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greensagephase · 22 hours

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 15

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: You get sick and then get hit with your period at the same time. Word Count: 15k (most reasonable word count this story has had in months 🤣) Warnings: Sickness; menstruation; Miguel just wants to look after you!!; Short A/N: I'm ready to read the comments on this one, you guys better not disappoint Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Corazón de Poeta" - Jeanette "Sparks" - Coldplay, Acoustic Guitar Revival (guitar version)

Enjoy and thank you for reading! ❤️

Part 15

The moment you wake up, you feel it. The worst thing to wake up to.

A sore throat.

You sit up, blinking a few times as you adjust to the lighting. The sound of rain reaches your ears as it hits the penthouse’s windows. Glancing around, Miguel is nowhere in sight, though the pillow he used last night is still on the floor near you.

You swallow saliva, finding it hard to do so. Yep, you’re definitely sick. You sigh and push the blanket off you, only then realizing it’s been covering you.

Memories of last night come to mind. The power went out just as Miguel and you were going to have dinner, which led to lit candles and flashlights, and music from cassettes while lightning and thunder filled the sky. You eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to listen to music. You showed Miguel new ideas for his place and talked before you fell asleep next to him. And did you offer Miguel your pinky finger?

Staring at the rain, you remember you did and not only that, Miguel accepted it as you gaze into his eyes before you drifted off, too tired to bother with a blanket, which means Miguel covered you at some point after you fell asleep.

For a few seconds, you think about how you’ve slept on Miguel’s living room floor twice now. With him, Miguel. You never imagined such thing but the thought brings a soft smile to your face despite the ache in your throat.

You look around again, wondering where Miguel is before you stand up, your body feeling off, fatigued.

You still have it in you to fold the blanket before you realize you need to wash it considering you’re sick now. You sigh quietly in disbelief. For the first time in a few years, you’re sick. Your thoughts are interrupted by Miguel’s footsteps coming down the stairs, which makes you realize it must be sometime after 6am.

“Hey, good morning,” Miguel says, stepping into the living room, hair damp from his morning shower. Traces of Miguel’s hygiene products, scents you’re all too familiar with these days, immediately reach your nose when he approaches you, already in his suit. It doesn’t take long for Miguel to sense that something is off. “Are you alright?” Miguel asks, immediately taking in your appearance now that you’re awake.

You nod but then shake your head. “My throat hurts. It feels sore,” you reply, wincing slightly as even talking seems to make the ache worse.

Miguel’s eyes soften as he hears your voice for the first time today, taking notice of the way you wince and how your voice sounds different.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel says gently, taking several steps closer to you. “Sore throat. Do you have a fever?” he asks.

You lift your hand to your face, unable to tell right now. Are you warm because you just woke up, or are you warm because you have a fever? You wonder to yourself, hand on your cheek, trying to figure it out when you suddenly feel fingers pressed to your forehead. They feel cool against your skin, though not cold.

You blink, realizing.

“Tienes fiebre [you have a fever],” Miguel says, his tone being one of concern while the back of his fingers are still pressed softly on your forehead. His fingers are bare despite the fact that his suit is already activated, making the contact skin to skin. “Your face is burning.” Miguel lowers his hand at last, not even thinking about what he just did, concern for you being the only thing present in his mind.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me then,” you say, stepping back. “I might get you sick.”

“Nonsense,” Miguel replies. “I won’t get sick, don’t worry.” Miguel steps forward again until he’s the same distance he was just seconds ago. “I’ll have one of the doctors at HQ check you.”

“That’s not… necessary, but thank you. I”ll be okay,” you reply, touched by Miguel’s offer and his concern nonetheless.

Your response instantly makes Miguel frown. What do you mean you’ll be okay with a sore throat and fever?

“You’re sick,” he says gently, despite his frown.

Holding on to the blanket, you look away from Miguel. You know you’re sick, you can feel the ache in your throat and how your body feels off, but a part of you doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. A part of you simply wants to take some over the counter medicine and go on about the day, pushing through your symptoms. It’s what you did in the past the few times you were sick before joining the Spider Society, and after Peter’s death. You learned to take care of yourself since then and now, you’re no longer used to the concern or attention from someone.

“Do you want to go to your universe, or do you want to go HQ?” Miguel offers. “One of the doctors can check you, give you medicine.”

Your gaze meets Miguel’s at last. He’s staring at you, intently, waiting for a response. You nod at last. “HQ. Let me put my suit and get ready.”

“No suit,” Miguel says. “It’s raining and you’re sick. I’m driving us there, no swinging to HQ today. So just… put some regular clothes on, okay?” he adds softly. “Go ahead and get ready, I’ll let my team know we’re going.”

“Alright… thank you,” you say, agreeing with Miguel. You have a feeling that if you were to decline both of his options, he’d probably bring a doctor here to the penthouse to get you checked.

You get ready and change into regular clothes before you meet Miguel downstairs. He’s now wearing regular clothes, too, his suit disengaged to blend in, though that’s not his priority. His priority is to get you treated by a doctor and make you feel better.

The two of you leave the penthouse and head down to the car garage. He unlocks the vehicle and is quick to open and hold the door for you before he gets in the driver’s side. Despite feeling sick, you’re still somewhat aware of how strange it is to watch Miguel drive. It’s like you’ve unlocked another side of him.

The drive to HQ is a short one with Miguel knowing shortcuts around the city. You’re soon walking into the building under an umbrella that Miguel holds to shield you from the rain, walking near you as if he’s your bodyguard.

You head straight to the infirmary sector where a doctor is already waiting for you. Thankfully, the paperwork is short and soon, you’re in a room ready to get checked.

Miguel watches the process, standing by the door as the doctor does basic procedures such as getting your throat swapped and blood work.

“Lab results should take a few minutes. I’ll be back then,” the doctor says before they step out of the room.

You turn to Miguel as he walks over to you, a soft look on his face. He’s already making plans.

“Don’t,” you tell him softly.

Miguel raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me… You’re going home, right?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not working today, so you’re going home, yes?”

“You don’t want me here?” you ask softly.

Miguel steps closer, placing a hand on the patient’s bed, a few inches from your body, and looks down at you, his gaze gentle. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to rest properly on a bed where you’ll be comfortable, cozy. Not here at HQ.”

You nod. “I know, I was just… I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick,” you admit, feeling fatigue. You turn away and yawn, covering your mouth.

Miguel watches you, hating that you feel unwell. He has little time to think about what you’ve said, about it being a while since you’ve been sick, but a quick thought comes to mind. Have you been sick before joining the Spider Society? The door to the room opens, interrupting his thoughts. Miguel turns back to look, removing his hand from the patient’s bed and stepping back to give you and the doctor some space.

“Blood work looks good and the throat swap is negative. It seems to be a simple cold, but I’ll give you medicine. Would you like a shot as well?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll take care of that, let me just write down the prescriptions I’m giving you - record keeping,” she explains looking up at you and then at Miguel for a second before turning back to their paperwork. They scribble quickly, thinking it’s not strange to see the owner of the building, the boss, with you. Not anymore.

They recall when he was here a year ago, injured. You stayed by his side the whole time and it had been briefly discussed by the other infirmary staff that you had taken care of Mr. O’Hara at his home. Clearly, the two of you are close friends, or something like that.

Now, Mr. O’Hara is here with you for less serious reasons, a cold, to show up for you like you did for him.

They finish up and excuse themselves.

“While you get the shot, I’ll be stepping out. I need to take care of something,” Miguel tells you, both to give you privacy since the shot will likely go on your upper buttock, and also because he needs to talk to Jess about today, maybe even about tomorrow.

“Alright, everything okay?” you ask him.

“Yes, don’t worry. I just need to talk to Jess about something,” Miguel reassures you.

You give him a nod, not probing for more information just as the doctor returns. Miguel gives you a small smile, that being his cue to exit the room. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” he says softly.

“I’ll be out shortly,” you reply giving him a small, reassuring smile.

With that, Miguel steps out of the room to give you privacy. He calls Jess through his gizmo, standing outside the infirmary room. A second later, she answers.

“Miguel.”

“Jess,” Miguel says. “Morning. It’s very sudden, but I want to ask if it’s possible for you to take care of things around here today?”

“I can. Is everything alright?” Jess asks, watching as Miguel turns away.

“Y/N is sick. It’s only a cold, according to the doctors here at the infirmary, but she has a fever…”

“It’s always good for someone to be around when dealing with a fever. It may change,” Jess tells him, knowing already that Miguel doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“Yes,” Miguel replies, turning back to face her. “I’m going to look after her, make sure it goes down.”

“Let me know if you guys need anything. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thank you, Jess,” Miguel responds. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll tell Y/N about it. Thank you for today.”

“If you need to, take off tomorrow, too. It might just be a cold, but it can take a toll on the body for days.”

Miguel gives her a nod, relieved that Jess is making such offer so he can look after you. He had already planned for that, if he was honest. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Jess. I hope it doesn’t get worse, but we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated if I do take off tomorrow just to give you a heads up.”

“No need. I’ll know. Just look after her, alright? And tell her I hope she feels better soon. I’ll be sending her a message in a bit but either way.”

“I will,” Miguel replies softly. “I’ll tell her. Thank you again. Do let me know if I’m needed for backup.”

“Alright, take care.”

“You, too,” Miguel says before he ends the call. He gazes down the hallway leading to the infirmary lobby, lowering his arm to the side. Thankfully the floor is empty save for the medical staff, you, and him. No serious injury or someone on the verge of death. He sighs deeply as he remembers the few days he spent on this floor, injured, before he was allowed to go home. It feels like a lifetime since then.

He decides to wait a bit more to give the doctor and you time, so he stands there, just looking around. It’s so silent. He wonders if this is what it was for you, spending so many hours next to him with no one around to talk with. He thinks about you, waiting in the lonely lobby while his injuries were treated that rainy night.

You stuck by his side, like glue. You could’ve easily gone home at some point to rest, asked someone else to take a shift, but no. You stayed by his side every day. Miguel has a suspicion you would’ve stuck by him every second if you had it your way. He believes that especially when he remembers you offering to sleep on his bedroom floor to look after him that first night.

Miguel shakes his head now, still in disbelief. He would never allow such thing. He would’ve shared the bed with you before letting your body lay on the ground while he rested on the mattress. Of course, he didn’t make that offer because it was too personal for either of you back then, but now…

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the door open. He turns and finds the doctor wishing you a speedy recovery before she exits.

“I’ve given Miss Y/N medications and the shot, she’ll be feeling better soon but in any case that she doesn’t, bring her back in and we can give her other treatments,” she tells him. “Also, she’ll need to rest.”

“I understand, I’ll make sure she does. Thank you,” Miguel responds with a nod.

“You guys take care.”

Miguel nods again before he knocks on the door, entering when he hears your voice. He finds you halfway across the room, heading for the door already. You’re carrying a prescription bag just given to you by the doctor.

“You okay?” he asks softly, holding the door open for you as you keep walking.

“Yeah, I got the shot. It’s kind of hurting a bit,” you admit, feeling it sting as you walk. “But hopefully that means I’ll feel better shortly. Along with the medicine.”

“I hope so,” Miguel says genuinely as you walk out, falling in step with you. The two of you walk down the hallway, side by side, towards the lobby. “We can go home now. I’ll cook you some breakfast, something warm to ease the ache in your throat. And you’ll need to rest so you can get better, let the medicine do its job - let your body recover.”

“Rest? I don’t think I need to.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Miguel replies gazing at you, a hint of a smile on his face, wondering if you’ll be stubborn about this.

“She told me the same thing,” you say with a sigh as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators.

“You’re not going to ignore doctor’s orders, right?” he asks.

“I guess not… What are you cooking?” you ask softly.

Miguel smirks softly to himself as he presses the button, the doors opening in seconds. He gestures for you to enter before he steps in.

“Don’t worry about it. You just rest and get better.”

The doors close and the lobby is once again empty, or so it seems. A nurse and the doctor turn to look at each other after listening to the little snippet of conversation, the interaction between the boss and you catching their attention. They turn to the elevator again, not recognizing the man that just walked by. He’s a different man from the one they met many years ago, one that was distant and stoic.

“To love and be loved, is to be changed,” the doctor mutters before turning to look at a medical chart, smiling to themselves.

-♥︎-

Miguel and you leave HQ, and drive home. You said you didn’t need to rest but the entire drive back to the penthouse suggested otherwise to Miguel. He glanced at you a few times while driving, finding your sleepy gaze each time as you stared out the window.

Upon arriving home, he ushers you upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing, which you obey without question before heading back downstairs, feeling tired.

You find Miguel moving around the kitchen. Pans are already on the stove. He’s changed into sweatpants and a dark t-shirt now that you’re both home, ready to look after you for the day, tomorrow, or however long it takes for you to be back to your healthy self.

You sit down on the counter and grab the medicine bag, taking everything out so you can read the directions and side effects, seeing that you’ll need to eat before taking some of them.

“Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, okay? Do you want coffee?” Miguel asks softly, walking up to the counter and standing across from you now.

“I can make-”

“Sit tight,” he says firmly but gently. “I’ll make it.”

“It…” you finish but Miguel has already turned around. A few seconds later, he starts on the coffee. He moves quickly around the kitchen, his moves careful yet determined.

Just as he’s placed two cups on the counter, he turns to the stove and checks on the food.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling drowsy. You wrap your arms around yourself, glad you’re in cozy pajamas and wearing one of your favorite sweatshirts, the one Miguel gifted you for Christmas. You could actually go to sleep now without eating but knowing Miguel, he’ll probably refuse to let you sleep on an empty stomach and besides, you don’t want to decline his kind gesture when he’s already halfway done. So, you sit back and wait, listening to Miguel’s movement with your eyes closed. It brings you comfort and a sense of home, something not unusual to you in Miguel's presence.

“Café [coffee],” Miguel says gently a few minutes later, careful not to startle you.

Upon opening your eyes, you find Miguel in front of you. You glance down and find a mug of fresh coffee on the counter, steam coming from it. You can already imagine how great the coffee will feel against your throat, soothing the ache.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the medicine bottles. He picks them up and reads the labels once you gesture that you don’t. He nods to himself, noticing that they’ll likely make you feel drowsy and dizzy on top of the fact that two of them need to be taken with food. He also memorizes how many times a day you’ll need certain medicines and the hours between to make sure you don’t miss them.

As he reads, you reach for the mug and softly blow on it to cool it off before grabbing the spoon and stirring it. You yawn just as Miguel places the medicine back on the counter, pretty much all the directions locked into his head. He’s going to make sure that you’re taking the medicines the way they need to be taken, his priority is for you to feel better soon.

“Let me get you breakfast,” he says turning away and walking to the stove. He fixes your plate first, doing it with affection and hope that you’ll find it suitable despite your sickness. He grabs the appropriate utensil before walking over to you, plate in hand, and gently places it in front of you, his gaze soft. “Please eat, it’ll help you,” Miguel says as he puts the utensil on the side of your plate.

With a sleepy smile, you nod. “I am, thank you, Miguel,” you say softly, your tone tired. You pick up the utensil, eating because he’s asked you to. You try to cool off the food a bit before taking a bite. Of course, your throat hurts even to eat but it doesn’t take away from Miguel’s amazing cooking, and you feel like it even awakens your appetite. “So good, as always,” you comment before taking another bite.

Miguel smiles, watching you eat and enjoy the food despite being sick. His chest flutters at the sight of your sleepy smile, unable to not find it endearing.

“Are you not eating?” you ask softly, an eyebrow raised.

Miguel blinks, distracted. He nods. “Si [yes], yes, of course. I was just… Making sure your breakfast is okay.” He turns away to fix himself a plate before joining your side. He glances at you every few seconds, wanting to make sure that you’re alright and not in need of something, but you eat silently and peacefully, at least as much as you can while being sick.

You both finish eating and continue to drink your coffees. The rain has not let up since yesterday and so, you both hear the soft pit pat on the penthouse’s windows, filling the silence in a very cozy way. A few minutes later, Miguel watches as you place your empty mug down. He downs the last bit of his and stands up, picking up both mugs to take to the sink.

You watch as he retrieves a glass and fills it with water before he approaches you. He places it on the counter gently and then places the medicines in front of you. “For your medicine. Then, rest.”

You thank him for the water and take your medicine, hoping the ache in your throat will disappear soon. “Hopefully I feel better soon.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Miguel says, reassuringly. “You just need some rest. Why don’t you go to bed?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sleepy,” you say even though your eyes say another story.

Miguel tilts his head to the side. “Really?”

You nod but end up yawning at the same time, causing Miguel to raise an eyebrow. You give him a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I am…” you glance at the medicine bottles, thinking about laying down and Miguel heading back to HQ. “Be careful, okay?”

Miguel blinks in confusion. “Be careful? Of what?”

“If you go out on missions. Just - be careful, okay? If you need backup, call for backup. Please.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted as he stares directly at you. He waits until you look back at him to respond. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not…?” you reply, looking up at him, now confused.

“Nowhere. I’m staying here. At the penthouse. With you…”

“Oh.” You look down at the glass with water and take another sip. “I thought…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence. You thought Miguel would head back to HQ after breakfast to work, especially since it’s a work day. You look up at him again, finding a gentle and reassuring look on his face.

“No, I’m staying here… I’m looking after you. I’m not leaving you alone,” Miguel responds softly.

Holding his gaze, you nod, for some reason feeling relieved you won’t be alone, yet you don't want to keep Miguel away from work. “Thank you… Are you sure though? I’ll probably just sleep, so you probably don’t want to waste-” you start, wanting to let Miguel know he doesn’t have to stay at the penthouse all day, that he can go on about his day.

“Por favor [please],” Miguel says, lowering himself on the counter, resting his arms on it to be eye level with you. “Don’t say waste. You’re starting to sound like the old me,” he says gently, internally feeling frustration that you’re thinking like that, as if you don’t matter to him. “The one that didn’t want you to spend an entire day in the infirmary room with me a year ago.”

“That was different, though, you were injured. Seriously injured… Close to death. I’m just sick with a common cold.”

“Thankfully,” Miguel states. “It’s just a common cold and nothing more serious, but that doesn’t make it less important. It doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you all alone here to fend for yourself. I wish to do this, okay?” Miguel pauses and clears his throat quietly. “You’re my best friend.” Miguel's gaze is unwavering, leaving no room for questioning nor arguing with him. He's going to stay home and look after you today, tomorrow, or however long, until you're well. Period. “Déjate cuidar [let yourself be taken care of],” he adds gently.

You hum softly. “I wanted to say that to you a year ago.”

Miguel grins, eyes softening. He knows a year ago your friendship was still unofficial, neither of you had addressed it, so you held on to many of your thoughts, keeping them to yourself with the purpose of not pushing his boundaries. It’s a year later and things are different, at last. Progress has been made and Miguel can say what you are to him without the fear of what it means. He can now say those words you weren’t able to say to him a year ago. “Then, you understand… I ask the same of you now. Let me look after you. Please. It’s what friends do.”

Hearing Miguel’s soft tone and words, not missing the fact that he’s used the same words you said to him a year ago, you nod after several seconds of silence. “I understand,” you say, nodding. You know that feeling too well, of wanting to take care of someone. It was exactly how you felt with him when he was hurt. You just wanted to look after him and make him feel better as best as you could. You wanted him to be back to full health because you hated seeing him hurting and unwell. “Okay,” you add softly, accepting.

“Good,” Miguel replies, happy and relieved you’re not being stubborn about him staying at the penthouse to look after you. “I’ll stay here, if you need anything - anything at all - please let me know, okay?”

“I will, thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel says, a hint of a smile on his face.

You give him a smile and nod, really accepting the fact that Miguel is going to look after you today. You understand where he’s coming from but a part of you feels off. It’s not because of Miguel, of course, but rather because it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you when you get sick. You’ve grown used to taking care of yourself ever since Peter died. Now, Miguel wishes to do so, and a part of you is trying to remember what that feels like - trying to accept that it’s something normal for you to experience, to receive, as well. You sigh softly as you feel drowsiness, thinking it’ll take you a moment to get used to receiving this kind of care after so long. You yawn again, covering your mouth. You already felt fatigued after the doctor’s appointment, and now the food and medicines seem to be taking effect, adding to it. “I’ll go upstairs and rest a bit,” you tell Miguel, your voice showing signs of sleepiness.

“You need all the rest you can get,” Miguel says nodding. “I’ll be here, go on and take a nap.”

You finally stand up and give him a nod, thanking him for breakfast before you head upstairs to your room. You quickly find yourself in bed, under the sheets. Snuggling into the pillows and covers, you can definitely feel the medicines kicking in.

Your eyes flutter and you feel yourself slowly falling into a slumber when you hear footsteps - Miguel’s footsteps. You raise your head to see just as he walks in.

“Shh, rest. Duerme [sleep],” he says softly, carrying a blanket.

You lay back down as he comes to a halt next to the bed, your brain trying to process what he’s up to. He gently throws the blanket over you, tucking it in around your feet and legs. The rest, he carefully pulls up your body, just below your shoulders.

“There,” Miguel says quietly, watching your sleepy face, one he’s memorized by now but still beholds with keenness.

You hum softly, half-asleep and half-awake, his scent reaching your drowsy senses. “It smells like you,” you say sleepily, a soft smile grazing your lips, content and comforted by Miguel’s warm and cozy scent.

Miguel grins softly, gazing down at you. He can’t deny that he’s equally surprised and delighted by the fact that you even recognize his scent on the blanket. “Sometimes I sleep with it, so I guess it makes sense it smells like me,” he shares, his fingers still holding on to the edge of the blanket.

“I like it,” you say before you blindly reach for the blanket, your fingers curling around warmness before you tug it towards your face, wanting the scent closer.

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise when he feels your fingers wrap around his, tugging them, and the blanket, closer to you. “You like it?” he repeats gently, something in his chest stirring as he keeps gazing at you, slowly drifting off.

You nod sleepily. “I love it,” you whisper with a soft sigh, still holding on to Miguel’s fingers and the blanket before you let go, unaware that you were even holding them or of what you’ve admitted in your sleepy state.

Miguel exhales softly when you release his fingers, feeling the loss of touch immediately. Your words echo in his mind. You love his scent. A few seconds later, Miguel notices that you’ve surrendered to sleep, the sound of your even breathing reaches his ears in the quietness of your bedroom. “I’m happy you… love it,” he whispers back even though you’re asleep now. He lets go of the blanket, his knuckles brushing under your chin softly, tenderly, before he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger for about four seconds, the gesture so instinctive - so right - Miguel doesn’t realize nor questions it in the moment.

He lets go and steps back, watching for a few minutes as you sleep, listening to your soft breathing. He tells himself it’s time to step out of the bedroom and let you rest, so he does. He leaves your door halfway open and returns downstairs to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast.

Once he’s done, he works from home, checking on a few things that he can do from the penthouse to help the team but unlike previous years, Miguel doesn’t drown himself in work. He doesn’t feel the need nor want to check everything, to ensure that everyone is doing what they’re supposed to.

His focus is you, everything else is secondary.

He checks on you every thirty minutes to make sure you’re okay and resting well. Each time, he checks you to make sure the fever has gone down, pressing the back of his hand to your face, keeping track of how warm your face feels. He also fixes the blanket around you when he notices it’s shifted in your sleep, wanting you to feel the most comfort possible. Miguel watches your face, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in your sleep before he exits the bedroom, his steps deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you each time he’s in the bedroom.

On the two-hour mark, Miguel is pleased when he touches your face once again and finds a normal warmth, no longer burning hot.

“Normal,” he whispers to himself with a relieved smile.

Despite your fever going down, Miguel continues to check on you throughout the day. He cooks lunch and gently wakes you up at midday so you’ll eat and take your medicine again, making sure you hydrate yourself, too.

After lunch with some food and medicine in your system, you decide to stick around in the living room, not wanting to be in bed all day despite Miguel’s gentle comment about you resting more comfortably on a bed rather than the couch.

You fight off sleep as much as you can but you eventually doze off once again after replying to the spider gang chat, who sent you messages stating they hope you feel better soon, even asking if they can send you something.

Upon seeing you fall asleep again, Miguel brings his blanket downstairs and once again, covers you with it before settling on the couch, across from you, to keep watch.

He continues to work from a tablet, spending some time reading about mission updates and replying to questions from spider members, though he still doesn’t spend much time with work related tasks. He reads for a while, too, but even that doesn’t hold his attention. His eyes find their way to you more than he realizes, as if he finds the sight of you much more intriguing than any word in his book.

At some point, Miguel gets up to make dinner while you sleep and as always, he moves around the kitchen with ease. He’s a man that knows his way around such space, the kind that makes cooking look easy as he gathers everything he needs on one counter from the fridge and pantry. He has two goals in mind with the meal he’s cooking for dinner. One, to give you some comfort and make you feel better.

And two, to please you with his food. For months, he’s found happiness seeing that look you always get of pure delight when you take a bite of the food he makes. It used to be twice a month with the weekend dinners at each other’s place but ever since you moved in, temporarily, Miguel has the opportunity to cook more often for the two of you.

He always looks forward to it, wondering what your thoughts will be when he cooks something he hasn’t before. Either way, whether it’s something new or something he’s cooked before, Miguel always cooks with love.

He peels and dices vegetables, each one with precision. He washes the rice and keeps an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn once he pours it on a pan before applying some oil. Despite his concentration with the food, Miguel takes a few seconds to check on you, finding you still passed out on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background.

Some time later, you wake up. You blink the sleep away and sit up slowly, feeling disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you’re in the living room. You breathe in, only to find your nose stuffy, which immediately dampens your mood. You sigh and look for Miguel, finding his usual seat empty. His tablet is on the spot next to his seat along with the TV’s remote, left alone. Glancing around, you hear subtle noise from the kitchen, giving you an idea of where Miguel is. You look down at yourself, finding his blanket over you once again before you tug it close to your face. It’s so soft and you can smell just a bit of his scent on it, unable to truly smell it due to your stuffy nose. Despite thinking about Miguel’s scent, you don’t remember your confession from earlier.

You stand up from the couch and stretch at last. This has to be the most you’ve slept in a while during the day but you feel rested. You follow the scent of food to the kitchen where you find Miguel stirring a spoon in a medium size pot. He’s still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, gizmo on his wrist. He turns suddenly, as if sensing you.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, a smile immediately forming on his face, happy to see you up. “How do you feel?” Miguel asks walking around the counter to meet you, he pats the chair you always sit on, silently gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Better. I can still feel a light ache in my throat but it’s not as bad as it was this morning. It’s doable,” you reply as you move to the chair, Miguel pulling it out for you.

“Is your nose stuffy?” he asks, with a slightly raised eyebrow, making note of how your voice sounds now.

“And my nose is stuffy, yes,” you reply with a sigh.

“Hopefully dinner will help with the discomfort of your throat. It might help a bit with the stuffiness, too. I have something that’ll help for sure, if you’re open to it - after dinner,” Miguel says with a frown on his face, wishing you hadn’t grown sick.

“I’ll accept anything if I can breath properly again,” you state, now sitting.

“I feel that,” he replies leaning on the counter, eye level. His body is pretty close, seemingly not worried about catching a cold from you. He observes your face, his gaze landing on your chin. He suddenly remembers what happened earlier, realizing he brushed his knuckles against your skin, and how he then held your chin for a few seconds. He clears his throat. “Let me check the food, so you can go ahead and eat. I hope you like it,” he says softly, pushing himself off the counter. He flexes his hand, the same one he caressed you with earlier, having the sensation on his skin still.

“What did you cook?” you ask softly, sniffling.

Miguel smiles a bit at the sound of you sniffling before he thinks of something. Instead of walking back to the stove, he walks to the laundry room. “Hold on, just a sec.” You watch as he disappears into the laundry room, before he steps out several seconds later, carrying a small box. He approaches you, reaching you in no time, and offers it to you, which you realize is a tissue box. “For your nose,” Miguel says. “So you don’t hurt your skin with something else, like a napkin, if you need to blow your nose.”

You accept the box with a soft smile and thank him.

“Always,” Miguel says with a little nod and gentle smile. “Now, let me get you some food. I feel certain it’s going to make you feel good. My mom made it for Gabriel and I when we got sick sometimes. It’s caldito de pollo [chicken soup] with vegetables,” he says. “I made some rice, too.”

You lean back on the chair.

“That sounds really good. I think I’m actually hungry.”

“You think?” Miguel asks, amused as he grabs some bowls.

“Okay, I am hungry,” you say, fixing it. You give him a soft smile. “I think I’m still drowsy from the medicine.”

“That’s to be expected. The dosage on one of them is pretty high. If I remember correctly, it’s the same one you have to do double the dosage for bedtime,” Miguel replies as he recalls the instructions. “But maybe you’re also sleepy from hunger. I noticed you didn’t eat much for lunch. You haven’t had much fluids either.” Remembering that, Miguel stirs the pot before he gets you a glass with water. He takes it to you and of course, you catch the message.

Hydrate.

You oblige and drink, making Miguel satisfied. He turns back around and fixes a plate with food for you.

“So Gabriel and you used to eat this sometimes when you were sick?”

“Yes, we always loved eating this. It gave some relief to our sore throats. And well, we both enjoyed it overall, so it was also a comfort food.”

You nod, thinking about a young Miguel and Gabriel, sick and eating caldito de pollo as children. The image painted in your head brings a smile to your face.

Miguel finishes fixing you a plate and his own, so he brings both to the counter, placing yours in front of you with delicacy. He’s quick to get utensils and napkins along with some warm corn tortillas, and refilling your glass with water before he sits next to you.

“Eat,” he says gazing at you. “It’ll help you recover sooner.”

You nod with a small smile before you begin eating, the warmth of the liquid soothing your throat immediately. It’s like easing an itch. You sigh softly in content before you eat more, the flavors hitting you all at once in the most delightful way possible thanks to the rice and vegetables.

“That feels and tastes amazing,” you mumble as you bring another spoonful to your mouth.

Miguel smiles, feeling pleased with himself. You didn’t eat much during lunch but now, he’s hopeful you’ll eat the serving he gave you and that you’ll feel much more nourished.

“Tortilla?” Miguel offers as he grabs one from the tortillero [container used to keep tortillas warm]. “Gabriel and I used to roll it like this before dipping it in the caldo [broth], and then ate it.” Miguel demonstrates as he lays the tortilla flat on his palm, looking smaller than it actually is against his large hand before he rolls it outwardly. The tortilla is now a thin roll. He dips it in his caldo before taking a bite from it, clearly enjoying it.

You grab one yourself, craving it. “I’m very familiar with that,” you say with a little smile as you do the same, dipping it into the warm liquid. “Childhood memories,” you say before taking a bite.

Miguel smiles once more at the sight, watching you eagerly eat. There’s definitely a difference now. You’ve got more of an appetite than you did earlier and your tone sounds less tired.

“Did I miss out on something today? Missions?” you ask, looking at Miguel.

Surprisingly, the man that once used to bury himself in work with data reports on anomalies and missions, the fate of the multiverse, playfully rolls his eyes. “No work talk on a sick day. You worry about resting, and that’s all… but I will say, the spiderlings went on a mission today and their team flow was amazing, well planned out,” Miguel says, a hint of admiration and pride in his voice, like that of a proud mentor, or parent.

You smile. “They’ve grown and learned, so much. Sometimes I forget they’re growing up, but it’s happening.” You look down at your plate. Time is passing, whether you realize it or not. The years have gone by, and maybe it was the loss and grief, but when you lost Peter, it never occurred to you that the years would go by so quickly after his death. You almost feel that a part of you doubted you’d even make it this far without him by your side, but you did.

You have.

Despite the tearful days and nights you spent alone grieving, you made it. You silently hope you’ve made Peter proud, wherever he’s now.

“I forget, too,” Miguel says after a few moments, thinking. “It’s strange. They’re still these kids but much more mature, more experienced in their roles than when I first met them. I’m - proud of them.”

“I am, too,” you reply softly, putting your thoughts on Peter to rest. “Though sometimes…”

Miguel chuckles. “Sometimes they say the craziest things, and it reminds you they’re still kids.”

“Right? They keep us on our toes, for sure,” you say chuckling, feeling a sudden discomfort in your stomach, a cramp. The sudden shot of discomfort reminds you that you’ll be having your period soon.

“Trust me, I know,” Miguel replies, still smiling and talking about the spiderlings.

You both chuckle at that and keep eating, with you deciding to ignore the thought of your period. You ask Miguel what he’s been up to all day and he tells you about it, how he’s worked on some things regarding the society, read, and other miscellaneous things. Of course, he mentions checking up on you, accidentally informing you of how often he did it. You find the fact endearing, that he checked on you every thirty minutes.

Eventually, you both finish eating. You feel better than you have all day, so much that you feel like taking a shower. You offer to help Miguel clean up but of course, he politely declines, telling you to go and rest, and then to go shower once you mention wanting to do that.

After your shower, you come back downstairs, planning to just hang out in the living room. After sleeping for the majority of the day, you don’t feel like being in bed any more. You find Miguel fixing something in his bookcase before he turns, glad to see you again. He takes in your appearance and sees you seem to feel better. You sniffle as you approach the couch, which reminds him about the thing he said he’d give you for your stuffy nose, but before he heads to get it, he notices your little pout when you look at the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over to you, standing just a few inches away.

You look up, surprised he noticed you pouting over the fact that his blanket is gone from where you left it. “I… Nothing,” you say softly, causing Miguel’s head to tilt to the side, thinking. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes. The blanket, which he threw in the wash along with yours from earlier.

“Go ahead and lie down, rest. I’ll be right back,” he says gently, itching to place his hand on your shoulder and give you a soft squeeze to reassure you, to comfort you. Once he sees you lay down, he heads upstairs, a plan in action.

He collects what he needs and heads back downstairs, walking through the living room before you even notice him entering the kitchen and dining area of the penthouse. Silently, you wonder what he’s up to. You try to into the kitchen from the couch, curious. He appears a few seconds later, your face softening at the sight.

There’s Miguel, a 6’9” tall man, walking towards you with a blanket draped over his shoulder and on the other one, what seems to be a sweatshirt. On his hand, there’s a saucer plate with a cup on top, steam rising from it. And in the other, a familiar small blue and green tub. He walks towards you, with purpose, a man on a mission.

He reaches you in no time with his long strides and begins to work, placing the saucer and cup on the coffee table, along with the small container before turning to you.

“Miguel?” you say, gazing up at him from the couch.

“Yes?” he responds as he unfolds the blanket.

You don’t even know what to say as he spreads the blanket over your body. You simply gaze at him with wide eyes and awe as you watch him towering over you while he tucks the blanket around your feet and legs once more, leaving it loose above your knees and pulling it up to your tummy.

The sight stirs something in you, something stronger than endearment and appreciation that grows stronger as Miguel carries on with his pampering.

“Is your nose still stuffy?” he asks and for a moment, you don’t even comprehend his question, still awestruck.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter softly, sniffling once more.

Miguel nods and grabs the small blue and green container from the coffee table before he gets down on his knees, next to you. He’s now more eye level with you, though he still towers over you easily. He opens the tub, a familiar scent hitting his nostrils right away.

“Put some on your chest and rub it in gently,” he instructs softly.

You nod and pick some up from the tub once he holds it out to you. You slip your hand under your top and do as he said, pushing past your undergarment to apply it properly. Once done, Miguel nods.

“Good. It also helps putting some on your back,” he says gently, still holding it out for you.

You nod, knowing that, too. You pick up more and lean forward, reaching behind you and under your top once more. You apply the product as best as possible, it being a bit of a struggle with your undergarment, which Miguel notices.

He looks down at the tub and then back up at you. “Do you need help?” he asks quietly, making you pause.

Shaking your head, you reply. “Thank you but it’s alright, I got it.” You lie. You’re struggling but you’re not about to accept Miguel’s help with something so… Personal. Intimate. Especially when it involves Miguel and physical contact.

For a moment, Miguel wonders if you’re simply uncomfortable with the idea of him, as a man, touching you, a woman. He wonders if he’s pushing boundaries just by merely offering.

You stare at him, noticing the look on his face. He’s questioning his offer. You frown and regret your words instantly, thinking that you might have made Miguel feel rejected.

“It involves physical contact,” you say softly. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, Miguel.”

He glances up at you, listening to your words before he nods. He gives you a reassuring smile, feeling relieved. You’re not rejecting his offer, his gesture, for the reasons he was thinking. You’re as always, looking out to respect him and his boundaries.

“Even when you’re sick, nose stuffy and feeling fatigued, you’re still so considerate… so sweet, you know that?” Miguel says staring right into your eyes, without fear or embarrassment from stating those words. “I don’t mind, at all,” he continues as he looks at the container and collects some of the ointment with his fingers. “If you allow me, I’ll help you.”

You smile and facepalm, chuckling. It’s been so long since someone has looked after you like this. The last person was Peter, of course. You used to look after each other when the other got sick, just like Miguel has done for you today. Still smiling, you nod, accepting his help. You remind yourself to accepting the fact that Miguel is looking after you, that this is normal. That friends look after each other.

“Lean forward for me, please,” Miguel says, giving you a smile back.

You do so and lift your top slightly, just enough to let him slip his hand underneath it. “My - I’m wearing my-” you start, trying to tell him you’re wearing an undergarment to support your chest.

“I know,” Miguel says gently. “I could tell you were struggling because of it. Is it okay if I shift it slightly?” he asks carefully before he even makes a move, being a gentleman as always.

“… Yes, that’s alright,” you reply softly.

Miguel nods. “I’m going to slide my hand under your top now,” he says, letting you know what he’s doing as a way to avoid making you uncomfortable, and aware of his actions. As soon as he slips his hand under your shirt, your warmth radiates off your skin, greeting his own.

You stare right ahead, sensing the warmth from his hand even though he hasn’t even touched you yet. You wait as he moves his hand further up.

“I’m going to apply it now,” Miguel says softly, waiting to see your reaction. Once you nod, he nods back. He presses his fingers to your bare flesh, a second later, he begins to rub the ointment onto your soft skin. His fingers move gently but efficiently, making sure he’s applying the product appropriately so it does what it’s supposed to do.

Your eyes move to your lap as you feel Miguel’s fingers on you. They’re warm, but you’re not surprised. The man always seems to be warm, so it’s not unusual. What’s unusual is his actual touch. From pinky hugs to him touching your forehead and now your back, this is a lot of progress on Miguel’s end. It’s a lot for one day and yet, he’s doing it.

Then, there’s your own progress, you suppose. You haven’t had someone look after you in a long time, haven’t had someone touch your bare skin like this. You try to remember the last time someone, Peter, touched your back when you were sick like this. You find that you can’t remember it. It’s been that long.

Miguel rubs his fingers gently over your skin, unable to ignore how soft your skin feels. “I’m going to move your underwear a side. Is that okay?” he asks again, withdrawing his hand to grab more of the ointment.

“Yes, that’s okay,” you reply softly, returning your attention to the moment.

With permission, Miguel slips his hand once again under your top. He shifts the undergarment aside, gently and respectfully, before pressing his fingers to your skin again. With more space now, he moves his fingers more freely, rubbing in the ointment until he feels it’s been applied properly.

Neither of you truly notice that his fingers have gone still against your skin once he’s done. His fingers remain there, pressed to your soft skin, your warmth marrying his.

It’s seconds later that Miguel realizes, leading him to withdraw his hand in a way that would seem hesitant to anyone watching. He exhales softly and collects more ointment, just a little, not as much as before while you both silently miss the touch and warmth from each other, like the moon misses its stars on a starless night sky.

“And then, for the stuffy nose,” Miguel says, gaining your attention. “Just a little right here.” With you facing him, he reaches with his index finger and gently rubs the ointment on your nose. “It’ll help you breathe a little better,” he whispers, staring at your nose to be precise with the application. “There.” He slowly lowers his hand and meets your gaze. You seem surprise, so Miguel gives you a small and sweet smile. “We need to cover these arms,” he says, pointing at them. “The AC has been turning on, you’ll get cold. Here, you can put this on if you’d like.” Miguel tugs at the cloth still draped over his shoulder. A sweatshirt.

Wordlessly, you accept it. You recognize it as his, Miguel’s. Sometimes he wears it around the penthouse in the evening. You remember him wearing it yesterday, which means it’ll smell like him. You put it on, careful not to rub off the ointment from your nose. The sleeves are a bit long for you but you don’t mind, if anything, that makes it feel even more cozy. You sniffle quietly, noticing how warm and soft it is, and despite the ointment’s fragrance on your nose, you still catch Miguel’s scent on it. You smile as you fix it around your waist before Miguel pulls the blanket higher up your body.

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing at Miguel who is still on his knees next to you.

He’s still smiling, giving you that sweet and gentle smile, even when he reaches behind him. He offers you the saucer plate with the cup.

“I made you a tea, it’s supposed to help with colds,” he says while you accept it. “Be careful not to burn yourself.”

You take a small drink, the flavor settling well with you and rushing soothingly down your throat and chest.

“Thank you, Miguel. That's really soothing and it tastes great.”

Seeing your smile, Miguel continues to smile back. “Me allegra [I’m happy], I'm glad you like it. Are you comfortable?”

You begin to nod but Miguel gets up. “I should get you a pillow. Hold on.”

“Wait, that's not-” you start but Miguel is already up the stairs. A few seconds later, you hear his approaching footsteps.

“Lean forward, please,” he says gently, so you do. Miguel slides the pillow behind you, fixing it so it'll be positioned just right for your head to rest on. “There.” He steps back and looks at you, trying to think if he’s forgetting something, or if there’s anything else he can do to make you feel better and comfortable.

“I… Thank you, Miguel,” you say, looking up at him, holding your tea. You briefly notice that he didn’t bring a pillow from your bedroom, but one of his own since the pillowcase is grey, just like his bedding set.

Miguel smiles softly at you and nods. “Always,” he says softly. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod once more, giving him a smile. “I will, thank you. You’ve done so much… Thank you, truly.”

Miguel crouches, grabbing the ointment container and closing it. “I’m looking out for you, just the way you looked after me,” he says, turning to look at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this, you know. So rest properly, so you’ll be back to your usual self. Please.”

“I will… I am,” you reply, sounding like you’re making him a promise.

“Good, thank you,” he says, as if you’re doing him a great favor by resting and getting better.

“You should rest, too.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’ve been - looking after me all day. You’re probably tired, too.”

“I’m good,” Miguel reassures you. “Not tired at all. Promise.”

“Alright… will you at least sit down?”

Miguel smirks softly. “That I can do,” he says before he settles on the couch across from you once more. “TV?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

With a soft smile, Miguel asks what you want to watch before you both decide on something, settling for a movie. You spend the rest of the evening in the living room together, Miguel watching over you like a loyal knight to his queen, both when you’re awake and when you doze off due to the medicines’ effects.

He makes sure you have everything you need and even notices when your face shows signs of discomfort, your hand pressed to your tummy.

“Is your stomach hurting?” Miguel asks, worried that your cold is turning into something else.

Noticing his concern, you ease his worries by telling him the truth. “It’s my period. It’s coming up soon, probably a few days. Or even tomorrow,” you say, trying to remember what day it is. With running into Harry and then your lunch with him, and now sick, you can’t even remember. “It’s cramps. They’re not bad, thankfully.”

Miguel almost scoffs. They’re not “bad” and yet, your face shows clear discomfort. “I can make you another tea - canelita.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll just take some medicine in a bit,” you reassure him before you ask him a question about the movie, distracting him from the topic for the rest of the night, or so you think.

-♥︎-

The next morning you wake up without an alarm. Miguel and you decided last night to take off today again, for your sake, and yet, you’ve waken up just past 7:30 by the need to use the bathroom.

There, you’re met with the lovely (not) news that your period has begun.

“Yay,” you say, grumpily. “Sick and now on my period.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back in bed with brushed teeth and different clothes on. You fall asleep again for some time. Only waking up when you hear Miguel’s gentle voice, coaxing you from your sleep.

You blink softly, your gaze finding his warm gaze and sweet face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, gazing back at you. He notices you look better today, back to yourself.

“Better,” you reply in a whisper, eyes fluttering for a few seconds to blink the sleep away.

“I’m relieved to hear that,” he says, crouching next to the bed. “How are you feeling… your period?” he asks softly, worried you’re feeling unwell from it. Last night you may have succeeded in changing the topic but not in erasing the worry and thought from Miguel’s mind. It reminded him of the first time he went to your apartment, how unwell you were. You haven’t missed any days at HQ because of your period since then, he knows that. Ever since that time, you’ve added more self-care steps to your period routine but Miguel hasn’t forgotten how unwell you were.

Over the months, he’s silently, and discreetly, made sure you don’t push yourself too much when he guesses you’re on your period. Thankfully, the new things you’ve been doing has helped you a lot, which include drinking canelita ever since he made it for you the first time. Either way, Miguel still tries his best to figure out if you’re pushing yourself too much because he worries about you.

“You don’t have to tell me… I just - you’re okay?” Miguel adds.

“Yes, I- I started today. I’m feeling alright right now. No cramps, or headaches,” you share, feeling comfortable to talk about your period with Miguel.

He seems relieved to hear that. “Good, I’m glad.” He sighs softly. “I bought you medicine either way, if you’re interested.”

You sit up slowly, fixing the covers. His blanket is sprawled over your bed and you’re still wearing the sweatshirt, the one he gave you last night. “You did? When?” you say, shifting slightly and patting the edge of the mattress, offering Miguel a seat.

He stands up and sits, keeping some distance to avoid disrupting how comfortable you look on the bed right now. “After you went to sleep last night, I ordered some. I got it delivered this morning,” he replies. “I figured I could help and offer you another option just in case what you’re taking now is not working. Plus, I remembered that medicine from this universe might be more effective than what you’re taking from your universe.”

“You think so?” you ask, looking hopeful.

Miguel smiles, his gaze softening because of your face. “I think so. Lyla has done some research and comparisons. Medicines are more effective in some universes than others, from prescriptions for colds to menstruation pain, even birth control pills. Apparently this universe is one of them, so this menstruation medicine might be better than yours.” Miguel pulls out a box from his pocket and offers it to you, the package sealed. “So, if you want, try this out. See if it works better. If it does, I can buy it, or if you’d prefer, I can have the infirmary supply it to you, whatever you wish to do. If you’d like to try another prescription in the future, just let me know, too, and we can look for an alternative,” Miguel offers as he watches you look at the box with hope.

“I’m going to give it a try if the need arises, thank you,” you tell him softly, looking up at him with a smile. “If it does, I’ll definitely be asking you or the infirmary to supply it to me. I’ve been trying new ones but they seem to stop being efficient after some time, so I’m hopeful about this one. Thank you so much, Miguel.” You gaze at him happily, feeling hopeful about this medicine. You’ve been using a different kind ever since the day Miguel showed up to your apartment, realizing the former one only seemed to make you drowsy and since then, you’ve been trying out new ones, hoping to find something more stable. You have hope this new medication will help after what Miguel said.

“Always,” Miguel replies, returning the smile. “Just let me know what you want to do, okay? I’ll happily do either. Do you want breakfast yet?”

You place the medication on the nightstand, considering Miguel’s question for a few seconds before realizing your stomach feels empty. It’s as if the moment he brought up food, your body recognizes it’s hungry.

“I myself, do,” Miguel says. “My stomach feels empty. I didn’t eat anything else after the chicken soup.” He pats his stomach, a bit of a frown on his face. “And neither did you,” he adds.

You chuckle. “So does mine, so I could definitely go for breakfast,” you reply. “What are we making?”

“I’m making something I’m certain you’ll like.”

You grin, hearing him emphasize that it’s him that’ll be doing the cooking. “Alright, alright. I’ll just…”

“Sit on the counter and give me cooking advice,” Miguel says, remembering the first time you cooked for him here at the penthouse when he was injured in the spring. He wanted to help you make food but you declined and told him he could offer conversation and advice, but no physical help considering his injuries. Despite you being capable to use your arms and the rest of your body, Miguel refuses to let you do any kind of work. He wants you to keep resting so you’ll fully recover soon.

“I see how it is,” you reply, shaking your head slightly in amusement. “But I can do that… I have no choice.”

Miguel smiles and stands up from the bed. “You’re still recovering, so take it easy. I’ll wait for you downstairs, okay? I’m going to start on the coffee.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. I’m going to make the bed.”

He nods with a small smile and heads back downstairs, giving you your time to start your morning routine in peace. He’s relieved to see you feeling so much better this morning, even smiling and playing along with him. You’re almost back to your usual self, the way he likes to see you. If he could, Miguel would take away your sickness for himself. Hell, he’d take the period cramps, too, if it meant you wouldn’t experience pain and discomfort.

As Miguel starts on the coffee and waits for you to come downstairs, he wonders to himself for the first time why you got sick. He wonders if it was the rain, or maybe sleeping on the living room floor, even over the rug. Growing up, he was told that such thing can make someone sick among other things, like walking barefoot, or sleeping with wet hair. He was always warned by his Mexican mother about it but he brushed it off, even when he got sick after doing one of those very things he was warned about.

Miguel sighs softly. Maybe it was sleeping on the ground.

Then, he wonders if it was stress from your encounter with Harry Osborn, a thought that brings a frown to Miguel’s face. The encounter with Osborn left you tense and nervous, and he hated seeing you like that. He doesn’t like how Osborn caused you such stress and is now wanting to be back in your life after years of ghosting you when you needed someone after Peter’s death.

Miguel still doesn’t know what your decision on that is. He hasn’t asked, though he won’t deny he’s curious. At the end of the day, it’ll be your decision.

However, that doesn’t mean that Miguel will let go of the grudge he has for the man. Miguel can’t help it, knowing what Osborn did to you. It does more than upset him.

He clears his mind from Osborn when he hears you approaching the kitchen, deciding to not give a moment of his time to the man when you’re here with him. What matters right now, is you, so he carries on with breakfast.

Miguel gives you a cup of coffee and continues to cooks, filling the penthouse with lovely scents of food. You sit at the counter, drinking coffee and talking with him. At some point music starts playing, surprising both Miguel and you.

“Lyla,” he says, remembering. He hardly saw her yesterday since he stayed home and she was busy helping Jess at HQ.

Both of you wait for her to pop up but she doesn’t.

“I guess she’s busy,” you say softly when she doesn’t show up.

Miguel nods with a grin. “Seems like it. I’m sure she’ll make an appearance later today.”

The two of you continue on and have breakfast, with soft music playing in the background. You take your medicine afterwards, which prompts Miguel to ask you to go and lay down. Even when you offer to help clean the kitchen with him, he declines and gently asks you to rest.

So you do. Feeling better than you did the day before, you think about yesterday and everything Miguel did to help you get better, even pushing his own boundaries regarding physical touch. You softly touch the top of your nose, remembering the way he gently applied the ointment yesterday. That leads you to the fact that he applied some on your back, too. That seems surreal but it did happen.

You smile at the thought, thankful for Miguel, who eventually joins you in the living room where you both watch some TV for a while. He’s truly glad to see you in a better mood today, taking notice that you don’t seem as sleepy as yesterday and that your nose isn’t stuffy either. It seems that you’re recovering quickly, which makes Miguel feel relieved. He still feels some worry about your period, though, but he really hopes that the new medication will at least help lessened your symptoms if you experience any.

He watches you for a few seconds after taking a seat, noticing that you’re still wearing his sweatshirt. With looking after you and making sure you have everything you need, he suddenly remembers yesterday, when you told him in your sleepy state that you “like” and then “love” his scent. The thought brings a warmth to his cheeks.

Did you really mean it? Or, was it just words being said in such sleepy state? He almost wants to ask you now but he stops himself, thinking the topic might embarrass you, and maybe, you really didn’t mean them.

He shakes his head at himself, turning to look at the TV instead. You both watch it for a while and spend the morning together. You manage to stay awake all the way up until after lunch time when you excuse yourself to your room, telling Miguel you’re going to take a nap because the medicines prescribed by the doctor at HQ are making you sleepy.

A few hours later, you wake up to your name being called. Miguel is crouched next to you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. You’ve been sleeping for a few hours and he’s decided to finally wake you up to ask if you’re feeling unwell due to the cold, your period, or both.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly, trying not to startle you too much with his voice.

You nod and stretch your legs under the covers. “Mhm, I’m okay,” you reply sleepily, making Miguel smile softly. He ends up sitting on the floor, next to your bed, and leans back on the nightstand, his body covering most of it. He stays quiet for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling in silence, thinking about something while waiting for you to fully wake up. Ever since you’ve been sick, he’s had this on his mind but every time he’s about to really think about it, something interrupts his thoughts. He’s wondered about it before but he’s never asked about it. Part of the reason why he hasn’t asked is because the timing was not right. The other part, the main reason, is that Miguel didn’t want to know the answer.

He still doesn’t because if the answer is yes, Miguel knows that it will hurt him. The time has come though. With you being sick and Harry Osborn trying to come back into your life, Miguel finds that this is the best time to ask. Sensing that you’re fully awake now, Miguel decides to ask what’s been on his mind.

“Did you ever - get sick? Before joining the society?” Miguel asks, still staring at the ceiling. “Between Peter’s death and you joining the society?” he continues, quietly, softly.

On your side, facing him, you stare at the wall thinking about his question.

“Yes. I got a few colds here and there but nothing more serious like the flu, thankfully,” you reply a few seconds later after thinking about it, thinking of the few times it happened. “And then a few times because of my period.”

Miguel nods, gulping softly. He turns to face you, remembering when he went to your apartment the first time ever because you were unwell due to your menstruation. You were all alone in pain and discomfort. That was one time alone - one month in many years of solitude. He silently wonders for how many of them did you experience a similar situation? How many times did you lay alone on your bed in an empty apartment while the rest of the world went on about its day?

How many times did you lay half-unconscious, half-awake squirming in pain and clutching your stomach?

It kills Miguel to think about it.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, catching his attention. For several seconds, his eyes have a distant and pained look in them. “What’s wrong?”

“I”m sorry,” he whispers back, blinking and coming back to the present - to you.

“For what?”

Miguel sighs and looks away, leaning his head back. Eyes closed, he wonders if he should tell you.

“Miguel?” you whisper. “What is it? You look upset.”

Miguel’s head snaps back to face you, eyes open. “Not with you.” He shakes his head, making it clear he’s not upset because of you or at you. “Never with you, I’m sorry. I just - you being sick - I’ve thought about it before and now that I’m here to see it, it’s brought back thoughts - questions,” Miguel says in a whisper, eyes meeting yours.

“Questions… About what?” You prop yourself up with one arm, wondering what’s going on inside Miguel’s mind. Whatever it is, is bothering him deeply. You wonder if it has to do with his question about you being sick in the past while alone.

“It hurts me,” Miguel admits softly.

“What hurts?” you ask, brows knitted, concerned.

“To think about you, alone for so long all those years. Especially when I think about you feeling sick, with no one to care for you - to make sure you ate, someone to ease your discomfort. To think that you were on your own,” he whispers.

You inhale deeply, your heart’s strings pulled by how bothered Miguel is by this. It feels as if Miguel really is in pain.

“Don’t think about that, Miguel,” you tell him softly. “It’s in the past now. Those days are over.”

“But you shouldn’t have been alone. Someone should’ve been there with you.”

“It was my fault. I pushed everyone away after Peter died.”

“No,” Miguel says, shaking his head. His tone is somewhat stern. “None of your friends should’ve ever accepted you parting from them. They should’ve kept reaching out. Kept showing up to look for you - to make sure you were okay. You had just lost Peter - you shouldn’t have been alone,” Miguel insists, his voice gentle. “Harry… He should’ve been there for you, especially.”

Surprise rushes to you. You weren’t expecting Miguel to talk about this, for this to be what’s been bothering him so deeply, as if it pains him in a physical way. “I was going to cut ties with him, too,” you reply, trying to lessen his hurt by stating a truth. “I was planning on it.”

“Planning,” Miguel states. “But you didn’t. Maybe you would’ve gone through with it but you didn’t actually do it because he disappeared before you could. He just - left you,” he says softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Ever since he learned about Harry Osborn and the fact that he abandoned you right after Peter’s funeral, it’s been impossible for Miguel to not hold a grudge against him but now, knowing that there were times when you were sick and alone, it only makes that grudge grow. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were alone all those years, with no one to look after you.”

“You have no reason to apologize. You didn’t do anything,” you reply gently, wishing that you could lay a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“No one deserves to be alone,” Miguel says.

You slowly sit up when he says that. “No, no one does. Including you,” you say softly, remembering the time Miguel told you he used to think he was meant to be alone, to live a lonely life.

Miguel’s gaze softens. He nods. “Including me.”

Smiling, you pull the covers higher as Miguel watches you. He returns the smile, feeling some calmness despite his negative emotions about this topic.

“I’m sorry if I’m… Overstepping.”

“You’re not,” you respond, gently.

He gives you a nod. “I just - I hate thinking about it. I wish…” Miguel trails off. “I wish you hadn’t been alone for so many years. If I,” Miguel pauses. “If I was there… I would’ve never left you alone. I would’ve gone to your place, every day, and knocked on your door until you opened up.”

You smile softly, your eyes slowly filling up with tears because of Miguel’s words. You blink them away, trying not to cry in front of him. With a sigh, you nod.

“I have no doubt you would’ve,” you tell him, believing this in your heart.

Miguel smiles, his own eyes glistening while thinking about the past. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, sincerely.

You shake your head, sniffling a bit. “Don’t be, Miguel. In the past, I’ve wished I had been here sooner, that I could’ve been here for you when you needed someone, too. Even if you pushed me away, I would’ve kept trying, the same way I did when I first started organizing the lab for you. Knowing what I know now about your life, I’ve wished for that many times. Too many,” you admit. “But you know what? I’m just thankful we’re in each other’s lives now. I wish it had been sooner but the fact that we’re even here now, that makes feel so grateful.”

You sniffle softly, thinking about your past.

“Those years I spent on my own… They’re in the past. Behind me. And although there were many lonely days and nights - days that I can’t even remember anymore because they all blended into one - it makes me appreciate the now so much more. I’m thankful for our friends, the spider gang. This,” you say gesturing to Miguel and yourself. “I’m so - so thankful for it. For all of it. For you,” you answer softly, smiling sweetly at Miguel despite your eyes threatening to spill your tears.

Miguel smiles again and leans forward. He reaches with his hand, placing it on top of the bed. He offers his pinky finger, which you notice immediately. You smile warmly at the offer and take it, wrapping your own pinky around his. Gently, you give it a squeeze, one Miguel returns.

His feelings of hurt regarding this conversation have calmed more. A part of him will always wish he had met you earlier, that he had found you sooner so you could’ve been in his life earlier, but your words and smile - your sweetness - replaces his hurt with pure ternura [endearment], so much the next words simply spilled from his mouth like stardust.

“I’m grateful for you, too, dulzura [sweetness],” Miguel whispers, still smiling. “I have been, for a long time now.”

You stare at each other, smiling, your chests stirring with affection, appreciation, and love. For several minutes, you simply enjoy the moment of such vulnerability with Miguel, calming each other.

You think about the little nickname Miguel gave you. Despite all the feelings you’re experiencing right now, that doesn’t mean you missed that part. You chuckle, still holding his pinky finger.

“Does this mean I can call you ‘Miggle?’” you ask.

Miguel rolls his eyes, playfully, of course. “Only when we’re alone. The spider gang would have a field day with that nickname. Peter B. especially,” he says gently.

You snort softly. “Fair enough.”

Miguel stares at your joined pinky fingers. “You may call me something else.”

Humming softly, you give Miguel’s pinky finger a hug with your own, smiling. “I’m going to think about it, then.”

“I look forward to hearing your ideas,” Miguel replies, amused.

You stare at the wall, beginning to think of a nickname you’d like to give Miguel.

Mig.

Migs.

Miggy.

Fangs.

You feel a cramp in your stomach, interrupting your thoughts. With your free hand, you press your stomach slightly, something that catches Miguel’s attention.

“Does your tummy hurt?” he asks, worried.

“Just a cramp,” you reply. “I’m going to take some of the medicine you gave me.”

He nods. “I can get you a heating pad. I have one.”

“I have… the socks with rice.”

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise. “The ones I made you?” he asks. “From back then?”

You nod, looking away, embarrassed. “Uh, yes, they’re quite efficient, so I… Kept them. They’re in the dresser,” you say nodding at them.

He turns to look, still surprised, only to find them laying next to a clean stack of clothes. He didn’t notice them before until now. He nods after a few seconds, gently squeezing your pinky finger. He doesn’t want to let go, even if he doesn’t voice that, but he also wants to look after you.

“How about I make dinner and then you take the medication? I’ll heat up the rice socks for you, if that’s what you want to use.”

You nod after a few seconds. “I like that plan, but I can help-”

“By resting,” Miguel finishes, somehow standing up without letting go of your pinky finger. “I got it. You rest, alright?”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh, still not used to someone looking after you like this after so long.

“Good. I’ll cook and you can rest. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.” Miguel stares at your joined fingers once again. He frowns for a second before squeezing your finger one last time for today.

You understand, so you squeeze back before letting go. “I’m going to take a shower while you cook. A hot shower always helps me.”

He nods, smiling softly. “If that helps, then go ahead and take your time. We have unlimited hot water.”

“Trust me, I know,” you say standing up at last from the bed. “I’ve become quite spoiled with the shower here, I feel like I forgot what my shower even looks like.”

Miguel chuckles despite the fact that he remembers that soon you’ll be returning to your universe. Your building will be livable once again and you’ll be gone. He fights the urge to tell you that you can come use the shower whenever you wish to. That you can use all the hot water.

That you can stay here longer, even if your building is ready.

But Miguel doesn’t.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” he asks, personally feeling that it hasn’t. Weeks have gone by, but for Miguel, it feels like you moved in just yesterday. “You just got here.”

You laugh softly as you grab something you’ll need for your shower. “It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Miguel nods. Always. “Yes, sometimes,” he replies instead, looking away from you and around the bedroom. It looks so homey, so cozy. So you. He wishes the bedroom would look like this for longer. He sighs quietly, shaking his head as you gather what you need. He needs to let it go. He clears his throat. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen, alright? Take your time with the shower, no rush.”

You nod with a smile. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs shortly.”

Miguel gives you a little nod and smile, wondering what you’d think about his thoughts. If only he voiced them. He finally steps out of the bedroom and leaves you to get ready for your shower, pushing his thoughts aside and focusing on cooking dinner and making you feel better, even though his mind is whirling with thoughts about you moving back to your universe, about your expressed gratitude for him, his nickname for you, which slipped from his mouth without a thought, and of your joined pinkies.

Two hours later, you lay on the couch. You’re in clean pajamas, wrapped up in Miguel’s blanket. You’re still wearing his sweatshirt, something that pleases Miguel for some reason. The socks with rice are under your clothes, pressed to your tummy. As soon as you came downstairs after your shower, he heated them up for you since he remembered to get them while you were showering.

You also took your medication for your cold and the new medicine Miguel got you for your period, which seems to have helped with the cramping.

And of course, Miguel made canelita for you. Your empty cup is now on the coffee table thanks to Miguel, who noticed you falling asleep still holding on to it.

As you sleep, Miguel sits across from you. The TV is on since you both decided to watch the telenovela again but you fell asleep halfway through it, which is no surprise to him due to the medication, and the fact that you got hit with a cold and your period at once. Definitely too much in a few days.

Miguel sighs softly. At least you’re feeling better. The worse of the cold is over now, at least it seems so, and you have new medicine for your period, so hopefully it’ll be better this month.

“She’s sleeping?”

Miguel blinks in surprise, finding Lyla over you. “Yes,” he says softly.

Lyla nods, watching you. “She always looks very peaceful in her sleep.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow but nods. “She does.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Miguel replies.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“Why?”

Lyla snorts and disappears for a second before appearing over the coffee table. “You fall asleep on the couch sometimes, especially recently.”

“Okay, and?”

“I’m just saying.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, not annoyed but just wondering why Lyla is even bringing that up. “How are things at HQ?” he asks.

“Good. Everything is running just fine. Don’t worry.” Lyla stares off to the side, arms crossed over her chest now. “I learned about a theory the other day.”

“What’s the theory?” he asks.

“Humans sleep better when people they love are around. Sometimes even small things that remind the human of their loved ones help, like the sight of their jewelry, or the smell of their perfume…”

Miguel hums. “That’s interesting. What piqued your interest in that?”

Lyla shrugs. “Nothing, just came across the article. Interesting stuff,” she says looking at Miguel and then at your sleeping form. “Well, I’m glad to see she’s doing well.”

“She is. She was better today. I’m sure the worst is over now,” Miguel says, his tone one of relief.

“I’m glad,” she says, turning to face Miguel again. “Well… I’m going back to HQ. I have some stuff to do.”

Miguel turns to her, nodding. “Okay, that’s alright. Thank you.”

Lyla smiles and nods. “You got it, boss. Take care of Y/N.”

“I will,” he says before Lyla gives him a peace sign and disappears.

He turns to look at you, finding your sleeping face. You truly do look so peaceful when you sleep.

“Always.”

A/N: MIGUEL GAVE US A NICKNAME!!!!! Sorry for screaming but - it was necessary!! You guys... Miguel... 🥺😭 HE WAS SO SWEET AND TENDER AND JSJIDJ why is he not real??? I want to marry him. AND WHEN HE TOUCHED OUR CHIN ??? AND APPLIED VAPORUB ON OUR BACKS AND NOSE????!!!! (Not me screaming about my own fic) Miguel really said f them physical contact boundaries today 😌 for real!!

I really hope you guys enjoyed this update!! Thank you for the support as always, guys 🥺 it really does mean a lot to me!! THANK YOU!!!!

-Alondra ❤️

Also, this was Miguel fr but with a smile and tenderness because it's reader obviously:

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

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lovemaiyo · 8 months

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lovesick . romance tropes with blue lock . (full length fics coming up soon!!) .

" hey nana, no matter how much or how often people hurt each other, loving someone is never a waste .

ISAGI childhood friends to lovers & in the rain you always admired isagi. every since the age of 7, he had been obsessed with football. it was really rare to find a passion and ambition like his. and he was so nice to you! and cute.. and hot.. and driven.. and- okay, you liked him. like, a lot. but he was in love with someone.. something else. football. it was what he lived for. but you were next, really. isagi would come to you with stories, ideas, and just about anything. and you would listen religiously, because that was the only thing you could do to keep your heart from bursting. these habits, and your 10 year crush, carried on until high school. you were neighbors, so you always walked with him to school and back. it looks like someone forgot to read the weather report today, because it's rainy with a chance of a confession. "you like me? i like you too. you're my best friend!" "yoichi. i like you. like, like like. like love." "i love you too!" ".. yoichi isagi. it's been 3652 days since i've liked you." "oh. that kind of like."

RIN enemies to lovers & academic rivals to lovers you hated itoshi rin. you HATED him. you hated how he always acted all high and mighty and thought everyone was below him and called everyone that didn't fit his high ass standards "lukewarm." you hated how your name was always second to "itoshi rin." in every exam, in every lesson. you hated him and he hated you right back (or you thought) though, that didn't really explain why he was standing in front of you with a heart shaped box, eyes wandering across the room, one hand scratching his neck bashfully, with a little bit of blush on his cheeks. your jaw almost dropped. yeah, you hated itoshi rin, but was he always this pretty? his eyes were spotify green cerulean, and his hair framed his face perfectly. now, up close, you noticed that his eyes weren't blue ー they were teal. his jawline was sharp. was it bad that you wanted to kiss it? was it bad that you wanted to kiss him? "HUH?????? I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME?" wow, excellent thing to say to your crush!!! woooo!!! you dumb bitch.. "hated you? uh.. i never really hated you.." "oh..." "yeah.." silence.

CHIGIRI stuck in a elevator & hot neighbor

wow, moving was the best decision you ever made. the rent was way lower, the community was friendly, and your neighbor was, well.. hot. hot as fuck. he was tall, with long and silky red hair, and the prettiest pink eyes. and he was really nice. cookies on the day you moved in, frequent hi's and hello's, and he even invited you for dinner some day! no doubt, you were head over heels. and how could you not be? he made one hell of a pasta. so, would it be considered good, or bad that you're currently stuck in an elevator with him? you were going out to meet some friends, you so did your makeup and everything. he just got back from the gym. god, he was really eye candy. "you look nice. who're you all dolled up for?" "just some friends. you?" "got back from the gym." "so.." "hm?" and then there was a crash. ".." ".." "holy shit. what was that."

KUNIGAMI best friend's older brother & protecting you

ever since you were eight, still watching icarly on the tv and dressing up dolls with your best friend, you had been MADLY smitten with her older brother. honestly, who wouldn't be? he was so nice, treated you with utmost care even when you were younger then him. he never lost his calm, he was always kind, and... he was extremely handsome. you always chased after him, but he always just thought you were his little sister's best friend. naturally, you enrolled in the same college as him. you were only a year younger, and with the mindset that kunigami only liked smart girls, you got into college with amazing grades. so why was it, that every time you tried to dress up all cute for him, he barely paid attention. it wasn't like you were in the same friend group, but really? just a occasional 'wow, those clothes suit you.' and a smile? how dense was this guy? and on top of that, you always attracted unwanted attention. "hey, girl, let's go out." ".. no." "why not? listen, i have a lot of girls chasing me, and i chose you. you must be honored." "i have a boyfriend.." "sure you do. listen, just give it up." he moved his arms towards you. "no means no." a familiar voice said, grabbing that creepy guy's hands. "and who're you?" ".. her boyfriend."

REO fake dating

the silence was deafening. "what. did you just say?" "i said, date me. for 2 weeks, fake date me. just to get my parents off my back." .. is he being for real? you knew mikage reo since you were 5. your parents and his parents were business partners, so you saw each other a lot. it was him, with his little purple bowlcut, at 5 years old, who excitedly took your hand and introduced himself. reo quickly became a close friend of yours - until he moved overseas for his little football trip or something. you hadn't seen him in years, yet he came back, knocked on your door, and made this crazy proposal. sure, he'd grown into a hot guy.. a little bit too hot. his fluffy purple hair framed his beautiful face perfectly, and his curious eyes looked at you, waiting for your answer. his lean and toned arms were visible from the black half sleeve he wore, and traces of a fully defined body were visible from under... maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea? "so? yes or no?"

NAGI sharing a room

going on a trip with your crush was the BEST thing that had ever happened to you. well, it was until about 10 minutes ago. reo, your mutual friend, decided to sponsor a trip for every one of his friends for reasons only god knows. you all met at the lobby of the expensive hotel he booked, and drew straws to see who'd get which room. reo, being the sore loser he was, (no reo hate i love reo) switched up the straws as soon as he got the shorter one. so, just your luck, right? getting stuck with your crush, nagi seishirou, in one room. you're so gonna kill reo when you get out of this. "uhh, i can take the floor?" you offered. "okay. take it then." he said, plainly. your eye twitched at his pettiness. ".. nevermind!! i'm taking the bed." "hey." he frowned "we flip a coin.. i'm heads." actually, your luck was sort of good. it landed on tails! "this thing is rigged..." he grumbled while getting ready to sleep on the floor. which somehow included taking off his grey sweatshirt, to reveal abs and a body like a greek god.. wait, why were you even staring?? "soo... uh.. do you always take off your shirt before going to bed?"

lovemaiyo 2023. do not steal.

#🍓 penned by mai #isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #chigiri x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader #hyouma chigiri x reader #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #seishirou nagi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader

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darylbrainrot · 4 months

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CHAPTER 01: WIP

AIYGIWGWY || GOJO X READER

How would you—a part time guitarist and streamer, react when an upcoming streamer known as gojo admitted to liking your music and streams?

As he sat down on his chair with it dipping with his added weight, he reached to his PC to start it up. He was about 20 minutes early to stream so he had to get his streaming apps ready. He wanted to keep this stream chill, he was probably some background music playing to make his stream calming (as calming as possible with his screams from playing fortnite.) As he made the sudden decision to play music on his stream, he opened Spotify as soon as his computer turned on.

He opened one of his designated playlists for streaming, some relaxing music ranging from different artists. He made sure this playlist wasn't going to get him flagged on his Twitch, something he didn't want to happen again.

He finally had his necessities opened, his discord and Spotify opened on his first monitor, his Twitch ready to stream on his third monitor, and finally his main monitor with his game loading up. When he looked at the time, he had around 6 minutes to spare before starting up his stream. With his extra time, he decided to go out of his room to his shared dorm with suguru to grab some snacks.

As he made his way to the shared kitchen, he just decided to grab a Gatorade and some random candies he had stored for when he was craving them. As he was going to retreat back to his room, he heard his fellow roommate's door open.

"Suguru, you should join my stream please." He said, dragging out the please for dramatic effect.

"Hell nah, ima go to sleep anyway." The black-haired man says with a blank stare, passing Satoru as he makes a b line towards the restroom.

"What the flip man." Sighing as he made it back to his room to start up his stream.

—————————

"BROO, no fucking way he got me. He literally only got me for 50 shield." He said, falling back in his chair as his 2nd place ranking got displayed on his screen. His hands now going through his face, raking through his white hair. The soft melodies of 'Cologne' by Beabadoobee fill the stream when he is quiet. The song finished up when one of your songs replaced the quietness, it was a cover you made of 'Paul' by Big Theif.

This is when his chat started flooding with new messages, ranging from questions asking him if he liked your music to how long he's been listening to you. As his arms finally fell from his hair, he looked at his chat when he saw the flood of new texts.

"I didn't know you listened to y/n's music... of course, I listen to their music, she's like one of my favorite artists." He said after reading some questions in his chat. Snickering at his chats surprised reaction, "I'm surprised some of you guys didn't know this, I follow them on twitter and on insta and I know some of you guys stalk my following and shit" He said as he was going back to the home screen of his game, deciding that it was enough of fortnite for him after playing around 10 rounds.

“Have you seen shes working on a new song? She posted about it on her twitter” he mumbled, reading one of the texts that caught his eye. “Yeah I saw her post, hopefully she posts a clip of her song. I know it’s gonna be good though.” He grins, exited that one of his favorite artist might release a song soon.

"Anyways, ima stopping the stream here, I'm done with fortnite for today. I might stream again in the weekend though, I'll tweet about it if I do." Waving at his face cam as he ended the stream, making sure to double-check it was off. He closed off any extra tabs he had open before shutting down his PC. Once he was finally done with his computer, he stood up and went to scroll on his phone on his bed, finally relieving the ache in his back due to his bad posture.

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this isnt proof read so lmk if theres any mistakes D:

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cinellieroll · 2 months

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☆ random obey me headcanons part 2!

asmodeus, levi and barbatos ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: some small nsfw on asmo's part :p

small note: thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! i never expected such a large majority of people to enjoy my content so it's very dear to me. once again, thank you!

☆ asmodeus:

- kinda bad at cooking. his way of slicing and dicing vegetables is very mediocre if not clumsy looking. there are days where his cooking is acceptable and days where it's to seasoned or too bland (always convinces himself its good tho and posts it on his devilgram)

- though he's kinda bad at cooking, his baking skills are okay! his favorite pastry to make are cookies because he can design them the most.

- "ofcourse mc! you'll always be the first one to try my desserts! unless you want to taste something else?~ ♡"

- he has a collection of sanrios, hironos and sonny angels in his room. ESPECIALLY sonny angels. crazy thing is he always gets them for free from his fans and its always the limited edition ones

- he really enjoys watching old movies from the human world especially the romcoms. mean girls, notting hill, pitch perfect. he will pester you to rewatch it with him even though you guys have seen it multiple times already.

- he keeps a small jewelry box in his room but instead of jewelry its full of pics of you and him and the gifts you give him. theres some pics in there where the other brothers were cut or crossed out so it'll be just you and him lmfao

- he is a yandere and i stand by this. it's not as obvious but if he's really into you he'll constantly mark you with his scent and the stuff he wears. he'll leave a hickey or a bite mark if you're lucky ;)

- the type of guy to only bring a purse to school. if you ask for a pencil the bitch is gonna open his bag and say "oopsie! i only brought my makeup pouch and mirror today. sorry babe!"

- has his own private concert in showers every goddamn day

- he'll either fangirl with you about celebrities or he'll get extremely jealous because you're simping for someone else.

☆ levi:

- sometimes his ass crack will be on display when he's sitting down on the floor

- wears booty shorts religiously. sometimes he'll casually just walk out his room wearing a hoodie and booty shorts with prints on it

- has a tumblr account where he posts a bunch of hc, drabbles and other shit and until now no one knows its him

- had an amino and discord phase where he always roleplayed with other people. till this day it haunts him at night

- he livestreams twice a week on twitch and has been scolded by lucifer on stream once. there was also a time where mammon barged in his room half naked and suddenly all the views went up 10x

- trolls on roblox like it's a 9 to 5 job

- every once in a while he'll stay in lucifers room while lucifer is doing paperwork. he'll just lay down on his bed, watch and play games and even fall asleep

- makes his own persona in every fandom he gets into and writes very detailed backstories (dw levi, same)

- only reads "x reader" fics for obvious reasons

- went insane because human world games and animes are better than the ones in devildom. dont get me started about aot. (his favorite is levi ackerman obvi)

☆ barbatos:

- wishes he could get piercings but since he's the demon prince's butler he obviously can't

- started tweakin when you said some humans keep rats and bugs as pets. like he stopped polishing some plates and looked at you like you just dog shitted diavolo's name

- really enjoys your spotify playlist filled with metalhead and grunge songs. he really likes slipknot

- likes to order those cute, fancy tea sets when he has the time. when you gifted him tea leaves and a limited edition teapot set his love for you sky rocketed.

- gets annoyed when solomon manspreads

- has a really good voice when he sings. he used to sing diavolo lullabies when his father would get angry at him

- scrolls through levi and mammon's post for educational purposes cuz he wants to learn slangs just incase diavolo asks him what a specific word means

- "barbatos, what does 'runnin from da opps' mean?"

- "my lord, 'runnin from da opps' is a slang made by the new generation. it means fleeing from your haters."

- loves to tailor and iron his bed sheets so he can have a peaceful rest after a long day of non stop errands.

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wolfchankki · 25 days

Note

I loved your Soobin fic 🤭 and I loved it so so much, and I thought I'd request smtn, idk about you but when I see Beomgyu I always think of him as a bratty bottom, so here's what I'm thinking:

・FemDom reader (Like femfem.. No one can tell she's the top.. I don't see enough of those type of doms iykwim)

The scenario would be that reader and Beomgyu are roommates, reader is more on the introverted side so she doesn't go out much unlike Beomgyu does, which makes him think “She's probably haven't sex before” so he'd tease her until one day reader is over it and puts him in his place!

For kinks I'd want to see some overstimulation, slight degradation (or praising degrades), pet names, maybe a mommy kink?, & toys (vibrators)

That's all from me for now 🤭

Hello babe, good? Thanks for the request! I’m sorry for taking so long to post, but today I finally had a day off, and I hope the little longer writing make up for my delay. You guys are going feral over bratty Beomgyu and I’m loving every moment of it so far JSHKSHKS, for sure I’ll try to engage a little of every kink you put here, and here we stand up for FemFemdoms!

Im sorry for any mistake, I’m writing it totally stressed out AND a little drunk

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────��─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bratty!Beomgyu x FemDom!Reader

overstimulation, degradation, pet names, mommy kink, toys (bullet and wand vibrator), a single face slap, hairpulling, no piv sex

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Sleepless” (aka my fav Dutch Melrose song)

Tired of him nagging your ears off for four hours straight, you put your headphones on, a chill Spotify playlist giving some peace for your overused hearing sense.

At least for fifteen minutes, before your roommate get bored and took them off of you.

Taking one heavy breath with closed eyes, you finally open them again, not fully ready for Beomgyu’s shit talking again.

“…But are you really still virgin?” Asked after straight four minutes of a monologue of “how people over 20 shouldn’t be virgins anymore”.

For fucks sake.

No, you’re not virgin, but what’s the problem if you were? You could be religious, or that could be just your choice. Why is he so bothered by the thought of you having or not sex?

“Not of your business, Choi, now let me sleep”.

“I can’t! I’m now sure that you’re a freaking virgin and you’re just ashamed to admit. How can you sleep knowing that you’re over 20 and still virgin?”

His logic just doesn’t make sense enough for you, so you just fix the hem of your purple dress with a huff. You put him after your bath since your pajamas are on the dryer.

“I know you’re tired, but listen: you never, never, hang out alone or with someone, you’re always occupied ever since I know you, so you can’t possibly had sex before. So, you’re virgin!”

“Yeah yeah, you figured out the biggest secret of my life, now let’s sleep, Beomgyu” your tired voice gave some chills to the boy’s spine, observing you undo the Dutch braid of your hair, your almost everyday hair style. You thought that just agree with him would save you a little mental sanity.

Oh girl, how wrong.

“Ha! You virgin!” he scoffed “Are you waiting for your prince?”

“Guess you want to be this prince, since you’re making it such a big deal” you answered, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe, it would be lovely to make such a damsel cry for my cock” even not looking at him, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

That was the last straw you needed.

Standing up in a hurry, you gave no time for him to make another joke before you slapped him across the face.

He looked at you, too shocked to speak, hand in his red cheek.

Your stinging hand runs to his hair, taking in a fistful of his overgrown locks.

“Listen to me, very very carefully, Beomgyu. Now, you’ll shut your dirty mouth and do exactly what I want, am I clear?”

At first, he was too shocked with the attitude to speak, so, as little reminder of his new position, you tighten the grip in his hair.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Surprised by his sudden politeness into calling you “ma’am”, you hum at his response. You forcefully make him lay on your own bed, leaving him there to make sure the door is locked.

He wanted to ask if you’re that desperate for losing your virginity as a tease, but he already knows better and kept his mouth shut for the first time.

“You’re unsufferable, Choi, I’m worn-out of it. You need to learn your place for now on, so, that’s how its going to work: first, I’m not going to have sex with you, bad dogs like you don’t deserve it, but you feel a little of what I could do with you if I really wanted to. If something gets too much, just say “red”, then I’ll stop, and if you’re feeling good to continue, say “green”. If you don’t say “red”, I’ll stop whenever I feel like it. Ill not tie you up for now, but if you fucking think about touching me, you’ll regret it.”

Dazed, Beomgyu just nods eagerly. Who’s desperate now?

“You’re just a dumb, desperate whore, Beomgyu, ill make it clear for you since you’re too stupid to realize it by yourself.”

He hated the way his cock throbbed in his pants.

“Sit properly” you demand, “and take off your clothes”.

A little troubled, he does what you want, wondering what you going to do.

While he takes his clothes off in no hurry, you went to your wardrobe and take some things from the last drawer. Beomgyu was shocked seeing the wand and the bullet vibrators in your hand.

“You…”

“It’s clean, don’t you worry about it.”

“I would ask if you… When you use it?” for the first time ever, you saw him blushing at his own question.

“You’re always not home, sometimes I need to relax” you answer as if it was nothing. He didn’t answer.

“Why ae you so quiet now, uh?” you tease “Not so cheeky anymore, Gyu?”

The simple nickname made shivers run down his spine. Good.

Is something hard to explain, the sensation of knowing that you’re the one in charge now, also acknowledging that the whole time, you’ll be fully clothed, while he’s all exposed to you. Is something powerful, this kind of dominance.

“Are you okay? Use your words, Beomgyu” is always good to check up on the subbing one, know if they’re mentally prepared to continue the scene, you know it well.

“Yes, ma’am”.

“You know why I am doing it?’’ you asked, walking towards his naked self, sat in the middle of the bed”

Beomgyu didn’t answered, looking away, making you chuckle.

“Soon you’ll know.”

You pretty dress moves with your body while you sit in bed next to him, exposing your tights a little more, drawing his attention towards them.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Very much, actually.”

Here’s the cheeky tone again.

“Lay on your back. I want you to lay your head on top of your hands, arms up.”

This time, he takes a little more time to react to your words, but you let him take his time without pushing too much further, knowing that everything of it is new to him.

He finally obeys, laying on the bed just the way you wanted, looking at the ceiling.

“Not so brave anymore, bitch?”

He huffs, you ignore.

Looking down, you could see his half hard member.

“Is my dumb whore enjoying it? Enjoying being called this dirty things, uh?”

Your fingertips run along his thigh softly and you observe him chilling and his cock twitching. He closed his eyes with a deep breath. You take advantage of it and take the wand vibrator in your hand, turning it on in the lowest setting at the base of his dick.

He let out a strangled, surprised moan, his hands already flying towards you arm for support, but he remembered your threat, putting his hands back to place.

The game was just starting.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Mo-mommy, please!”

His fucked-out expression made you hum, holding one of his trembling thighs in a heavy grip, your nails digging a little in his skin while the bullet made his way to his tip after his first orgasm.

“Mommy? What is it now, uh?” you chuckle “Didn’t new you like it, Beomgyu… But mommy will make you feel good again and again, wasn’t it what you wanted? Mommy’s attention, slut?”

That was when his sobbing started, already feeling overstimulated from just one orgasm. With your iron grip – that he was surprised that you even had the strength to hold him in place – didn’t let him close his leg, making the sensations stronger. He never stimulated himself after the orgasm, and the feeling hit him hard.

“Color, Beomgyu?”

He hated to admit, but the agonizing sensation was making he feel good in some way, and know that the moment he wasn’t feeling well you will stop, made it even more pleasurable for him.

“Green! Green, mommy, ma-make me cum, pleasepleaseple-ah! Please!” You chuckle at his hurry, caressing his thigh.

“Y’know, I shouldn’t let you, you were so, so bad earlier, pup… maybe I don’t let you cum again at all and just stop here…” Being unfair, you turned on again the wand vibrator in a little higher setting at the base of his dick, not taking off the bullet in his tip, making him squirm, moaning louder that you imagine that he would.

“M'sorry! Sorry, mommy, m’sorry!”

“Are you? Are you really sorry, or you’re just a desperate whore to cum?”

“M’really sorry, I-I swear, m’mmy!”

You could tell that he was using all his self-control to not cum without your permission, and fighting the urge to move his hands from their place he so obediently let them.

“Then you can cum, Choi.” You almost don’t finish your words when he came with a scream, barely nothing coming out, his body having strong goosebumps and spasms.

But you just took away the bullet.

He cried, and you straddled his thighs, not letting him move.

“Just one more and we’re done, can you do it for mommy, puppy?”

You observe the fat tears running down his pink cheeks, smiling to yourself, he was so pretty fucked out like this.

“What’s your color, Gyu? Speak to mommy”.

Taking away the vibrator to let him talk, he takes some deep breaths.

“I… I-I think I can, mommy… Green.”

“That’s a good boy! Let me know if gets too much”.

You put the vibrator almost in the highest setting, again finding its way to his dick.

He sobs and bucks his hips hardly but couldn’t do much since you’re pretty comfortable siting in his thighs. He could feel your soaked cunt through your panties in one of his thighs but couldn’t do anything about it with his hands below his head, trying to obey you. He tried to focus on your pretty hair contouring your face and the strap of your dress slipping off your shoulder, an image that he will never forget.

“I’ll ask again; why am I doing it, Beomgyu?”

“I-I was- humph! I was bad to you, mo-mommy!”

“Right! You were very bad and nosy, Gyu, but is okay, mommy will teach you how to behave properly. What do we say when someone does something good for us, Beomgyu?”

The buzz of the vibrator was inebriating both your senses.

“Thanks, thanks for making me le-learn, mommy, thank you, I’m sorry!”

“What a good boy, already learning! You can come when you’re ready, baby, so good for mommy…”

Not a moment after, Beomgyu came, nothing coming out his slit, just spasming uncontrollably below you, tears streaming nonstop from his closed eyes, sobs and hiccups coming out his beautiful shaped mouth. You turn off the tool immediately and get off his thighs, shushing him.

“There there, baby, you did so good for me, so good for your mommy, I’m proud of you, bae.”

You run your fingers in his damp hair, comforting him after what he would say later as the strongest orgasms he had ever had.

“M’sorry, mommy…”

He says after a while with you calming him down.

“I know baby, is okay, mommy is not mad anymore, you did so well for me.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Can I eat you out?”

He sounds so sudden and innocently shameless, that you had to laugh.

“Not today, baby, I’m good.”

“But, mommy, please-“ he was ready to whine about it, but you cut him off.

“No, Beomgyu. Want mommy to scold you again?” he pouted and shook his head “So, listen to me. I’m tired, and I can bet you’re exhausted. Maybe another time. Just a minute, babe” you rolled your eyes playfully when he whined again when you get out of the bed to take some wipes to clean him.

You clean his chest, lower belly and, of course, his cock. He hisses, but you were fast, so he didn’t complain a lot.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?”

He nods with a small smile while you walk away, looking you up and down. He loves this dress.

When you came back, he was already fast asleep in your bed with his mouth slightly open, drained out of energy. You chuckle to yourself. Maybe he never learns, but its alright, you’ll always remind him his place.

#sub!txt #txt #sub!idol #txt drabbles #sub!beomgyu #dom!reader #request #fem!reader #fanfic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines

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spliffymae · 1 year

Text

musicproducer!connie…

kio’s notes - some sfw headcanons inspired by this connie fic i read on wp a while back. it was my first connie fic and the start of this connie brain rot. i wish it was still up 🤧 shit was soooo good!

also inspired by @chrollohearttags rockstar!eren series and @privateparty3 rapper!connie

also check this

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✺ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

now let me say this,

connie mfn springer had a golden ear!

he could make a song out of anything, truth be told. his abuela used to tell him he was blessed with “god’s gift.” yeah, he had a voice as soothing and smooth as velvet. but put it over a track with a piano medley and some soft beats, oh baby! the man had a voice that made the greek muses swoon.

musicproducer!connie had a couple of his own songs out on streaming platforms. he mostly used spotify and apple music for his official music, and soundcloud for official music or for quick ideas he wanted his followers to hear. he loved singing, but not as much as he loved to create. producing was where connie truly felt he belonged. he couldn’t count the number of times he’s fallen asleep at his desk, drooling on his piano keys because he pulled an all nighter to finish a song because he got a sound stuck in his head and just needed to bring it to life.

(honorable mentions to the times he hears songs not by him and thinks “i can make this better” and just completely changed the entire vibe of the song)

but musicproducer!connie loved sounds. everything and anything had potential to be a song. whether it be the crunching of the fall leaves under his boot, or the bounce of the basketball he dribbled in his backyard court, or even the sound of his car’s indicator—connie found music in any sound.

if you asked musicproducer!connie what he couldn’t live without, he would describe to you in detail his music setup. his laptop, the hard drive with all his songs, his drum pad, his bass guitar, his red beats headphones, the software he uses…he would go on forever!

musicproducer!connie would be the genius behind his friends’ music as well. they would come to him either with a chopped up idea of what they wanted or sometimes come to him empty handed with nothing but a hope. either way, connie would be sitting in his home studio with his friends, working on a song. he loved helping them, so he looked at it as great bonding time too.

musicproducer!connie was also quite big on social media. he had a following of 700k on instagram and over a million listeners across his streaming services. he also had a twitch, where he would post at least twice a week, one of those times being him making instrumentals from scratch with his viewers watching and helping. he loved to interact with his followers. knowing there were people out there who connected with his music on a deep level made him so happy. hell, the first single he dropped he was kicking his feet at all the supportive feedback he was getting.

musicproducer!connie even did shows here and there! they would be house shows, with maybe 1000 people at least. he would sing some of his hits, but would mainly be the dj, working the booth for his friends. he always and only performed with his friends.

honestly, music was everything to connie and then some. it was his passion. it was what made him who he is. but most of all, it was something he always did with you.

yessir! musicproducer!connie would be telling a lie if he said he became the artist he is today on his own. if it weren’t for you, he probably would’ve quit a long time ago, when his sophomore project didn’t receive as much hype/attention as his debut.

you were always his biggest fan, though. you would use your social media following to promote his work, much to connie’s joy. what he loved more than sharing his music was you sharing it, because in turn you would be showcasing the relationship between you and connie to your hundreds of thousands of followers.

like those times he would be sitting on the floor of his living room, creating a song on his laptop. you would be behind him, sitting between the couch and him with the side of your face pressed against his back. he would be in his own world with his headphones on, you would be busy on your phone, and yet connie felt it was one of the best ways to spend time with you.

your glossy lips would be in a faint pout as you recorded yourself, stretching your arm up and out to show connie’s entire back, this tan freckled skin showcasing the tense of his muscles whenever he would reach for his pen to scribble away notes in his notebook.

you would simply post the video to your snapchat, captioning it “1/2 of us is in their creative bag rn”. you would follow up that snap with another short video, this time it being you leaving small kisses along the expanse of connie’s back. because of your gloss the lip prints were visible and you would smile mischievously.

musicproducer!connie loved you. he loved to have you near him. so when he would go on these red carpet events with his friends, you would be at his side, the two of you dressed beautifully as you smiled for the cameras. connie would make it his mission to have you flustered the whole night, giving you soft neck kisses and whispering both sweet and naughty things in your ear while he held you close. like,

“you look so beautiful tonight, i’m so lucky to have you, mi cielita.”

“i can’t wait to take this off of you, baby.. give you the proper attention you deserve.”

“been missing my lil’ songbird so much.” he would just miss the shell of your ear with his teeth, looking down at you with his eyes droopy with lust. “have you missed me, baby?”

“of course, baby. but the show ain’t even start yet.” you said with a squeal, already feeling the blood rush straight to your cheeks. there was no doubt the cameras caught that. if they somehow didn’t, then they sure must’ve captured the lovestruck look connie gave you whenever his eyes would fall on you.

“i can’t help it, mami. just love having you.” he would mumble, giving you the softest of pecks as to not mess up your lipstick.

musicproducer!connie was in deep when it came to you. and if it wasn’t obvious by the way he showered you with physical affection, then it must be from the way he had you as his producer tag, the five second audio starting with you giggling, then in your best ‘smooth r&b’ voice, saying “issa connie springer production.” connie remembers the first project he used that on—a joint lover’s ep onyankopon wanted him on. til this day, how many years later, every time a song from the ep comes on, your cheeks get hot and body all tingly at the flustered feeling that overwhelms you. it was your first time ever being on a record

musicproducer!connie used you for a lot of his songs, it was mainly on the background vocals of different projects he would do. but he also used you as inspiration. he moonlighted as a songwriter, mainly helping other artists with filler lyrics or strengthening what they already have. it would be rare connie was asked to write a song start to finish, but whenever he did, he found he was thinking back to your relationship. both good and bad times, just thinking of you filled him with enough inspiration to create several masterpieces.

yeah, musicproducer!connie loves you. he has what seems to be an endless amount of ways to express his love to you. but if all else fails, he knows his music will do it’s job every. damn. time.

#ﾟ aot╤╤｡ 𖠋 #🌞🍃spliffymae #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie springer x blackfemreader #connie aot #music producer connie #connie attack on titan #fluff #im most def making this a series

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gretavangroupie · 7 months

Text

Valor - (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Jake x Reader, Daniel x Reader

Word Count: 17.1k

Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Cheating, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Mentions of Death, Allusions to Suicide, Allusions to Shady Activities. Smut: Kissing, Allusions to Sex.

Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

You could hardly see out the back window, your entire life piled up to the roof of the car. You were thankful on days like today, that you had a car big enough to fit it all. Your every worldly possession, reduced down to a handful of boxes and trash bags, now occupying your backseat. You shifted into reverse and turned your body to look out the back window of your old ‘73 Scout. Your eyes peeked through the visible sliver of the rear window, but not before catching sight of the dress you were slated to wear just 3 months from now. That, however, was the reason you were packed into this car in the first place.

‘Go ahead and try to leave. You’ll be back when you realize I’m as good as it gets for you.’ his words still echoing through your head as if they were being played through a loudspeaker. ‘You need me. You have nothing without me. You’ll never make it on your own.’ And that’s exactly what he wanted you to believe. He’d told you that so often you wondered if it was himself he was trying to convince instead of you.

You were set to marry Peter the second week of July. The plans were made, invitations sent. But as you stopped by his office to deliver his plate lunch, what you’d walked in on was not the scene of a man ready to be greeted by his soon to be wife. No, it was a very different scene, straight from one of those Playboy magazines you could buy at the Quik-Stop on Douglas.

You can still hear the sound of the ceramic plate shattering against the terrazzo floors. The gasp of air that left the lips of his new bookkeeper, sprawled out across his desk. You can remember the way the peas scattered across the floor in every direction and the way they felt smashing under your shoes as you fled his office.

You waited for him to come home that night. Your things were already packed away in bags and boxes by the time he finally meandered through the front door of the apartment. Then came the excuses. The begging and pleading that quickly turned vicious and accusatory. The ‘maybe if you put out more, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere’ lines, that you knew to be a load of shit. You knew Peter wasn’t one to shy away from clearing his conscience at someone else's expense. Your mind was made up before he ever came home. You knew you couldn’t stay here, not with him. Not after this.

You aren’t sure why you brought the dress with you. You could have easily left it at your mothers, letting it hang in her guest room closet to collect dust and rot until the end of time. But you didn’t, you knew that bringing it would give you that reminder of why you were leaving. So with fifteen dollars of gas in the tank, and your Bruce Springsteen 8-track, you and your things began the trek towards Atlanta, ready to start again. Ready to live a life uninhibited. Ready to find an adventure.

—

The chorus of ‘State Trooper’ played through the fuzzy car speakers as you popped a cinnamon hard candy into your mouth. Your eyes caught sight of the welcome sign as you crossed the Iowa-Missouri border in a blur. It had been quite a few years since you’d been back to Missouri. Actually, you hadn’t visited since your family moved in the third grade. It was an abrupt move, your parents pulling you from school midway through the year with little to no explanation. You were placed in the back of your parents' Taurus and the life that you had known flashed by in a matter of the five minutes it took to make your way from one side of town to the other. You liked Iowa though. You made friends there, had a life and were active in school extracurriculars. It’s where you met Peter, and fell in love, though now that part didn’t exactly fit the narrative of your happy story.

As the song began to fade out into the next track, you heard it. The metallic grinding beneath the hood. The hell is that? You spun the volume knob down to zero, listening again for the noise, wondering if maybe you had just run over something on the freeway. As you passed mile marker 22 you heard it again, louder. Whatever it was had your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know the first thing about cars, definitely not enough to fix anything. Then it became more frequent. Persistent. Something was really wrong.

In a panic you pulled off the road into the overgrown grass of the shoulder, pulling out your roadmap and unfolding it across the steering wheel. You tried to get a sense of your surroundings, knowing you’d crossed the border not too long ago. You pinpoint your location in search of the next town you’d come across in what you knew to be a collection of nearly abandoned mining towns. A bead of sweat collected on your forehead, the wind dying down as the sun began to set. The impending darkness adds another factor of stress to an already stressful situation. As your finger traced a line up the interstate, you saw the familiar name. The place just on your mind mere minutes ago. You don’t remember too much about Joslyn, but what you do remember of it, is that there was an auto repair shop, and you were in desperate need if you were going to make it to Atlanta. With an estimated thirty miles to Joslyn from your current spot, you started your car back up, and pulled back out onto the road, praying you would make it there without doing anymore damage.

The metallic noise seemed to stay consistent, but with every mile that passed you knew the dollar signs were adding up. Of course you took the money stashed away for the wedding, he didn’t get to keep that. Why should he? Consider it severance. However, car repairs was not how you wanted to spend that money. You planned to use it for a deposit and first month's rent on an apartment, hoping it would be enough to tide you over until you found a job.

You knew you had plenty of useful skills, you were near the top of your class in school. You planned to work with Peter at the accounting firm after you married, and you hoped you’d be able to find a similar position in your new city. You were snapped from your daydreams as you saw the sign welcoming you to Joslyn, however, the old decrepit sign, about twenty years past needing to be replaced, sent a cold chill down your spine. The way it barely hung on to the wooden stakes made you feel anything but welcome, and your instincts told you to turn back. As you limped your car further into town, you realized that the vibrant city you left all those years ago had been in steady decline ever since. Homes abandoned and pillaged, with broken windows and spray painted siding. Cars sat deteriorating in driveways that were barely visibly under the overgrown grass and trees. You had no sense of ‘home’ despite this being the town you were born in. You barely recognized it, until you saw Louie’s.

Knowing you would find answers there, you pulled into an empty parking space, almost afraid to pull the key from the ignition, wondering if it would turn on again when you got back inside. You grabbed your fringed purse from the passenger seat, and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head as you jumped down from the driver's seat. The gravel crunched beneath your feet as you walked towards the front door of the diner, seeing a few older patrons lining the bartop and scattered through a few booths through the large windows.

The bell rang as you pulled the door open, alerting everyone of your presence. Ten heads turned to look at you all at once, and suddenly you felt like a spectacle as you stood there in your halter top and waist hugging jeans.

“Take a seat anywhere ya’d like, hun.” a lady in a pink apron called out from across the room. Her voice was gruff and far deeper than it should be for a lady, you thought. You made your way towards an empty bar stool, leaving a space between you and an older man in a newsboy cap, sliding his fork through a piece of cherry pie. You gave him a curt smile as you settled on the stool and placed your bag on the counter. It smelled good, and you felt a small rumble in your stomach as you watched plates being sent to the window. If you’d had more time you’d probably enjoy a late lunch, but you didn’t, so you couldn’t.

The same woman approached you, handing you a laminated menu and gesturing a coffee cup towards you in silent question. You nodded your head and smiled, placing the menu down on the counter.

“What’ll ya have, sugar…” she asked, pouring coffee into your mug from the yellow stained carafe.

“Oh, I’m great with just the coffee for now, thank you.” you responded, seeing her eyes rake over you with curiosity.

“Just passin’ through?” she asks, placing the carafe back on the counter.

“Sort of. I’m on my way to Georgia, but I think I need a mechanic to look at my car. Started knocking when I hit the border. This was the first town I thought might have one.” you answer.

The lady’s eyes flash over to the man next to you. He looks over at you and looks back at her giving her a slight nod. “Yeah we got one.” he says, twisting his stool to face you. “You’ll have to try and get it down to Ace’s, well Jake’s now I reckon. But he should be able to get ya fixed up.”

“Would you be able to give me directions?” you ask, digging into your purse in search of a pen. You grab a paper napkin from the dispenser, and click the end of your pen on the countertop as he nods his head.

“Yeah, so you’re gonna take a left out of the lot here, go down ‘bout 2 miles ‘er so, you’ll see a Church of the Nazarene and take that left there. Go up that hill ‘bouta ‘nother mile and you’ll see a dirt road on your right. His shops’ at the end of the drive there. Can tell him Bubba sent ‘cha, and he’ll help out a pretty lady I’m sure of it.”

You quickly scribble down his directions, and toss the napkin and pen into your bag. “Thank you. I–I really should be going, It’ll be dark soon and I–”

“Should finish your cup there at least.” the lady says, leaning onto the counter. “You sure you’re not from ‘round here, honey? You look awful familiar.”

“Not exactly.” you say, cutting the conversation short. You place a few dollars on the counter and grab your bag, “Thank you. For the directions. I appreciate it.” you say, watching the man tip his hat to you as you make your way out of the diner and back to your car. Jumping into the front seat you send up a quick prayer that she’ll start and as you twist the key you hear the engine roar to life.

With the napkin sitting on your leg, you pulled out of the parking space heading further into town. The clock on the dash read 4:43, and you hoped you’d catch them before they closed up for the night. You saw the church he spoke of up in the distance, what was probably once a pristine white building, was now showing wear and tear with no one to fix it up. You took the left, the metallic clicking beneath the hood growing louder as you pressed forward on the gas pedal to climb the hill. With the windows down the sound was deafening, the cool breeze blowing through the window alleviated the sweat forming on your neck. In the dissipating sunlight you saw the orange dirt road and hesitantly turned to travel down its short path. A multitude of old abandoned cars littered the premises, and you wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. You slowed your speed to a crawl, the clicking from your engine announcing your presence as you pulled closer towards the building.

Your headlights lit up the front of the building, an old gray sheet metal building, flash rust covering most of the sign that read ‘Ace’s Garage’. Two men in old rotted patio chairs stood slowly as you put the car in park. You shut off the engine and took a deep breath as you jumped out onto the dusty dirt road.

“Hi, I’m sorry, am I too late? I know it’s close to closing.” you murmured, stepping around to the front of the car. They both just stood there in their faded blue coveralls that looked like they hadn’t had a washing in some time. The taller man had his unzipped and the sleeves tied around his waist. A dirty white t-shirt beneath concealed what seemed to be a plethora of ink adorning his body. Neither of them jumped to respond to you, and your eyes searched theirs for any sort of answer as the shorter man begrudgingly flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his dirty boot. “Closed at 4:30.” he says.

“Shut up Jake. No. We heard you coming ‘bout a mile away.” the other, taller man said with a curt smile. His dark disheveled curls were tied up in a messy bun that hadn’t been touched since he put it there this morning. Wisps of hair surrounded his head in a halo of sweaty dark strands. “Doesn’t sound too good. Sounds like you’ve got something going on under the hood.”

“It just started doing it about an hour or so ago. Right after I crossed the border. Never heard it before, and I have a long trip ahead of me so I figured I should probably get it checked out.” you reply, twisting your hands around the strap of your purse.

“Could be a number of things…” he pauses, stepping over towards your car. He places a grease covered hand on the hood of your baby blue Scout and turns to look at you. “These Scouts are pretty good little cars, but they are notorious for having engine issues. Afraid to say you might be a victim of that. Though, maybe it’s just a bad wheel bearing.”

“Nah.” the other man, who you now know as Jake, says suddenly, stepping forward slowly with his arms crossed across his chest. He doesn’t say much, just places his hand under the hood and opens the latch. He steps up on the front bumper, and takes a look into the engine compartment, resting his tattoo covered hands on either side of the frame. After a few quiet minutes he steps down, and closes the hood staring at the taller man. “Collapsed lifter, but that’s the least of her issues. Camshaft is fucked.”

“When did you say it started doing this?” the curly haired man asks.

“About an hour ago. I know it’s bad but, what’s that mean?” you ask nervously.

“Means you better call your husband to come pick you up.” Jake said, looking out towards the field in the distance.

“Husband?” you question, seeing his eyes travel to the diamond on your left finger. You quickly flip it around and look back to him. “Oh, I’m not married. I don’t have a husband. I don’t live here. I was just passing through.”

“Shit place to get stranded.” he quips, turning on his heel and making his way towards the door of the car. He spits towards the ground as he pulls the door open and climbs inside.

“Stranded?” you blurt out, catching the eyes of the taller man.

“Daniel, get her out of the fuckin’ way.” Jake says calmly, leaning his head out the window as he starts your car.

He grabs your arm and ushers you out of the way as Jake pulls your car forward into the empty bay beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights. He nods, motioning for you to follow him towards the garage, the air dusty as your tires kicked up dirt. The car shuts off and he jumps out, his boots making a loud thud as they land on the dirty concrete floors. As you follow Daniel into the garage he stops, placing his hands on his hips as he watches Jake lift the hood once more. This time, he grabs a ladder and a work light, hanging it from the inside of the hood. You look around at the garage, noticing the side you occupied was slightly more messy than the bay on the opposite side. Tools scattered about but in a way that you could tell they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

As you turned further you noticed a tan cover hanging loosely over a car parked between the two bays, you didn’t pay much mind to it, as your brain was bouncing from object to object. Your eyes caught Jake’s as he peered up from the engine compartment, quickly flicking them back down as he examined the condition of your motor. You let out a sigh and leaned backwards, resting your weight on the covered car. Daniel snapped his head in your direction seeing you before looking over at Jake. He quickly turned back to you, and pulled your arm to stand up again. “Probably don’t want to lean on that one. Here, let’s go find you somewhere to sit.” he said, walking you further into the garage. You looked over to Jake again, seeing him concentrated on his task, a single strand of brown hair hanging long in his face.

You followed Daniel as he led you to a plaid nylon folding chair, similar to the ones they arose from earlier. The once white fabric was now a dingy, dirty gray, stained with oil and grease. He offered you a sorrowful smile as he gestured for you to sit. “Thanks.” you squeaked, checking your wristwatch for the time.

Daniel walked back over towards the car, peering in as Jake inspected the damage. You watched his back muscles flex as he placed his hands on the open hood, his white t-shirt pulling tightly against his back. You could see the shadow of a dark image through the white cotton of his shirt, a large tattoo must be under there and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was. It was almost as if he could feel your eyes on him as he turned around to meet your gaze as he continued talking to Jake. Jake turned around too, catching your sight and you knew that the news they were about to deliver was probably not what you wanted to hear.

Jake unhooked the work light, and closed the hood, stepping down off the ladder and wiping his hands on his coveralls. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow as he looked over towards you again. They both began walking over towards you, stopping short as they reached you. You stood to meet them, watching as Jake shoved his hands in his pockets.

He was the first to speak, “I can fix it, but I will have to order the parts. Don’t see too many of these come ‘round here.”

“Oh, so it’s an easy fix? Good, maybe I won’t be here too long.” you said cheerfully.

“No. I didn’t say that.” he bites back. “I said, I can fix it.”

You furrow your brow at his harshness and turn to Daniel.

He rolls his eyes and looks at you, “What he is trying to say is that you need some major work done. We don’t have the parts we need– he needs, to be able to do it, so he will have to order them. Only problem is that the delivery truck only runs on the 15th of the month.”

You look down at your watch seeing the tiny ‘2’ in the window. “And today is the second…”

“Right.” he says, kicking his shoe against the floor.

“I can call and order the parts tomorrow when the supplier opens, can give you a proper estimate then, but I’m gonna warn you that this ain’t no cheap fix.” Jake says, flicking his eyes up to yours. There is a smudge of grease on his cheek that catches the light. Your eyes travel down his face seeing a scattering of tattoos that decorate the side of his neck, disappearing down into the zipped coveralls.

“I have the money.” you sigh, fiddling with the strings on your purse.

Jake nods his head, “Right, well, see you tomorrow.” he says, turning to head towards a set of stairs at the side of the garage.

“Jake. The fuck…” Daniel shouts, causing Jake to stop and turn around.

“What.” he answers, slowly walking back towards you.

“What do you mean, what? You’re gonna have to drive her down to Wanda’s.” he says, “I can’t take her on the bike.”

“No.” he says, far too quickly.

“Jake, what else is she supposed to do?” he says, throwing his hands into the air.

“Dunno. Figure it out I guess.” he scoffs, trying to retreat again, before Daniel grabs his arm.

“It’s Wanda’s or here. Make your choice.” Daniel growls.

“Why do you care?” Jake barks back.

“How about you quit being a prick for a minute? You’re going to take this nice, paying customer down to the Motel, so that tomorrow she can come back and pay for those parts, and you can fix her car, hm?” he seethes into his ear.

Jake rips his arm from his grip, and walks over to the dirty, stained wall, snatching a set of keys from a hook. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You scurry over to your car, attempting to grab the few things you’ll need for a few nights stay at a motel, before quickly jumping down and looking around for Jake. You hear an engine roar to life outside the shop, seeing Danny pointing towards an old, Green Ford truck. His headlights flash on, practically blinding you as you start to walk towards them, turning to thank Daniel for his kindness as you run off towards your ride.

—

The ride to the motel was silent for the most part, the sound of the static coming across the radio the only noise filling the cab of the truck. You sat shotgun while Jake rested his wrist on the steering wheel of the old Ford, the sullied fingertips of his opposite hand rubbing across his unkempt mustache as he slowly made his way back through town.

“You can ask me.” He finally spoke, his eyes dashing quickly back and forth from the rear view mirror and the road.

You cleared your throat, suddenly surprised he spoke. “Ask you what?”

“Where you know me from. I can tell you wanna ask.” He answered, his voice only a tiny bit louder than the rumbling engine.

Damn, he was right. He did look familiar to you, and so did Daniel. But your mind was so frenzied with the anticipation of finding out what was wrong with your car, and then the news that the damage was far worse than you thought, that you pushed the thought far from your mind.

“I mean, you do kind of seem…”

“…familiar? Yeah. I remember you.” He mumbled, his eyes still never traveling your way. “You went to St. James Elementary, right?”

“Yes…”

“So did we. Probably why you recognize us.” Jake turned the wheel a hard right, forgoing a blinker as he flicked his eyes to the rear view again.

Ah, that makes sense. You had started the first grade here many years ago, and made it to the third before your parents ripped you away and set off toward Iowa. But the more you thought about it, the more you remembered them. Both of them. But that was over twenty years ago, how the hell did he remember you now?

“Shit, that’s right.” You glanced to the floor, trying like hell to stretch your mind back to the tiny hallways lined with lockers, and the playground out back where many of your earliest memories were made. “I remember now, you were what, a year older than me?”

“Yeah. Danny’s a few years behind me.” Jake reached in his front pocket and pulled out his half-empty pack of Lucky Strikes, patting the box on the heel of his hand before he pushed the lighter into the dash, waiting for it to heat.

“So wait, you were the one that climbed to the top of that old Sycamore that day at recess…couldn’t get back down when the bell rang so you jumped down and broke your arm…” your memory probably didn’t serve you all the way right, but you couldn’t have made up the tall-tale.

The lighter finally popped free, and Jake raised his left knee to steer the truck while he grabbed the handle, shielding the wind to light the butt of his cigarette. You watched as he inhaled, then cranked the window the rest of the way down to let the smoke filter through.

“I didn’t climb all the way up. Just halfway. And I didn’t jump, I fell.” He tapped his cigarette in the tray of the dash, not caring one bit that the residual ashes fell into the floorboard. You watched them flutter down before fizzling out completely.

You laughed at the memory, finding it hard to believe that you’d found yourself here again, remembering things about your childhood that you hadn’t even come close to thinking about in years.

“It wasn’t funny.” Jake said stoically, puffing the cigarette again.

“Sorry. No, it wasn’t. But, I remember being glad you didn’t get hurt worse than you did.” You replied, hoping to warm up his ice-cold composure.

“This is you.” He mumbled as he pulled into the lot of the old motel, the truck lurching forward as he put it into park. You popped the door open and slid out of the old bench seat, slamming the door behind you as you rounded the side of the truck to grab your suitcase from the bed. Jake didn’t get out of the truck or offer to help you with your bags, but after his less-than-happy attempt at making cordial conversation, you didn’t expect anything less.

You perked back up to the open passenger window, seeing that Jake’s eyes were still darting from side to side out the windows. Why was he so paranoid?

“Thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it. You’ll let me know when the parts get ordered, and I can give you the cash?” You asked, really not knowing any other way to go about this.

He nodded his head, biting his cheeks in.

“Okay, let me go check in, and I’ll come back and tell you my room number so you can phone me.” You said, walking toward the check-in office.

“I’ll just call and ask for your room.” He muttered, throwing the gear shift into reverse.

“But, you never even asked me my–”

“I remember your name, Y/N.” He spat, spinning his head around to check his surroundings before he whipped the truck from the parking spot, kicking up dust as he flew back down the road.

——

Upon entering the check-in office, your eyes had to do little to adjust, as there were barely any lights on at all. The stench of the room itself was like must and rotting wood, with just a hint of Borax and lemon-scented cleaner. You glanced to the large counter that spanned the room, leaving your suitcase behind while you approached it. After a minute or two of waiting, you let your palm gently tap on the bell that sat on the desk, ‘Ring for Service’ written on an old note underneath it.

“Hi, hello. Could I get a single room for the next week, please?” You asked the gruff woman that finally limped her way from the back room.

“HUH?” She all but yelled, squinting her eyes as she held her hand up to her ear. She must be hard of hearing.

You cleared your throat to speak a bit louder. “I’d like a room for the next seven nights, please.” You spoke loudly, mouthing the words clearly as you watched her read your lips.

“Only room I got’s a double efficiency.” She barked, grabbing a pen as she lifted the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck to rest on her nose. You snarled your nose up in confusion, remembering that you only saw another one or two cars in the lot.

“I don’t need something that large, it’s just me, if you want to put me in something smalle–”

“Double efficiency.” She said, writing down some number into her oversized ledger book. “It’s $35 a night. I take cash upfront for the whole stay. Fresh linens every other day.”

“Thirty-five a night? Ma’am, isn’t that a bit high?” Your voice was raised on its own now, out of pure surprise at the price.

“Either that or you ride down to the new Ramada an hour and a half South, and seein’ as how Jake brought you here, it’s lookin’ like the double efficiency for yeh.”

You seethed as she scribbled the math into her book, her jaws gnawing together as she chewed on nothing. “Two forty-five rate plus sixty-seven tax gives us…” she tapped away loudly at her printing calculator. “Three hundred twelve for the week.”

You felt like throwing up. That took a good chunk from the cash you brought along, but thankfully didn’t drain you completely. Luckily, the money you’d saved up for the wedding was well above what you’d need to survive on, so it didn’t hurt too badly as you begrudgingly counted out the bills from your wallet.

“Write your name and date here, signature here.” She pointed in her book for you to sign next to room number 7. She smiled a large grin as you laid out the bills for her, her mouth showing no more than a few teeth. As she gave you her best fake smile, you noticed her right eye was almost completely glossed over with a blue sheen. “Need a receipt?”

“No, thank you.” You chirped, wanting to get the hell away from this eerie woman and into your double efficiency as quickly as possible.

“I’ll bring fresh linens day after. No guests. Here’s your key, don’t lose it, I only got the one. Shower takes a good five minutes to heat, and don’t be smokin’ none of that grass in the room. Stinks up the place.” She said at a high volume while she wagged her finger toward your face.

You raised your eyebrows at the irony of the smell of the place, nodding her way as you grabbed the key from the countertop. She turned away, taking your wad of cash with her back to the room she came from. “Name’s Wanda if you need anything.”

It was getting to be dark outside now, the dull streetlights barely illuminating the sidewalk enough for you to see the room numbers on the front of the doors as you passed.

“Five…six…seven.” You whispered to yourself as you dropped the heavy suitcase beside you to fish the key from your pocket. As you slid the key into the slot and twisted the old knob, you were immediately met with the same stench as you were in the lobby. Old and grimey.

You brought your bag inside and quickly turned to lock the door behind you, sliding the hanging chain into place. You inspected the room, seeing the two beds with old brown comforters laid across them, a nightstand in between, and a single TV on the chest of drawers in the corner. It’ll do. The bathroom wasn’t much better, and it looked as though the calcium and lime deposits on the shower head could kill a man.

You sighed a deep sigh as you listened to your stomach rumble, your decision to forgo a late lunch at the diner earlier now seeming like a bad idea. The apple you had stashed away in your bag would have to suffice.

After unpacking a little bit of your clothing from your suitcase and hanging a few things in the closet, you decided to turn on the television and tuck in early for the night. You twisted the knob, watching as the light on the screen came to life, the high-pitched squeal of the staticy screen making your skin crawl. You adjusted the antenna, trying your best to get a better picture of what looked to be the evening news, but it was no use. But, some sound was better than no sound.

You slipped your top and jeans off and folded them neatly over the bed, planning on wearing them again tomorrow to save on any kind of laundry you’d end up needing to do. An old t-shirt from an old high-school boyfriend would have to be your choice of pajamas for the night. You flicked off the light, and climbed into the starchy sheets, the pillow feeling rock hard under your head. You shook your head as you looked at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this mess.

This was supposed to be an adventure. A period of regrowth. A time to just live, find yourself again. Maybe join up with a new tribe of people, try new things, see where the wind would blow you…

But no. You’re here in your old hometown in a sticky motel, with a broken-down car, and no dinner. On the first day of your escape. You crossed your arms across your chest, allowing yourself a second to pout. For a split second, you contemplated going back to Iowa, back to your mother’s, back to the comforts of home, but you’d never return to Peter. Not in a million years, the scumbag.

You twisted up your nose as your legs rubbed across the hard mattress and scratchy sheets, wondering who the hell the last people to sleep here were, or worse, if Wanda had actually even washed them when they left.

—

The sound of three quick knocks on your door awoke you from what must have been a light sleep, the noise making your heart immediately pound. You hopped up, snaking across the floor quietly and peeking out of the peephole. You half expected to see a murderer standing at the door, but then, why would they have knocked?

Must be Wanda.

No, she doesn’t care about anyone but herself, apparently.

You squinted your eye to see a ruffle of dark curls in the pale light, standing and swaying back and forth while he waited for you to open the door.

“Daniel?” You whispered, pulling the door open wide enough that the chain lock pulled taut. “What are you doing?” You pulled the chain free, opening the door all the way.

His eyes popped out of his head as he took in a quick breath, the look on his face completely surprised, and a little embarrassed.

“Hey, um…I’m sorry, I…” he muttered, pulling his arm behind his head.

“No, it’s fine, you just surprised me, that’s all. Is everything…” you pause, noticing he wasn’t shying away from his awkward stance. You suddenly felt the breeze blow across your almost completely uncovered lower-half.

“Shit!” You yelped, pulling your t-shirt down as far as it would go over your legs. You bounced back into the room, pulling the comforter from the bed to cover yourself. “I’m sorry, I completely didn’t even…”

“No no, I’m sorry.” Danny admitted from the open doorway. “I just came to…”

You wrapped the linen around yourself, a complete cocoon now as you waddled like a mummy back over to him with a shy smile on your face.

He laughed, his bright white teeth a contrast to the dark complexion of his skin. You felt the pit of your stomach fall at the sight.

“I just came to see if you wanted to grab a late dinner with me, seeing as how you can’t drive to get anything, and there’s no such thing as room service in a place like this.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, no, Daniel, that’s awful sweet of you to offer. But, I had an apple, so I’m…all set…” you admitted, the pit of hunger in your stomach getting bigger as the minutes ticked on.

He furrowed his brow. “You can…call me Danny, if you want. We aren’t complete strangers.”

You felt your eyes sparkle at him. Stop it, Y/N.

You swallowed. “Okay, Danny…”

“An apple? That’s all you’ve had all day?”

“Yeah. And well, a few sips of coffee earlier…” you admitted, waving him off. “Truly, I’m just fine.”

He stood and stared at you a few seconds longer, his eyes slipping past you and into the empty room behind you. The light of the static-snowed screen reflected off his features, accentuating his face, his jawline, his lips…the tattoos that crawled up his neck…

“Okay, well. I’ll see you around then?” He stated more than asked, before turning on his heels and disappearing down the sidewalk.

Shit. You were starving. And bored. And not sleepy anymore. And, after letting your eyes wander a little too long on him…you felt…

“Danny!” You called back, seeing him turn with anticipation. “Let me put some pants on?”

He grinned again, and began making his way back toward your door as you popped back inside to re-dress yourself. You quickly pulled your jeans and halter on, and took a second to fluff your hair without him seeing. You grabbed a light jacket and pulled it over your arms, and made sure to slip your room key into your purse before throwing it over your shoulder.

You stepped back outside the door, catching Danny leaning against the wall smoking. “That was quick.” He said, blowing smoke into the air. You noticed it smelled different than what Jake smoked, it was sweeter and not as rancid.

“Did you walk here?” You asked him as you locked the door, noticing that there were no new vehicles in the parking lot.

“Hell no.” He chuckled. “I brought Ruby.”

“Who?”

As you rounded the edge of the building, you saw what he was referring to. An early model motorcycle, a little rusted and definitely dirty, but you could see the red paint peeking out from underneath the dust.

You watched as he lifted his leg and straddled the seat, pulling his weight over to kick the stand up. He turned the key and revved the engine, walking it forward just a bit as you watched. He motioned with his head for you to hop on, of which you quickly denied.

“No no, I’ll walk, it’s fine.” You muttered, the engine drowning out the sound of your voice. You backed away, crossing your arms nervously. No way you were going to hop on the back of a motorcycle with a man you hardly knew. In the dark in a strange town, much less.

“Ah come on, it’ll take you twenty minutes to walk there.” He yelled over the purring, again tilting his head back for you to climb in behind him. He slowly pulled the tie from his hair, letting his elbow-length waves fall before re-gathering it, and twisting at his neck again. He gave you another side smile, raising his eyebrows as he playfully revved the engine again.

Fuck it.

You bashfully stepped forward, hiking your leg up over the seat to fit right in behind him, the seat forcing you to press against his back a little more closely than you were comfortable with. And to make things even more awkward, you weren’t sure what to do with your hands. You let them drop to your thighs as he walked the bike forward a little again, turning it before he caught pavement and took off down the road without warning.

You squealed loudly, your unfamiliarity with riding on the back of a motorcycle startling you completely. Without hesitation and in fear of falling off, your hands wrapped around Danny’s torso, and your feet fell in behind his on the racks.

“Oh shit!” You yelled as he took off down the road, your arms gripping him tighter as you tried to get your balance. You were positive if you let go for even the tiniest second, you were going to eat rocks.

“You alright back there?” He asked, turning his head slightly.

“No, not really! I feel like I’m gonna fall!” You admitted, the wind whipping your hair in all directions.

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His left hand came down to grasp your fists gathered across his chest, and slowly pushed them downward toward his stomach, instantly making you feel leveled out, and a ton more balanced. He patted your hands there, telling you to leave them.

Then his hand found your thigh, running his hand along the outside seam of your jeans from your knee to right below your asscheek. What the fuck? Before you could slap the hell out of him, he gripped up under your leg, jerking your forward on the seat to press your chest hard against his back.

Instantly more centered.

“Is that better? Still feel like you’re gonna fall?” He asked through the wind.

You gulped, the rush of the past 13 seconds making your head spin. But he was right, you no longer felt like you were going to topple over.

“No, yes…it’s better…” you choked out as he began to pick up speed.

“Good. Hang on.” He ordered, speeding up significantly as you barreled down the dusty pavement. And hang on you did. The wind across your face was literally taking your breath away, and making your eyes water. You blinked away the tears as you focused, truly getting your bearings and relaxing your body against Danny’s to get a feel for the bike beneath you. You took a breath and let your body fall into his back a bit more, the motions of his flexing back muscles pressed up against you as he lifted his foot to switch gears.

What the hell are you doing? What is happening?

After a whirlwind two or three minutes, you were slowing down and pulling into the parking lot of Louie’s, the same diner you had stopped into earlier for directions. Danny slowed the bike to a crawl and walked it forward before lowering the kickstand. You instinctively pulled your feet to the ground too, only the tips of your toes reaching the dirt below them.

“Don’t tell me that was your first motorcycle ride…” he said as he leaned his body weight to one side, standing all the way up on solid ground. You followed his action, letting your shaky legs hop off the bike with the help of Danny’s strong hand.

“Yeah, uh. It was.” You tried to sound nonchalant, like it was no big deal, while on the inside, your body was screaming with nervous adrenaline. You patted your hands over your hair to calm your flyaways, trying your best to keep your cool girl composure.

“No shit? Well, if I’d have known that I wouldn’t have taken off so quick. You felt like a natural once you got your balance…” he flitted his eyes your way as you began to make your way to the door.

You gave him a shy smile back. “Are they um. Are they still open? It’s getting late…” you glanced at your watch, finding it to be 9:20pm.

Danny swung the glass door open, frowning as you walked inside before him. “Oh, yeah. They’re open ‘til midnight. And it’s pork chop night, I never miss pork chop night.”

You walked inside the now neon-lit diner, finding many of the same shady-looking characters as you had seen earlier in the day. You nodded toward the man who gave you the directions to Jake’s, of which he returned with a curt smile.

“Bubba!” Danny exclaimed, forcefully throwing two hands to the back of the man’s shoulders, startling him from his coffee. “Save any pork chops for me?”

“They’s a few back there, I’m sure. Ain’t too many people in today.” He answered, turning back to his coffee. “Geraldine! Danny’s here for his special!” The man yelled across the bar, moving sideways to see if he could see in through the opening in the wall to the kitchen.

Just then the same woman in the pink apron waltzed through the double-swinging saloon doors, putting on a giant smile as soon as she saw you and Danny. She made her way around the bar, taking Danny’s face between her hands and squeezing his cheeks. “Evenin’, honey.” Her gruff voice said as she swatted his face.

“Evenin’, Geraldine.” He answered, obviously this was a woman he respected. She turned and found her place again behind the bar, reaching into her apron pocket for her pen and order pad. You and Danny walked to a booth in the middle of the restaurant, and you moved to sit down before he stopped you.

“Hmm-mm, let me sit there. Wanna see the door.” He said, grabbing your shoulders to scoot you sideways to the opposite booth.

“Okay…what for?” You questioned.

“I recognize this one from earlier today, hardly touched her coffee. You make it to Ace’s, honey?” Geraldine interrupted without making eye contact with you as she scribbled something down on her order pad.

Danny cleared his throat and looked to you, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh! Me! Yes ma’am, I barely made it, but uh. Got it there before it could die on me. They’re going to fix it right up.” You answered, feeling silly for having to practically yell your business across the diner to answer her. You watched the man you now knew as Bubba turn in his stool, holding the same flat smile as he did when you first came inside.

“The normal, Danny?” Geraldine asked.

“Yes please, thanks.” He replied, poking his wrapped silverware onto the tabletop.

“And for the lady?” She went on.

You looked down to see no menu in front of you, so you decided to go with your gut. “Um, I’ll have what he’s having?” Your tone was questioning.

Geraldine smiled. “Pork chop in gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas, sweetie.”

“Oh, perfect. All but the peas, please.” You replied, watching as Geraldine nodded and made her way back into the kitchen.

“Why don’t you like peas? They’re good for you.” Danny said, stretching his arm across the back of the booth behind him. You swallowed hard, recalling the memory of the peas rolling across the floor of Peter’s office. The smell of them smashed against your shoes, still fresh in your mind, and easily makes your stomach turn just from the thought.

“Never been a fan.” You answered, resting your chin in your hand.

Danny pursed his lips together, leaning in now across the table toward you. You watched as a tiny strand of hair fell in front of his eye, his tongue stuck to the back of his teeth as he inhaled. “I would’ve eaten your peas, Y/N. Tsk tsk.”

You looked at him in amused confusion, unsure of what his angle really was. After being around him only a grand total of maybe an hour the entire day, you gathered that you could hardly tell if he was joking or serious at any given time. But his overall demeanor was kind, and playful, and he had invited you here tonight, so you intended on learning him better.

Just while you were here, of course.

Suddenly two steaming black coffees were placed in front of you, the aroma bringing your senses back to life again. “Cream, sweetie?” Geraldine asked, placing a tiny metal pitcher full of the milky liquid in front of you and turning away before you could answer.

You poured the cream in, stirring it together until it was mixed, and you blew on it before you took a slow sip, Danny watching your every move intently.

“Something I can help you with?” You asked him, commenting on his unwelcome stare.

He snarled his top lip as he shook his head and readjusted in his seat. You took a second to look at him, hoping to maybe intimidate him right back. His dark waves still balled up at his neck, the loose strands falling as curls in front of his face and behind his ears. His tightened jaw and cocked eyebrow letting you know he was still sizing you up. His old black Ford Motors t-shirt stretched tightly across his buff chest and arms, the worn holes around the collar letting you know it was well-loved and worn-in.

“So. Elementary school. You were there…” he finally spoke up, lighting another sweet-smelling smoke.

“St. James, yeah. I think you were a couple of years behind me.” You answered, sipping your coffee.

“Mhmm.” He hummed, taking a puff. “You left in the middle of the year.”

“How do you remember that?” You asked, realizing he would have only been in the first grade when you left.

“Because suddenly we didn’t have enough people to have even teams for kickball. You left and we were a man short. Had to ask Willie Addams to play and he couldn’t run for shit. Had the coordination of a fuckin’ baby giraffe.”

You giggled at him, almost spitting out your coffee. “Ok, how do you remember that?” You pressed. “You were like 6.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Jake says I have the memory of an elephant, whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, enough talk about zoo animals. Where were you really headed, Y/N? Before you got stuck here with us…” He leaned again, and you noticed his eyes began anxiously darting around, just like Jake’s had done earlier.

You purposely waited for him to make eye contact with you again, finding it rude that he was looking everywhere but at your face after asking you a question. When he finally did, you answered.

“I was heading to Atlanta. From Salvation, Iowa.” You replied honestly. “Why?”

“People don’t normally just casually cruise back through their hometown unless they’re looking for something.” He said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. The white ceramic mug looked tiny in his giant inked hand.

“Well I’m not people. I wasn’t looking for anything, I just—”

“So you were running.” He raised his eyebrows again, knowing he had struck some type of gold from the obviously surprised look on your face.

You stayed silent for a beat. He laughed through his nose.

“I wasn’t running, I was…just, getting away. It’s different.” You tried to dismiss his prying questions, wanting nothing more than for Geraldine to bring you a heaping pile of mashed potatoes so you wouldn’t have to go on about your wasted adventure with a man you hardly knew from Adam.

“But you left home for a reason, right?” He went on. “If people plan to move, they usually bring along more than a couple suitcases and their old wedding dress, Y/N. You’re telling me you left your makeup vanity and trunk and sofa at home?”

Fuck. You didn’t wanna talk about this.

When you stayed silent again, he laughed in satisfaction. “You were running.”

You leaned in close. “Look, if you want to know every detail of my life, you’re gonna have to do a little more than invite me to dinner, Daniel.” You spat.

“What if I already planned to do a little more?” He inferred, sitting back against the booth and running his hand along his slicked-back hair.

You choked back. “That’s an awfully forward thing to say to someone you just met.”

“I didn’t just meet you. I knew you in the first grade. And I know I was upset when you weren’t there to play kickball any more.” His eyes began scanning the windows again, jumping back and forth as he spoke. Your heart began racing at his words.

“Why do you care, Danny? About what I’m doing here?” You asked, truly wanting to know.

He shrugged, taking another draw of his smoke. “You seem like a fun little challenge. I like challenges. Mysteries. Cracking codes…”

You scoffed. “Well, you sure as hell ain’t cracking anything of mine.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that one.” The side of his lips curled up as you caught onto his flirtation. Danny let his smoke hang between his lips as he rubbed his hands together, his fingernails still dirty from the workday.

You were simultaneously turned off and turned on by his strange way of coming on to you; you knew that was what he was doing, but in some odd way, it was charming. You felt safe with him, even if his way of flirting was nothing like anything you’d ever seen before.

In the nick of time, Geraldine brought your plates over, setting them in front of you with harsh thuds. “Alright one sans peas, one extra peas. Refill of coffee, and I’ll be back in a bit to check on ya.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Danny muttered.

You held his deep gaze as you unrolled your silverware from the tight napkin, and dug directly in to the mashed potatoes without hesitation. He licked his tongue across his teeth as he followed your motions. The two of you ate in silence, and you let yourself enjoy the hot meal in front of you, wondering if Danny would let you forgo the motorcycle ride, and just walk home.

After a basically wordless and slightly awkward meal, Danny sat and watched as you finished off your coffee, still pushing a pea around the plate with the end of his fork.

“Good pork chops, right?” He finally asked.

“Might be the best ones I’ve ever had.” You replied honestly. But you had been so hungry, you might’ve thought shoe leather sounded appetizing had you waited any longer. That apple was long gone.

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He growled, another sly smile creeping to his face. He stretched his neck, the thin lines of the spider web tattoo bulging over his artery. “What are your plans for the night?”

You placed your napkin and silverware on top of the empty plate, pushing it back a bit to fold your arms across the table. “Sleep.”

“Well that doesn’t sound like any fun.” He laughed, and if you didn’t know him any better, you would’ve thought he really didn’t believe you.

“What? That’s really all I’m doing…what else would I do?” You asked sternly. “I don’t know anyone, I don’t have a car, this podunk town doesn’t have much to offer, Danny.”

He sighed as he put his elbows on the table, the sleeves of the tight shirt pulling against his biceps. You took a second to glance at his arms, tanned and bronze from the sun. The black-lined and barely-colored tattoos that covered his arms instantly piqued your interest, but you couldn’t let him know you were looking. In your three-second glance, you noticed the set of dice on the inside of his wrist, some type of messy writing along the inside of his forearm, and a tiger’s face peeking out from under the short sleeve of his shirt. And that was only the few your mind comprehended.

“You’re right. Ain’t much here. But it can be a good time if you know what you’re looking for.” He raised his eyebrow in question.

You shook your head. “Not me, thanks. I’d rather not have my face hanging on missing posters around town next week.”

“Why would you say that?” He was taken back.

“Because you haven’t stopped darting your eyes to the door and out the windows since we got here. Your body language is forcibly relaxed, you’re a little on edge, and I think you’re kind of paranoid. I don’t know why, but you don’t seem like you feel safe in your own town, Danny.”

He huffed an exasperated laugh. “Of course I feel safe here, why would I live here if I didn’t?” He said defensively.

“How did you know what room I was in?” You asked, craning your neck sideways. “Jake left before I checked in today. Did you ask Wanda so you could keep tabs on me?”

You clicked your tongue as his eyes bulged from his head at your words. “That’s what I thought. Oh, and you have a switchblade knife stuffed in your boot.”

“How do you know that?” He muttered.

“Saw it when your pants hiked up when you got off the motorcycle.” You pushed the plate a little further back on the table, and grabbed your purse to make your way to the cash register. You pulled a few crumpled dollars from your wallet and tossed them onto the table. You stood and came to the edge of the booth, leaning down close to Danny’s face to whisper. “If I didn’t know any better, it’d seem that you’re the one who’s running, Danny.”

You gave him a displeased look and turned, snaking your way through the empty tables to pay Geraldine for your suppers. “Thank you, sweetie. Y’all have a good rest of your evenin…” Geraldine said as the cash register dinged closed. You gave Bubba another nod before making your way to the door. You glanced back to Danny, who was still sitting stunned in the wooden booth.

“You takin’ me back to the motel, or what?”

——

This time, finding your balance on the motorcycle was easy, like you’d been doing it for a hundred years. Danny hadn’t said a word since you left the diner, only offering Bubba and Geraldine a quiet “goodnight”. You pressed your front against Danny’s back, leaning into him as you wrapped your hands around his lower abdomen and sturdied your feet behind his. You let the shyness from earlier drift away, feeling more confident now that you’d spoken your piece to Danny.

As he picked up speed down the busted pavement, you let your mind wander a bit.

Ha, he thought he had you pegged. Thought you were another dumb female he could trick into his bed. Pshh. Asking you your plans for the night… please. Though going back to your room alone sounded less than exciting now that your stomach was full. And you were more awake than ever…and he had kind of offered…

No. No way. You didn’t know Danny.

‘It can be a good time if you know what you’re looking for…’

No. Horrible idea. Sleep.

Shower, and sleep.

Just as you made your mind up, you felt Danny’s hand run along the outside of your leg again. What is he doing? He wasn’t cautious, he was confident. Like the motion was the most natural thing he’d ever done. You could feel the heat from his hand radiating through the denim of your jeans, and though his touch was unwelcome, you let it happen. Why were you letting it happen?

He didn’t need to pull you forward into him like he had earlier, you were already pressed against him as far as you could get. You watched as his shoulder flexed as his arm reached back and down to your leg, his fingers gliding lightly over your thigh while he steered with his other hand. Shit, the heat of his touch…

You let your chest press into him just a little closer, and the contact made your nipples instantly stand at attention. Your choice to not wear a bra tonight was silently working against you. But damn, you couldn’t deny…this man was attractive. Very attractive. And you already couldn’t deny the physical chemistry between you, his hand so nonchalantly petting your thigh while his other gripped the handlebar.

You felt him take a deep breath, his grip tightening on your leg muscle. You realized your other hand had been resting gently on his stomach, holding on tightly as he navigated the bumpy streets. In an act of pure confidence, you let your thumb drift a few inches down, and loop into the hem of his jeans, your other fingers gripping onto his leather belt. With your motion, his hand tightened again, his thumb swiping back and forth as he let his hand drift further back.

Your mind was frenzied, suddenly your stomach felt tightly wound with an unknown and unwarranted anticipation. Danny removed his hand from your thigh, and kicked his right foot a couple times to shift the bike down. He gripped the bars and turned, and suddenly you were in front of your motel room door. Damn, you hadn’t even noticed you were here already.

He pulled the kickstand down as he shut off the bike, and you quickly pulled your hand from the way-too-intimate place near his groin. He stood and stepped off the bike, and you followed behind. You cleared your throat as you resituated your purse on your shoulder, suddenly feeling exposed. You pulled your jacket over your chest, and reached into your bag to find the room key.

“Thanks for the ride.” You purred.

“Thanks for dinner, I was supposed to pay, you know. I invited you out…”

“No, no. It’s my pleasure, seeing as how you thought of me, and all.” You answered, making your way to unlock the old doorknob. You felt Danny follow behind, walking you to the door. He had shoved his hands in his pockets, and his closed-off demeanor returned, quite the opposite of the confidence he dripped on the bike.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the light inside. Danny stood in the threshold as you dispensed your purse on the table.

“You were right. I did ask Wanda what room you were in. And before you get freaked out, it wasn’t because I was trying to keep tabs on you. Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.” He said, glancing side to side down either way of the sidewalk before he stepped inside the room just a little. “Y/N, look. You’re right. This town can be dangerous. It ain’t a five-star city. There is a lot that goes on behind closed doors here. So yes, I wanted to know where you were because—”

“You want to keep an eye on me. I get it. I owe you and Jake money, still.” You quipped, unsure of how to feel about that.

He nodded slowly, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe as he crossed his flexed arms. “Well, yes, but…It’s more for your well-being, Y/N. That’s all. There are some…shady creatures here.” He mumbled, stepping a little further inside.

You slowly sat down on the bed, feeling the stiff mattress squeak beneath you. His steps were heavy as he came further inside, slowly, his eye contact making you feel like you were going to forget how to breathe. You leaned back on your arms, the gritty brown comforter rough under your fingertips. “Are you one of those…shady creatures?” You asked, barely above a whisper as you found him standing almost directly between your legs.

He lifted his almost completely-inked hand and pushed away a tiny strand of hair that had fallen across your forehead, brushing it back to join the rest of your hair. Your heart rate picked up at his subtle touch, his calloused and dirty fingertips just barely grazing the side of your face. “Guess it depends on who you ask…” his words were slow, his bottom lip biting slowly into his mouth as he spoke.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instantly felt the same chemistry as earlier begin to ravage your body again. He was towering over you so close, your legs pressed apart by the outsides of his. His knees touched the edge of the bed, and you could tell his hands were arguing with his brain about touching you again. Somewhere. Anywhere.

He pushed your hair back again, drifting his hand down your cheek and finally to your chin, his thumb and pointer working as a team to slowly crane your neck up to look him in the eyes. Your hands were begging you to rake your nails up underneath his tight t-shirt, just to get a feel of what was beneath it. But you didn’t.

“You’re different, aren’t you, Y/N?” He finally whispered.

“Mmm, what do you mean?”

He furrowed his brow as he lightly squeezed your chin between his fingers, his eyes studying every detail of your face.

“I dunno…you just have something about you. Can’t quite put my finger on it yet.” He bit his lip again. You felt a ragged breath escape your lungs, and you hoped to god your body language wasn’t reflecting how you felt right now.

“But, I intend on figuring you out.” His thumb drifted up a bit, barely ghosting over your bottom lip. It took everything in you to not pull it into your mouth, reach your tongue out and taste him, but you stopped yourself. Can’t go there tonight, as much as you really wanted to.

Against every coherent thought, your knees pressed in toward each other, searching for some type of relief, causing Danny’s body to move in a bit closer to you. A low laugh left his chest as he continued to brush his thumb over your lip, pressing a little harder when you made him fall into you. “A fuckin’ gem, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, unsure how to answer. Or how to think, for that matter. This gorgeous man standing between your legs in your hotel room, you barely know him at all…but already you felt like you could grip the soft cotton of his t-shirt and yank him down into the bed beside you, and have your way with him until the sun came up. Because, what do you have to lose?

“Will have a ride for you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” He muttered, his eyelids hooded over his deep brown eyes as he peered down to you. You watched his Adams apple jerk as he swallowed, regaining the same composure you were begging yourself to find. He stepped back and turned to exit through the still-open door. “Lock this behind me.”

And before you could gather even the simplest thought, he was gone.

—

You stood naked in front of the scratched and lopsided hanging mirror in the bathroom, waiting the long five minutes for the shower to heat, just as Wanda had said. Your skin was still flushed from the close intensity from Danny just a few short minutes ago, and your heart rate was just now slowing from the interaction.

Shit. You aren’t supposed to feel these things…you just left Peter. You were on the search to enrich your life, go wild, not add drama and danger to it…

But, you had set out in search of an adventure, could this be it? Could this strange, gritty, already confusing mechanic be your ticket to letting loose? You’d never had those young years to explore yourself and sow your oats; Peter was one of your very first serious boyfriends ever, and one of only a handful of partners you’d had before that. Half of your mind was terrified from Danny’s words of warning, and the other half of you said fuck it, chase it. Why not? What do you honestly have to lose at this point?

You stepped into the now steaming shower and began to suds up the plain white bar of soap that was wrapped up on the countertop. You let the hot streams of water calm your muscles and your nerves as you ran over the events of your crazy day.

‘Will have a ride for you tomorrow…’

What did that mean? You chalked it up to he would probably be picking you up again in the morning to go back to the garage to give a down payment, or something. Either way, you’d wake up to a new day, and you were already hoping it’d be just as eventful as today.

——

The growling sound of an engine outside the motel startled you from your daydream as you watched the picture on the television blur and scatter back and forth. A glance at your watch told you it was 10am exactly, and you walked to the peephole to see who had pulled up.

It wasn’t the person you expected to see. You unlocked the door and swung it open, the still misty morning air chilling your face.

“Jake, morning. What are you—”

“You ready to sign your quote? I’m ordering the parts today.” He interrupted as he slammed his truck door shut.

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me grab my bag.” You stepped back inside, slightly confused; you fully expected to see Danny pull up on his motorcycle to whisk you away again.

You stepped outside and locked the door behind you, and you and Jake both hopped up into the truck. Jake was silent again, and you were coming to realize he didn’t speak unless it was completely necessary, or unless spoken to. He was a man of few words, but you gathered that he probably wasn’t being outwardly rude, just was his nature to be quiet. You hoped, at least.

He reached down and cranked his window, the air blowing his freshly-showered scent around in the cab of the truck. The scent of Brut after-shave tingled in your nose; you’d know that smell anywhere. It made you look his way, seeing that his skin was actually visible now that he wasn’t covered in grease and dirt. His hand gripped the tree, shifting it to third as his speed leveled out on the road.

His hands were completely covered in tattoos just like Danny’s were, and they crawled up his wrist and forearm, all the way to his shoulder and into his neck. His cutoff t-shirt exposed his chest and side, also covered in a swirling piece of art that was laced with deep reds and blues. There were hundreds of them. And you were willing to bargain that each and every one had a story.

His ever-present cigarette hung between his lips as he stayed focused on the road, his shoulder length locks whipping around in the wind. You hadn’t seen him like this yet…clean, natural, and normal. His demeanor was the same as it was yesterday, straightforward and no-nonsense.

“That’s yours, if you want it.” He gestured between you on the bench seat, pointing to a large biscuit wrapped up in wax paper. “I couldn’t eat two.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. Thanks.” You began to unwrap it and tear off little pieces, bringing them shyly to your mouth. “Didn't poison it, did you?”

He huffed what you think was a laugh through his nose. “No. If you died I’d have to steal the part money from your purse, and I don’t want to do that.” Was that his attempt at a joke?

You giggled, again unsure how to take him.

“Where’s Danny? I figured he’d be the one scooping me up after last night.” You asked, taking another bite of biscuit.

His head shot your way, his eyes narrowed. “Last night?”

“Yeah, he picked me up on his bike, we got some food at Louie’s. Said he’d be back today.” Now that you thought about it, he never actually said he would be the one picking you up, just that there would be a ride for you here today.

“Ah, so he took you on a date.” Jake muttered, his voice low again over the radio.

“No, it wasn’t a date. He just invited me to eat with him. Knew I shouldn’t walk through town to get food by myself. He was being thoughtful.” You suddenly felt defensive of Danny.

“Thoughtful. So, a date.” Jake responded, blowing smoke out the window before flicking the cigarette onto the road.

“So what if it was?” You decided to play along. “What would it matter?”

He shook his head with a mock laugh. “Danny is a nice guy, but he doesn’t take women on dates. That I can assure you.”

You felt offended. “So, what, just a one night stand kind of guy?”

Jake let a one-syllable laugh fall from his lips as he raised his eyebrows, shifting back down to make the tight turn up the hill to the shop. “Guess you could say that.”

Why was he always so vague?

Just as you were nearing the shop, Jake reached his arm across the bench seat and across your lap, leaning almost all the way onto you to crank the window all the way down. He rolled the handle quickly, his bicep muscle flexing hard right in front of your eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I could have done that–” you sputtered.

“It’s a son of a bitch to roll, requires a little bit of elbow grease.” He said before throwing the truck in park and shutting off the engine. “I’ve got your paperwork ready, all you have to do is sign for the total and put half down. Rest will be due when it’s fixed.”

He was halfway out of the truck and still talking, so you clambered your way out, too, to make sure you caught the tail end of what he was saying. The two of you walked into the shop, vehicles already pulled into the bay with the hoods popped. Loud music was coming from an old radio on a high shelf, an old Johnny Cash song bouncing off the walls.

“Daniel, can you please turn that fucking shit down? Jesus Christ!” Jake yelled.

You watched as Danny’s curls emerged out from underneath an old Cadillac, his feet pushing him out as he laid on a creeper. He gave you a quick tiny smile when you made upside-down eye contact.

“When you open the shop on time and get in here when you’re fuckin’ supposed to, maybe I’ll consider your goddamn propositions, Jake. I mean shit, we live here.” He rolled all the way out and stood from the creeper, watching as Jake slowly ascended the old metal stairs on the side of the building. “I’ve been the only one here since fuckin’ 7:00. Why the fuck would I turn my music down if I’m the only one getting my fuckin’ hands dirty?” Danny spat.

You looked up onto the lofted area of the shop, watching as Jake topped the steps and walked across, flipping Danny the bird from above before looking to you and switching his middle finger to his pointer, signaling for you to ‘come here’, and follow him up the stairs.

You hopped into action, making your way to the staircase to follow Jake to the top. When you got up there, you looked around to find this was the office area. Tons and tons of old papers stacked away in messy piles, collecting dust and dirt. Boxes that held forgotten parts, shelves filled to the brim with old 3-ring binders, dusty photos on the wall, and in the center of it all, an old wooden desk with a chair that had seen better days. You watched as Jake pulled the string hanging from a single fluorescent light, plopping into the chair as the light buzzed to life.

He pulled on a pair of thin wired readers, peering down to a ledger that looked similar to the one Wanda took your room reservation in. He was fingering through a parts manual and double checking his work on a calculator, so you took a second to look at a few of the black and white photos hanging framed on the wall.

One, a larger photo, hung right in the middle of the rest. It was a man in a white tank top, dirty as can be, a pair of old slacks pulled up to his belly button. He was leaned with his back against an old black Chevelle, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He wasn’t smiling, just standing stoically with his arms crossed across his chest. He looked strikingly exactly like Jake, except the photo must have been taken when the man was a bit older than Jake is now.

“Jake, this man looks just like you…is he—”

“Was. My father, yes.” He said, voice flat.

“Handsome…” you muttered. “Was this his shop before it was yours?”

He nodded, still looking to his ledger. “Yeah. Ace.”

You pulled your eyes from the photo, walking slowly back to the desk. “Ace…Ace’s garage. How long has he…been gone?” You wanted to put the words right back into your mouth as soon as they left it. It wasn’t any of your business.

“He died the day before my eighteenth birthday. You wanna come sign here?” Jake said, extending a pen out for you.

Damn, Jake. That’s heavy.

You walked over to take a look at the estimate, seeing that the price was actually not as much as you thought it would be. “So half now, half when it’s done?” You reiterated, signing your name across the slip of paper.

“Yep.” He responded shortly.

You reached into your purse and pulled out the white envelope of your cash, counting it out in hundreds and fifties. As you slowly counted out loud, you took special care to run your fingers over the stiff new bills, making sure none stuck together. In the middle of them all was an old fifty dollar bill, a giant red “X” drawn across the President’s face.

“Someone didn’t like Grant, I guess.” You laughed, trying to break the awkward silence as he watched you count.

When you were finally finished, you gathered the bills up and handed them to Jake in a nice neat stack. “Thanks.” He said, taking the cash and stuffing it in a till box before shoving it in a safe.

“Thank you. Hey, think I could use your restroom really quickly?” You asked, feeling like your bladder was about to burst with shitty motel room coffee.

He threw his glasses down onto the table and pulled the light off, giving you a funny look before leading you back toward the stairs again. “Only bathroom here is mine and Danny’s, probably ain’t the cleanest.” He said as he quickly jumped down the steps.

“It’s no problem.” You answered. How bad could it be?

He led you underneath the loft and through a door, into a dark hallway with multiple doors. “Last one on the left.” Jake hit the wall with his palm before walking back into the bay.

This must be the part they live in. As you passed by the other doors, one was closed, and the other was cracked open to reveal what looked to be a messy bedroom. A mattress on the floor covered in disheveled blankets, liquor bottles on the makeshift nightstand, and clothes strewn about.

When you finally reached the bathroom door, what you found inside was nothing short of disgusting. Although he had warned you…

One light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the sink full of hair and stained black from the grease off their hands, a completely black toothpaste tube that didn’t have a lid, flattened toothbrushes that were missing half of their bristles…

The list went on as you looked around in utter disgust. Men are so gross. You were positive the place had never been cleaned.

You swallowed and held your breath as you opened the broken toilet lid, finding it less-than-desirable with a ring in the bowl. You shuddered at what you were about to do, but if you didn’t pee right now you were going to have to resort to the woods out back. Would probably be cleaner out there, actually…but at least there is toilet paper.

You tried not to think too hard about it as you quickly relieved yourself, using a small piece of toilet paper to touch the lever handle to flush.

“Ew ew ew ew.” You mumbled, deciding to not even wash your hands at the risk of dirtying them further. But even if you had, your drying options were toilet paper or their stained to hell bath towels hanging over the rod.

You were entirely grossed out, and decided to get back out to the bay as soon as you could. You flicked the light switch and reentered the hallway, noticing that the closed door across the way was opening at the same time.

To your surprise, a woman emerged from the room, slowly closing the door behind her. She had to be about ten years your senior, at least.

“Hey, Sug.” She murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she turned to face you, you noticed what she was wearing.

Danny’s black Ford Motors t-shirt he had on last night.

Your stomach dropped, suddenly it hit you exactly why he wasn’t the one picking you up this morning.

You gave her a tight smile and a simple “Good morning” as her keys jingled in her hand. Her makeup was definitely left over from last night, and she was carrying a pair of red high heels.

“I haven’t seen you ‘round here before…” she said, her voice still raspy with sleep.

“Oh, I’m…I’m a customer. They’re fixing my car. Just was…using the restroom.” You explained.

“Oh honey, no one’s ever just a customer…” She winked, before leading the two of you back out into the bay.

Whose room did she just come from?

—

JAKE POV

Fuck this god damn piece of shit Chevrolet.

Two weeks you’ve been working on this fuckin’ truck, and in those two weeks you had gotten barely anything accomplished with rebuilding the motor. And now you had another to do on top of it.

Isn’t it supposed to be Fords that have engine trouble? American muscle my ass. They’re all shit.

You stepped up onto the step ladder and peered back down into the belly of your newest arch-nemesis, cursing at its guts with every turn of your wrench. You look down to the floor spitting before turning your attention back under the hood.

Come on Ace. What is wrong with this son of a bitch? Help me out…

You glanced over to Danny, watching as he walked outside to empty his stomach again after the late night he’d had. Out all night drinking with his latest piece, stumbling back into the shop at 3am. Then he was back up at 7? You weren’t sure where he got his stamina…maybe he just didn’t sleep at all.

As you compiled the list of parts you’d need for Y/N’s engine last night, Danny swung by your office to tell you he was leaving, only to peer over your shoulder and see her name at the top of the Quote sheet.

“She’s a fuckin’ smokeshow…”

“Can you please try not to sleep with this one? She seems like a decent human being… You don’t have to sleep with all of them you know.” you’d joked.

“Jesus, Jake. I’m not that bad of a person. Cut me some slack. Just cause you haven’t gotten laid in few months doesn’t mean you have to shit on me…”

You’d pushed up from your chair and slammed your hands into his shoulders, pushing him back against the wall behind you, but his height was no match for you.

“Fuck you, Daniel. Just…listen to me. I saw her making eyes at you…Don’t fuck this up for us.” you said.

“Did you really?” You’d watched as his gears began to turn. “What was her room number?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Danny. You’re not going to her motel. Just leave her be.” You tried your best to warn him nicely. “Like you told me, she’s a paying customer. We need her to pay us…”

He sighed when he realized. “Shit. You’re right, damnit. Okay, okay. I won’t go.”

But, from the conversation you had with Y/N on the ride in this morning, you realized the fucker lied to you. He went anyway and she was clearly all about it.

You wanted to warn her. You tried to tell her that Danny was a one night stand type, that he didn’t wine and dine like the regular guy would, but apparently she didn’t listen, either.

As a bolt finally popped loose, it fell into the engine, tipping you over the edge of insanity.

Fuck! This! Truck!

You jumped off of the ladder and went over to the fridge under the loft, grabbing a cold Budweiser from the dirty shelf. You held the neck of the amber bottle on the edge of your toolbox, smashing your fist down on the lid, effectively popping it off. You tilted it back, letting the cold beverage run down your throat as you swallowed. Nothing like a breakfast beer.

Just then, you heard the shop door close and two sets of footsteps making their way out. All you could do was watch as the perfect storm brewed right in front of your eyes. How the fuck was he gonna explain this one... Y/N, Danny, and whoever his woman of the night was, all waltzing into the middle of the bay at the exact same time. As you caught sight of the woman you let out a scoff.

Fuck, Danny.

Tanya. The woman that lived in that house down on Robertson, hardly any personality at all, great tits, and apparently she was a panther in bed. Or so you’d heard. She was nice enough, and Danny always ended up bringing her around every couple of months. You didn’t dislike her, but you sure as hell didn’t want to be her friend, either. You didn’t trust her as far as you could throw her, and last you heard, she was involved with some folks you didn’t need to be associating with.

You paused with your beer in hand, sticking the other in your pocket as you watched the scene unfold. Your fingers twirled around a lug nut as your eyes followed Tanya, walking directly up to Daniel, wrapping her long skinny arms around his neck, and pulling him in for one last long, and especially involved, goodbye kiss. This wasn’t her typical goodbye, and you knew she was marking her territory in front of Y/N. Which is why you laughed, knowing that she wouldn’t hear from Daniel for at least a month. However, it wasn’t lost on you, the tense nature of Daniel’s body as she kissed him. His eyes open wide and looking across the bay towards Y/N.

Your eyes drifted directly to Y/N, watching as her face fell into utter disbelief. Her jaw fell slack for a second before she clamped it shut again, obviously feeling something unexpected from the sight in front of her. Whatever little daydream she had dreamed up between the two of them had all just come crashing down.

You noticed she suddenly felt out of place, bringing her embarrassed eyes to meet yours in question. You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your beer as smugly as you could. You shrugged your shoulders and raised your beer bottle in the air towards her as you watched her face flame red.

Hate to say I told ya so, baby.

—

HER POV

You have got to get out of here.

But where the hell are you gonna go?

You let your feet carry you out the bay garage door out into the heat of the day, wanting to be anywhere but inside that damn building right now. Why did it matter? Why did you care?

The moment you and Danny shared last night was anything but fantastic, but it was still there. It was intimate, though he had done nothing but skim his fingertips across your face.

You didn’t care. It’s no big deal.

But why did he look at you while he kissed her? And why was Jake so amused by it?

You stomped across the dirt parking lot to your Scout, flinging the door open to dig around and find anything that could offer up a distraction. You unzipped a suitcase, finding all of your clothing still neatly folded and tucked away. Underneath a pair of old ratted bell bottoms, you pulled out your ticket to diversion from Danny for the rest of the day: Maya Angelou’s complete collection of poems.

Perfect.

The book was worn around the edges, you had read it so much as a kid. You practically had every poem memorized.

After replacing your folded clothing neatly back in the suitcase, you decided you had to make your way back inside at some point…you knew they had a full workday ahead, and it would be rude to ask for a ride back to the motel at this point.

You slammed the door shut, shielding your eyes from the bright sun directly above. The shadowy silhouette of Tanya was walking toward you as you walked toward the building, still barefoot and wobbly as she crept across the dirt and gravel toward the road. You swallowed hard, knowing an interaction was unavoidable at this point.

“Catch ya around, sweetcheeks.” She said as your paths crossed. She let her body come close to yours, her shoulder bumping into your chest as she stumbled. “And just so ya know, the tall, dark, and handsome one?” She pointed her finger tip into her own chest. “Mine. Got it, Iowa?”

You snarled your nose up to her at her display; you could still smell the liquor on her breath from last night. Her eyes were hazed and obviously still high on whatever it was she was doing the night before.

“No worries on my end.” You said blankly, wanting to get the hell away from her while simultaneously wanting to punch her in the face for assuming you wanted Danny.

You kept walking past her back into the shop, walking on the other side of the truck Jake was working on to stay as far away from Danny as you could. You didn’t want to risk him noticing that you even cared.

You sat down in one of the ratty, dirty lawn chairs alongside the wall where Jake was working, getting as comfortable as you could before opening your book. You wanted to get lost in the words, letting them bring you back down to earth in a way only poetry could.

You glanced to Danny as he stepped up on the wall of shelves on his side of the bay, reaching high above his head to turn the knob on his radio up to a higher volume. He hopped down, a giant cheesing smile across his face as ‘Fortunate Son’ blared from the speaker. Jake slowly raised his head from under the hood of the truck, shaking it from side to side as he stared Danny down. You realized then that’s why Danny put his stereo up so high, so that Jake physically couldn’t reach it.

You flipped the pages of your book for the next half hour or so, letting Maya’s words take you to another planet entirely. You listened to the sounds of their socket wrenches and power tools as they worked away, providing a surprisingly relaxing background sound.

“Whatcha reading?” Jake’s voice was barely audible over the loud noises around you. You closed the book cover, holding your fingers between the pages to keep your spot.

“Maya Angelou’s poems. Kinda corny, I know. But–”

“The caged bird sings with fearful trill

of the things unknown but longed for still

and his tune is heard on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom.”

Your jaw fell open as Jake finished reciting Maya’s most famous poem to a tee, not faltering over any word and pausing at the most perfect times for the poem to hold its structure.

He hadn’t pulled his focus away from what he was doing until he realized you didn’t respond, then grinned a smile so big it made your heart stop.

“How did you…? You know Ms. Angelou?”

“My mom loved her. Read me her poems as a kid before I could even walk. I don’t remember the sound of my mom’s voice, but those words stuck with me.” He said, only glancing up to you every few words as he kept focused.

You were floored. This was not something you expected from Jake, let alone for him to open up about his explanation as to why he knew of her work. You felt a warmth in your stomach…maybe there was something sweet under his tough exterior after all.

After a bit, the shop telephone started ringing. You looked to both of the guys as they worked, realizing neither of them even noticed it was ringing. Maybe the phone doesn’t work? A couple minutes later, it started again, ringing and ringing off the hook for so long the shrillness started to irritate your ears.

“Do you want me to go get that, or what?” You asked. Jake scoffed an exasperated sigh, hopping backwards off his step stool as he pulled his red towel from his back pocket of his coveralls. He wiped his hands as best he could as he rushed up the steps to answer it.

You glanced to Danny, watching as he leaned over the hood of the car he was working on, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. You hadn’t made eye contact or spoken since Tanya left a while ago, and you had to admit, it pissed you off a little. After last night’s…moment… he at least owed you something, right?

Once he noticed Jake was all the way upstairs, he confidently walked over your way, twirling his own towel in his hands. “You gonna let me buy you lunch today?” He asked.

“Why should I do that?” You answered blankly, not looking up from your book.

“Because I’m hungry, I know you’re hungry, and you bought dinner. It’s only fair.” He was so matter of fact.

“Are you not meeting back up with Miss Red High Heels for lunch today?” Shit. Your attitude ended up getting the better of you.

“Who, Tanya?” He asked, pointing his thumb behind him. “Fuck, no. She’s just–”

“A good lay?” You inquired, pulling your eyes up to him finally, flicking your eyelashes in the most sarcastic way you could.

He let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. “Listen, Y/N. Just let me take you to lunch, please? I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He finished the end of his sentence with a smirk and a wink, instantly making your insides swirl. What the hell is he doing to you?

“Alright, I guess. But only because I’m hungry, not because I want to hang out with you.” You gave him a side smile as you agreed.

You watched as he leaned his elbows down on the side panel of the truck Jake was working on, resting his chin in his hand.

“Mmm, I bet you do want to hang out with me though, especially if you let me a little further into your motel room after…”

“We gotta close up.” Suddenly Jake was bounding down the stairs, his steps heavy as he barrelled toward you and Danny. “Close it up, let’s go.” He slammed the hood of the truck down as soon as Danny had backed off of it enough.

You stood from your chair in surprise. “Why, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Danny shoved his towel into his pocket, his expression immediately turning into alarm.

“Fuck, was it Teddy on the phone?” He asked Jake as he ran around, closing the lid on his tool box and wheeling it under the loft.

“Yeah, it was fuckin’ Teddy. Hurry up.” Jake hastily walked to the bay door, pulling on the long chain to lower the large garage doors down to the ground with a slam.

“What’s going on? Who is Teddy?” You asked in a panic as they ran around you like chickens with their heads cut off.

Danny closed all the doors on the vehicles in the bay, and threw a large black tarp over the motorcycle he had propped up on a block. They tossed all the rogue tools into the appropriate boxes, shutting the lids as they did so.

What the fuck is going on?!

Anxiety began to creep into your chest as you watched them rush around in a panic.

After a few minutes of fury, they met in the middle of the bay, in a fit of panted exhaustion and sweaty skin. They stood with their hands on their hips, looking around the shop. Jake pulled his Lucky Strikes from his pocket, nervously lighting one up with a zippo he pulled from his pocket.

“Fuck!” He muttered as the smoke left his lungs. “Did we miss anything?” He asked Danny rhetorically.

“No, how long do we have? Do they want a game?”

“Yeah, they want a fuckin’ game. They’ll be here at sunset. Shit.” Jake answered, both of their eyes still darting around in shifted motions.

Finally, at the same time, their eyes landed on you standing before them in complete and utter shock.

“Have her help you set up, then take her back to my bedroom. Lock the door.” Jake finally commanded Danny.

“No, are you fuckin’ stupid? I’m taking her back to the motel, she’ll be safe there.” Danny argued.

“No, god damnit! She’s staying here where we can keep an eye on her, the last thing we need is fucking free collateral, Danny. She stays here and hides.”

“Hides?! Wait, what the fuck–” your heart began pounding.

“If she’s here, they’ll know we’re hiding something, Jake! They aren’t stupid! If she’s back at the motel at least she’s far enough away—” Danny was raising his voice to Jake now in opposition, their chests almost touching as they spat in each other’s faces.

“Daniel, are you fuckin’ mental? You know Wanda isn’t trustworthy anymore. And Tanya was just here! You know Bubba found out who she’s been hanging around. And she saw Y/N! You think it’s a coincidence that two hours later, we get a call from Teddy?! Are you fuckin’ stupid?” Jake slammed a screwdriver across the floor, letting it bounce and glide across the concrete until it hit the wall. He stepped away from Danny, walking toward the back of the bay to continue what he was doing.

“I told you to stay away from that fucking crowd, and what did you do? Bring one of them back with you to fuck into the mattress all night.” Jake yelled, and you watched as Danny lurched his way toward him.

But before Danny could make it, Jake turned and held his elbow out, catching Danny’s body across the chest. “Don’t fucking come up on me like that Daniel, I swear to god. Go set up the fucking table, or get the fuck out of my shop. Take your pick.” Jake spat into his face.

Danny begrudgingly backed away, his hands balled into fists. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Jake’s demeanor instantly softened. “You better fucking not.” He mumbled, licking his lips. Jake motioned with his eyes for Danny to retreat to the back, just like he had asked.

Danny breezed past you as he walked, catching your arm and pulling you along as he did so.

“Come on, need your help.” He muttered.

You ripped your arm from his grasp, flinging it away with as much force as you could muster.

“Danny! Tell me what the hell is going on or I am leaving!” You yelled in his face, purely enraged that they were leaving you 100% out of the picture, while deciding what to do with you.

He sighed, eyes darting around again. “I promise you, I will explain everything soon. And I promise, I will take you on that lunch date.” His hand came up and brushed your elbow, while the other pulled your hair away from your face. His touch was so gentle, while he had just been seconds away from a brawl with Jake. His eyes bored deep into yours, somehow soft while yours were filled with fear.

“We’re gonna keep you safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me?” He was gripping hard at your shoulders now, talking like he was hyping himself up instead of you. “I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Danny… I–I don’t even know you…” you mumbled, your fight or flight beginning to kick in as the sounds of Jake banging loud things together in the bay echoed off the walls.

“Yeah you do, you know me. You knew me a long time ago.” His eyes shot to Jake again, still loudly throwing tools into containers. Suddenly his face was close to yours, his grip on your arms now almost an embrace.

“I’m not a bad guy, Y/N. I swear I’m not. I’m just…” he winced as he searched for the words. “Listen, I like you, and even though you’ve only been around a day or two, you’ve been the only thing on my mind since the minute you pulled up at the shop, okay? You...you make me nervous. And people don’t make me nervous.” He licked his lips as his hands gripped the sides of your head. “But right now, I’m asking you to trust me. If not completely, just until tomorrow, okay? Please?” He pleaded.

Fuck, did you have a choice?

You threw all caution to the wind as your mind fought against every red flag presenting itself. You nodded quickly. “Okay. Okay, shit.” you finally agreed.

Danny’s expression fell straight to relief as he gripped his large, grease-covered hands over yours, pulling you back to their living quarters in a hurry.

“Then let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

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romana-after-dark · 3 months

Text

Room's on Fire: Black Wedding

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: FEET (sorry Fen!), complete worship, mind control, the incubus. Tummy bluge since apparently this is contensious now???

3.2k words

A/N: Some pov shifts.

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Priest are you there? Can you hear my voice? Do you hear my prayers? Are you out there? Forgive me priest For I have sinned (I know not what I do)" ~Black Wedding, In this Moment.

Sweating, tossing, turning.

The demon, the manifestation of your inadequacy tormented you so often you’d come to be complacent in it, the ravaging of your body nearly a nightly part of your bedtime routine. You just wanted to feel safe in your own bed again. You wanted your husbands to stay the night, to protect you from the terrors, but how could you confess what was happening?

When you wake up in a cold sweat, fear shivers down your spine as you dry heave and gasp for air, red daylight seeping in your curtains and bathing your clothed body in the image of blood, you are determined to change something. You can’t go on like this. You had Francisco now, you just needed to win back Pope. You were ovulating, now was your chance, all you needed was to have all their hearts.

Ben was a lot of fun. You and him did the most activities.

Before he became angry with you, Pope and you mostly spent time outside of sex in your studio. He liked to watch you paint, sipping wine with his eyes over the glass observing the strokes. It was quiet, peaceful, and calming.

Francisco, since your trip to the field was taking you more and more. He liked to take you out to the meadow, fucking on the blankets and putting flowers in each others hair. He let you put a flower crown on him, looking so pretty you had to reward him.

Will treated you like a princess. Will promised that first day that he’d help work out those pains in your back, and he was. He liked to massage you with his healing oils, making your body feel good and comfortable before he filled you up, stating that your comfort and health was important for conceiving.

But Ben, Ben was fun. Ben’s time was filled with laughter, adventure, and lots of sex. Today he took you out on a horse ride, much like Frankie, but there wasn’t a picnic. That wasn’t Ben’s style. What was Ben’s style was making the horse go ‘really fuck’n fast’.

You felt like a princess, your handsome prince whisking you away to some far off land. Benny made you giddy, he made you feel wanted. When Pope and Francisco both wanted nothing to do with you, it was Ben and Will who made you feel seen, feel beautiful, feel desired for.

You watched Ben climb a tree, begging him to be careful but he swore up and down he was going to find you the best peach there was. Ben loved food.

“Please just watch your step!!” You shout after him, but then turn your attention to the open field. From the top of the hill, you could see the fields of gold you used to labour at. Watching the others work, all but tiny dots on the horizon, sometimes you felt bad, like you weren’t contributing to Delta… Will had reminded you that you were called to a higher purpose, for something more. The DNA of gods was constantly inside you, and you wondered if it was changing you in more ways than just the hopeful pregnancy. Maybe you were more than a saint. Maybe their seed was creating a goddess, a new mother- nonononononono that was heresy! You shove the idea out of your head like an intrusive thought, determined to keep your thoughts clear.

THIS was why the incubus was tormenting you! Your thoughts were impure, vile, evil, and so were you. Tears began to burn behind your eyes.

“Here!” Ben drops upside down, hanging by his knees on the tree branch, making you gasp. He’s holding a peach, which you happily take.

“Thank you.” You smile. He always knew how to make you smile. Ben himself was shining as bright as the sun today, a reflection of his good mood. He said he’d make sure there’d be perfect weather for your outing, and he delivered, not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Will made you put on a straw sunhat to protect your skin from its reys. He treated you so well.

Ben makes a kissy face, and you oblige, rewarding him for finding you your snack. His mouth tasted sweet, only then do you realize he took a bite already and you can’t help but laugh adoringly. You take a bite of the peach as Ben still hung from the tree, swinging as he gripped the branch, and come to him again, sliding the bite into his mouth for him to eat. You can feel him smile, chewing the peach and you pepper his face with kisses.

It wasn’t long before he was pulling you up onto the tree, helping you climb up and up. Everything was so beautiful where you sat. Ben kisses you deeper here.

“Fish ain’t the only one that can be romantic as shit.” He mutters against your mouth and you get the feeling he was jealous. Francisco must have told him what you did the last couple days with him, making love in the meadow and yes, it was romantic, but you didn’t expect Ben to be Francisco. All of them loved you in their own ways, with their own expressions.

“He certainly isn’t, my handsome husband.” You kiss back, sighing as he touches your thigh. There was no way to fuck up here, but Ben still brought you to orgasm with his fingers. He had told you not to wear panties.

He picks another peach, pulling his hard cock out as you kick your legs, smiling, your dress rustling in a breeze. You’d noticed the breeze picked up as Ben got turned on. You watch in aw as he fingers the peach open, eyes intently on you. He’s obscene, groaning as if he’s pleasuring himself until he creates a hole, and then…

“Eyes on my cock, peach.”

And god, are your eyes on his cock. Benny has the prettiest dick in your humble opinion. It was long and thick like they all were. Ben was cut, his manhood always throbbing and the prettiest golden color and a vein on the underside. You loved looking at it. Ben fucked himself with the peach, up and down on the shaft with the most levacious squelches coming out only to the harmonized by Ben’s moans and whimpers. His eyes closed, lost in pleasure and he jerked off.

“F-fuck…” Ben mumble, chest heaving as he rests against the trunk. “Fuck man, feels so fucking good.” His hip bucked, makin the branch you were on shake and you had to grab one above for stability but fuck, you couldn’t stop watching him. He was incredible, sculped body creating a divine figure in your midst and you were so blessed to be filled by him. His blue eyes flashed open only to roll back into his head, spurting cum all over his hand and the peach. You nearly came again from the sight and sound alone. You loved how he looked in orgasmic bliss, it didn’t matter who caused it, you, Francisco or Pope, you just wanted to see him when it happened.

You ate the cum stained peach directly from his hand.

You got the idea from Iris, really. Sitting on the counter of the kitchen, you were busy with some cross stitching you wanted to give to Francisco. It was a simple scene, nothing complex as your dormitory focused of useful skills like fieldwork, cooking, animal care. Still, you knew how to sew and although you’d asked, sometimes even begged Iris to let you help with housework, she didn’t trust you with much outside of cooking, which you were good at. You wished she didn’t treat you like a child. Still, you happily worked on the nature scenary for you husband, god of nature. How lucky you were. You noticed how much he liked smoking marijuana.

Reyansh was inside for a refreshment while working outside. He was creating a flower bed for you at Francisco’s request, and his neck was hurting so Iris rubbed his neck. Reynash sighed contently, his soft face smiling at the touch of who very clearly, you see now, was his lover.

Iris was gentle for no one. She brushed off every attempt Jonah made to talk about anything none work related, and it hadn’t endeared her to you much. You didn’t think that bothered her, it didn’t seem she was too fond of you either. It wasn’t a rivalry and you didn’t have a problem with her. In fact, you liked her. She was beautiful, she made good food and she had been there when it was necessary, like having a panic attack. Even in the small things, she fed you well and had your safety in mind. Today, for example, she told you to put on sunscreen before you went outside to sunbathe while Rey built the flowerbed and doubled with babysitting you. That’s what you called it. Still, she didn’t talk to you, and didn’t seem like she wanted to be your friend.

You liked Reyansh a lot, he was kind, gentle, and thoughtful. Iris took care of Reyansh, and that made you happy. You liked seeing Reyansh smile, he had a nice smile. Iris never smiled unless it was at Reyansh and even then it seemed subdued. Jonah smirked at best, and that was usually mixed with an eye roll.

Pope had bad knees. He called it his stigmata, the physical manifestation of the sufering he bared for the people of Delta. He took the brunt of your sins and wasn’t that so good of him? You wondered if you could alleviate some of that pain, seeing as much of it was probably caused by the sins of your father.

“Rey?” You ask from your chair, watching him plant seeds for marigolds. You loved marigolds; they reminded you of Ben, all sunshine and gold.

He turns around over his should, a bright smile on his face. He seemed happier with plant or animals. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Will keeps his healing oils?”

Reyansh laughs and its brighter than the midday sun. He turns around, sitting his ass on the dirt and props himself up on his hands. “What are you planning?”

“SHHHHHHH” Reyansh shushes you, but he’s giggling himself.

You and him were breaking into Will’s room while he was out. Well, not so much breaking as Rey got the master key but still, naughty. You loved Will’s room, you wanted to stay here all the time. It was simple, but not uncomfortable. You both had to be careful, not digging too much into his things as to not get in trouble… but then you found them.

You took lavender, rose, peppermint and oregano. You knew a little about healing oils, but Will’s were special having been blessed by his hands. This had to help Pope’s aches… now, you must get an audience with Pope, and he was not pleased with you.

“I’m busy.” Pope called from his office, ignoring your plea’s to spend time with you. You missed him so, so much. You missed his intensity, the warmth in the gaze, the fire and passion in his eyes. You feel his love for you, his husbands, his community. Who else was to bare the pain he did for his people? He was good, so good.

“Pope, please?” Your voice cracks, leaning against the wood of his door. “Please just ten minutes?”

“I’ll be with you tonight with Francisco.” To breed you, but you didn’t just want to be fucked by him, you wanted to be loved.

“I want to spend time with you, please? I have a surprise. I just… I miss you.”

Silence… then the door unlocking. He stood in front of you, brown eyes ablaze with irritation but also curiosity.

Once securing his attention, you were able to get Pope to follow you to the room you had set up. In it, a chair and a bucket of steaming, sudsy water.

“Sit! Sit!” You beckon him to the chair, and although hesitant he sits down. You take your place where you belong, at the feet of your God.

Knelt before him and gazing up into his eyes, you untie his shoes and slide off his socks, pleasantly surprised by the lack of smell. He’d been inside all day. After rolling up his pants, you take his feet, one by one and lower them into the steaming water and watch in delight ashe closes his eyes, moaning and hanging his head back. He looked relaxed, actually, something you only see in post orgasmic bliss.

You don’t take your eyes off him, massaging into the arch of his foot and enjoying the look of pleasure on his face. You’d doused the water preemptively with lavender and rose oils and you were happy to see it working in calming him.

“Mmmmm” Pope moans, a hardening bulge between his spread legs and you smile at the effect you have on him, the evidence of the love he still held for you. You hoped this act of washing his feet and massaging the joints would prove your subservience to him, your devotion.

Leaning in, you kiss the ball of his foot first as he opens his eyes, firey and alight with lust and love for you, his Madonna, his wife, his goddess. Pope’s mouth pops open, slightly agape as his chest begins to heave, eroticism clouding his face. Pope angls his foot, pressing his toes to your lips and you don’t hesitate to open, completely and fully in his control. You would debase yourself however he asked, just for him. He was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. You’d adored him your whole life, worshiping him in prayer halls for as long as you could remember. He’d been the light of your life, your God, and although you were 11 when Divine Mother announced Pope was not the savior, it didn’t matter to you. He was your savior, he was your everything, and oh, how blessed you were to be here.

You make your jaw slack, allowing him access of as much of your mouth as possible, laving your tongue out against the calloused skin. Reaching to the side, you grab the peppermint-oregano mix of healing oils and poured some on his leg. As you gagged on him, sucking on his toes, you rubbed down his legs. Pope groans in pleasure, taking out his erection to stroke himself to the wet sounds of your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him, so desperate try to please him, to regain his favor so you can be impregnated by his seed, the seeds of his brothers. You wanted so desperately to be his Madonna again, his holy mother, his little flower, it didn’t matter what it took.

He could cut open your chest and carve your heart out if it meant he held the dying pulse in his hands.

“Get over here” He grunts, pulling his feet out of you mouth with a pop. You chase after him, worried you’d done something wrong, but Pope grabs your dress, yanking you forward harshly and into a crash of a kiss. The action knocks over the warm bucket of water, but he didn’t care. Pushing you down and into the spilt water, Pope turns you over and climbs on top of you, rucking your wet skirt over your ass. He didn’t bother taking off your underwear simply pulling it aside in order to thrust directly into you.

You were wet, you were always so, so wet with him. Being in his presence had always left you soaked and needy when he didn’t give you what you wanted. Sometimes you found yourself going to Will for his mouth to give you what Pope wouldn’t.

“My beautiful, sweet Madonna” He mutters, his bearded cheek scratching against yours. “Always so ready for me, such a good fucking girl.” His thrusts are harsh, your face sliding against the floor with the spilt water, your dripping hair splattered all about the tile. The smell was overwhelming and you realize Will’s oils were spilled, mixing into the water and stirred with the movement of your connected bodies.

Everything was so, so much from the smells of the oils to the stretch of his cock, the pounding, pounding, pounding in your womb.

It was the same pounding you felt that night when, for the first time in a long time, you were fucked and pleasured and devoured and worshipped by all four of your husbands.

You were raw, aching, sweating and throbbing; 3 men’s cum had flooded your womb and Will’s was soon to follow. It was good, so, so good. Your body, despite the exhaustion was floating on your soft bed. The group sex had happened in your room, which was a rarity but something that in this moment made you feel like home. This was special, this was different. Will’s grunts were loud, powerful, his strong and naked body forbaring before you where he knelt. Muscles flexing and shifting and moving, his sweaty form and dripping hair complimenting his presence, the size reflected in the bulge of your stomach in every inward thrust. He had to be this stunning if he were to distract you from the scene beside you.

Ben, Francisco and Santiago and spent and drained, were entangled next to you in a sweat and lust-fill affair of their own. Francisco was the center focus, his body worshiped and adored by Pope and Ben. It seemed like a tug of war, like Francisco was the rope in a tug of war. It was clear that Francisco was precious to both of them, but there was another air about it all. The fight for Francisco’s sweet kisses was just the battle ground. Francisco himself had gotten hard all over again, Ben’s hands jerking him of from where he lay, their two body’s and coloring a contrast of dark and light, hard and soft, and electric energy so, so close to Pope’s explosives.

Pope would not be out done by the younger man. This was his community, he was the leader, he was son of the Divine Mother and he would not relinquish his most favored lover to a boy 8 years his junior. Ben had ambition, he had wants and visions of a future that Santiago would not acquiesce to and although Benjamin’s loyalty was strong, so was his jealousy.

Two could play at jealousy, and Francisco was his. Playing with Frankie’s balls, heavy but starting to tighten as his perfect body writhed to the sounds of the Madonna’s pleasure, Santiago gripped Ben’s locks and yanked him down. He took control of Frankie’s mouth, lips still swollen from their previous encounter evidence of who his lips belonged too. He sucked on him until the healing lip cracked open again. If Francisco bled, his blood was Pope’s.

He hears you cry out in the way you only do when you’re coming, and Ben latches onto Francisco’s nipple, determined to make him cum again. Pope loved his brothers, loved them all, they were the center of his world, his everything, his rocks. He’d had all of them in every way imaginable, fucked into every hole at every angle but god, nothing compared to Frankie. Ben must’ve felt that too, the way he took care of him. Together, as a team, they gave Francisco his second orgasm.

Something was different today. Something changed.

They all slept in her bed that night.

WHAT DO WE THINK For The Wrong Way readers, did you catch the reference? it was small.

also last chapter i asked whose the worst and someone said jonah i just wanna talk LMFAOOOO but i laughed bc its OVERWHELMINGLY santi. like 80%

Poll of the day

who knocks up madonna? not who you WANT that'll be a new poll, but who you think does it. listing all potential options.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS and whyyyyy

If you are into c.ai, check out the Jonah ai on the masterlist

Also, hope you check out the playlist! if you like old music like me especially. lots of 60's-80's

apoligies to everyone whose been tagging me in tag games. i appiciate the tags a lot, im just like....... ahhhhhhh you know? life. i love yall for including me though! If you have discourd and wantto join a server for my works, dm me! as long as you are an active particpant in the fics you're welcome!

IF YOU LIKE CULT FICS READ THIS ONE BY @noxturnalpascal with cult leader joel!!!!! I havnt had the chance to read a full chapter by i read most of the first chapter and its soooo good.

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

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If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

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buckleysbitch · 4 months

Note

Need more mean gf reader x dom loser gf hazel bc ONFG your mean girls inspired oneshot had me screaming. Maybe like how hazel would give her “watch yourself” looks during school whenever she caught reader being rude and then she goes on to fuck the attitude out of reader while simultaneously babying her if that makes anysense🫶

YES I LIVE

listen to hazels spotify here ₊˚ 🦢・₊ ⊹

reqs are open!

18+ under the cut

to say you were irritated this morning was an understatement. last night hazel left your house, leaving you writhing and unsatisfied from all the edging. something about how she needed to teach you a lesson for being so rude. whatever.

strutting into mr. gs class, you spot hazel staring, her eyes hungered for you. just as you sit down, pj and josie run up to your desk, slamming their hands down.

“okay, we think there’s a serious lack of female solidarity and this school and-“

“pj. i’m gonna stop you right there. why don’t you get the fuck out of my face and go hit on some other girl out of your league?” smirking, you watch the two girls scurry away, and glance over at hazel, who’s giving you the “watch yourself or else” look. you flip your hair and wink, opening up your textbook. about one paragraph in, your focus is broken by the buzzing of your phone in your purse.

hazel: my house after school.

sneaking a glance at her, she’s got this shit eating smirk on her face, eyeing you up and down. you know you’re about to get taught a lesson.

pulling up into her driveway, your heart is about to damn leap out of your chest. knowing hazel, you’ve come to expect the unexpected. everything is a blur as she leads you up the stairs, death grip on your wrist.

“what was all that today, huh?”

hazel pushes you down over the bed, fucking laughing. skirt flipped up and underwear dragged down at your feet, you don’t dare move from your position, but your wetness grows as you hear her fumbling with the buckles of her strap on harness.

“hazel….i’ll be good…please…”

her knuckles snake around your neck, pulling your back up towards her chest, her lips dangerously close to your neck.

“oh, i’ve seen that you don’t know how to do that. but maybe i can teach you, hm?” the silicone tip teases your yearning pussy, spreading your wetness. you seethe as hazel nips at your neck, grinding into her desperately for any friction. the tip of her new appendage bobs in and out of your slit teasingly with a grin plastered across her face, knowing that she has the queen of rockbridge wrapped around her finger.

as she finally begins to relentlessly pound into you, every thrust brings images of the girl, the loser lesbian who everyone bullies. something about getting railed by someone so beneath you is so intoxicating, so unreal. but what is real is her. her shaggy hair brushing on your neck, sweat dripping down her forehead, attentive expression all pointed at you while her strap disappears into your throbbing walls.

“hazel-“

“i know princess, i know.” her hand shifts downwards from your hip to the throbbing core of your pussy, her calloused fingers making gentle circles. the unexpected sensation makes your back arch, and the most dirty sounds erupt from your throat you could possibly muster.

note to self: make hazel angry more often.

“i-i’m gonna-hazel…” you groan, chasing your orgasm at lightning speed. before you can finally let go, hazel jerks the strap out of you, making you shriek at the loss.

“what?” she chuckles, “you thought this was a reward? no….no baby. this is your punishment.” her toned arms flip you over onto your back, spreading your legs open for her.

“alright princess, here’s how it goes: you’re not gonna make a sound, and if you do, i’ll stop, understood?” with a frenetic nod of agreement, she dips down, tongue swirling around your clit. the pillow next to you is your only saving grace, clutching onto it desperately. just as you thought the idea of holding back all this pleasure is impossible, the girls two slender fingers pump into you. tears well as you attempt to be quiet, cursing yourself in your head over being a bitch to pj and josie earlier.

“you look so pretty like this,” she whispers against your clit, “all obedient and quiet for me.”

the bundle in your core is growing harder and harder to ignore, and you fumble your fingers into her hair as you release nears. she nods, tongue still stuck in between your folds, as you crumble underneath her, covering your face with her pillow to suppress any noise.

“good job, angel.” she coos, her lips glistening with your wetness, hair sticking up all different ways. “hope you learned your lesson.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan brainrot #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan au #hazel callahan smut #taking reqs #taking requests #reqs open #requests open

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serafilms · 4 months

Text

song 4! sweeter than fiction (taylor swift) + remus lupin (spotify wrapped event)

seen you lost in a crowd, seen your colours fade, wish i could make it better, someday you won’t remember, this pain you thought would last forever and ever

The air was cold last night. You feel it when you open your window and the breeze pierces your skin, your mouth twisting into a frown. This isn’t good for Remus, whose body temperature is high enough as a human, and even higher as a wolf. He would have been freezing last night. And very agitated.

Scanning the grounds you can see from your window, you don’t see the telltale werewolf or his three companions. It’s still early morning, but you know that he usually returns around now. Madam Pomfrey must already have him.

You don’t waste time in pulling on your shoes and slipping out the room, leaving the snoozing figures of your roommates behind. The common room is empty, and it’s still a few minutes before 6am, but you’re willing to take the risk of nobody finding you until curfew is lifted.

It’s one minute past six according to the clock on the wall in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey gives you a raised eyebrow but says nothing as she leaves the room and you approach the only bed with its curtains drawn.

“Remus?”

There’s a groan in response. You pull open the curtains and slip inside.

Remus Lupin deserves the world. Which is why seeing him broken and battered, with bruises and scratches all over his arms and face, makes your heart break.

"Hi Rem."

He manages a half smile at you, but says nothing. On a better day, he might have quipped a joke, or called you a nickname, but today is anything but a good day.

"How do you feel?" You murmur, as you sit beside him and brush your fingers over his hair.

This time he replies, "Like shit."

You survey him as his voice seems to waiver, and suddenly his hand comes up to his face to rub at his eyes. It comes away wet with tears, and you don't hesitate to grab it, rubbing your thumb over the edge of his palm.

Remus inhales deeply, as his face contorts, and you swear your heart splits in two as more tears slip down his face. Your other hand comes up to wipe them away, and you lean in to kiss his cheek.

"I always think it'll get better," he cries, "each time I turn. But it never does."

Tears begin to gather in the corners of your own eyes, and you squeeze his hand a little tighter. You want to tell him that it will get better, that everything will be okay, but you want more than anything for him to believe it, and you can't seem to find the words. So instead, you gently nudge him over and slip into the bed beside him, his hand clutched in yours.

Remus breathes deeply to calm himself. His body is warm. You wonder how the world could let a boy so kind suffer like this.

"One day," you say, eyes fixed on the ceiling, "we'll be living in a nice house. With a library, filled with books floor to ceiling."

There's a rustle in the mattress beside you as Remus shifts his weight to face you.

"Lily will have invented some spell or potion to make it all easier every month, and we'll have a spare bedroom or two just for our friends to come stay with us." You turn to face him, and see tears in his eyes again. Your hand pulls away from his to wipe them, resting on his cheek as you continue.

"And you'll be doing whatever it is you want, and people will recognise you for you, and your achievements, and they'll sing your praises and know you not as a werewolf, not as a monster, but as Remus Lupin. The kindest, most clever wizard to ever walk the Earth."

Remus manages a smile, as his hand comes up to rest atop yours on his cheek. "Thank you, love."

His eyes shine with earnest.

"It'll get better, Remus." He smiles as he kisses your hand, and although you can tell that he doesn't fully believe you, you let it slide. You'll prove him wrong one day.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #marauders imagines #marauders #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #marauders imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #2023 spotify wrapped event !

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hwaslayer · 9 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | three.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, we all know seonghwa is a dick but he pulls something that makes him even more of a dick (if that's even possible?), yunho 🥺, we finally say hello to yeosang!!

"Thank god lab was cancelled today. Can finally eat a meal in peace." Soobin sighs. "Here." He shoves his fries over to Chaery. "Too full now."

"Yay!" She claps as she takes the plate and begins to chow down on the rest of Soobin's curly fries. "They're so good. I can't believe they're already out of this when the cafeteria barely opened 30 mins ago."

"There's visitors on campus getting lunch so—" Seungmin shrugs. "Visitors getting free food and leaching off of us poor college students."

"At least the frozen yogurt machine is working!" Chaery adds.

"For now. They'll probably eat that shit up and end up breaking the machine, too. You know, visitors doing what visitors do best."

"Stop. Be nice." You scold him. "They're literally just high school seniors."

"Yeah.. so, visitors?" Seungmin furrows his brows. "I said what I said." You snort just as you finish up your frozen yogurt cup and place it down onto your tray.

"I heard that new mochi donut place opened in downtown." Soobin nonchalantly adds as he scrolls through his phone. "We should go before practice."

"We should." Chaery squeals. "I wholeheartedly agree with you for once!" Soobin furrows his brows at her before [playfully] threatening to take back his fries.

"Are you driving? I'm kinda low on gas." Seungmin asks.

"Yeah, why not?" Soobin shrugs, being the first to stand and drop off his tray. "Meet us at the library after class, Chaery?" The rest of your group follows and agrees in unison.

"Mm, sure. Guess I'll just wait around there, then. I do need to get some homework done so I can study all night." Chaery adds before looking at you. "Hey, you're seeing Yunho in class today right?"

"Sure am."

"Gonna sit next to him?" You chuckle.

"Chaery, sorry to break it to you, but that one time was a coincidence. He just didn't have anywhere else to sit."

"Whatever you say. I'm sure you'll find him in the same seat today."

"What are you, cupid?"

"Whatever you want me to be. As long as I can get you the fuck away from Park Seonghwa." She pretends to gag, making you laugh.

"You're too much."

"Call it what you want, I just care about you." She swings her arm around you as your group walks over to the library. It's quite busy at this time— lots of foot traffic, with people in and out of classes or hanging out. You, Soobin and Seungmin bid farewell to Chaery as she heads into the quiet section of the library to get work done, while the three of you head upstairs to your classrooms. There's still about 5 minutes to spare, more than enough time for you to head to your seat and settle in before class. So, you do just that— head to your seat and settle in.

Except to your surprise, Jeong Yunho is sitting in that same seat next to you.

You pause in your steps for a second before continuing to walk over, observing as he types away at his laptop. You're sure he can feel you coming, but he doesn't do much to acknowledge you until you take a seat. He glances over at you with a small smile, muttering a soft:

"Hi."

"Hey Yunho."

"How was the rest of your walk?"

"My walk?" You raise a brow before it clicks in your head. "Oh, right! With Chaery. Yeah, it was good. How was yours?" You chuckle as you take out your notebook. "Were you able to get some sleep that night?" You remembered. Such a minor detail for Yunho, but you remembered.

"Uh, yeah. Enough to suffice."

"Good." You chuckle. "By the way, thanks again for sending me that stuff. It's super helpful."

"Glad it is." Your eyes glance up to Dr. Nelson walking in and setting his things down on the front desk. Your smile fades when Dr. Nelson begins class and starts talking all this nonsense about a major paper assignment.

"Might have to bother you again for more help with this later." Yunho chuckles a bit and shakes his head.

"You're not a bother. I don't mind." He says close to a whisper. You give him one last smile before diverting your attention back to Dr. Nelson, jotting down some notes about his topic of the day.

Class goes by as it typically does, with you being able to work with Yunho on another in-class assignment. He asks about the rest of your afternoon, and you tell him about your plans with friends, dance practice and your evening class. He simply nods before explaining that he'll be working on some other projects for the remainder of the day. It falls silent a majority of the time you're working with him, however you don't mind keeping up the conversation. He's easy to talk to, and quite frankly, you don't find Yunho the least bit intimidating or awkward.

At least, you couldn't pick up on it during your interactions with him.

You're just hoping he's fond of your company, too. Hopefully, you don't annoy him— especially when you ask for help.

"Don't work too hard, okay?" You say as you pack up your things and start to head out of the classroom. Yunho follows shortly after, slinging his backpack strap over his shoulder.

"Mm, I'll try. I do have lots of things to cross off, though."

"Would you like me to get you a mochi donut to give you some energy?" He laughs.

"That's very nice of you, but no thanks. I'll be good."

"Okay. Suit yourself." You tease before waving at him one last time. "See ya around?"

"Yeah." Is all he responds with. He watches as you meet your friends and head downstairs, with Chaery waiting for your group at the bottom of the steps. He smiles a bit when he sees you hug her like you haven't seen her in years, becoming fond of how good you look being happy.

You should be happy.

He doesn't know much about you yet, but he does appreciate your energy and how kind you are around him.

Meanwhile, you're enjoying the walk down to the lot with your friends. You're happy to be reunited with your bestfriends, class wasn't too bad for the first time in ages and you're off to get some good mochi donuts. But of course, you've come to learn that these things don't last, and they don't last for one reason only—

"Hey." Seonghwa says, catching you as he walks out of the gym. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You sigh as you slow your pace, letting your friends walk ahead.

"Seonghwa, I don't have time. We're literally about to leave."

"Just 2 minutes." Your friends look back at you, Chaery making it very obvious of her distaste for him. He doesn't care much though, because what Seonghwa wants is what he gets. He won't stop until he gets it. "Please, 2 minutes."

"Fine." You cross your arms. "What?"

"You're still upset?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Hwa? Tell me one good reason."

"I said I was sorry. We were just talking. I didn't know I couldn't talk to my classmates."

"Right. Just talking even with your other classmate who stepped out of your car that morning, too?"

"Baby." He groans a bit. "She just needed a ride. Why do I have to explain all of this to you? You know I wouldn't do that."

"Unfortunately, no. I don't know. I don't know what you're up to when we aren't together."

"And I'm telling you now. Stop listening to other people and assuming. Just talk to me and ask me." He says. "I hate when we're like this. I don't want you mad, and I just wanna move past this." He actually sounds a bit worried, but you know better than to just let your guard down right away because he has hurt you before. He has done things 'behind your back.' He has made it very clear what you were to him. "Besides, it's not just me. That whole thing with Yunho—"

"No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to drag him into this." You shake your head. "This is such a waste of time, and we're just going in circles. I need to go." You turn but he gently grabs you by the wrist to stop you.

"Okay, okay. Baby. I'll stop. I'm sorry." There he goes again. At this point, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing else to say, and you're not sure what else to do. Seonghwa is going in circles and you know it's because he's sorry that he got caught;

Not because he is truly and genuinely sorry about being a dick and treating you this way.

"Y/N, let's go. We don't have much time before practice." Soobin calls out, his eyes glued on Seonghwa.

"I really need to go."

"I'll come pick you up tonight then, okay? After practice." You don't say anything— don't do anything really— besides give Seonghwa one last look before turning on your heel to head back to your friends. "I'll be there." He says as you continue walking, letting out a deep sigh.

"Sorry." You climb in next to Chaery in the backseat and buckle in, with Soobin driving out of the lot.

"It's cool. We should just go so we can get back in time. Hyunjin will never let it go if we show up late." Seungmin says.

"We'll just shove a mochi donut in his face, he'll be okay." Chaery responds, texting away before turning her attention towards you. "Babe, what was that about?"

"He was just trying to apologize for how it's been."

"How.. what's been? He's always been this way so what's the difference?"

"I don't know."

"Are you seeing him later?"

"I guess."

"He better make that the best damn apology anyone has ever seen."

"Let's hope so." You give her a pursed smile and shrug.

Soobin takes the quick drive into downtown, pulling up to a parking spot just around the corner from the new mochi donut shop. There's a few people waiting in line outside, but it moves quick. The four of you fall in line, each chiming in about how the day went and anything new that's happened. Soobin starts to discuss plans for Christmas break that'll soon peak around the corner— explaining how he plans to go home and spend time with his baby cousins who will be in town. You find out Seungmin and Chaery also plan to go home every now and then. For you, you're not really sure what your plans are. Perhaps you'll fall in the middle since you do love seeing your mom and older sister, however the space and freedom is always nice.

The line continues to move bit by bit until your group is finally at the front. Seungmin orders two boxes to bring to the studio, while the rest of your group orders individual donuts to try out. Before eating your donut, you snap a picture and immediately think about Yunho. You second-guess texting the photo to him, but you do it anyways— hoping it will give him some kind of boost of energy for his evening.

Which, is fair. Because Yunho is in the library already struggling to get through some of this project.

you: here's your donut! i'll eat it on your behalf.

Yunho chuckles a bit to himself before responding.

yunho: thanks. 😊 really appreciate the support.

you: hopefully you can feel the boost of energy from here!

yunho: already do!

You giggle and set your phone into your pocket before continuing on with your friends, mentally preparing for your own evening of practice and class.

Yunho makes his trek to the back parking lot like he usually does at this time, not expecting many people to be around. It's exceptionally chilly tonight that he sucks in a sharp breath to prevent his teeth from chattering too much. He does a little shimmy too, hoping it'll shake the feeling off from his bones until he gets to his car.

God, this walk couldn't be any longer.

As he finally arrives to the back lot, he catches you sitting at the same bench that he saw you sitting at last time. He lets out a breath and shakes his head, slowly walking to his car to give Seonghwa some time to make it to you before he climbs in.

Too bad that doesn't fucking happen.

He tried, he really tried to walk as slow as he could in this cold weather, but he couldn't prolong it any further. He pops his trunk and tosses his bag in, contemplating what his next move is when he sees you wiping away at your face. You're crying, and sitting in the cold— it's a damn shame he can't molly-whop Seonghwa's ass into the next lifetime right at this very moment.

"Fucking dick." He mutters to himself when he climbs into his car and drives over to the entrance, quickly hopping out to jog over to you with his extra jacket in hand. You don't really notice him though [and he doesn't wanna scare the hell out of you], so he stops at a certain distance before clearing his throat. You turn to him with watery eyes, but you manage to put on a tiny smile for him anyway. Probably to try and hide the fact that you're crying over Park Seonghwa, but it's too late.

He knows.

"Yunho, hi." You wipe at your face once more. "What're you doing here?"

"I was just about to leave, but I saw you sitting here."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about me. My ride is.. coming." You pause a bit in between words.

"You sure?" Yunho cocks a brow up and you nod. No.

"Yes." You lie anyway. Truth be told, you know Seonghwa isn't coming at this point but you still hold onto hope. It's been close to a fucking hour and you ridiculously hold onto hope. You glance at Yunho but his facial expression shows that he doesn't believe you one bit.

He knows, he knows.

So, he gestures towards his car and purses his lips together.

"It's freezing. If you really wanna wait for him, you can wait in my car until he gets closer." Is all he says. Wow, he really knows. "I just can't let you wait here any longer by yourself." You look at him and immediately know through his look alone that he's not gonna let this one go. You simply give him a curt nod before standing. He extends his arms out when you get a little closer, draping his jacket over your shoulders. It's a thick zip-up, and Yunho's scent lingers on the fabric. He smells good, you think— hints of an earthy, woody cologne he uses, mixed with laundry detergent. "You can wear my jacket for now to warm up."

"Yunho, you really don't have to."

"I do." He says in a gentle tone. He swings his passenger door open, allowing you to settle in before hopping in the driver's seat. He instantly turns up the heat before sitting back and scrolling through his phone, picking a song on his playlist to play softly in the background.

"He's not coming." You say close to a whisper as you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, Yunho cocking his head to the side to look at you.

"I'll take you home then."

"No, it's alright. I can call my roommates—"

"We live in the same community, it's not a problem Y/N." He chuckles.

"Right. Thank you." You look up at him and he gives you a toothless smile before driving off. It's a little awkward, embarrassing even, that you were caught crying over somebody who didn't deserve the tears. Somebody who stood you up and left you in the cold, somebody who didn't even care to text or call. Somebody who is probably getting busy as we speak—

Yeah, definitely undeserving.

You almost wanna cry again as you look out the window, feeling so incredibly small and stupid for this shit. But, it's like Yunho knows what's going on in your head, what you're feeling like. He doesn't have to ask, and quite frankly, he's pretty pissed himself that Seonghwa could just continuously leave you out in the cold like that. Who the fuck does that?

"You deserve better." Yunho says, running his finger across his bottom lip as he continues to keep his eyes on the road.

"I know."

"I don't know the whole story, and I can't say I understand, but you can't keep hoping Seonghwa will change for you. He's an absolute dick."

"Yeah, he is." You admit it with a whisper. Yunho won't say anything more though, he didn't necessarily pick you up to lecture you.

"Is there anything you need before going home?" You shake your head.

"No, just wanna get home and get comfy."

"Okay."

"I definitely need to get you lunch now." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"You don't owe me anything."

"So, you don't wanna have lunch with me tomorrow?" You look at him all doe-eyed and he can't help but smile bigger. You're cute.

"Never said that. I just don't want you to repay me for anything."

"Just this once?" You pout a bit. You're so cute. "We can go to that new brunch place in town."

"If you wanted to hang out, you could've just asked." He smirks and you let out a small snort.

"Funny." You turn to him. "Seriously. If you're free, let me buy you lunch. At least something to say thank you for keeping me warm and out of the cold." He nods.

"Sure. I have a good break in between classes tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll just text you when I get out of my class then." You lean your head back against the headrest and stare out the window, exhaustion slowly starting to hit you. "By the way, that literature review you helped me with? I got an A on it."

"Sweet. Nice to know I can be of help." You chuckle.

"You're a lot of help." Yunho smiles to himself as he continues to drive, a comfortable silence falling in the car for the rest of the way.

When he pulls into the lot, he snags a parking spot near his building just because he knows he'll walk you over to yours. It's a small, tightknit community, and the walk to your building is merely across the parking lot, but it's his priority to make sure you get home safely. He does a slight jog to open your door before popping the trunk to grab your things, handing you your bag with a soft smile on his face.

He's cute.

"Well, I'm there, so.." You point towards your building. "See you tomorrow?" He shakes his head.

"Come on, I'll walk you."

"Yunho—"

"It's a quick walk."

"You do too much for me." He looks at the ground and lazily kicks at the fallen leaves.

"I don't think so. This is the bare minimum, and it's quite obvious someone hasn't been putting in the effort." He sucks on his bottom lip while looking at you.

"You can say that."

"I don't mean to say this in an attacking manner or anything."

"No I know, Yunho. I know you wouldn't do that."

"Good." He stops in front of the stairs that'll lead you up to your unit.

"Thanks for everything tonight."

"Anytime."

"Goodnight Yunho, walk safely." He lets out a small laugh.

"Goodnight Y/N." He watches as you slowly walk up the steps, only turning when he feels satisfied enough to leave you.

"Oh, Yunho!" You call for him around the corner of the steps and poke your head out. "Your jacket?"

"You can just give it to me tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight!"

"Night." He chuckles, digging his hands into his pockets as he walks off to his apartment.

Per usual, he steps in and hears his roommate yelling at his computer screen while locked away in his room. His roommate is cool and all, but they talk here and there; not too often. Yeosang is usually minding his own business with his own group of friends, in and out of the apartment with the occasional guest over. Other times, he's locked in his room while playing games. He cooks ramen a lot, and he typically asks Yunho if he wants some— which is nice of him, and he's grateful. Yunho is okay with being in his own company for the most part. As a matter of fact, it's less of a headache that way since he doesn't have to worry much about others around him. He's always been quiet and more reserved, moreso just for the sake of his own peace. He doesn't go out of his way for people, so he finds himself chuckling at the fact that he pulled all that shit for you. Not saying you weren't worth the trouble, but it felt so out of character that he wasn't sure what he was trying to do here. Though, he can say he does find comfort in your company and he can't say that for a lot of people. It's easy for him to feel relaxed around you even though he hasn't spent a lot of time with you outside of the classroom. It's just who you are and how you carry yourself. Your aura, your personality.

It's nice, refreshing really. You don't have to try to be these things, it comes naturally.

Suddenly, Yeosang's door swings open and he's walking out in a baggy black tee and sweats. Yunho decides he'll cook up some spam.

"What's up, dude." Yeosang grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

"I'm about to cook some spam, do you want some?" Yeosang shakes his head.

"I'm good, thanks. Had dinner earlier." Yeosang looks at him with a brow cocked up. "Surprised you didn't grab anything on your way home?"

"Was gonna but got caught up with something as I was about to leave."

"Something or someone?"

"Someone." Yunho shrugs.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What, no?! I just ran into Y/N and she was having a rough night."

"Y/N? The junior messing with Park Seonghwa?" Yeosang says and Yunho rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. You can't even spell your name without Seonghwa nowadays.

"Uh, yeah her."

"Surprised that's still a thing." Yeosang does a slight head tilt. "He must have some feelings, right? I've never seen him hold onto someone for so long the way he does with Y/N." Yunho shrugs. He doesn't really wanna talk about this right now, let alone think about you and Seonghwa. Because what does Yeosang even mean? Feelings?

The truth is that Seonghwa is a dumbass and that's that.

He doesn't do feelings.

"He left her out in the cold for close to an hour, so. Highly doubt it's that." Yunho says with a subtle hint of venom in his words. Yeosang catches on though, even when Yunho tries to avoid eye contact and continues to quietly cook away at his spam.

"Poor girl. She really deserves better." Yunho finally looks at him for a brief moment, but gives him a quick nod before returning his attention to the pan.

"Sure you don't want any?"

"Positive. Thanks." Yunho shrugs just as Yeosang begins to head back to his room. "Alright, calling it a night." Yunho nods in acknowledgement before Yeosang can shut his door. Once he's finished cooking, he shuts off the heat, cleans a bit and takes his bowl into his room.

The only lights bouncing off of the walls are from his computer screens. There's something soothing about sitting in a dimly lit room at this time of night, especially when Yunho finds his mind wandering. He's eating and catching up on his show, but he's not really catching onto anything that's happening or what's being said. Before he can even think about what he's trying to do, he picks up his phone and pulls up your message thread. He chuckles to himself a bit re-reading the message you sent him with a picture of your mochi donut.

Cute.

He doesn't really think much about other people, but he's wondering if you're okay. He still can't believe Seonghwa left you out in the cold, and he knows you have been crying.

No, he needs to give you space. You give him some attention and now he's acting up.

No, Yunho.

Chill the fuck out.

He sighs to himself and shoves his phone to the side, erasing every possible text he could draft in his head because he won't send you a text. He'll let you be. He'll give you your space, let you be in your own peace.

Besides, you might prefer to recover alone. Recharge alone. Be alone.

He hopes you are okay.

He hopes you are warm and comfortable, and that you aren't crying over Park Seonghwa's dumbass.

Hopefully, sleep finds you.

But tonight, he doesn't think sleep will find him.

"Hey." You shuttle into the apartment and toss your things aside. "Chaery and Soobin aren't home yet?"

"Hey, no. They have some studying to get done and wanted to do it at the library." Seungmin's eyes glaze over you. "I thought you were gonna be with Seonghwa?" He asks as he cooks himself a cheese quesadilla.

"Well, he never picked me up."

"What?" Seungmin furrows his brows as he angrily shuts off the burner and turns to you. "I swear I'll fight him. It's freezing outside. Doesn't he know that?"

"I know, Seungmin. Please don't tell Soobin or Chaery, I don't wanna hear it right now." He sighs heavily and shakes his head as if to dismiss his thoughts.

"Fine, whatever. I just hope this finally gives you enough of a reason to stop messing with him." You look down, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. "So how did you get home? Whose jacket are you wearing?" He comes closer to inspect you.

"It's.. Yunho's."

"Yunho? How did you get Yunho's jacket?"

"He saw me waiting out in the cold and gave me his jacket."

"He took you home?" You nod.

"Yeah, when I told him Seonghwa wasn't gonna come."

"I'm really glad he was there."

"I am too. He even walked me to the steps before leaving."

"God, Y/N. You've gotten so used to the way Seonghwa treats you, and to be honest, I hate it. He's a piece of shit. Just date Yunho." You sigh.

"Not you, too."

"I mean, I'm partially joking, but Yunho has already done more for you in these past days than Seonghwa has the past months. You're my bestfriend, and you know I love you. You're way too good for him."

"Yunho and I are just friends, classmates even. We don't really talk like that."

"Still, he manages to help you when you need it the most without asking for anything in return. Says a lot about his character."

"I'm just gonna go shower." Seungmin sighs when he sees you hauling your things into your room. "I still have some homework to get done."

"Do you want me to make you some food?"

"Sure, whatever you whip up, I'll eat." You give him a small, but somewhat defeated, smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." And with that, you head in for a long, hot shower, unsure of how to feel tonight. You knew you needed to stop messing with Seonghwa, but you weren't sure why it was hard for you to cut him off. Maybe it was the attention you received behind doors, Seonghwa being a different Seonghwa that showered you in love, care— even though you knew he didn't entirely mean it. That he didn't genuinely care or feel for you, that he can't commit to you and only you.

He likes the idea of you the most, not you.

But Seonghwa wasn't the only thing occupying your thoughts, it was definitely Yunho, too. You couldn't help but wonder where all of that came from when you didn't know much about him and he didn't know much about you.

Maybe you were used to the way that Seonghwa treated you. It's not that Yunho was doing too much, it was the fact that you already expected less.

You were used to less.

Not even the bare minimum.

Hopping out of the shower, Seungmin has a hot bowl of rice with a sausage and egg omelett sitting on your desk along with a piping hot cup of green tea [drenched in honey, just the way you like it]. You smile and dig in, scrolling through your phone to see a notification from Seonghwa—

seonghwa: fuck baby, i'm sorry. something came up

seonghwa: where are you?

seonghwa: i'm so sorry about everything, i know we've been fighting lately and i haven't been my best towards you. i'll make it up to you, i promise

seonghwa: baby please, talk to me. can i come get you now?

You roll your eyes and toss your phone aside, pulling out your laptop so you can finish up your homework. You don't feel like responding to Seonghwa, and you don't feel like thinking about him any longer.

He's already taken up too much of your time and effort.

You slip on your headphones and power through the rest of the assignments you had left. It wasn't much, and it doesn't take long, so you begin to draft out bits and pieces to your literature paper.

Suddenly, you think of Yunho again.

A small smile is etched across your face when you remember his company tonight. You really are truly grateful he stepped in and brought you home.

Maybe he's on his walk, you're not sure. But, you don't want to be a bother.

You just hope he's okay and that he's taking care of himself after tonight.

He deserves it.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji [bold = can’t tag 🥺]

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