#I just think it would be funny if you moved into town and everyone is like ‘welcome!!!! do NOT go to xyz especially at night (: no reason’

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

What if I made a little fucked up Stardew Valley esque AU with all my OCs. What then.

[milf-harrington]

going on TWO international flights all on my own has changed me, it was such a fun adventure, im extra excited for my trip to brisbane now that that scarier trip has come and gone

[katiexpunk]

Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G  Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them. 

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful. 

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life. 

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite.  After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it. 

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged. 

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK. 

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore. 

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story. 

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one. 

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below. 

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug. 

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it. 

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think. 

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up. 

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram. 

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. 

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep. 

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await. 

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste. 

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try. 

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts. 

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.  

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone. 

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl. 

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door. 

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open. 

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast. 

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door.  “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone. 

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive. 

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door. 

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess. 

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more. 

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even. 

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman. 

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious. 

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk. 

Oh god. 

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is.  You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it. 

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot. 

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.” 

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it. 

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note. 

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did. 

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it. 

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.” 

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain. 

God, he wishes you would have kept it. 

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days. 

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden. 

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown. 

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway. 

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it. 

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place. 

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy. 

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself. 

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside. 

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter. 

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help. 

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one. 

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy. 

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot. 

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh. 

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him. 

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease. 

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country… 

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile. 

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception. 

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box.  It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency. 

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.” 

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt. 

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him. 

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive. 

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink. 

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again. 

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls. 

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car. 

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom. 

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life. 

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one. 

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him. 

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected. 

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had. 

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen. 

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated. 

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment. 

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves. 

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips. 

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips. 

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken. 

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching. 

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him. 

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room. 

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice. 

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it. 

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight. 

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock. 

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him. 

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm. 

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

[allysunny]

Safe in my Arms

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Drunk!Fem!Reader

Synopsys: A nigth out with your friends turns into you getting drunk. You're lucky your sweet Miggy has come to pick you up.

Words: 3.5k words

Warnings: Alcohol and being drunk, duh, reader is said to be shorter than Miguel and is wearing makeup, lots of fluff and a bit of crack, some suggestive themes. It's just a nice, fluffy and funny fic overall. Untranslated spanish, do tell me if I fucked that up, please.

A/N: Hey everyone!!!! So, three nigths ago I got fucking plastered and I was wondering about how nice it would be if Miguel was there to pick me up and take care of me. I love this man so much, he'd be the best at taking care of a drunk person, fight me.

It's kinda short and it's not my best work, because when I thought about writing it, I was drunk,,, and as I sobered up the inspiration kind of disappeared? I still think it's rather sweet though, and I hope y'all will enjoy it.

“There you are, mi vida,” An extremely tall and rather handsome man said as he approached you near the bar. You’d been hanging out with your friends, celebrating the very-much promotion one of them had gotten. So far, it had been amazing. You all had been downing drinks and dancing to the sound of the catchy pop music playing on the speakers, and while you admitted your head felt lighter than it should be, and your limbs were getting harder to move around, you were still having an amazing town.

“Who are you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly to try and get a look at the stranger’s face. All you could make out were sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and what seemed like a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s me, honey, it’s Miguel. I’m here to take you home, do you have your things?”

Half of the things he said went over your head, the music far too loud and drowning out most of his speech. You shook your head and took a few steps backwards, putting your hands up.

“Sorry man, not interested. I’m here with a couple of friends.” You turned away from him and faced the very same friends you had just mentioned. The one being celebrated, Katie, smiled, somehow not noticing the imposing figure that stood behind you. You simply took her hand and spun her around a few times, laughing loudly as your feet swayed and the two of you tripped over and over again.

Another girl approached you to – rather, Miguel, and sighed before offering him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to call you, she’s incredibly drunk and I didn’t want her doing anything stupid. I think it’d better if she goes home.”

Miguel gave her a tight-lipped smile and chuckled.

“Thank you for calling me. Before she left home, she said, and I quote, ‘Don’t worry Miggy, I’ll maybe have one or two drinks and head home.” He turned to you, standing on wobbly legs, and shouting loudly over the music.

“Well, you know her.”

“I do.” He nodded, before taking a few steps forward. “Thank you for calling me again, I’ll take her home now.”

“Thanks. Let us know when you two make it?”

“Of course.”

The girl walked away, leaving Miguel to look around himself – somehow, you’d disappeared in the middle of the crowd, and for a few seconds, it scared him shitless. Where the shock had you gone? You were standing just a few feet away from him just now. He turned around, walking and dodging the dancing bodies on the dance floor before he spotted someone whose hair resembled yours. Squinting, he made out your figure, leaning over the bar and gesticulating wildly.

Miguel approached you, sighing once more.

“ – And make it a double!” you yelled, before turning to face your friend and continuing to chat excitedly.

“Honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have another drink,” Miguel said as he walked up to you. He wanted to wrap an arm around your waist, or place a gentle hand on your lower back, but he knew you were intoxicated and might be upset that he was touching you so freely. So, he simply stood by your side, hands itching to touch, but never doing so.

“You again? Look man, I have no idea who you are, but I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.” You mumbled, eyeing him with disgust. “I have a boyfriend, and he could be here within a few minutes and kick your ass. So, if you don’t want to taste the floor, I’d recommend backing away from me.”

It broke Miguel’s heart to have you address him so roughly, with such harsh words. But it also filled him with a sense of pride – even intoxicated, you knew how to stand your ground. It also made him smile how you were quick to mention him.

“Cariño, it’s me, Miguel. I think you’ve had enough to drink, don’t you?” he asked, voice as gentle as possible, considering the loudness of the club.

You let out a snort and looked him up and down, suspicion evident in your eyes.

“You!? Miguel!? Yeah, sure, buddy. You’re not even half the man he is.”

Miguel crossed his arms, an amused smirk playing in his lips.

“Really? I’m not?”

“Not even close.” You faced the bar once again and smiled at the bartender who placed a drink in front of you.

“How so?”

“Well, first of all,” you took a sip of your drink, humming in appreciation, “You’re not as tall.”

“Ah. Not as tall?”

“Mhm. Miguel is huge, he’s this tall!” You faced him and stood on the tips of your toes, hand up to illustrate a height you clearly couldn’t reach. “He towers over me, you know, he’s huuuuuuuuge! And he’s super handsome, and you’re clearly not.”

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

“Why would I? When I have my Miggy at home waiting for me?” You punctuated your statement with a large gulp from your drink. Miguel wanted to stop you, but he didn’t want to scare you by taking another step forward. “He’s the best boyfriend ever – you know, he gets up real early because he has a super important job, but he always makes time to cook breakfast for me.”

“He sounds like a dream,” The man before you nodded, leaning against the bar.

“Oh, he is. And he’s so kind and considerate. You know, people say he’s grumpy and mean, but I don’t really buy that.”

“Grumpy? Mean?” Miguel knew people didn’t think of him as the most affectionate or outgoing or overall happy person out there, but it was never nice to find out people spoke about him behind his back. Nothing he wasn’t used to, but it still hurt. However, your sweet words made up for it – they always did. You never chastised him for being standoffish, or for not being as excited as you were sometimes, or for being kind of a glum. You embraced him for who he was, giving him the space he needed when he needed it, and loving him and his traits completely. You never minded that he seemed a bit grumpy or rude, it was simply who he was. Besides, he was never rude to you. Sometimes he could be grumpy, yes, but he never once raised his voice at you or treated you badly. He was the sweetest when he was around you, all honest smiles, and relaxed hugs.

“Yeah. People say he’s like an all-year-round Grinch, but I don’t buy it. He’s so nice to me. He loves me so much and proves it every day. I don’t care what people say about him, I love him, and I think he’s fantastic, and really handsome, and so nice, and I love him, and I am not going to abandon him for you because we’re happy together. And you’re a stinky homewrecker!”

Miguel had to chuckle at that. He knew just how honest you were, and it would seem the alcohol in your blood was only amplifying that honesty. He nodded and reached for his phone, turning it on and showing you his lockscreen. Your face contorted in confusion as your eyes raked across the two figures on his phone. Your Miguel, in a dashing black suit, his arm tightly wrapped around you, wearing a dress that matched the colour of his burgundy tie.

You scrunched your nose, and looked from the picture to the strange man, and from the strange man to the picture.

“How do you have this picture of me and Miggy?”

“I told you, cariño, it’s me. I’m Miguel, I’ve come to pick you up.”

You shook your head.

“No, you’re not Miguel. I told you, you’re not as tall, nor as handsome, and you don’t sound like him. I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not gonna fall for this.”

You picked up your drink once more, and he sighed, trying to come up with something, anything that would make you stop drinking.

“How could I prove it to you?”

“Huh?” Your hand stopped mid-air and you frowned.

“How can I prove to you that I’m Miguel?”

“Hmmm….” You rubbed your chin comically and offered him a grin. “How did we meet?”

Miguel smiled softly.

“We were at the library. I wanted a book on Genetic Science, and you wanted a book on botany. Somehow, they were in the same shelf, although they really shouldn’t have been. I accidentally dropped by book when I saw you were on the other side of the shelf, and you helped me. The rest was history.”

Your expression of confusion had turned to a silly smile of content. You really did like your little meet-cute and bragged about having such a cute story to tell your friends and possibly your children in the future.

“Anyone could’ve told you that.”

“They really couldn’t.”

“Yeah, they could! Next question. What’s 40 + 40?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“How does that prove anything?”

“My Miggy is super smart, he’d know the answer.”

“It’s 80. Honey, please, let’s go home. It’s getting late and you need to be taken care of, your hangover tomorrow is going to kill you, and I’d like to help minimize it.”

“What flowers did my Miggy bring me last week?”

“Peonies. Pink ones, just like the ones you’d seen at the park last month. I know just how much you liked them, so I brought a fresh bouquet home. You almost cried, because you were on your period, and you told me it was fate because just as I'd done something nice for you, you'd done something nice for me and had cooked me those empanadas I like.”

As the man before you recalled the memory, your features softened, and he shifted before your eyes. He wasn’t a stranger – far from it. That was your Miggy staring right at you. His kind brown eyes, his fluffy hair, his sharp jaw that you loved to trace with your fingers on lazy Sundays.

“Miggy?” your whole body relaxed, and you reached forward. Miguel understood immediately and gathered you in his arms, sighing of relief. Now that you remembered who he was, he could get you home safely. It’d be alright.

“Yeah, that’d be me.” He hugged you back tightly, rubbing circles on your back with his hand. “How about we go home? You need to get some rest.”

“You gonna take care of me, Miggy?” You looked up at him with a dazzling smile that he returned.

“Of course I am. You got your things?”

You move away from him to go back to your booth. You fetch your things (with a little bit of help from your boyfriend), say goodbye to your friends, and follow him outside of the club.

All it took was a few steps outside of the building and in the direction of Miguel’s car for you to lean over to your left and empty the contents in your stomach.

“Mierda,” Miguel whispered, holding back your hair and your clothes, and making sure you were okay. You weren’t. You sobbed for a while about how you were “utterly disgusting”, accused him of never wanting to see you again because he’d seen you puke and you were sure he was disgusted and thought you were disgusting, and now your life was ruined because you just loved him so much and you couldn’t live without him, and how were you supposed to move on when he was the love of your life and wanted to break up over some vomit?

“And – and – and I just love you so much – and if you leave me, I will never be the same, and I promise I will never vomit ever again, please don’t leave me, Miggy, we’re so happy together aren’t we? And there’s no need to ruin that over something as stupid as vomiting, and, and – “

“Ven aquí,” Miguel mumbled, pulling you close to him. He took a tissue out of his pocket – did he know this was gonna happen? – and wiped your mouth. Your eyes were sparkling as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m not leaving you because you vomited. ¿Me entiendes?”

“Really?”

“Really. I love you, and no amount of vomit would make me stop loving you.”

You placed a hand on your mouth, making a gagging noise.

“Please don’t say ‘vomit’ again, or I’m – “

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

And that’s exactly what Miguel did. He brought you to his car, buckled you in (stopping halfway to kiss your face once or twice) and drove home. He was kind enough to not speed up too much, making sure to take turns extremely slow for your sake.

Once you got to your building, you nearly burst into tears again.

“The seventh floor!?” You exclaimed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t wanna – I can’t do all of that. I’ll just sleep here, and you’ll come get me in the morning. How is that, huh?”

“C’mere, muñeca.”

Without any more words, he picked you up in his arms, and you sighed in relief, burying your face in his neck. He smelled like Alchemax and coffee and him and you felt like the smell itself could lull you to sleep. He carried you up the stairs up to the seventh floor as if it was nothing – and it really wasn’t.

“Alright, we’re here.” He said, opening the door to your shared apartment. He put you down and carried you to your couch, where he left you for a few minutes while he prepared a light snack and some pills.

“I don’t wanna eat, Miggy, don’t wanna throw up again,” you whined.

“You can’t take these on an empty stomach, and you need to take these, otherwise tomorrow your pretty little head is going to hurt like hell. So, eat up.”

You groaned and threw your head back, but complied, nonetheless. Your boyfriend was an Alchemax scientist (not to mention Spider-Man), so he was pretty smart. He must know what he’s doing.

“Fiiiiiiiiine….” You took the crackers in the plate in front of you and gulped them down in an instant. They were nice – soft enough for your stomach to keep them inside, but still tasty enough to feel like food. Miguel surely was smart, how did he even come up with this?

Once you were done, you downed the glass of water and the few pills Miguel had placed on top of the small coffee table in front of you. You had no idea what they were for, but if he told you to take them, then that must mean it was for your own good.

“Alright, ready to take a bath?” Miguel asked as he appeared from inside your bedroom.

“A bath?”

“Yeah, don’t you want to clean up before bed? I can help you.”

You shook your head, whining softly. Your head was beginning to spin a tad less than when you were in the club, but you were sure you were going to either fall asleep or fall on the floor should you want to take a bath.

“Miggy, ‘m so tired…” you mumbled, leaning your head against the couch’s headrest. “Can’t we just go to sleep? I’ll shower in the morning… You can shower with me in the morning you know, and you can do that thing I really like, the one with your tongue, and – “

“Sí, sí. I get it.” He chuckled lightly before moving towards you. Miguel helped you up, steading you with an arm around your waist, just like he’d wanted to do at the club. Only now, you were completely out of harm’s way. “At least let’s get your makeup off and brush your teeth. Is that okay?”

“Mhm. That’s okay.”

Miguel led you to the bathroom, where he placed you on top of the sink in front of him. You laughed as you often did at his displays of strength and closed your eyes as he gently cleaned your face and removed every trace of makeup. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin, on your face, taking care of you so sweetly. It felt extremely intimate to have him take care of you like this.

“I love you, Miggy. Thank you for taking care of me and not breaking up when I vomited.”

“¿Es en serio? Why would I break up with you over something so silly as that, huh, muñeca? I love you. I promised to always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You looked into his eyes and nearly melted. There was nothing but kindness and adoration in his, and when you put your palm against his cheek to caress it, he turned to kiss it softly. His fangs grazed your hand and you chuckled. Your little vampire Spider-Man.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled. “Is my head gonna hurt tomorrow?”

“Most likely. And I don’t think you’ll remember any of our interactions tonight.”

“Really? Well then, you better take advantage of that.”

“How so?”

“Well, you could tell me something you didn’t want me to remember.”

Miguel pretended to think for a while, stroking an invisible beard and earning a few chuckles form you. Then, he placed his hands on either side of you on the side and brought his face closer to yours before beginning to whisper in that low voice of his that always got you blushing.

“I love you. Te amo con todo mi corazón. Eres mi todo. Mi vida. I could never part from you.” He stroked your cheek with the back of your hand, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I say this nearly as much as I should, but I’m so grateful to have you in my life. And I want you to be in it forever. I want to marry you, someday. I’ll take you somewhere real nice and propose and promise to devote my life to you forever. I’ll love and worship you like a goddess because that’s what you deserve. I was so broken before I met you, so lonely and empty. I don’t think I ever knew what true love was until we met. All my life I’ve felt alone. My relationships seemed superficial. And then you came along and changed all that. I’m not afraid of saying these things when you’re sober, it’s just – you know how bad I can be with words and feelings sometimes. And we’ve never really discussed marriage or anything like that, and I wouldn’t want to scare you. But my point is, thank you, cariño. You’re everything to me.”

You were speechless. You didn’t know what to say, so you clumsily wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. Big fat tears were rolling down your cheeks, the alcohol in your blood making you more emotional. It was true – your Miguel wasn’t a man of many words. He would rather show his love and appreciation for you through actions. Cooking you dinner, bringing you your favourite sweets, remembering small details you’d told him days before. So, it made it all the more special when he did speak, especially when his words were this sweet.

“You’re so sweet, Miggy. I love you so much.”

Miguel helped you brush your teeth, and then he carried you to your bedroom, where he took off your clothes (or rather, helped you wrestle out of them) and helped you put on your favourite pyjamas.

“We’ll just get some clean sheets tomorrow,” he mumbled as he helped you lay down next to him. You wanted to toss and turn a few times, but after your stomach started complaining about all the movement, you decided to stay still and curl up into Miguel’s side.

“Dulces sueños, mi vida. If you need anything during the night, just let me know.”

“Okay. Night, Miggy. Love you, Miggy. Thanks for picking me up.” you nodded, nuzzling into his pectoral. Miguel felt something wet covering his chest and realised you were already out and drooling all over him. He chuckled – it wasn’t a problem for him. He’d let you do whatever as long as you were safe and sound and comfortable. And if you felt all those things in his arms, who was he to complain?

And as you fell into a deep slumber, you smiled, feeling your boyfriend’s grip tighten around you.

The following day, you did have a killer headache (that could’ve been much worse if Miguel hadn’t advised you to take those pills) and your limbs felt heavy and weird, and when Miguel asked you if you had any memories of the previous night, you shook your head and told him no.

You did not tell him the sweet words he’d said to you, about a future and marriage were engraved in your brain, and your heart.  

A/N: And that's it!! Once again, I hope you guys have liked it. I am aware that it's short, and I haven't written for Miguel in a while, so I hope he's not too OOC. I need to write for my man some more, I have some nice requests for him, and I still have to continue Royal Secret omg, but my exam period is coming up and I'm getting kinda swarmed with papers and reports and whatnot. Luckily, I'll be able to write more when all of that is over.

I hope y'all have a wonderful day ahead!!!! <3

[transvampireboyfriend]

Teacher AU

Eddie who studied to be a music teacher but right before graduation Corroded Coffin takes off. It's fast, they have to mail him his diploma to avoid a crowd of fans at his classmates' ceremony.

But it goes as fast as it comes, a few years of touring and then popularity wanes. Eddie is not bothered by it, neither are the guys, they enjoyed it while it lasted, yet they all knew they couldn't live like that for the rest of their lives, so it's all for the best.

Eddie lives off of album and merch sales and writing songs for other bands and artists now. This is when his best friend, Chrissy, tells him she heard the music teacher was retiring at her old pre-school.

Eddie applies for the vacant position, fearing they won't like his former star status but ultimately, after a good interview, he gets the job.

Steve who became a pre-school teacher and started teaching as soon as he could. He lives with his best friend, Robin, and coaches the town's junior basketball teams (both boys and girls) on his off time.

Steve who's nearing his thirties and getting a little frustrated with his love life. No matter how many dates, no matter how many 6 month relationships, no matter how many 1 year and a half and moving in together debacles, he still just never quite fits his partners, he never feels that thing, that excitement everyone talks about. No matter how amazing the person. Robin calls him an idealist, says he's being naïve. Steve sticks by his instinct to hope for more.

Steve who stares (a little slack-jawed) at the new music teacher for a good minute when he comes pick up his kids. Trying to take in the wild hair pinned up by a pencil, the glasses around big cow eyes, the tattoos peeking out of his long sleeves, the dimples.

He was aware Mrs. Wallace retired and a new teacher was brought on, he just hadn't expected his heart to race at the mere sight of him.

Steve completely misses his name, has to ask him to come again when those beautiful brown eyes get a mischievous sparkle and look expectant, like he got stood up waiting for an answer.

"I said it's nice meeting you" the new teacher repeats

"Oh! Of course! You're very nice. I mean it's very- It's nice meeting you too" Steve says and forcefully shuts his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line.

The new teacher's smile just gets bigger and he nods and leads the kids to his class.

Robin thinks it's beyond funny that Steve doesn't know the new teacher's name, but she refuses to explain, refuses to tell him what it is and encourages him to find out on his own.

Steve approaches the guy in the teacher's lounge at lunch.

Beyond whatever the hell makes Steve's brain functions jump ship when he's around him, Steve does think it was rude of him to stare and not even introduce himself when they first met.

His mother may have been real shitty, but she didn't raise someone impolite.

"Hi," Steve starts, making the other man look up at him from underneath his glasses. Steve looks away for a second to avoid getting lost in those eyes.

"I think I owe you an apology," Steve starts, the other teacher raises his eyebrows and lowers the book in his hands.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my line," Steve points out, he's rewarded by a small laugh and dimples, "I was rude," Steve explains, "I was staring and I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Steve." he smiles and extends his hands to the other man.

"I know." the guy says, smiling big enough to show his teeth, but gently taking Steve's hand in his own "I told you, they were nice enough to put all the names in my schedule, remember?" he says,

Steve freezes.

How come he didn't think of that? His schedule is the same, all schedules for teachers have everybodys' names. They even distributed new schedules for everyone when the hiring decision was made, Steve just hadn't bother to look at it yet, knowing the important bits hadn't changed.

Steve would facepalm if his dominant hand wasn't otherwise occupied.

"Uh-" Steve starts, thankfully the other man cuts him off,

"Hey," he says, with the kindest eyes Steve has ever seen, and still gently holding Steve's hand, "It's cool. I get it." he tells Steve,

Then he asks, "Are you a fan?"

Steve stares again.

Excuse him?

Judging by Robin's smirk accross the room, Steve's face must be as red as a ripe tomato.

Steve yanks his hand back.

Well, that's presumptuous. Just because Steve isn't very good at thinking whe he's around him, doesn't mean that- Sure, Steve came prepared to flirt with him, but he does not appreciate beaing treated like he's easy.

Steve frowns at him before turning around and promptly walking away. He guesses he'll have to go check his schedule if he wants to know the name of this jerk.

[babiebom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if u could do the bachelors & bachelorettes reactin to / dating an s/o who has really intense nose bleeds when they're stressed. But plot twist bc this is literally the norm for the farmer bc they have crippling anxiety, especially social.

Thank u sm!!

A/N: I don’t know why I thought this was funny??? My anxiety just makes my stomach upset but a nosebleed in front of everyone like some sort of anxious demon is funny. Not the clean up tho. I’ve never had a nosebleed but I know they bleed SO MUCH. Also no problemo!!! Always glad to get requests!! I did different things (so not just stressed because I would’ve written the same thing for anyone I made crush aspects as sort of for stress too lmao) for each hopefully they’re good enough!

Tw: cursing, blood, anxiety, the nose bleeds are VERY dramatic because it’s fiction lmao. Physical fights(in Leah’s part), arguments(in almost all of them). Pierre hate Pam hate(kinda) Demetrius hate Morris hate. And Kel is gender neutral! let me know if there’s anything else to tag!

Wc: idk lmao hopefully at least 100 words for each

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian:

Just frowns

Actually helps unexpectedly

….we can never talk about this happening again if you want……

It’s not often that you get to see the towns resident emo, even after visiting Robin multiple times for various building needs. So when you wander into the house, looking for Robin so you can upgrade your coop, seeing him makes your brain malfunction.

“Oh…hey farmer.” He greets, moving past you to head further into the house. You blink for a second before returning the greeting, watching as his dark hoodie disappears behind a wall.

You try to force your breathing to slow down. There is absolutely NO reason you should be this worked up over a literal one second conversation. While you sit with your thoughts, foot steps fill your ears and the sight of Sebastian returning from wherever he went makes all of your progress regress. “So…you here waiting for my mom?”

You nod quickly, clearing your throat, “yeah…um…just need to upgrade my chicken coop.”

“Oh well, she’s not in today. She usually goes to Pierre’s store to work out with the other moms.”

You frown to yourself, how did you miss that she wouldn’t be in today? Damn now all you can think about is how you just made a fool of yourself. Lost in your thoughts, you miss that Sebastian had cleared his throat a couple times until he waves a hand in front of your face.

“If you want, I can take your order and tell her when she gets home later. That way she can get started tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Your heart flips as you perk up. Was he usually this nice? You kinda heard from Robin herself that Sebastian never really interacted with people he wasn’t already friends with.

“Yeah sure.” He shrugs and moves to go around the counter, setting his slowly cooling food down. “Okay so she usually charges 10,000g and you have to have 400 logs of wood and 150 things of stone. Sound right?”

You nod and hand over the bag of money. The second your hands touch it’s like your body decided it couldn’t handle anything else from him. Luckily he just takes the money and pretends like your nose hasn’t become a geyser as you scramble to try to keep the blood from dripping all over their furniture.

Sam:

WOAH DUDE IS THAT LIKE….NORMAL?

it’s like from a movie or something

Is overall sorta scared but at the same time thinks it’s cool

“And this is how I do a kick flip!” Sam shows you skateboard trick after trick and honestly you can’t get enough of it. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you had crushes on each other, and even now it was very obvious by how you were watching him do his tricks that you had feelings for him. Yet still you two weren’t in a relationship, just sort of friends who like each other in a romantic sort of way.

“You’re so cool!” You clap as he lands another trick.

“And you’re cute!”

“What?”

You freeze in your spot and watch in confusion as he sort of freezes midway through his next trick and crashes to the ground. His words echo in your head, making your face heat up and your heart soar. He smacks his face on the ground, sending you into a panic because now all you can think about is how he thinks you’re cute, and now how he probably has a concussion from hitting his face directly onto the concrete.

When he lifts his face off the ground, you’re kneeling next to him, trying to check on him. His forehead is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and so is his mouth. You shriek and try to go through your backpack to see if you have anything to help him. You didn’t.

You already know where this is leading, and you let out a groan of annoyance right before your nose starts leaking just like his. His eyes widen and he lets out a loud laugh. Maybe you two can move out of the weird friendship you have after all.

Shane:

Would just stare silently

Like no comments no nothing

Doesn’t even act like it’s happening

Having a part time job at Joja Mart during the winter is one of the absolute worst ideas that you’ve had in a while. But you didn’t make a lot during your first year of farming. Stacking the products onto the shelves, your only saving Grace is the fact that you’re allowed to have earphones in. Except for the fact that Pam is now standing next to you asking loudly about where something is. Shane is stacking the shelves behind you.

“I don’t know Pam…the alcohol is probably on the wall in the back.” You frown at her. She obviously knows that you don’t know this store that well, you were a FARMER that NEVER shopped here before. She rasps out another question and it takes everything in you to not snap at her. Trying to calm yourself of course there’s gonna be something else that makes you lose your mind. That something is Morris, coming over and being the absolute WORST and in turn making Pam LOUDER and more insistent.

He’s lecturing you, Pam is agreeing with him way too loudly, the music on your headphones is now overwhelming instead of calming, and the sound of random things in the market is making you want to bite a chunk out of the loaves of bread in front of you, plastic and all. With everything building up inside of you, you already know what’s going to happen. It always happens, but instead of excusing yourself you stand there, staring Morris down as the blood begins to flow from your nostrils.

Pam yells out curses and Morris begins to stutter, but behind them Shane just stares for a second before continuing to work. When you’re finally left alone with him in the aisle as your two stressors hastily take their leave, all he does is let out a dry chuckle.

“Sam has a hell of a mess to clean up…”

Alex:

Oh DUDE your nose is like….LEAKING

Doesn’t help

Just watched and comments

“AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY HARVESTS ARE HIS BUT HE ONLY DOES IT IF ITS GOOD!” You rant to the brown haired boy, pacing back and forth in his room. Thankfully both Evelyn and George were out so you weren’t bothering anyone except for the man in front of you.

You huff and puff as he watches, slightly amused slightly concerned. Alex wasn’t the best person to go to when you’re upset unless it was something absolutely devastating. So being in front of him now, complains about your farming woes meant that he was only half ass taking it seriously. “You should go and speak your mind.” He says.

Turns out you should NOT take advice from Alex. Standing in Pierre’s shop, you’re staring him down angrily, anxiety creeping up your throat from you trying to will yourself to call him out on his bullshit. The older man just kind of stares at you in confusion because all you had done was shout his name angrily as you entered the shop then stand in front of him seething.

“You….you…..” you point a finger at him. This was the moment, the moment you stand up for yourself and tell Pierre how HORRIBLE he is!

But of course things don’t work how you want and your nose gushes out blood all over the counter before you can work yourself up to the point of accusations. With a gasp you run out of the shop, hoping that he would keep his mouth shut with Alex running behind you laughing. Again, NEVER let Alex talk you into anything.

Elliott:

Panics

How do I help PLS LET ME HELP

Everything probably gets messy

Fishing had never been your favorite pastime, but now trying to fix up the community center you had to. Unfortunately Willy was gone and couldn’t properly teach you even though he had gifted you an old rod of his, so the next best thing is getting your boyfriend to teach you since he does fish often. Now you stand on the docks, waiting for a fish to bite the hook.

“Keep calm, the fish can feel your fear and it makes them upset.” Elliott spoke. In all honesty you didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you take in a breath to calm down. You did not want to be here all day you had cows to pet.

The second your line begins to pull you try to pull the fish in. And you succeed until it comes time to unhook the eel you managed to catch. The eel is slimy and slippery and all around not a good thing to try to grip. A shriek leaves your lips and the eel struggles, Elliott tries to help you but is also struggling to catch hold of it. And now your nose is bleeding adding another layer to the already hellish experience.

You’re unhappy, the eel is unhappy, and Elliott is unhappy. After what seems like an hour, the stupid thing slips out of your grips and back into the ocean, washing your nose blood off of it and splashing you with saltwater. 0 out of 10 you will not be trying again.

Harvey:

Calm but concerned(after panicking for a second)

Has a doctory approach to it

But is secretly like WTF inside

Your heart thumps in your chest as you sit on the clinic bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Harvey’s clinic, having taken a break from the mines, and somehow this seems more shameful than having been beaten almost to death by living slime. Your hands bleed into the cloth you have pressed into it. One of the pigs knocked you over into the broken fence you were in the middle of fixing. Now you sit waiting for the good looking Doctor.

When he walks in he’s all smiles, tapping his clipboard with his pen. “While I’m sad to see that you’re injured, I’m glad to see it isn’t from those mines again.” The eye contact he makes with you makes your heart twist for a second.

He starts speaking of all the shots you need and the antibiotics you need to take, rust poisoning is quite serious you know. “Now,” he says, moving towards you, “let me see your hand.”

Your heart thumps erratically at the close proximity of him and you. You only really ever got to see him this close when you were half dead and barely conscious. His face is much too close for you to be able to do anything but focus on how pretty his eyes are, and how fluffy his mustache is, and how…

“OH MY DEAR YOBA” He yelps and jumps away from you. It takes only a second after him to realize what’s going on, and now your furiously wiping away at your nose with your hands instead of with the cloth, and he’s trying to get something on your nose to catch the blood. It’s a disaster, really. But at least you’re already in a clinic!

Penny:

Probably panics

Doesn’t know how to deal with it

Would try to help though

The warmth of the pool in the spa did nothing to ease your nerves as you waded in the shallow end of the pool. Penny had invited you to come sometime after 7 pm, and when you had arrived she was already waiting for you, kicking her feet in the pool. The thought of her asking you here made your stomach turn, did you do something wrong…? Was she inviting you here to tell you she hated you or something…? You had grown close to her over your time here and would hate it if she thought you were too much or something.

“Do you know why I invited you here?” She asks, moving closer but keeping her eyes on the water.

You shake your head, “I’m not exactly sure, no.”

She frowns and sighs at you, meeting your eyes for a fleeting second then looking elsewhere. “Really? I thought you would’ve noticed by now…” her words trail off and her eyebrows furrow.

The next few seconds are ones that you simultaneously want to remember for forever and forget. She confesses her feelings for you. Feelings that you obviously reciprocate, and the emotions in you mix and grow, rising up your throat as if you were a volcano of conflicting feelings. As soon as you open your mouth to tell her that yes, you like her too, her face morphs into one that’s horrified instead of hopeful, disgusted instead of smitten and you realize a second after she does that your nose is spouting red, dyeing the water you both were swimming in.

Penny shrieks for a solid second before trying to scramble out of the water as fast as she can. You do the same, swirling the red around the pool as both of you splash trying to exit the now crime scene looking pool. When you get out of the water, she’s holding a towel right in your face, smooshing it so hard you can barely breathe and now your nose is throbbing with slight pain. “What do we do?!” She asks moving about quickly. She’s so confused that she just keeps walking and turning as if she’s remembering and forgetting things at the same time.

You just tilt your head downward and cringe inwardly, this was not the way to get a girl to like you. “It’s fine…I’m fine,” you say voice nasally and muffled. “And I like you too by the way.”

Haley:

confused staring

wtf is happening

Actually speechless

It isn’t every day that you get to talk to a beautiful blonde. It isn’t even every day that you talk to anyone. So when she approaches you on one of your trips off of your farm you couldn’t help but feel like either everything is out to get you or that you’re up on your luck. You don’t really know for sure, it honestly depends on how things go.

“Hey farmer!” She smiles as soon as she stops in front of you, the feeling of your stomach twisting makes you want to vomit in all of your nervousness. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“Yeah?” You ask trying to keep your cool. “What is it?”

“I would totally love love LOVE you forever if you could bring me an amethyst? It’s for Emily’s birthday and I don’t really like Clint so I don’t wanna buy anything from him. I’m willing to pay 150g!”

You cough into your fist, nodding along and taken aback by how casually she’s speaking to you. Before you can accept doing her the favor, the horrified look on your face makes your words falter.

She looks absolutely horrified, and touching your hand to your face you can feel why. Your nose started dripping blood, and by dripping you mean you can now feel it running down to your chin. A flurry of curses leave your mouth as confused noises leave hers. It's not much of a surprise that this has happened, but man did you wish it wasn't in front of her.

Emily:

Surprisingly chill about it

Probably has a weird story about a nosebleed or something

Actually helps

You sit at the bar alone, upset at a horrible farming day. You tried your best, you really did, but those stupid ass crows actually ate ALL of your seedlings. Or…almost all of them but that’s basically the same thing! There is no way you’re gonna make enough to make it through winter comfortably. You told Emily exactly this, appreciative of her listening ear in the middle of her busy shift.

“You know they probably didn’t mean it…or maybe they did,” she sucks in a breath eyebrows furrowing as she thinks, “you know crows are very smart they probably know that you’re using that land to farm and stay there because of all the free food.”

“But it’s not free!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in annoyance, “I have to buy those seeds! They’re just putting me into debt!”

She hums and nods, wiping the bar next to you where a person had just left. You had only a couple months left until the snow started falling and making it virtually impossible to grow anything. The little plants you had left you had to fight the crows for. And by fight I mean you angrily swung a broom at the with the intent of scaring them (not hitting them that’s mean). Still the growing anger inside you was not easily crushed by her warm and quite frankly outlandish words. No, in fact your anger grew the more you thought about it.

You felt it coming before anything had even exited your nose, hurriedly snatching the rag from Emily’s hands. Damn now you would have to buy the bar a new one. She just blinks then nods as if your nose becoming a bloody waterfall was normal.

“You know…nose bleeds cause by stress is usually because your heart rate and blood pressure increase and it causes your blood vessels to dilate!”

You stare at her before laughing. Maybe she was helpful after all.

Abigail:

WOAH

WTF

WHAT DO WE DO?

You stand in front of Pierre in front of the shop, arms crossed as you watch his face grow redder the longer time goes on. “-IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER?” You’re not really listening to his tirade, over the whole ‘protective dad’ thing.

“Dad I’m an adult! You have no say in who I date!” Abigail yells back, face equally red. Who would’ve known that he would have a problem with the farmer he rips off constantly dating his daughter?

He yells out more reasons that the two of you shouldn’t be dating, and in turn points a finger into your chest roughly. You sputter out an offended sound, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my daughter!”

“What? Dude we just started dating, you’re weird as hell!”

The arguing only gets worse from there, accusations flying around and now an audience comes with the drama. It’s almost too much for you to handle with now Caroline, Harvey, Haley, and the Milner family standing and watching the chaos. “Abby let’s just go to my place…” you try suddenly feeling the need to escape and no longer feeling the ‘fuck you dude’ attitude.

“No! He needs to understand that he can’t control my life!”

It’s like a volcano in your body and just like a volcano your nose begins to erupt. Now you’re screaming, Abigail is screaming, Pierre is screaming, the Mullners are screaming. Could this get any worse?

Turns out yeah, it can get any worse, like a family fight worse and now all of you are sitting in Harvey’s clinic. At least you aren’t the only bloody one now.

Maru:

Is surprised

Also forgets what to do

Would probably make things worse

Maru talks about robots and space the way you would talk about her: totally and completely enamored. You sit on her bed listening to her talk about her newest invention, some sort of robot that can cook and clean and basically be a free maid. You laugh and move your arm to get in a more comfortable position to watch her. Unfortunately your arm had other plans and smacked hard into her bed post. Groaning out in pain, your eyes close and begin to water from how much your elbow hurt.

Demetrius is in your face before you even realize that he was in the room. You yelp out in surprise as he starts ranting about you ruining his daughter’s future. You blink in surprise and try to retreat back into the mattress. What was happening. You can hear Maru screaming over his words but your ears feel like they’re filled with water.

“We’re just friends!” You find yourself shouting. Like damn is the man insane? It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten upset at you over Maru, but it was the first time that he was absolutely losing his mind.

“Dad stop!”

Time froze for a second as you and Demetrius stared at each other, Maru standing near him. Breathing in you can taste blood in your mouth before your nose starts bleeding, yet you can’t bring yourself to do anything but sit and catch your breath.

“Oh my god!” Both Demetrius and Maru exclaim moving around the room trying to find something to help. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him acting concerned now.

Thankfully Maru looked cute trying to help you which at least made things a little better.

Leah:

Is also freaking out on the inside but calm on the outside

Helps you with tissues

Is understanding

Going on a date with Leah is a dream come true. There’s paint, wine, food, and you’re sitting in the prettiest meadow you’ve ever seen, well it’s pretty because Leah is there and she’s pretty and you’ve been here multiple times because it’s near her cottage but it still looks different today.

You sit, paintbrush in hand, laughing at something she’s saying. It’s fun and if she hadn’t have asked you would’ve spent the day farming like usual, this little break was needed. The day couldn’t be ruined, absolutely nothing can ruin it.

Okay, one thing can ruin it and that one thing is Kel coming and ruining everything. The argument that ensues is one of the worst that you’ve seen. Kel tries to walk up on you(translation: Kel wants to fight you), Leah stops them but in turn gets into a fight with them which causes you to actually get up and try to defend her.

You kinda block out until you can hear Kel call out “I made your nose bleed bitch!” Which again causes you to want to drown in your anger.

“My noses is bleeding because I’m stressed, stupid!” You back. It’s obvious Kel hadn’t been able to hit your nose so claiming to be able to hit you so hard your nose bleeds isn’t even possible. It’s almost childish how the two of you argue.

Leah finally gets Kel to leave and hands you a bunch of tissues as she sits you down on the now rumpled blanket. As the two of you catch your breath and calm down, you find yourself smiling at her behind the wad of tissues catching blood flowing from your nose.

At least the situation would be funny in the future.

[redstarwriting]

the clash | ii. time bomb

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, y’all almost fight twice lmao

a/n: felt bad only posting the first chapter, so here’s the second one as well! i’ll get the third one out as soon as i can, but a bitch has work tomorrow and the next day. please enjoy chapter two everyone! and if you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know! :)

now reading: ii. time bomb

previous chapter: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: iii. black planet

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Hobie swings his way to where he’s sure Gwen is, and in doing so he will probably also find Miles and Pavitr. He’s sure he looks like if someone said the wrong thing to him, he would punch them in the face, because honestly? He just might. And he doesn’t care. You pissed him off. With your stupid opinions. People like you are the reason anarchy can never succeed, you’re either all in or you’re all out. He hates the way you dismissed him, which is a shame because he really thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.

Speaking of drop, that thought makes him drop. Like, actually. He face plants.

He groans. Fucking hell, he’s never had to deal with this type of hatred before. Usually, it’s just cut and dry ‘I hate you cause xyz’, but fuck you are making it hard. While he hates you for what you said, he loves your style, and he respects you standing your ground and not giving into him with your beliefs, but at the same time, you piss him off. He glances around, “Meant to do that.” No one in particular hears him, but he quickly webs off again. He searches for bright blond hair, and sure enough, he sees Gwen. She’s chilling in the common room Hobie claimed as his own a while back. He claimed it by… redecorating. He just made it feel more like home, and since Miguel is such a lame ass, he didn’t appreciate all the colorful spray paint and broken furniture. But Hobie doesn’t really give a fuck. As he gets closer, he can see that Miles and Pavitr are there too, and… absolutely fucking not.

He lands directly next to you with an unamused look on his face. “And who invited you into my home away from home?” You look at him and roll your eyes. “This your place? Well, that explains why it looks like someone gave Mayday Parker a 50-pack of markers and told her to go to town in here–”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“–and to answer your question, I invited myself,” you say smugly, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t try to make me like you, it’s not gonna work, love,” he growls, and everyone can tell by the way he said love that he certainly did not mean it as a term of endearment. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” you say, imitating his accent in over-exaggerated way. “I don’t think they are actually calling him their mate,” Pavitr whispers to Miles, who gives him an expression practically dripping in ‘no shit.’ Hobie tears his gaze away from you and looks at Gwen. “We need to show this twat around,” he huffs, and Gwen raises her eyebrows. “We? Isn’t that your job,” she says, and Miles nods. “Yeah, I remember you said you made a deal with Miguel that–”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my ‘job,’ when have I ever followed the rules of a fuckin’ job?” he seethes, and you snicker. “Aw, how endearing, the punk rebel has a job. I’ll be sure to go to Miguel and tell him you’re doing amazing, so that you don’t get fired, in fact, you could get promoted!”

“That’s it,” Hobie growls and turns to you, grabbing the neck of his guitar and getting ready to use it. You smirk and slightly crouch, ready to jump away or towards him, based on his next move. “OKAY! Okay, we’ll help you just put the damn guitar down,” Miles says, jumping between the two of you. Hobie looks at him before looking at you with a deep frown. “I don’t need help. I just need to make sure other people are here, so I don’t murder this nitwit,” he says, tossing his guitar back so it hangs off his back again. “If anythin’, you’re helpin’ them.”

“I don’t need help either. Especially not yours. I’ll find my way around here myself,” you say, crossing your arms. He turns and offers you a smile. “Well now that you say you definitely don’t want my help, looks like I’m gonna be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and assist you.”

“My hero,” you say sarcastically, pushing past him and walking out of the room. He motions for the others to follow you first, and walks out last, slinking in the back. Gwen takes up the role he usually plays in showing everyone around. You nod and listen, occasionally asking a question and cracking a joke. He hates to admit it, but your jokes are actually very funny. It’s refreshing to hear deadpan, straightforward, dry comedy instead of the puns and silly jokes all the other Spider-People love to make. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just watches you.

‘Like a creep,’ you think, catching him staring at you for what feels like the 50th time. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting from him. Truthfully, he’s probably the most attractive person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Such a tragedy he’s also the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with.

“Your suit is so cool, by the way,” Miles says to you, and you give him a grin. “Thanks. Made it myself.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” you hear Hobie pipe up, and your head snaps towards him. “Because it’s so stylish, fashionable, and better than anything you could do yourself?”

“No. ‘Cause it looks like it was put together by a colorblind toddler. If you look close enough, the blacks don’t even match,” he says, smirking. Now this was a lie. All the black in your suit was a perfect shade of raven, he just knew it would piss you off. And it did. “Fuck you. At least my suit doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered Hot Topic for the first time,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth there, mate.”

“You watch yours, mate.”

“Okay, both of you shhhhhhh!” Gwen says, and you both look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Stop talking like me!”

“What?! You stop talking like me!”

“Oh my God, the romantic tension is through the roof right now!” Pavitr suddenly pipes up, and now the both of you are staring at him, dark expressions on your faces. “I’d rather be eaten alive by a single piranha so it would take days until I finally succumbed to the sweet release of death,” you hiss and Hobie nods. “Finally. Somethin’ we agree on.” He turns and looks at you, and you roll your eyes at him. “Way to de-escalate, buddy,” Miles whispers to Pavitr, and Pavitr sighs as Miles walks a little faster to catch up with everyone else. “But I was being serious…”

Gwen continues to show you around, and when she finally finishes, you all are back at ‘Hobie’s common room.’ You walk back inside and sit on the tattered and broken-down couch. The way the room is decorated is kind of cool, you must admit. You’re just not a fan of the mismatched colors everywhere. And it could use a couple more decorations. Like bat skeletons. Or just live bats. That would be adorable. “Thanks for showing me around,” you thank Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. “Not you, though,” you say to Hobie and he snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to thank me for anything.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much? Didn’t you literally just meet?” Miles asks, looking exhausted from the snarky remarks coming from both of you. “We did,” you confirm. “And we don’t get along cause they don’t have any strong belief system.”

“Yes, I do! I’m just realistic, and he can’t understand that,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Realistic, eh? I already told you I led a rebellion.”

“And I told you it doesn’t matter because everyone is shit. How many villains have you fought since this rebellion you led?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“So, you’ve fought at least one. What did that rebellion get you then, huh?”

“I recommend you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Please, do try. I need a new skeleton for my collection,” you growl and the two of you jump at each other. Luckily, Gwen and Miles web both of you and hold you back. “That’s enough of that,” Gwen says. “I have an idea,” Miles says, “why don’t we go visit your universe, (Y/n)? Maybe then Hobie can see why you’re so… negative.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere near that place,” Hobie nearly yells. “Good. I don’t want you there anyway.”

“On second thought, I think it might be very eye-opening to see the world you grew up in. Maybe I can team up with your sinister six and put you in your place,” he spits out at you, causing you to glare at him and flip him off again. “A field trip sounds fun, especially after all this just happened. Maybe it will help the two of you lighten up,” Pavitr says, and you both roll your eyes. “Fine. You can all come. But if you step one toe out of line, Hobie–”

“What? You’ll yell at me?”

“No. I’ll torture you to the point that you would beg me for death.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

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『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard​ @sparklyphantom​​ @weyrrii*

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[xetswan]

Youngest Shadow- Chapter One, Two Sisters, Dad

One | two | three | four | five | six |

I was never a people person, not wanting to rely on someone.

Especially family, I didn’t need help.

I am not vulnerable, I couldn’t be. I saw how it affected people on a daily. High schoolers in relationships getting dumped, cheated on, having to many dramas in between them.

It was unnecessary.

I had my small circle and most of them were blood related to me.

My mom, my sister, Bella, and my father who lived across the country.

Oh, and my best friend. But practically family.

I’m content in my lifestyle too. I didn’t need pity from anyone. Either way that’s what I get from everyone. Even my older sister who tried to act like she understands.

My life was consistent. Making sure my mom was happy, helping my sister from losing her mind because of mom needing so much adventure. Other than doing that I played sports, practicing everyday.

Trying my best, not to be the best but to keep up my adrenaline. Running helps the most.

Adrenaline kept me alive, if I could jump off an airplane I would. I would do every crazy thing imaginable just because of the adrenaline that came with it.

Even little things can entice me. My piercings, having to make them a secret from coaches to play sports. Riding my motorcycle anytime was the best feeling after getting it.

I snuck out a few times, not even to do crazy things but to just say I did it.

You would think living in Arizona helped me with keeping my adrenaline up but you’d be wrong. It’s the same thing everyday now. I know what’s around.

And the heat, don’t get me started.

As much as I love my mom, I wanted to be in a forest hiking, see a fucking wild animal that could attack me. Jump off cliffs for the hell of it. Ride my motorcycle on different roads.

Seeing my dad, maybe join him in action. Hunt with him even.

Speaking of which, I stood beside Bella, my older sister by 10 months. She had just said goodbye to some “friends” who seemed like they could care less that she was leaving.

I turn to see our mom walking out of the house, so much energy balled into one person. She had hints of sadness and anxiety pulled on her face, trying to hide it with being happy for us.

She thrusts a phone into the hands of my sister, “It won’t work again, baby.” She frowned, her face always looked like it moved with every feeling she had. Never being able to hide how she felt. “You put it on hold.” Bella points out, the tiniest bit amused.

“I did?”

I smirk, trying to stop myself from laughing.

As much as it is funny it is worrisome, how will we reach her if she doesn’t even know how to work a phone.

“Look, you also called Mexico.” Renée pushes Bella, nudging me as well as the three of us laugh.

“I’ll figure it out. You gotta be able to reach me and Phil on the road.” She exclaims right before she gets excited. “I love saying that,” she grins, “On the road.”

“Very romantic,”

“Very.”

Bella and I both say, silently glancing at each other.

Phil comes up behind our mom, “If you call crappy motels, back water towns and ballpark hot dogs romantic.” He jokes, well partially since he was serious.

He places a Phoenix Desert Dogs baseball hat on Renées head, along with kisses her.

Looking at them partly soothes my nerves about leaving mom. I’m sure Bella feels the same since we practically took care of her for so long. Even though it should’ve been the other way around.

Phil walks away, to finish packing the car with our things. Renée grabs a hold of both of our arms, clinging to us as we walk to the vehicles.

I’m driving my motorcycle, mom wanted to get a trailer for it since it’s a really long drive but I convinced her not to. I couldn’t sit in a car with them for that long.

Plus I have a feeling Charlie is going to force me to anyway.

“Now you know if you two change your minds, I’ll race back here from wherever the game is.” Her face strained trying to hide how even though it would be a sacrifice she would still do it for us.

“You don’t have to worry.” I force a smile, Bella doing the same.

“We won’t change our minds mom.”

“You might, Bella. You’ve always hated Forks.” That’s true, I usually visited more than her. I had a closer relationship to dad, due to my interest of hunting like him.

“It’s not about Forks, it’s about dad. I mean unlike [Name], I went two weeks a year. We barely know each other.” She explains but I think it just worsened our moms worried expression. “Mom, I’m fine. I want to go. I got [Name] there with me.” She looked between us, hugging her eldest, whose face drops once she knew her mom couldn’t see it. It was full of dread and doubt. I also noticed the regret but kept quiet when she wants to bring it up she will.

They let go and Bella climbs into the car, moms attention going to me.

“I want you behind us at all times, you do not pass this vehicle. And no swerving.” She furrows her eyebrows, staring at me. “And don’t be stupid.” I add with a smirk, she rolls her eyes in a humorous way.

“I just want my baby girl safe.” She pouts, pulling me into a tight hug. “You don’t have to worry with me.” I miss her cheek, pushing out of the hug as I knew it would’ve been longer if I didn’t.

“Alright helmet and jacket and let’s go!” She pats my butt, reaching over and getting my helmet to give it to me. She gets into the van and I adjust my wired earbuds so one goes into my ear, stuffing the rest into my jacket and zipping it up.

I pull my helmet on and I press play on my iPod.

Getting to Washington State was a breath of fresh air, not only for my tired hand but the change of view and weather. My sister called it gloomy, never paying attention to the beauty of it all.

Dad surprisingly let me continue driving my bike, it was bittersweet for me. Really it was because he forgot the trailer. I kind of wish he did bring it because slouching like this for hours is not exactly fun. My back will be aching for weeks.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to sit in the awkward atmosphere of them two in that cruiser.

We passed a sign that said “The City Of Forms Welcomes You. Population 3246.”

I smile to myself.

Passing all of the familiar buildings I was missing felt amazing.

We pulled into Charlie’s driveway, I take my helmet off, sitting up straight for the first time in a few hours. Charlie comes over and messes with my hair as I climbed to his torso like a little kid. We laugh and he hugs me back.

I was the first to get into the house, putting my things right in my room. Really throwing them on the ground and rushing back out to see if Bella needs any help. My room was the only one downstairs. Dad had to make add it onto the house when they found out they were having me surprisingly.

I was truly the accident out of the two. Only three months after Bella was born was when I came around.

“I put Grandpas desk in your room. And I cleaned some shelves in the bathroom for you two.” He was mainly speaking to Bella. I watched her grimace. “That’s right, one bathroom.”

I followed her eyes around the house, going straight to a picture of our parents when they were younger and in love. “I’ll put these up in your room.” Charlie motions to her bags.

“I can’t do it.”

I silently stand there as they both reach for the bags, awkwardly bumping into each other causing me to cringe at the scene.

She backs off, letting him do it anyway. Which she should’ve done in the beginning. And I wouldn’t have seen that go down.

After that… experience, I followed my dad to the living room. “That was, nice.” He pauses for a minute before sighing. I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll get better. This is just new for both of you.” I smile sweetly and he nods, swinging an arm around my shoulders. But internally I’m just hoping I’m right. It’s going to be a long two years if I’m wrong. “What would I do without you?” He nudges me.

He lets go of me, telling me about how Billy and Jacob should be here soon to drop off surprises they’ve been working on. The one for Bella I knew about.

And right after it was spoken into the air we heard a honk outside.

I stand up straighter and run outside. A boy my age hops out of the red truck, rushing to give me a hug. “Jacob!” I laugh, this was the best friend I was talking about. My absolute best friend.

“Bella, you remember Billy Black.” Charlie speaks up, obviously Bella came outside after hearing the honk as well.

I let go of Jacob, “Glad you two are finally here. Charlie hasn’t shut up about it since you two told him y’all were coming.” He teases our dad, both Jacob and I snicker at the two who have always acted like this.

“Keep exaggerating, I’ll wheel you down the hill.” He tells the man who’s in a wheelchair.

“Right after I ram you in the ankles.” Billy goes after Charlie who dodges. Jacob shakes his head, I take him up to Bella. Poking him to say something.

“I’m Jacob, we made mud pies together when we were little kids.” He exclaims, she squints almost unnoticeably. “Yeah I think I remember.”

“Are they always like this?” She points to the two dads. “It’s getting worse with age.” He jokes.

Jacob always had a crush on Bella, so it was cute watching him finally be able to interact with her and not be a nervous little kid.

Cutting us out of our small silence Charlie pats the hood of the truck. We didn’t even notice they stopped messing around. “So what do you think of your homecoming gift?” He grins proudly. I watched my sisters face contort to confusion to happiness. “No way. The truck is for me?” Turning my focus to my dad who was soaking in her excitement. “Just bought it off Billy here.”

“I rebuilt the engine.” Jacob adds in.

“It’s perfect.” Her smile grew bigger, and more genuine. It was great to see her eager and happy about something. Her and Jacob rush to the truck so he could explain everything to her.

My dad snuck up to me, handing a small box. I look up at him confused. “Open it.” He motions. I stare at it for a minute, glancing over to Billy who puts his hands up as to say he knew as much as I did.

I bit my lip, opening the box carefully.

It had a locket inside, the same locket I would stare at in the window of an abandoned antique store that no one would clean out. The place I begged my dad to go into just to get me that necklace.

“The place finally got cleaned out and I just happened to be on patrol before they got rid of it.” He tells me.

“It doesn’t have a picture in it yet but I thought you could pick one you’d like.” I threw my arms around him, “it’s beautiful.” I pulled away to look at it in my hands again as it was a delicate flower.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kid

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You join Arsenal Women at age sixteen

Moving to England hadn't exactly been your plan when you started to play football.

To be honest, there hadn't been a plan at all, seeing as you were four when your parents first signed you up for your local academy in Sweden. It was just an excuse to keep you out of the house, so your parents didn't have to take time off work to look after you when school finished.

It helped that your school was partnered with the academy so a representative would come and walk all the academy students there and back.

Football may have been a convenience but it was clear to everyone that you were somewhat of a prodigy. Linköping Fc signed you as soon as they could, forcing you to make the move from your tiny town to the city.

Your parents were more than happy to finance the move - the kind of parents that happily parent from a distance but brag to all of their friends about how smart, how talented their daughter was.

You were happy to be rid of them.

You were even happier to get the callup for the National Team for the World Cup.

Your chest thudded in your throat when you received the call. You hadn't thought you would get the call-up, not when you were so young, so you had been at a café with some of your school friends when your phone rang.

You had picked it up absentmindedly and almost passed out from shock when Peter revealed he wanted you on the team.

The World Cup came and went and the bronze medal you won stayed with you. You had flat-out refused to give it over to your parents, who wanted to put it in the trophy cabinet in a house you no longer lived in.

The high of the World Cup bled into the high of getting a call to sign for Arsenal.

You hadn't even really thought about it.

You just accepted.

Which was how you had gotten here, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you waited for Stina to lock her car and walk in with you.

●～●～●～●～

You couldn't help but look at your jersey in awe. Your number combined with your last name on the back of an Arsenal jersey felt like a dream come true.

"There she is," Amanda said when you finally wandered into the meeting room, free from media duty. She pushed out a chair that was clearly meant for you at the table she was sitting at.

You sat in the seat awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

"This is y/n," Amanda said to the others, presenting you to them like you were someone really exciting.

"Hi, y/n. I'm Jen."

You didn't tell her that you already knew who she was, who they all were. You just sat there and let everyone introduce themselves to you because that was the polite thing to do.

"Hi."

"You're young, aren't you?" Asked Kim, even though you knew that she probably already knew that.

You nodded though. "Yeah." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sixteen."

"But she's a superstar." It was nice of Amanda to butt in. It saved you from having to speak.

"I think we know that," McCabe said with an eye roll," I think we all saw that match-winning goal against Australia."

You winced slightly as you snuck a glance to McCabe's other side where Catley sat, the very defender that you megged before scoring your goal.

Your eyes widened in horror when she made eye contact. "Sorry." You looked down at your lap, hiding your shaking hands under the table.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Catley replied with an easy grin," No hard feelings. It was a good call." She smirked at you. "Though, the deer in headlights look you had after it went in was pretty funny."

Laughter rang out through the group and you relaxed marginally, groaning at the reminder. Everyone you knew had sent that picture to you and you knew for a fact that it was still circulating the internet as a meme.

●～●～●～●～

It was easy to settle into life at Arsenal.

You were still shy and awkward off the pitch but you fit in well with the other girls and Lina, Stina and Amanda were always ready to sweep you away when they noticed you getting too overwhelmed.

Somewhere along the way Catley became Steph and McCabe became Katie.

You weren't really sure when that happened but it was a welcome change from when you first joined.

"Come on, kid. You've been studying too much," Katie said as an arm dragged you away from your laptop to where the others were playing FIFA.

You were dumped between Less and Vic while Lina laughed.

"She's always studying."

You rolled your eyes. "Just because you don't have to go to school anymore, doesn't mean that I don't."

"Online school isn't really school," Cloe said before swearing when Gio scored another goal," It's like...school without the deadlines."

"Except the deadline is before Christmas," You replied with a huff," I have essays to write, Katie! Let me go!"

"Don't let her go, girls," Katie said from where she was curled up with Caitlin.

Alessia mockingly saluted as she bracketed you in her arms while Vic pinned down your legs.

"Less! Vic!" You squawked as you tried to wiggle away from them.

Their holds were unrelenting and made even worse when Kyra popped up out of nowhere, digging her fingers into your side and tickling you like you had personally offended her or something.

"Stop! Stop!" You laughed, tears running down your face as Kyra remained unrelenting. "Cait-Caitlin! Caitlin, help!"

Caitlin looked at you thoughtfully, humming to herself before giving you a faux look of sympathy. "Sorry, y/n, I can't. You see, I'm still holding a grudge against you for grabbing that bronze medal." She winked to let you know she was joking.

"Oh, come on!"

●～●～●～●～

It took you nearly two weeks of being in London to meet the ACL squad and it was only because Kathrine slid in for a tackle at the wrong time and hit your ankle.

You hadn't even been on the ground for that long but it was enough that Jonas sent Gio to take you to the physios to get it taped up with an extremely apologetic Kathrine following after you.

"I'm so sorry," She was saying when Gio shepherded you into the room," I'll make up for it. How does one of those big jelly baby packs sound?"

"I'm not allowed to eat them," You replied," Stina said that they'll rot my teeth."

"Fine, fine, I'll think of something. How about dinner? I'll buy you dinner for your cheat day. Just tell me when."

You rolled your eyes, having no intention of doing so but still nodded.

"What's up with all this commotion?"

You had to admit, seeing Leah Williamson in person made you feel a little starstruck and you immediately retreated into yourself.

Gio jerked her thumb at Kathrine. "Kuhl hurt the kid and seeing as we need the kid, Jonas wants her ankle taped."

"My ankle's fine," You said stubbornly but allowed a physio to usher you onto the bed between Goldie and Wienriother. You gave them both one of your trademark awkward smiles as you let the physio pull off your boot and socks.

You didn't want to look at your ankle, already knowing it was bruised by the way that you saw Goldie wince sympathetically at you while the physio moved away to grab some ice.

"That looks nasty," She said," Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad."

"I'm Teyah, by the way."

"y/n."

"I know." She smiled at you. "It's nice that there's someone younger than me and Naomi now."

You looked down bashfully. "Happy to be of service."

Next to you, Weinriother laughed. "Don't mind Teyah, she's just glad no one will call her kid anymore. I'm Laura, by the way."

"And I'm Beth!" She leaned over Laura to shake your hand before indicating to where her girlfriend was being worked on. "That's Viv, she's a little prickly sometimes but if you ever need some peace and quiet, I'm sure she wouldn't mind you sitting with her."

You nodded, still feeling a little awkward even though the tension had disappeared.

"You're living with Stina, right?" Leah asked," How's that going?"

"Good," You replied, focussed on the way that the physio was moving your ankle," She lets me play music on the speakers while I study."

Leah laughed. "I live right round the corner. If you ever need a break, feel free to pop in. I reckon I'm more fun than Stina anyway."

●～●～●～●～

You hated asking for help.

You hated it even more when you had to ask for help on schoolwork.

You were smart. You knew you were smart. If there were two things that a lack of parents in your life gave you, it was excellent football skills and the ability to solve your own problems.

But this maths section in your textbook was causing you more pain than a Katie tackle in training ever could.

You glanced around the room. The media room was almost always empty at this time of day - the two and a half hour window between morning training and the gym session.

Almost everyone lived close so headed back home to rest before coming back. Stina had asked if you wanted to head back home with her but you decided not to, needing to finish your maths homework.

Lina had asked if you wanted her to drop you off on her way to her own place as well but you didn't relent.

You hunkered down in the media room with your textbook and, after just over an hour, your eyes stung like you hadn't slept in three days.

You glanced around again and finally swallowed your pride.

"Frida?" You asked the least intimidating person in the room," Can you help me?"

She looked up from her phone. "What is it?" She dragged your textbook towards her. "Oh! I can help!"

Despite her optimism, within a few seconds, it became clear that Frida could absolutely not help you. The more she read through your problems, the deeper her frown got until she was holding a pencil between her fingers and mouthing the question to herself as if that would help her understand.

She looked positively ill when she looked up at you before she cleared her throat. "Lia? Do you know how to do fancy algebra?"

Lia, from across the room, sighed as she approached. "I used to be quite good at algebra," She boasted," What's the problem?"

"Algebra," You deadpanned, shoving the textbook and your notepad at her," Help."

To her credit, she got further than Frida did, jotting down her working out before falling at the last hurdle - just like you did. She frowned. "Give me a second."

She rewrote all of her work but still ended up stumped at the same place as before.

"Kim? Jen? How were you at maths in school?"

Kim and Jen tried to help as well but it was like the blind leading the blind. You were going around in circles.

"When are you going to need this in life?" Kim said, drawing a line through her most reason equation and sighing.

"Unless you want to be an engineer, never." Jen sighed and flipped the book shut. "You don't want to be an engineer, do you, kid?"

"I'm happy playing football."

●～●～●～●～

If you weren't doing schoolwork at every spare moment, it was safe to say that you napping.

Back at National Camp, it wasn't uncommon to find you curled up in bed or with your head in Frido's lap while everyone watched a movie.

It seemed that your need to nap every moment you weren't occupied had carried over to England.

It got a little embarrassing the first few times you had been caught napping in the communal space. It was even worse when you woke up to Viv staring down at you with an unreadable look on her face, taking in your form curled up under your travel blanket.

You had smiled nervously as she stood in front of you, unmoving.

When Beth appeared through the door a moment later, Viv shushed her sternly and tucked your blanket up over your shoulders again, taking a seat nearby with a book.

Beth, it seemed, hadn't been able to keep her mouth shut about it so your constant naps had just become an expected thing and, after Leah had accidentally woken you up and gotten yelled at by Viv for it, the team tended to just leave you alone.

You were slightly delirious and warm when you woke up from your nap, eyes fluttering open and then shut again.

The low murmur of chatter let you know that contrary to when you started your nap, you were now no longer alone.

You were still quite confused, brain still thick with sleep, but you could recognise Sabrina's Canadian-accented English so you gathered that the keepers had finished their morning practice and had found you asleep in the media room.

You also recognised that your head was now slightly elevated so one of them must have moved your head into their lap while you slept. That was nice. Sometimes you would wake up with a crook in your neck from sleeping on the beat-up sofa that Leah swore she was one bad back away from replacing herself.

Your eyes fluttered open again, blearily blinking.

Across from you, Naomi laughed. "The kid's awake."

"I'm not a kid," You said stubbornly even though you were," You're not that much older than me."

"Still older," Naomi replied.

Next to her, Sabrina laughed.

That meant that Manu was sitting with you, your head in her lap. She laughed as well, jolting you slightly as you clutched your travel blanket tighter around your body.

You yawned.

"How long until gym?"

"Hour and a bit," Came Manu's answer.

You hummed and yawned a second time.

"Don't tell me you're going back to sleep," Sabrina said.

"Fine. I won't tell you."

●～●～●～●～

You spent the first few matches stuck on the bench.

You were young and not as experienced as your teammates so it made sense that you would be stuck there for the time being. Besides, it made you feel a little bit better that Kyra was stuck on the bench as well so you had someone who acted younger than you to muck around with.

"Chin up," Laia said with a grin, an arm thrown over your shoulder as she walked onto the pitch with you for warmups," You're starting today. Aren't you excited?"

"You look more excited than me," You replied a little sourly," I...I feel a little sick if I'm honest."

"You'll do great."

"So long as you tie your boots correctly and don't trip," Noelle said in way of greeting.

Your cheeks lit up in flames instantly at the reminder of training a few days ago when Beth had snuck up behind you and made a stupid sound in your ear. You had jumped into the air in shock and your laces weren't tied correctly so you tripped over your own feet and went tumbling to the ground in a way that made you look clumsier than Alessia.

"Don't be mean," Lotte chastised as the four of you passed a ball around," y/n knows how to properly tie her laces." She sent you a teasing smile and a shrug. "Besides, I'm sure she'll have some of the older girls lining up to make sure they're done properly."

You huffed as you kicked the ball back to her. You spun on your heel. "You're all mean," You declared," I'm gonna warm up with Vic and Less."

●～●～●～●～

The ninety minutes of your debut match were gruelling.

The ball went back and forth between the teams. Every shot that went in was equalised quickly. Everyone was growing tired, especially when five minutes of extra time was awarded and Katie was one dirty tackle away from earning herself a yellow card.

You took a moment to catch your breath, pulling up your socks before breaking into a sprint.

The opposing team's defence was in shambles and you could see their goalkeeper getting antsy.

A long ball from Katie fell neatly into Alessia's feet and she began her run.

You followed after her quickly as the opposing defence broke their line. It was carnage for a moment as you both approached the box.

The goalkeeper came off her line ever so slightly as the defence mobbed Alessia, who passed quickly to you.

Your foot moved automatically as you chipped the ball over the goalkeeper's head and into the back of the net.

Your instincts got you the goal so when your brain finally caught up, you were sporting the same look on your face as the one you had when you won against Australia.

The final whistle rang out as you stood there in shock.

Half a moment later, the team crashed into you.

Less made it to you first, pulling you in for a tight hug before everyone else converged on you.

You felt a bit like a dog, with the amount of head pats you were receiving but the blinding smile on your face more than made up for it - especially when Viv meandered over and gave you a hug and congratulations.

"Come on, l/n!" Katie cheered as she dragged you through the victory lap. "Party tonight! I'll pay for the drinks!"

"She's sixteen," Lina reminded her.

"I didn't say we had to go out to a pub! It's legal for sixteen-year-olds to drink at home! What do you say, kid?"

You laughed. "Good luck getting Stina to agree."

[sofiaruelle]

Aaa tumblr deleted my ask before I was done smh, anyway I was wondering who you think would do better at the ifuudoudou dance/shuffle, ass gang / she trio ?(stardew) i think they’d both give up in the middle from the quick-exhaustion, or how funny it’d probably be to see those sillies knocking each other over.

Aww man the ASS gang would DEMOLISH the SHE trio doing the ifuudoudou shuffle. Something something about being old and their old man knees (Abigail’s words). And in this essay I will explicate my take on the dance battle:

I can imagine the ASS gang would have to teach them how the dance moves first. The SHE trio practices for a bit. Harvey and Shane would definitely have a little with coordination (especially with the double bounce) but they get it down and are actually some what in sync as a group. Since Elliot was able to pick up on the dance moves quicker, he somewhat moves a little faster than the other two. Harvey tends to get flustered in the middle and would flail his arms trying to catch up to Elliot’s tempo thinking he messed up somewhere. Poor Shane would strugggglllleeeee with cardio. He blames the fact that he’s hungover to save face (he’s not, he’s been sober for a while, Elliot and Harvey pick up on this and just teases him)

Meanwhile the ASS gang is much more familiar with the song and dance. (my lil HC: Sebastian is a big fan of vocaloid; though he has yet to tell the rest of the gang what the song is about). For a time it had been a trend amongst them to dance the shuffle around town and filming themselves doing shennanigans. coughtiktokcough Despite being quite familiar with it, Sam struggles to move in the same direction as the others and bouncing on one place. He does quickly recover though!!!! Not his fault Abigail tends to forget to do the double bounce though hahahah. Sebastian has *perfected* the dance catch him practicing in between doing freelance programming.

I have this Idea™️ during the shuffle battle, Elliot realizes the song lyrics is quite scandalous and catches Sebastians eyes and they have a some kind of telepathic conversation which causes Sebastian to get flustered and embarassed at the implication of the lyrics. Elliot just laughs in amusement and nearly falters. Abigail in the middle of egging on the SHE trio notices this and calls out Elliot for the sabotage! Shane, tired of her teasing, tells his buddies to avenge him before collapsing on his ass, completely out of breath. Harvey to check on him but Shane waves him off. Also Sam nearly knocks everyone out trying to match up with the direction his hands should be facing, almost tripping on Shane. 😂 😂 😂

[princesssmars]

thinking of karlach who enjoys pda a litttle too much. nsfw.

i mean, no one can really blame her for being affectionate. if you were stuck as an untouchable killing machine for a decade you’d also get a little pent up, and everyone in the party understands!

so when she claps gale a little too hard on the shoulder after a funny joke, he laughs it off. when she gets too touchy showing wyll how to handle his new horns, he’s polite about it. lae’zel even gives a not as remarkably violent remark when karlach gives her a hug after a successful battle.

but when it comes to you…it becomes a bit much.

it was obvious from the second that karlachs engine was fixed that the two of you would be a problem. the first hug was sweet, the peck after that heartwarming. but then the kiss is getting deeper, and shes picking you up, and now youre making out in front of the whole inn-

but karlach really cant find it in her to care. shes got a new shot at life (even if its for the next few weeks), a new group of friends a partner that she can talk to and look at and touch any time she wants. shes not gonna take it for granted.

when its time for everyone to eat once the sun goes down, she always plops down next to you, shoulders touching as she chows down on her food and boasts about whatever all of you did that day, wiping off food from your mouth and whispering about how you almost distracted her on the battlefield…

after an exhausting and eventful day the party will collectively decide to take a day to just rest, preparing and healing their bodies for your journey. its a good thing the camp in the outer limits of the city is large, because the last thing any of them want to see is karlach cornering you whenever she crosses your path. which is often, because ninety percent of the time she’s seeking you out.

(shadowheart isnt a prude, but when shes looking for scratch inside the large barn and instead stumbled upon karlach with her hands down your pants, she starts to understand why shar wasn’t a big fan.)

arent a mage? that sucks, because you'll be spending a fortune on silence scrolls for nights with her in your tent. she has no noise control at all, moaning every few minutes about how pretty you are, how lucky she is, how badly she needs you, how wet you feel around her fingers-

it gets worse when her ways start rubbing off on you. karlach never paid too much mind to her chest until she noticed how your eyes always seemed to wander to it before snapping back up to her face. she's always telling you how she doesn't mind if you touch her, hell she wouldn't care if you groped her in the town square.

and though she wasn't expecting you to squeeze her boobs in the middle of a tavern while everyone was out for drinks, she didn't really mind. she also didn't mind when later that night you dragged her to your tent and buried your head in her chest while she moved you back and forth over herself, but that was just for her to see.

[staroaming]

Confessions

Vash x Reader tags: nsfw, plant-vash biology, female reader, smut, feelings.

// sorry for any mistakes, i'm sleep deprived lmao //

The first time that you saw Vash, you assumed he would be a passing thing, a person who would take up too much space in your mind before fading away like everyone else. That's how it usually goes, anyway.

Funny, you think, that you're so incredibly close to him now. The fact that the two of you happened to meet in a tavern the same night you saw him wandering through town and you helped him escape a gunfight, well, that surely cemented the fact that you would follow him practically anywhere.

Now, nights like this are nothing but an ordinary, pleasant routine. You've both been drinking a bit too much, both relaxing after a long day of travel. You laugh at him as he stumbles around the fire after digging through your pack to pull out blankets, his grin spreading when he finds you right where he left you.

"Good! You're not asleep yet!"

"Not yet." You yawn, "But it is getting pretty late."

He nods and plops down beside you after spreading out a blanket for you both to rest on, spreading his long legs out. You glance down at him, brow raised.

"You're not tired?"

He shrugs, "Nope."

Laughing, you splay onto the blanket beside him. Your arms brush and with that touch, like always, there is a spark, a live wire. You gulp and throw an arm over your eyes, wishing these damn feelings would just go away already.

"You feel sick?" He asks.

"No." You huff, "That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

You lower your arm and look at him, "Can't tell you. Secret."

He blinks in that usual way of his, all wide-eyed. Then, he drags you closer, wrapping his arm around you with gentle strength. You instantly relax, your head dropping to rest on his chest. This is always nice and you should accept it as it is. You should just accept that this is all you'll get and you're fine with that, especially if it means that you won't lose him.

A soft brush of his fingers on your lower back makes your stomach flip. A flutter rises and you gulp, shifting a bit at the tingles running up the length of your spine.

"I can't really go to sleep with you touching me like that."

He lets out a soft noise of surprise, "Oh! Right, sorry."

You chuckle, "I didn't mean that you should stop."

Soon, though albeit slightly hesitantly, the touch returns. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your back, against your ribs and you jolt. The movement brings your crotch closer to his thigh and you let out a soft noise, which leaves you slightly mortified. He goes very still, his touch halting before he continues with seemingly more confidence.

He runs his fingers lower until they're pressing a bit into the dip of your waist. Your hips move against his thigh and you shut your eyes, praying neither of you will remember this in the morning. But you know that, without a doubt, there's no way you won't. Regardless of the drinks, you're both very much aware of what is happening.

You bury your face against his chest as you grind against him softly, your voice more timid than it's ever been when you call his name.

"Is this too much?" He asks, quietly.

"No. No, this is fine."

He laughs, a deep rumble against you. It's different than any laugh you've heard from him before. There's nothing goofy or fake or self-deprecating about it. It's husky. It's heat.

Suddenly, as you begin to feel spikes of pleasure, he stops. You wince and go to pull away, thinking you've overstepped or misunderstood. But he simply keeps holding tight to you as he shifts.

You blink up at him, caged in by his arms, overwhelmed by the sight.

He's flushed, his cheeks rosy and his pupils dilated. His eyes are flitting around your face and dipping, his hand running beneath your thin shirt to travel against the skin beneath. You gulp and open your legs for him to settle better, gasping when he presses against your so fully.

"You make the prettiest sounds." He says, his voice soft and gentle and quiet between the two of you. "I've heard you before, you know. Late at night, when you thought I was sleeping. I never knew what you were thinking about but I hoped-"

He brushes his thumb against your nipple and you bring your hand down to place it atop his, feeling him explore, feeling the way his fingers curl around your breast.

Your voice wavers, "I usually think about you."

At your confession, his eyes shoot up to your own. He presses against you harder, though you aren't sure that he's even aware of it. In a flash, he's lowering his lips to yours, taking over each and every one of your senses. You're consumed by him, by his mouth, by his roaming hands and his tongue. He pushes at your shirt and you loathe the brief moment your lips part as it lifts over your head, moaning when he finds you again. You pant when he begins to trail his lips down the slope of your throat, pressing his teeth and tongue against the rapid beat of your pulse. He brushes over your chest until he's taking a nipple into his mouth and you wish you could do something else with your hands. Instead, you bring them to your mouth as he travels lower and lower, pushing your pants down and off. "I'd like to hear you." He spreads your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He pushes his fingers into the plush of them, his breath ghosting over your core. "Please." You take your hands away and glance down, stomach curling pleasantly when you see him already looking back. He keeps his eyes on you during the first swipe of his tongue against your clit, smiling when you jolt and call out for him. "There you go." He kisses your thigh before dipping, his tongue running along your folds eagerly. You let out an embarrassingly loud yelp but he doesn't let up, not until you're dripping and leaving his mouth and chin shining. He flicks his tongue over and over, sucking at your clit, pushing in deep. Your thighs begin to quiver and he presses harder, no doubt leaving impressions and bruises. You don't mind. On the contrary, you hope they linger for days after this. Just as you're drawing close to the edge, he rises. He trails kisses back up, pressing his lips into your soft stomach, grabbing hungrily at your hips and plush sides. When you open your mouth for him, he tastes like you. The kiss is heavy and slick, breath hot between the two of you, both of you tasting like alcohol and sweets. You bring your hands down blindly, searching for the loops of his belt, for the pop of the button. When his shirt goes, you trail your touch over his scars. You shiver and you press a kiss pointedly against a deep one on his chest, making sure he knows that you aren't put off by any of it. When you look up at him, he is looking down at you. "Are you-" "If you're going to ask if I'm sure," You raise your legs, eyes fluttering at the touch of his tip on your entrance. "then, yes. I'm very sure. I've been sure for ages now." He snorts a laugh and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he begins to push in. Immediately, you notice that his dick feels...different. You've only been with two other people and although each time had been less than extraordinary, you know what a dick feels like. You glance down between your bodies, eyes catching on the feint luminescent glow as it buries inside of you. Ridges catch and tug but it isn't unpleasant. Instead, as he seems to shift inside of you, you feel an intense burst of unexpected pleasure. You gasp and grab onto his upper arms, digging in, mumbling an apology but unable to loosen your grip. He presses your chests together, teeth brushing against your throat before he bites, just once, just hard enough to make you arch against him. This makes it much easier for him to push inside of you entirely, both of you pausing. You feel the shift within you and it's all hard and velvet and there's something moving against your clit- "Vash." You moan, "It's...I'm-" He begins to thrust but the attention to your clit doesn't leave and when you open your eyes, you see that his hands are planted on either side of your head. Whatever is brushing repeatedly over you is part of him, undulating and stimulating. "Feel good?" He asks breathlessly, jolting you up and down with his thrusts. "Do you need me to stop?" "No, please." You shut your eyes again, bursts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. "Keep going, Vash, please." He thrusts harder, his dick prodding at the plush, spongy part inside of you. His breathing has thickened as he buries his face against your throat, tongue brushing the bite, his teeth grazing it. "So pretty." He says, his hips snapping as your breasts bounce against his chest. "You're just-" You gasp loudly as he reaches a hand down and grabs hold of your hip, digging his fingers deeply. "You've always been so beautiful." You gulp, strong emotions swamping you. You'd never accepted what you've known for months now: that you like him immensely, that you love him deeply. "I think," You try to speak between the thrusts, eyes rolling as he pierces a part of you that makes you see fucking stars. "I think I'm in love with you, Vash." He speeds up, his voice a whimper, his lips finding yours. He breathes against you, he whispers things you can't understand and suddenly, all at once, you are falling to absolute pieces. Your entire body shakes as your orgasm overwhelms you. You tighten around him and he groans, pushing hard, pushing so damn deep. Your lashes flutter and your eyes grow damp with the overwhelming feeling. In a flash, which you will later blame on euphoria, you think you see the spread of the cosmos sprouting from his back. There are feathers and there are stars and whisps, dark like gunsmoke, spreading above the two of you. Blanketing you from the world. He spills inside of you. It's hot and it's thick and you feel him grind into you over and over as if chasing the feeling to the last possible moment. The entire world goes quiet, all a buzz and vibration, as slowly you return from such a height. When you're back to yourself, you feel him sliding in and out of you slowly. He's growing soft inside of you but neither of you wants to part. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him close until you can't anymore. You glance down and see the bioluminescence spill out of you. He drops his head to your chest, skin slick and damp with sweat. Luckily, the desert is always cold at night. It cools you both down until bumps are breaking out on your skin and Vash is grabbing another blanket, sliding out of you to wrap you both up within it. The fire has begun to burn low but you know he'll get up at some point to keep it going. For now, however, you're glad that you can turn in his arms and bury yourself against him. Your confession returns to the forefront of your mind and you think you might be sick, that you might wake up and find him gone now that the truth is out. You do your best to pretend that you've already fallen asleep, evening out your breaths and losing the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you assumed he would unwrap himself from you. But instead, he continues to hold you close, pressing kisses on the top of your head, his voice low and soft. "I love you too." He brushes a thumb against your jaw and traces the slope of your cheek. Those words, confessed beneath the stars and within the endless dunes, ease your worries. You nuzzle closer, hoping he thinks you're doing it unconsciously. Tomorrow, you're sure you'll both need to talk. But for now, as you allow yourself to be held so tenderly, you finally succumb to a deep, much-needed sleep.

[blingblong55]

This town -Simon "Ghost" Riley

pic credits: @ave661 (middle and right)

Based on a request: (Its a long as so I'll link it so you can read the anons idea) Link here ---- F!Reader, childhood!friends, hidden feelings, angst, friends to strangers ---- A/N: Songs that also fit: Too Young- Louis Tomlinson, This Town- Niall Horan, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, Always you-Louis Tomlinson

It's a story to tell over at the old pub you and he used to hang around on the weekends. But how can a man begin to tell the sorrowful story? How can he explain in his bruised hands he holds the locket you gave him when you two were kids? He will maybe ask if this was a curse, the only curse an old soul like his has. 

It could've been something, it would've been something, it should've been beautiful. 

In this world, it was always he and you. Scraping your knees when jumping off the rocks near his home. Playing tag in the street until the moon greeted you and his mother would call his name. It's the kind of beginning all beautiful loves start with. Friends since childhood, went through life together and by 28, he would have proposed to the girl he had loved his whole life, 40s would be of dropping the kids at school, 50s of early retirement and 60s were for the potential grandkids, 70s would've been the stories shared of their early lives.

Would've...what a shit word that became in his life. 

In the teenage years, after you had some glow-up, you became the girl everyone knew. The pretty, popular and funny girl the school knew of. He was the friend of the popular girl, the one people barely noticed or cared for. Simon was the same kid who always had a scar or bruise on his face, compliments from his father. One thing Simon hated more than the bastard of his father was the guy you were with. Bloke knows nothing but how to wank and fuck any living thing, he recalls.

Why were you with such a guy? It was a must. Like those cheesy movies where the pretty girl stays with the popular guy, all for the status of each other. Your feelings weren't real for that guy. He wasn't funny, wasn't smart and he wasn't Simon. The boy you shared a kiss with at age 7 because of an accidental bump whilst running through the grass. 

It was during a small break between classes that you found him drinking water. You smile. He always did look good, even the stupid bruise on his jaw made him look so good. 

"Y/N," he straightens up. "Simon," you smile cheekily. "Oh no, what's that smile for?" He crosses his arms over his chest and you can't help but get lost in his honey eyes. "Well...I was wondering if maybe we can...talk?" You say, unsure of how to word this confession. "Did my mum put you up to this?" 

"No, this is...me just wanting to talk." 

"Go on," his voice softens. Does he always do this for you?

You hesitate, but what is life without words? You breathe in and say, "I like you...there I said it and... don't stay quiet because you know I get nervous and I will continue to just talk and talk and talk and-"

He cuts you off by saying, "I'm sorry, Y/N, I... don't..think..this..well I just don't feel that way for you. We're friends, nothing more," he ends his part of the conversation, pats your back as he walks away and you are left in the corridor of the school alone. 

As Simon walks to his classroom, his heart and mind fight the words that he had just said to you. Why was that mean? Did I even mean to say them? He thinks. 

Graduation happens. You and he never talked after that day. Not even a congrats or a hug, life went on without him in your life. Throughout those last months in school, he felt a feeling of regret when he'd see you with that guys arm around you. He would occasionally walk around the old park just to see if you would still go on your daily walks. 

By the time he was about to leave town, he found himself at the old house. He heard your parents moved to a new part of town, so if this was the last time he heard of you, it better be on his terms. And as he walks through the pavement, he finds himself looking at your window. He leans over a car, lights a cigarette and just waits to see if maybe you or some ghost roamed the home. 

Was it the feeling of losing a friend that hurt or losing his one chance to feel something other than pain and hatred? Maybe it's just nervous, after all, he leaves tomorrow. 

You were both just 16, it was puppy love, nothing would've lasted if he reciprocated those feelings, right?

And if it was, why does he feel some kind of hurt as he packs his bags? Why does he want to run to your new home and call your name? Is there a reason why? It's not love, it can't be love, he thinks. I'm not worthy of that, you've heard my dad, he says out loud. "Simon?" Tommy opens the door. "Tommy, not today," he looks back at his bag. "...Fuck" he whispers. 

It's been a long nineteen years since he last saw you and heard your precious voice laugh at a cheesy joke of his. Nineteen years and the feeling in his chest is still there when he arrives home. Manchester was always home for him, it was the only place he knew best when he came back. 

One day, as he was cleaning his closet, looking for his dog's leash, something fell and hit his head. "What the fu-" he looked down and there it was. 

"Why give me this?" A thirteen-year-old Simon asked you. You smile, "You said you wish you could always be near me so you can feel safe...and since I'm going to my nans for the week, have this locket on you, and I swear I'll be there. Keep it safe, okay?" you kiss his forehead before entering the car. He nods and waves, "Call me, Y/N, please!" he calls out and you nod. "Every day!" you scream out as the car drives further away. 

A smile falls on his silent lips, "...Y/N..." his thumb caresses the design. Once he opens it, he feels as if he is that young again. "Are you still there, Y/N?" He whispers and then, realisation hits. It was never nerves or whatever bullshit he told himself back then, it was love, always has. 

All the dots are connecting. For the past nineteen years, he always had some love or whatever all those hookups and awful relationships were, but never did they stick around. Never did he feel more for them than what he has always felt for you. His cold heart still beating warm when he thinks of you. You are all he has ever known, the smiles, the late-night confessions, stories, the silly inside jokes, the feeling in his chest today. 

He hasn't seen you in years, what if you don't remember him? What if when you see him, your heart doesn't call his name when he screams yours? Will you ever even forgive him? Will you wrap your arms around him and call him home like he has called you? 

He must find you, so he calls and looks for you in every corner of this place. He finds nothing, just more lost hope at every corner he looks into. His heart and mind excited each other at the thought this would be some sappy romance moment. His mind creating a script, all truths, just finding better words to tell you he loves you, loved you the moment you kissed the similar scar on the knee at the park when he cried over the pain. He's loved you from the day he learned to say your name. 

Why does he miss you so much today?

Why must you be the drug his body needs? God does he miss you and your addictive heart. 

He has been around the world, where he could've found a good woman who made him happy but no, his heart has always belonged to one girl. You. 

By the time he gets the street right, he finds you sitting down and as he smiles and nearly runs to you, he stops when he sees this image of you. 

Sitting by the fountain, he sees you and a man. His arms wrap around your body, giving you darling kisses as you chuckle. It was then that Simon Riley knew this was it. He will spend his entire life wandering earth, looking for another soul like yours. You didn't see him of course, your fiance capturing all your attention. Simon was close to not caring and pulling you away from that man, but that would be cruel. And as he tries to make up excuses for this man being near you, he sees the ring. 

Oh...oh you fool, he thinks. 

His heart is near death. It screams your name, trying to find you so it can keep beating but when you don't whisper, Simon nods and lets his heart die. Let it rot, so it can learn its lesson, he thinks. 

It would've never bloomed, Simon and you...right?

It's no use to even go and say hi. The locket that contained your picture was still in his fist. It'll be the last reminder of what was meant to be a life romancing in dark streets through town. 

In his head, the home you dreamed of will forever be just a dream. No four kids, no library, no big kitchen so you and he can dance around at midnight. No you...no him...it'll all be stuck and dead in this town. 

He crossed rivers, mountains, and enemies and survived wounds soldiers like him get, all to come home to you. And all this was for nothing. In his world, he would've married you, given you chubby babies and late Saturday mornings. No gun, no bomb and no other man would've kept him away from you. 

In his mind, he is with you. In his dead heart, he sits by and watches that chubby baby learn to walk. He would've adored seeing you in a white dress, walking to him as he wiped tears away when he d his dream of a perfect life was minutes away from being real. 

What a mess he is as he asks for another drink. A mess he never should have been if he had told you that your name is carved all over his body. 

It was this town that saw him live and it'll be this town that sees him die because if he can't have you, at least he has this place. 

A/N: Remember, I collect tears for potions, so please drop them by for collection, thank you. - The place of tears co.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter one

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

warning . . . tbd )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . .i wanted to thank everyone for the amazing feedback i got on my teaser. i hope the first chapter isn't too much of a let down after how long i made you all wait, i promise the wait for the next chapter won't be as long. also max will be in the next chapter )

Y/N was completely and unequivocally in love, the kind of love that made you feel like you were 14 years old in your room crying to Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’, the kind of love that hurt more than it felt good. When she moved to London, desperate to get out of her sleepy town in the English countryside, and applied for a job to be the personal assistant to somebody who was then a relatively unknown professional footballer; she could have never imagined that this is where she’d be 5 years later. Y/N had joined Mason Mount’s team just as he had joined Derby County on lone and due to the fact that the man had just moved to a brand-new city away from all of his friends and family, the pair quickly bonded and developed a relationship that became more than one of an employer and his employee; they actually became friends. So, when Mason moved back to Chelsea at the end of his loan and they gave him the chance to upgrade to an assistant with much more experience working with premier league football players, he turned it down; likewise, when Y/N was scouted by another footballer who was offering more money and better hours, she also turned it down. They were happy. They were friends, maybe even best friends. Why then did Y/N consistently feel like something was missing? For months she couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t understand why she wasn’t completely happy, it wasn’t until one day when they were sat having one of their infamous movie nights that she understood what it was she was feeling. Despite Mason living in a penthouse apartment in the middle of London worth millions of pounds, their movie nights always took place at her flat, a much smaller one-bedroom place in, to put it bluntly, a much rougher area of the city. They would sit together on her sofa and put on a movie, (usually a cheesy late 90’s to early 2000’s romcom). And one day, she found herself watching Mason rather than the movie; she watched him watching the movie intently, giggling at the funny bits, tearing up at the sad bits, and she realized that she loved him.  

Every so often she thought that she should maybe put some space between herself and the footballer, to try and move on from her feelings for him, but then he would do something that would reel her back in, something that would make her think that maybe she had a chance. He would fall asleep cuddling her on the couch, he would dance a little bit too close to her at a party, he would seek her out after winning a big game and hug her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. But then she would overhear him telling Ben and Reece about his latest conquest or she would get a text message from him 15 minutes before he was due to come to hers for a movie night cancelling because he had a date. To put it plainly, she simply just did not know where she stood with her best friend. Despite sometimes feeling like there could be a chance of more between them, she never said a thing to Mason, valuing their friendship too much to risk it; so instead she just went about her life, following her best friend and the man she loved around the country, always hiding how she truly felt, or attempting too at least. There had been a few times when she was spending time with Mason and his friends, that one of them would catch her looking at Mason. There was one time when Ben actually asked her about it, asked if there was anything going on between the two friends, she had told him that there wasn’t, of course, but she could tell from his facial expression that he didn’t believe her. Truth be told, a lot of their mutual friends were worried about the two of them. 

So, when Mason and Y/N walked into the club together despite living in completely different areas of the city, Ben and Reece exchanged a look, wondering how their teammate could be so clueless. The rest of the night they watched the way the pair interacted; they watched the way that Y/N would look up at Mason with such love in her eyes whilst Mason looked at her like he would look at any other friend. They were caught between a rock and a hard place, they wanted to tell Mason what they knew so that he could stop leading her on, but they didn’t want to betray Y/N by telling her secret. Even though she was Mason’s friend more than anyone else's, they both really liked her and wanted to protect her from the hurt that her situation with Mason would inevitably bring. But when they caught sight of Mason sat with his arm thrown around the shoulders of the girl, periodically leaning in and whispering in her ear, they knew that they needed to saw something; and when Y/N walked up to the bar and got chatting to somebody on the way back, Ben knew that this was his opportunity. 

“Mason why did you and Y/N come in together, aren’t your places on opposite sides of the city?” Ben asked his best friend already knowing the answer to his question. Despite the fact that Y/N worked for Mason as his assistant, the pair were close, very close; so when they arrived to the party in the same car, Ben didn’t have to wonder too hard about the reason why. “Oh, she was at mine for a movie night last night and she was too tired to go home so she stayed.” Mason told his friend matter-of-factly, not seeing what the issue was or why his friend in front of him looked so annoyed. Even if you took away the widely inappropriateness of an employer having his employee stay at his house, there was the small issue of the fact that Y/N was madly in love with Mason and had been for years now. As much as she tried her best to keep it hidden, the only person in their circle that didn’t seem to know about it was Mason himself. Ben and Reece had a conversation a few days before, discussing whether they should tell Mason as from an outside perspective, even if it was unintentional, he did seem to be leading Y/N on; they both knew their friend extremely well, so they knew that he didn’t have the same feelings that she had for him and they knew that if Mason knew the full story there are aspects of his relationship with her that he might change.  

“Look mate,” Ben started, unsure of exactly what to say but knowing he needed to say something. “I think you should know that Y/N has feelings for you” Mason’s brows furrowed, completely taken aback by his friends' blunt honesty. “What? No are you sure?” he asked him, truly hoping that he was mistaken or playing some kind of prank. “I’m 100% sure, it’s obvious to be honest with you mate. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, she really truly loves you. Having her stay at your place and being that close to her, it’s going to make her think that someday you two could be more than friends, so if that’s not the case then you really need to reconsider doing things like that as it isn’t fair on her. Y/N’s a good girl, you know that she deserves to be happy.” Ben’s words make Mason’s head spin. Y/N was more to him than just his employee, she was one of his closest friends, but he really didn’t see her as anything but a friend. “Oh, fuck Ben what should I do?” Mason asked with his brain completely frazzled at this point, 15 minutes ago he was feeling great, he had just had a great day with one of his best friends and then then he came to a party to blow off some steam after a very stressful week, but now it seemed like everything had come crashing down. “I think you need to speak to her, make it clear that you value her friendship but you don’t see her as anything else, let her down gently.” he told Mason who simply nodded before starting to walk towards the girl in question who was at the bar talking to one of the other players girlfriends., the second Ben realized what he was trying to do he put a hand out to stop him from going over there, causing Mason to look back at him with a puzzled expression. “Maybe telling her right this minute isn’t the best idea though mate, considering you’re in public. Not to mention the fact we’ve all got that trip planned for the Spanish Grand Prix in a few days, maybe you should wait until after that. If things don’t go well that could make the whole trip so awkward.” Ben pleaded at his friend, but he could see on Mason’s face that his words were going in one ear and out the other. “Fine go, but be nice to her and you better not ruin the race for everyone” he relented, taking his arm off of his friend and letting him walk towards the unsuspecting girl.  

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Mason asked with no regard for the fact that she was already deep in conversation with somebody else. His bluntness combined with the pained look on his face made her recognize instantly that whatever he wanted to talk about wasn’t likely to be lighthearted. She hesitantly followed the man as he gestured for her to come along to a quieter part of the bar. Before she could ask what was going on, Mason had already asked her a question that made her stomach sink - “Do you have feelings for me?” She had absolutely no idea how to answer his question, of course she knew the answer; she had been pining after him for years at this point, but she just wasn’t ready for him to know that yet. “Will you please just answer my question?” he almost demanded, his harsh tone making her freeze. Looking up at her best friend with tear filled eyes she muttered the last thing he wanted to hear - “Yes”. Her voice was so faint that it didn’t come out as anything more than a whisper but to Mason it was the loudest thing he had ever heard. Y/N had imagined having this conversation with Mason so many times, imagined herself finally telling him that she loved him but in all her fantasies, in all her daydreams, he had never flinched like he had done just now. “Mason I -” she started but stopped in her tracks when she saw tears forming in her best friend’s eyes. “How could you do this Y/N, why would you ruin our friendship like this?” he asked her in genuine disbelief. Mason watched the girl stood in front of him stumble over her words, clearly not expecting to be asked that question, before putting her almost full glass down on the table and running out of the bar. 

In all of the daydreams she had had where Mason found out she loved him, he didn’t react like that in any of them, even the ones where he told her he didn’t reciprocate her feelings he was never that harsh, never that heartless. Y/N was nothing if not a realist, she truly didn’t expect him to come to her and tell her that he had always loved him too but she at least thought he would try to be nice about it, try to protect her feelings as much as possible, tell her that no matter what they would always be friends. Instead, he basically told her that their friendship was over, and she was the one responsible. She didn’t even have to wonder how Mason found out about it either, she knew Ben knew and she had also seen Mason and Ben talking moments before he came storming over to her. More than anything she just felt stupid; stupid for believing that somebody like Mason would ever love somebody like her, stupid for putting one of her most beloved friendships on the line over a schoolgirl crush, stupid for running away instead of explaining herself to him.  

“Y/N, are you okay” she heard a voice come from above her, breaking her train of thought. She was sat on the floor outside the club, staring into space clearly lost in thought, looking certifiably insane. Looking up she saw Reece James stood before her. There was no question that Reece knew what had happened but even still Y/N wasn’t sure if she should talk to him about it. Whilst she was closest to Reece out of all of Mason’s friends and teammates and she would consider him to be a friend, he was still Mason’s friend before anything else. There was also a good chance that anything she does tell him would be repeated to Mason. As if he could read her mind, he spoke again “You know you can speak to me right, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m sorry that Ben told him by the way” he sat down on the street next to her. “It’s okay I don’t blame him; I understand that he wanted to protect his friend” her words were met with Reece shaking his head, “No actually I think he wanted to protect you” he said causing her brows in confusion. “He tho- We thought that the way he acted with you was a bit unfair, doing things that were giving you hope that you could be more than friends. Mason’s not a bad guy and he wouldn’t do that stuff on purpose, so we wanted to make sure he knew what he was doing.” Y/N looked up at the man's face, his serious expression laced with sincerity; she could tell that he was telling the truth and that he and Ben truly cared about her and wanted to protect her from hurt. “Thank you, Reece, make sure to tell Ben that I’m not annoyed at him for saying anything.”  

“Of course, I will. I know we only know you though Mason but you’re our friend as well okay, remember that.” He said before he threw his arm around her pulling her into a hug. “So what do you think is going to happen now?” he asked her. “Oh I really don’t know, he seemed pretty mad at me. I think I’ll probably leave the Grand Prix this weekend though, give things a chance to cool off”  

“What no you can’t do that, you love F1 and it’s your first opportunity to go to a race, you can’t miss that because of him. Worst case scenario, go and stick with me. You can’t give up those sweet paddock passes, what if you meet a cute driver eh?” he said jabbing his fingers into her sides playfully teasing her in an attempt to get her to smile. “I’ll think about it” she said, attempting to fight the smile on her face but to no avail. “You going to come back in or are you going to head home? We probably look crazy sat out here like this” he asked her and she paused thinking about it, she thought about going back in and trying to talk to Mason, to try and fix everything. After a moment she shook her head “No I think I should give him some space” Recce nodded understanding her decision before walking over to a cab and giving them her address along with enough money in cash to cover her journey three times over. “You get home safe okay” she nodded before thanking him for being to kind to her tonight. Just before she had the chance to close the door he spoke again “Y/N wait, are you going to be okay? I could call someone if you need?” Again, she found herself smiling at the care Reece had shown her. “No, I’ll be okay, I always am” 

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly

[devourers-of-god]

Hello again! As I understand it, applications are still open aha... I hope I haven't tormented you (sorry, I'm just wildly delighted with your work, and there are too many ideas in my head)

In general... it seems to me that it is quite difficult for Sally to open up to people, despite the fact that he is a very kind boy. It seems to me that he may be shocked by excessive tactility and emotionality

So, what about an overly active f!reader who likes to hold hands with friends, and hugs at a meeting, and kisses on the cheeks (sorry, this is literally me, and at the same time all my friends are not particularly tactile, aha ...). I was thinking that the reader might like Sal... how do you think he would react? And yes, it can be either fan fiction or headcannons, whatever you want aha. I will read everything with pleasure!!!

HI!! thank you SO much for the compliments, you are the sweetest! You are SO right about Sal D: ANS ALSO you do not torment me !!!! the requests are slow these days and im sooo happy you're taking the time to ask me stuff !I will do a one shot for this lololsorry this took a while to write, I had exams, school and work :P BUTTT I got my drivers licence LOLLL okep thanks for your request!!! and if you ever have more ideas, it will be my pleasure to try and portray your ideas with my writing!

SAL X OVERLY AFFECTIONATE READER

Warnings: None, fluff ? u guys are not dating lololol

Type: Oneshot

Oneshot -

Everyone described you with few words; bubbly, a social butterfly and VERY affectionate. You were not shy to pour your heart out to someone when needed, but you also were the first one to help a friend in need.

You always thought that being this touchy and nice to people was just common manners, until you be friended Sal Fisher.

Sal Fisher was an interesting individual, his everyday life was affected by years of torment explained by his flashbacks. He wasted a lot of his youth because Sal was isolating himself, not talking to anyone, not even his father. Even though his ''beloved'' father wasn't trying to help him to begin with. Though, this caused the young boy to develop an awkwardness to someone's touch and Sally could not properly explain to someone how he felt, he couldn't quite put words on his true feelings. Being touched, brushed or even just the thought of all this, made Sal feel something he couldn't even express. Sal was hollow, basically a shell of a human.

You luckily moved to Nockfell, the infamous town that your family wanted to move in so bad. You and your family landed in the Addison's apartments, there you met the tall Larry Jonhson. It was easy to get along with this guy anyway, you found yourself very lucky that day because the metalhead introduced you to Sal Fisher. You two will eventually end up together, but you don't know that yet.

For you, it was love at first sight. You Immediately complimented the way Sal presented himself. Basically showering him with compliments, especially his mask and hair. It wasn't your fault that you're this friendly, its the usual y/n. Sal Fisher felt almost claustrophobic by your gestures, weirdly appreciated that. You were not aware but this boy is secretly craving compliments, being this lonely for this long had affected the poor boy.

As the weeks passed, you and the blue haired boy hung out often, which made you delighted. You two were eating lunch together while the others had an art project to complete. Mr. Fisher and you were discussing when suddenly Sal made you laugh, your reflexes got the best of you and pushed him gently. Sal smiled to himself as his face turned crimson. ''God you are so funny, you need to stop my cheeks are hurting!!'' You confessed as you chuckled lightly. ''Pretty sure my name is Sal ,y/n'' your crush responded. You punched his shoulder gently, just as a way of saying to shut it. You knew that Sal was not introduced properly to your love language, but luckily you asked his closest friends about all of this. They approved to you that the masked boy isn't disturbed by it. It motivated you to not hide your true self, since your upcoming boyfriend is fond of it.

In an instant, the bell rang. You got up quickly and held Sal's hand to make sure he's following. You didn't want to lose him in the crowded halls right? Or did you just want an excuse to hold his hand? Sal figured this out but never told you.

Arrived to his locker, you were so happy that day and your nature took over suddenly, you peeked a small kiss on the cheek of Sal's prosthetic. '' See ya Sal! Goodluck with your math test-'' You yelled out as you escaped. You were proud of yourself too, you really liked Sal and the only way to show it is with affection and physical touch. You could not believe you actually did that. The next class felt like it was the longest ever, the school system was seperating you from your future lover.

Meanwhile, Sal's train of thoughts was going faster than usual. He froze in place for a good 5 minutes with his face hotter than when he had the flu. He thought to himself that you might like him, but Sal reasoned himself after saying that you probably do that to everyone. He wasn't so special, he thought. Normally, affecting gestures are not welcome for Sal Fisher, but you stood out. He actually felt great in your embrace. Even though he's not quick enough to hug back sometimes, he melts every time.

''Man I know you like her, you don't even let us touch you dude.'' Larry said after Sal reported everything of today. Sal closed his locker door a bit louder than he should've.

''Fuck off Larry. She's just different I guess.'' Sal retorted, what's left of his face turned a tint of pink, ballet pink to be exact. Sal thought to himself that he was pleased that the school day finally ended, they could finally go home and play som- Sal's thoughts were cut off by you hugging Sal as a way of greeting. He felt his legs soften beneath him. Sal's heart skipped various beats. '' Hi Sal!! Oh hi Larry! What are you guys up to after school?'' You smiled wildly as you got closer to Sal, which made him shiver. Larry started to smirk in a more of an evil way ''Oh I'm actually busy tonight but I know that Sal wanted to hang out with you y/n'' Sal bumped into him ''accidentally''.

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away ''I would love to! My parents are picking me up today so- text me okay?'' You ended your sentence with a small wink directed to Sal. You quickly left to go in your guardian's car. Suddenly you didn't feel like walking like everyone else, you were so happy you skipped your way to the car. Sal's jaw was hanging since Larry opened his ''dumb mouth'' as Sal would say.

''Youre welcome my man!'' Larry chuckled.

'' Get lost.''

HELLO!! hope you liked it :) I don't know why, im less satisfied with this.. if there's anything you guys think I should add please feel free to share your thoughts with me!! Per usual, stay safe and MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!! its currently almost 1 am lawd goodnight friends :) P-S: we're almost at 150 followers!!!!!! very exciting :DDDD thank you!!

[nothomegal]

Mmm, this isnt a fic request (or maybe yes) but i NEED for reader to break and finally give in for their cuddle session with Danny, oh! And finally start to fall in love with him

Aww you're right anon! I guess it's only the matter of time for the reader to eventually give in and accept the weird ghost guy that keeps sneaking into their life (and house).

And I know it took me way too long to do your request, I apologize for the wait, had some trouble writing this since I never liked how it turned out -.-' Luckily though, I think I finally got something decent!

"Favorite person"

(Ghostface x GN Reader)

Summary: everyone has a limit, and unfortunately today is the day you reached yours as life wasn't all too kind to you for the last 24 hours... But hey, at least your dear intruder has your back, so not everything is that bad! Right, doll?

Warnings: mild example of unhealthy and obsessive behavior, the rest it's all fluff.

Word count: 2.2k

The grip around (Y/N) remained tight. The intruder kept holding their tied form closely in complete silence, something very out of his character.

But such oddness didn’t come from nowhere, and (Y/N) was the one who indirectly caused it. Today was probably the worst day of their life, everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. It's honestly incredible they still had the emotional strength to return home without bursting into tears on their way.

They’re not quite sure how or when they fell asleep, their mind been a mush of blur since they entered their home. All they can remember is waking up already laying in bed with their arms tied behind their back and their body pressed against the chest of the masked man, the same one that would often come to mess with them.

Sometimes he would reveal himself willingly and others just stay in the shadows and observe them from afar or straight from the corner while they’re in a deep sleep.

This night however, apart from tying their hands, he haven't done anything from his previous visits. No cheeky remarks about anything specific they did that day, no rants about some random topic and no attempts to scare or tease them... Heck, he didn't even run his hand through their hair or body. Absolutely no additional touches beside holding them close.

This really threw (Y/N) off. Ghostface, who's been a huge pain for them, the authorities and basically everyone in the town, was... Acting so thoughtful, nothing like the selfish villain he's been portraying himself as for the past numerous nights.

It's not the first time he hugs and holds them in his arms, he's actually super touchy with them and never fails to express his amusement of how helpless they always look. But now?... Now it doesn't feel like any of his shenanigans, but a genuine attempt to comfort them while not pushing too much, though the effectiveness of said attempt remains questionable.

Their thoughts and wonders were interrupted when they feel movement and then something grab their chin to then gently move their head up until they're face to face with that unsettling mask that resembled a ghost.

—“Feeling better?"—

They don't make a sound, quite the opposite, they press their lips in a thin line as they stare into the dark eyes of his mask.

—"If I take off the tape, will you talk to me?"—

Their body tensed at such question. Is he... Is he actually going to?...

—"Of course as long as you don't try anything funny... But you know better."— he leans closer to your face. —"Right, (Y/N)?"—

They gulp nervously, but Ghostface is right, they do know better than to gamble with their luck. Besides, they have no energy to fight or struggle anyways, so of course they'll play along... For now, at least.

With a more defeated look, they slowly nod.

The man releases a pleased hum and without a warning yanks the tape off of their moth, making them yelp from the pain and surprise.

—“There you go, hope it didn’t hurt too much.”— he snorts at your cringed expression.

—“It… It did… A bit.”— you mutter quietly. —“But not as much as a stab would…”—

The killer paused at the sound of their voice, but the calm was short as out the sudden he grabbed them by the chin again and squeezed their face a bit.

—"Aww, look, your first words.”— he remarks playfully before tilting his head. —“Well? Isn’t it just sweet to finally be able to talk, hmm?”—

(Y/N) remains quiet for a couple of seconds, unsure if they should speak again or not. But when It became clear that the interaction wouldn't progress without their contribution, they force themselves to talk.

—"I… Y-Yeah… It is nice."— you answer while studying his masked face. —"But… Please, don’t get too mad at me for replying slow... I'm not used to talk to... Killers, after all. {Or people in general...}”—

—"...Mad? At you? Oh silly..."—

His head then straightened and he squeezed their face a bit tighter.

—"You're so comically shy that I wish I could just cut you up and pull out some confidence out of your body."— he says in a playful tone, though it sounded way more sinister than intended. —"But it's not that you aren't good at speaking, it's the people you call 'friends' that made you believe that..."—

His tone then became significantly colder at the last part, which made (Y/N) tense and go quiet. But despite the dread, they couldn't help but agree with the killer, their friends indeed aren't as good as they thought.

It's another of the many bad things that happened to them today. They weren't supposed to discover it, they just got in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up overhearing the few people they thought they were close with talk about them. Nasty comment after comment, disgust and disrespect lingering in their tones as they said their name between insults and cruel jokes…

They didn't even bother to listen to the end of the conversation, they just fled the scene and did their best to not cry until they arrived home. And in the entire day, in this whole period of time they looked so pathetic and miserable, none of their other ‘friends’ bothered to see if they're alright or help with any other issue. Absolutely no one took a moment to even say 'hello', and that made (Y/N) feel the loneliest, like they're just a ghost in other people's life, being acknowledged only when they announce their presence.

They get pulled back to reality when the hand lets go of their face and their body is pressed closer to the masked man, making the embrace feel more intimate.

—"...Sorry I can't take the angst as easily as I take people out."— he mutters, his hand slowly traveling up and down your head. —"But I can prevent said angst in the future. These assholes will not disturb you again, I made sure they won't..."— his grip tightens, turning almost possessive.

A shiver traveled down their spine at his words.

They should be afraid, panic that this stranger so deliberately admitted of harming, and most likely murdering, their friends like it’s the most mundane thing to do. They definitely should at least freak out or give any other kind of distressed reaction, they should… But they don’t.

To be completely honest, they weren't even upset at what Ghostface did. After today's interaction their view on his character changed quite drastically. Though he still had that playful and cocky behavior, they now know that whenever he says or shows them care... It's genuine, or so they think. Could this be a trick to make them let their guard down? Definitely. Does it make sense? Uh... Not really, but this man likes to do odd things to throw off any bystander with his shenanigans.

But even if their strange relationship is just a game to him, then damn he's good at it. They almost feel like them matter, like they can be loved and it's just bad luck people around them can't see or appreciate them... Unfortunately though... They know it's not true, it can't be true, they're too pathetic for that, so much that even a psycho killer had pity over them to pretend-

A surprised gasp escaped (Y/N) when their body was suddenly flipped and tackled against the mattress, with Ghostface now looming over them.

They didn't even need to see his face to know what type of expression he had, the atmosphere was all it took to know he was upset.

—"I am not pleased with how you keep viewing yourself, (Y/N)."— he finally says after a pause. —"And I am certainly pissed that you're doing it around me."—

All (Y/N) could do is stare at the ghastly mask in dead silence. Despite having their mouth untapped, they couldn't bring themselves to make a sound, as if paralyzed from fear and anticipation of what he would do if they happen to upset him more.

When the killer began to lean down lowly, they held their breath by instinct.

—"I'll say this one time, and you better not force me to repeat it."— he said in a low and slow tone. —"You are my favorite person in this whole cursed world. And I swear if you dare to think badly about yourself again, I'll fucking stab you."—

He pauses, either letting his words sink in or re-evaluating what he just said or is about to say.

After not coming to a clear conclusion, he sighs with mild frustration.

—"I... Look. I'm aware of my reputation and the image you have of me. And though I do like to amuse myself with these visits of mine, not ones I did it to mess with you, not in the way you think..."—

He pauses again, the eyes of his mask staring directly into theirs, either studying their expression or thinking.

—"I wanted to end you ones..."—

As he speaks again in a lower voice as he extends his hand, aiming for their neck.

—"...But I don’t want it anymore."—

The hand was drastically redirected towards their face, covering their eyes in a quick movement. Whatever sound of surprise or confusion (Y/N) was about to make is shushed when something soft and warm was pressed against their lips, the sensation sending shivers through their body.

—"{Or ever again.}"—

That's all they heard before their eyes were uncovered and Ghostface plopped on the mattress right next to them, his head placed on his hand as he waits for their reaction.

(Y/N) can only cluelessly blink while staring at the ceiling, wondering if the warm sensation they just felt on their lips was actually Ghostface-...

Their face starts to get progressively redder as the realization kicks in. My god. Ghostface, from all people, actually!-

Their head snaps at his direction when that famous deep raspy chuckle left him, clearly entertained by the fifty shades of red their face is going through.

—"What? Never had a kiss stolen before?"— he teases.

—"I- Uh... No. Not really..."— you answer as you look away, face even redder.

—"Good, all for me then."—

Now it's (Y/N) who lets out a snort, finding his behavior silly yet quite charming. Huh, strange how quickly they moved on, the previous dread and fear they felt when he pinned them was now like a long forgotten dream...

Is the famous Stockholm syndrome affecting them already? Why are they suddenly so okay with his presence? Even when knowing about his mood swings they can't shake off this strange sensation of comfort...

Is it because his actions and intentions are now confirmed to be genuine? Because he really seems to like and cherish their company? Cherish them?...

...

...You know?

Fuck everything.

They're too tired for this 'BS' about morality and shit. It will be a tomorrow problem to overthink, now they should just give in and take this night to relax and... Well, maybe even put into use this little freedom of speech they got and actually chat to the man, maybe even get to know more about him.

They look at killer again, the dark eyes of his mask still fixated on their form as he observes them in silence, almost like he's looking at a piece of art rather than another person.

—"So... Are you going to stay here all night?"— you finally ask.

He's silent for a little while.

—"You want me to?"—

—"Kinda. You... You're not too bad of a company, I guess."— you shoot him a timid smile. —"And even if I didn't I doubt you would've leave."—

He lets out a snort at their last comment and then lies down, a bit closer to them.

—"You're right, you're now haunted by me either you want it or not."—

There is a small pause between them, both just laying and looking at each other, a strange atmosphere of calm now lingered in the room, making this moment feel oddly right.

Out of the sudden, they feel a pair of arms snake around their form and bring them ones again into that warm and intimate hug. And this time, they welcome the gesture by snuggling closer to the man and letting out a content sigh.

—"So."— he then says as he tilts his head to look at you, now in his arms. —"What's your favorite scary movie? I never got an answer to this question."—

—"Huh? Aren't you supposed to know that?"— you arch your brow. —"Y'know cuz of the whole stalker thing and all..."—

—"Yes, but want to hear you tell me that. I just really like the sound of your voice."—

They can feel their cheeks warm up, and they can't avoid to get even shyer when the man chuckles at their expression.

—"W-Well... I have a couple."—

At first they sounded awkward while speaking, as if expecting him to interrupt them or laugh at their preferences. Nevertheless, he never made a sound and seemed to pay close attention to what they're saying, sometimes even asking more things about the movies when given the opportunity. Overall, Ghostface is a very nice guy to talk about any kind of nerdy horror stuff!

At some point, they even forgot that the man holding them was a serial murder. It actually felt like talking to an old dear friend rather than a criminal.

And as they talk through the night, (Y/N) finally understands why Ghostface always became so touchy and clingy whenever he had a bad day.

Cuddles and rants indeed help, especially if done with your favorite person.

And though they're certain he's not one yet... Just by seeing how the night progresses.

They wouldn't be too surprised if he somehow sneaks his way into such spot.