn’t everyone want to be taken care of?” he relaxed further into the cushions, head falling onto the back of the couch, gaze lazy as it traced over you.

“do you want to be taken care of?” you asked, setting down your can of beer, uncaring that the hem of your dress had ridden up from the movement. but he didn’t even look down, half-lidded eyes on your face.

“sometimes.”

“do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, voice a whisper as you leaned forward onto your palm, and he was silent for a long moment.

“do you know how to take care of someone?”

your lips pressed together, jaw clenching. “i know enough.”

he gave you a lazy, lopsided smile. “do you even know how to kiss someone?”

at that, you reeled back a bit. was he making fun of you?

a resolute aching pang shot through your chest, and he blinked, sitting up straighter, like you were both just been pulled out of a heady haze that you weren’t supposed to be in. suddenly, this whole situation felt wrong, and not because you didn’t like it, but because it didn’t feel allowed.

“i should go,” he said, face stoney and voice void of anything perceptible. 

you quickly nodded, squeaking out, “yeah, you should.”

the words should’ve been sharp and cutting but they only came out strained and confused as you watched Simon stand from the couch. 

he strode over to the kitchen, snatching his jacket from the table and throwing it on while shoving into his boots once more. you pushed yourself up from the cushions, hands twitching by your sides.

he sent you a strange look from over his shoulder and jerked the door open with a roughness you didn’t know he could carry.

“bye,” you said weakly, and he hesitated in the entrance.

“thanks for…” he glanced towards the living room, and you sent him a confused look, looking back at the cans of beer and nuts on the coffee table.

“oh,” you said, turning back to him, “no problem—”

but the entrance was empty, and you stuck your head out into the hallway to see him already a marginal distance down the hall. cursing, you grabbed a random shoe from the rack by the doorway and shoved it into the crack of the door, rushing after him.

“wait!” you called, and he turned, slowing as you approached him.

your stomach a fit of nerves, you fisted the material of his nice jacket, uncaring if you crinkled the leather as you pulled him down, and stood on your tiptoes to press a brief kiss to his cheek.

when you slowly lowered back down to the floor, Simon only stared at you with that same stoney, blank look.

“thank you,” you said softly, and he just kept staring at you.

with a deep blush, you released him, and his footsteps were uneven when he turned and almost stumbled down the stairs. you yelped, heart clenched with worry, but he steadied himself against the rail and shot down the stairs with a speed that you didn’t know was possible, blonde head disappearing from view.

you stood there in the hallway for a long moment, fiddling with your dress. what the hell was that?

you gripped at the roots of your hair, suppressing a scream. what the hell was that?

turning and marching back down the hall, you kicked the shoe from the crack, slipping inside. but before the door shut, you poked your head out once more to see if Simon would reappear from the top of the stairs.

when he didn’t, you let out a strangled noise of frustration, and slammed the door shut, promising yourself you’d never let yourself slip like that again. promising yourself you’d never let yourself get that close in proximity to a man ever again. promising yourself you wouldn’t even look in the direction of another one of those things. not ever again. not even for Simon.

your honor... they’re flirting in their idk-how-to-interact-with-opposite-gender-way-bc-of-trauama 🌚 also i feel like soap is such a flat character in this series rn he's just kinda there 😭 but dw he gets more interesting later on (hopefully?)

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