#and instead of banging my head against a wall after we hung up.. i made this. yay

[bookishjules]

yes, I'm young and livin' dreams

lyrics from 'No Complaints' by Noah Kahan

[sunbaby01]

Voicemail

Dean winchester x reader

The first time she called was the day after, she looked at the phone in her hand before taking a deep breath and dialing the familiar number, heart clenching when he heard his recorded voice.

“Hey Dean…I don't really know what to say to be honest. I think I just wanted to hear your voice even if it was just a voicemail. Sammy hasn't spoken to me since we said goodbye to you. I can't bring myself to leave the area - I can't bring myself to believe you aren't actually here anymore, it wasnt supposed to end like this… god this is stupid” she put the phone down and stared at the freshly dug ground not moving for hours.

The next time she called was two weeks on, Sammy had upped and left and she was all alone. Broken, angry and alone. She punched in the number for a second time.

“It’s me again…Sammy left so it's just me. It's so quiet Dean but then out of nowhere I hear the screams from when they- from when it happened. I miss you so much Winchester…I’m not ready to lose you yet” she wiped her tears and hung up the phone crying herself to sleep once again.

The third time she’d done it she was filled with pure anger, and alcohol, three months after he was taken from her.

“Surprise surprise it's me” she laughed emotionlessly “I don't know what I’m doing anymore. I drink to feel numb and I’ve done things no one with a heart would do but then I know I have a heart because I still feel it breaking every single time I go back to an empty motel room and you’re not there and there's no Baby parked in the lot.” she breathed out the cold air leaning against the outside wall of the bar. “just..fuck you Dean Winchester, fuck you and your fucking hero complex for leaving me- for leaving Sammy. Fuck you…” she whispered and hung up sliding down the wall hiding her face in her hands.

The fourth time was full of tears, sat in one of his shirts she dialed again.

“Do you…do you remember when we first met? I’d have never admitted it at the time but I was completely smitten…funny isn't it how we admit things too late.” she closed her eyes and pictured it in her head, “you were wearing your leather jacket and had the most charming smile on your face and then I heard your laugh- my favourite sound. I wish I could hear it again for real and not just in my mind…I’ve tried everything, hell, you’d probably hate me for all the deals I’ve tried to make to get you back” she trailed off and just sat in silence. Alone like usual.

The next time she saw that number it was ringing her instead, she blamed the alcohol and wishful thinking. Afterall, she was on her fifth - or was it her sixth glass. She turned her phone off and headed to bed.

Head pounding she woke up to banging on her door, she headed down the stairs ignoring her gun on the side and straight to the front door.

“What” she asked, still rubbing her eyes.

Dean felt his heart break, the usual full of life woman he used to know was now standing in front of him a shell of herself. Her eyes accompanied by dark circles and a new scar adorned her bottom lip and down onto her chin.

“It's rude not to answer your phone” he spoke, voice gravelly for not using it so long.

Her breath caught in her throat, she lifted her eyes to the man she’d longed to see for the last four months, she opened her mouth but no words would come out. She glanced at Bobby and Sammy who nodded confirming it was him. That was all it took for her to jump into his arms.

“I’m home sweetheart, I’m home” they relished the feeling of being in each other’s arms, but what Dean didn’t expect was for her to pull away so soon and feel a sting on his face as it turned to the side.

“Son of a BITCH” she shook her hand as the pain shot up her arm.

“You had that coming” Sam laughed slightly.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she carried on shaking her hand but Bobby’s was more of a glare, months and months of ignoring his calls and his messages was finally about to kick her ass - and that made her freeze.

“Hey Bobby-“ she said weakly flinching when he made his way up the stairs and into her house slamming his gun onto the kitchen the brothers quickly following with a glance at each other.

“Don’t hey Bobby me, I’ve been calling you for months and you can’t pick up a phone to tell me you’re okay but you can leave this idjit messages-“ he pointed to Dean who’s eyes widened, “I had to find out that you almost god damn died from Jo”

The room went silent.

“What?” Dean asked and looked between her and Bobby who stayed quiet.

“Will someone tell me what the hell he’s on about?” He pressed.

“I-“ she began.

“She tried to make a deal with every demon possible to get you back, getting drunk and fighting her way up the ladder to try and get to the one in charge but one was too much. Beat her so bad and stabbed her straight through the chest just missing her heart. I don't know who or what saved her but it was a close call” Bobby finished his rant and Sam and Dean took in his words.

“I think we should talk” Dean spoke finally and went out the front door, her following him.

“I got your messages” he said, “listened to them when I woke up”

“Yeah…I didn’t think you’d ever hear them” she said softly, sitting on the porch steps looking out at the trees that surrounded her house.

“I’m glad I did, means your voice was the first thing I heard when I woke up” he sat down next to her and nudged her shoulder softly.

“Fucking flirt” the breathed a laugh.

It was quiet for a moment before the energy shifted.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he said quietly clenching his jaw at the idea of what she’d been through.

“I just wanted you back…needed you back” she trailed off slightly at the end.

“So you think that’s the go ahead to almost get yourself killed” he was frustrated.

“Pot kettle” she tried to reason which once again put them in a momentary silence.

Dean took a deep breath.

“Did you mean what you said? About how you feel about me?” he kept his head facing forward but felt her eyes on him.

“Yes” she said firmly.

“Sweetheart…I-I’m not the same person I was all those months ago, I’ve seen things- done things I’m not proud of” he warned her, eyes closed, mind flashing back to his 40 years in hell.

“Yeah well as you heard so have I. I was lost for four months with you not here and I don’t know if it’s gonna work out but I do know I don’t want to waste another second not trying. After not having you for so long” she took her hand in his and he gripped it back just as tightly neither of them believing it was real.

He smiled softly looking over to her finally, taking in her rosy cheeks and gentle eyes when his heart warmed after being cold for so long. It would take some time, but they were gonna be okay.

[purple-babygirl]

hi im not sure if you’re taking requests so you can ignore this if you’d like, but i really liked your mafia bucky fic !! and i was wondering if you could do one where maybe someone breaks into the house and the reader has to force themselves to be big for a little bit just so they can fight them off and then she runs to the little safe room and goes little there and Bucky finds her there and comforts her and it’s just all fluffy? sorry if this is so specific i just loved the last fic sm 😅

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word count: 1,958

Warnings: reader gets attacked (includes harassment and mentions of violence, cursing, guns), reader gets hurt, mentions of killing, Bucky's softness (yes it's a warning), ddlg dynamics.

A/N: I've been holding onto this one for forever now I'm really sorry for taking so long, dear nonnie🥺 it means the world to me that you liked mafia!daddy!bucky and i hope i delivered with this one and that you like it as much, love. Please enjoy ily xx💜

~

safe

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You can do this.

It all happened too fast. She woke up to guns shooting, Bucky’s men yelling at each other before all the voices suddenly stopped and the door to their bedroom was violently kicked open.

She didn’t even have time to scream before she was dragged from under the large bed by her ankle.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just like Daddy taught you.

“Let go! You don’t wanna do this!” she shrieked, warning the person trying to snatch her off the floor, her leg kicking as she struggled to flee his vice-like hold.

She’d suddenly forgotten every single self-defense move Bucky has ever taught her and was thrashing in panic.

“Oh, I don’t?” the man laughed, his grip painful on her limb as he tried to get on top of her.

She screamed when he dug his fingernails in the flesh of her shin, forcing her legs apart.

“Such a delicate little thing.” He licked his lips when he drew blood, running his gun up her bare leg, pressing down when it reached her inner thigh, “beg me to let you go.”

The words infuriated her big self. If Bucky had taught her one thing that she could never forget it was how dear and precious she was.

“Do you know who my man is?” Her free foot collided with the intruder’s chin, hitting him just right for his teeth to slam together, making him groan and loosen his grasp.

“I beg no one for nothing.” She spat, clumsily standing up, rushing inside Bucky’s large walk-in closet.

“You’re gonna regret that, you little bitch!” The masked man threatened, banging his fist on the door, “I’m gonna make that man of yours weep blood over your dead slut body!”

Her breath was coming out in puffs as tears blurred her vision. With trembling fingers, she moved Bucky’s hung-up suits to the side, revealing the metal door to the panic room.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just a bit longer.

She could hear the man take a few steps back and she knew he was going to shoot the closet open. Her shaky fingers pushed the buttons and typed the number code, the date of the day Bucky had asked her to be his.

I feel safe knowing I have you, angel, so it’s only fit that we make it the safe room code, he'd told her with a playful shrug.

She slid inside as soon as the door moved, pushing her back against the concrete wall, trying to take her breath. The door clicked shut right before the wooden one to the closet was thrown open.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You got this.

She let out a relieved sigh that broke into a sob as she tiredly slid down the wall, still hearing the scary man curse, bang and shoot on the safe room door.

Where was Bucky? She couldn’t hold on any longer. This wasn’t a situation she wanted to be present in. Her body started folding up, taking fetal position as her mind led her to the safer side against her better will. Even her fists closed upon themselves, tears leaving her eyes and traveling down the bridge of her nose. She was losing consciousness of her present surroundings, pictures of Bucky’s eyes spreading in her vision instead of the dull, grey walls of the room.

She was crying too loudly to hear the firing of Bucky’s gun right outside the door or the peeping of the door as it slid open once again.

“Angel!” Bucky’s voice sounded so distant. She felt like she was drowning with how muffled his calls were to her ears.

Seeing her body shake with sobs on the floor like that made Bucky want to walk out and shoot the man’s dead body again and again until he couldn’t be identified.

How dare they send someone here? How dare they violate the sanctity of his home? They were certainly not going to live another day to repeat or repent from their sins.

“Angel, are you hurt?” He kneeled beside her, gently untangling her limbs to check if she was wounded anywhere.

Aside from a couple of nasty scratches by her ankle, she was physically okay and Bucky could breathe a little better as his body sagged on the floor.

He swallowed and lifted her on his lap, signaling his men to leave when they stepped in the room to check if they were needed after ‘cleaning up’.

“Get me water.” Was all he said and they were running to the nearest fridge.

“I’m sorry, my angel. I’m here now. You’re okay.” Bucky mumbled, lips hovering over her temple.

“Dada.” Her body leaned into his warmth but her cries didn’t stop and Bucky could only hold her closer as he tried not to let guilt rip him apart.

She was like that now because of him. Had he been a normal man with a normal life, she would’ve been safer. She didn’t deserve to be startled awake only to be chased by a criminal in the middle of the night. She didn’t deserve any of the bullshit that hit her because she was with Bucky.

He kept planting kiss after kiss to her head, wishing he could go back and be there to protect her.

“Shh, you’re okay, my angel. You’re safe,” he kept telling her as he supported himself up with her in his arms.

Her cries were dying down and she was getting comfier in Bucky’s protective hold, fingers digging in his shoulders afraid he would leave again.

“Please, calm down, baby. I’m here. No one can hurt you, angel.” Bucky took her out and to the bathroom so he could take a look at her leg.

“Baby, are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked after sitting her down on the cold counter.

Instead of answering, she pressed her forehead to his chest and kept sniveling, hands clutching Bucky’s jacket. She wasn’t ready for him to let her go yet. She may be too far gone but her body knew it needed to be close to Bucky’s.

“Baby, please come back to me,” Bucky begged, tears threatening to spill from his once hard, cold eyes.

“Angel,” his thumb brushed her cheek and she finally looked up to him.

“Dada, I was so scared.” She sobbed, shaking at the memory.

“I’m sorry, my angel.” Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead, “I’m here with you, baby. No need to be scared anymore.”

“That man- he-” she hiccupped.

“You’re okay, angel. Breathe.” Bucky stroked her back warmly as she buried her face in his chest again.

He took the bottle of water from one of his men, waving him out of the bathroom.

“Here, baby, drink some water.”

She wouldn’t move. She just wanted to be close to Daddy. She was scared and Bucky was safety. He was home.

“For me, baby. Just a tiny sip.” Bucky twisted the bottle cap open, gently cupping her cheek to coax her away from his body.

His heart swelled when she leaned her damp cheek on his palm, enjoying the warmth. Her smaller hand cupped his and her eyes closed, her face further pressed into Bucky’s hand as a soft sigh escaped her lips.

Bucky bit his lip, holding back the waterworks. He should’ve been here; should’ve prevented it all from happening. His thumb brushed her chin and she opened her eyes.

“Drink a little, angel.” Bucky offered a kind smile.

She nodded, sitting up straighter, her lashes wet with tears as she looked up to Bucky, her gaze holding no blame.

He brought the bottle to her lips and she gulped down, the chilled water soothing her sore throat.

“Better?” Bucky cocked his head to the side and she nodded, sniffing.

Bucky bowed, holding his forehead against hers. He just wanted to feel her breathe soundly; wanted to make his mind stop telling him he almost lost her forever.

“Dada.”

“Yes, my angel.” Bucky pecked her lips.

“My leg hurts.” Her voice was awfully small as she pointed to the burning scratches ruining her beautiful skin. Bucky wished he could hide her between his ribs in place of his heart.

“Daddy’s got you, angel.”

Bucky cleaned her wound, apologizing with a kiss to her cheek every time she hissed. He had her tell him what happened to distract her and it worked. She wanted him to be proud so much she eagerly told him all about kicking the bad man. Tears gathered in her eyes once again when he applied ointment but she continued with her story, Bucky’s smile keeping her calm.

“Angel, you were so brave! I’m so proud of you, baby.” Bucky kissed her bandaged leg, “how did you do that?!”

“Kept thinkin’ dada thoughts.” She hugged Bucky again.

Bucky was a puddle on the bathroom floor. She was telling him she was brave like that because she was thinking of him through it all. He adored her so much he didn’t know who he was if not her man.

“I promise this is the last time you would ever have to go through anything like that,” Bucky assured, chuckling lovingly when she squeezed him harder and nodded.

She believed Bucky. She knew he could keep her safe. This wasn’t a usual occurrence, Bucky’s always made sure she was protected. She had no doubt anything would change. She trusted her Daddy with all her heart.

Bucky knew that and it scared him to death. He was scared one day he might not be up to the trust she’d put in him. He feared disappointing her; not being there for her in time. He was terrified a day would come where he might let her down.

“Never again. You’re safe, my angel. You’re always safe with me.”

Bucky’s soft lips placed a languishing kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were next, Bucky kissed her eyelids and under her eyes. Then he left wet kisses on both cheeks before pecking her nose. She smiled shyly when he pressed his mouth to the corner of hers.

“I love you, angel,” Bucky whispered against her lips before kissing her.

~

Bucky carried her back to their bed. The room was organized again, nothing was out of place and she was in Daddy’s arms. She was safe once more.

Bucky held her to his chest all night, his mind too loud to let him fall asleep. She went back to bed almost immediately though. Bucky’s presence was all it really took for her to feel peaceful enough to close her eyes and dream again.

When she moved out of his embrace in her sleep, Bucky carefully left the room and went to his office to review the security cameras footage. He knew watching the attack would make his blood boil again but he had to see what happened and how the unlucky asshole got inside his mansion.

While she already told him she’d defended herself, Bucky was the proudest seeing it unfold on the screen.

“Do you know who my man is?... I beg no one.”

The words brought the largest smile to Bucky’s lips. He was so proud of his angel; so amazed by her courage. He thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did and he was wrong. His heart has picked the right girl and for that he was grateful. Bucky took one last look at the shining ring in his top drawer before shutting it and walking back to continue cuddling his precious sweetheart.

~~

Tags: @harrysthiccthighss, @tinystudentfirepurse, @lavendercitizen

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students. 

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door. 

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

[collapse-and-comfort]

Love your blog! Can I ask for a sick fic with some comfort? The whumpee ignoring symptoms and pushing on until they collapse. So the caretaker carries them to bed, and looks after the whumpee the next few days. The whumpee is weak and scared because they’ve never been that badly sick. But they don’t want to go to hospital (maybe bad experiences before).

🌡🤒🌡Thank you so much!!! Sorry this took so long. It just kind of kept going and ended up being a little over 4K words! I hope you enjoy! (I'm going to tag @lurkingwhump because I know you were interested in a story like this! I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention @i-write-whump because her prompts were constantly on my mind while I was writing this.) 🌡🤒🌡

Whumpee watched their interviewee’s retreating back. They’d been less a lead and more an aggravation. The beat of an eighties pop song made their headache (and their mood) worse and they closed their eyes and pinched the bridge of their nose.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Whumpee said as they tapped a thumb on the table and tried to ignore the growing ache in their throat. “Let’s go.”

They walked back to Whumpee’s apartment to review information. It amounted to tirespinning and tail chasing. The longer the evening went, the more difficult it became for Whumpee to concentrate. They tossed a file onto their coffee table with the rest of the information they were pouring over. They leaned back on their couch and closed their eyes. No matter how they tried to will their headache away, it continued to compound itself. An ache and a chill were working their way into Whumpee’s body. They didn’t need to look at Caretaker to know they were watching them with questions on their tongue and concern in their eyes.

“Getting late,” Caretaker said.

“Late” was several hours ago.

“Mmhhm,” Whumpee said without opening their eyes. They weren’t taking the bait. “You’d better get going. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Right,” Caretaker said with a dubious quirk in their brow. They left, but they gave Whumpee ample time  to reconsider, to tell them they needed a break, or help. Or something.

Whumpee sat on their couch in silence as the chill in their body intensified. They refused to believe they were getting sick. Allergies, exhaustion. Had to be. They couldn’t even remember the last time they were ill. Whumpee groaned as they heaved themself up. The room spun and they closed their eyes until the dizziness passed. A string of expletives played in their head as they found their way down the hall and into the restroom.

They dry swallowed some pills that had likely exceeded their expiration date and they avoided catching sight of the flushed, hollow-eyed specter they would see if they looked in the mirror.

They didn’t bother struggling out of their clothes before curling up beneath their covers and dropping into a fitful sleep.

Whumpee woke to someone banging - no, just insistent, undemanding knocking the way their partner always did - on their door. They pawed at their nightstand in search of their phone, but it was nowhere to be found. They peeled their eyes open and wondered how long Caretaker had been knocking. They disentangled themself from their covers and slowly rolled their way off the mattress.

Too hot, they thought as they willed themself, one foot after the other, to make the distance from their room to their door.

When they opened up, Caretaker stepped in with a coffee in each hand. Their affable expression faltered when they looked at Whumpee. If Caretaker noticed Whumpee was wearing the same clothes they’d been dressed in the previous evening - and of course they did - they didn’t mention it.

“Shit,” Caretaker said as they handed Whumpee a cup. “Guess I should have brought you tea instead, huh?”

“As long as it had sugar in it,” Whumpee said before clearing their throat and grimacing at the sensation and the way their voice rasped. “Just give me a minute.”

---

“We can pass this off,” Caretaker suggested by mid-morning. They could. They knew several of their teammates were dying to sink their teeth into this case and there was no harm in letting them.

They watched as Whumpee rested their head against the passenger side window. Whumpee didn’t respond, but Caretaker knew what they would say. They couldn’t put this on hold; they had to finish it. Besides, I’m fine.

“Right,” Caretaker said. They felt as though that one, marginally passive aggressive word, was becoming their personal mantra. They couldn’t make Whumpee do something they didn’t want to do, and while they’d never seen Whumpee with so much as a sniffle, they knew Whumpee would run themself into the ground regardless of whether or not they had a job to do.

God forbid you take care of yourself, Caretaker thought.

The day wore on like that. Caretaker doubted the small measures Whumpee was taking to make themself less miserable - resting or rubbing their eyes, pulling their coat tighter around themself - were cries for help. Each time they asked Whumpee if they were okay, they were rewarded with a glare or a surly shrug.

The evening found them back in Whumpee’s apartment. Caretaker had grown genuinely worried about Whumpee. They watched as Whumpee stared at the same paper they’d been holding for the past ten minutes. They shut their eyes and slouched forward in their chair before closing their eyes. Caretaker frowned at the way Whumpee’s jaws were clenched, the way their shoulders were bunched, and the way their face was flushed. Whumpee’s clothes looked rumpled and uncomfortable. Not exactly surprising since they were the same ones they’d been wearing the previous day.

“You’re half asleep, Whumpee. Why don’t you at least change into some fresh clothing?”

They expected a brusque reply, but Whumpee put down the paper and nodded without looking at Caretaker. That set off warning bells.

Whumpee used the coffee table to steady themself as they rose and Caretaker reached out to help when they saw how badly Whumpee’s arms were shaking.

“I’m fine,” Whumpee muttered as they stood to their full height.

“Bullshit,” Caretaker said as they stood too. They’d spent the entire day watching Whumpee suffer needlessly and they’d had enough. “You can’t keep pushing yourself.”

Caretaker waited for Whumpee to tell them how they’d be better in the morning, or they’re just tired, or...

Whumpee swayed on their feet and their eyes rolled back before their knees buckled and dropped to the floor with jarring force. Caretaker swore as they quickly closed the distance between them and caught Whumpee’s upper body before they could fall the rest of the way. Whumpee let out a distant-sounding moan as their forehead rolled on Caretaker’s shoulder. As Caretaker held Whumpee’s chest against their own, they were shocked at the heat rolling off of Whumpee.

How the hell did Whumpee let themself get this bad?!

Caretaker didn’t berate Whumpee for neglecting themself. Rather, they gathered Whumpee in their arms. There was a flash of confusion, then annoyance on Whumpee’s face. Caretaker pretended they didn’t see the latter emotion.

“Just gonna get you to bed,” they said.

Then possibly to the hospital, they added in their head.

Whumpee didn’t put up a fight as Caretaker carried them back the hall and to their room. Caretaker angled themself so as not to run Whumpee’s head into a wall or door frame. They were unsurprised to find that Whumpee had left their covers a tangled mess. They set Whumpee down and helped them into a seated position while they straightened the covers as best they could. Caretaker circled back around to where Whumpee sat and all the aggravation they’d felt at Whumpee for not taking better care of themself fled them completely.

Whumpee’s arms hung at their sides, their mouth was part way open and their eyes were glassy. Without worrying about Whumpee’s sensibilities, Caretaker put their palm on Whumpee’s forehead.

“You’re burning up, Whumpee,” they said. That Whumpee was running a fever was far from surprising, but the sickly heat that was coming off of them was no less worrying to feel. “Jesus, how long have you been sick?”

“Few days,” Whumpee said. They looked up at Caretaker with wounded pride and they tried to pull away when Caretaker cupped their neck with their hands.

“Sshh,” Caretaker said as they gently pressed their fingers against Whumpee’s throat. They winced at how swollen Whumpee’s glands felt beneath their fingertips.

They frowned and idly swept a damp lock of hair from Whumpee’s forehead and decided what to do.

“Okay,” they said. “Is there anything we need to bring with us to the hospital?”

Whatever indignation and bravado were left in Whumpee disappeared. Whumpee’s eyes went a little wider and they shrank back from Caretaker as they drew in several sharp breaths as they shook their head.

“No. No hospitals.”

“Whumpee, you passed out and you’re running a high fever. I really-”

“No!”

Whumpee tried to stand, but Caretaker stopped them before they could land on the floor again. Caretaker put one hand on Whumpee’s shoulder and held onto one of Whumpee’s arms, trying to hold them as steadily and as gently as possible.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Caretaker said. They kept their voice low as Whumpee landed back on the bed and began to struggle. “Easy, Whumpee. Hey, it’s okay. Calm down. It’s okay. Hey, hey, look at me.”

Whumpee’s energy flagged and finally, their wary, fever-bright eyes found Caretaker’s.

“That’s it, Whumpee.”

Caretaker knew Whumpee had a thing about hospitals, but they never would have guessed it was this bad. Had their fever amplified that fear, or had it simply laid it bare?

“No hospitals.”

Caretaker sighed and nodded. It wasn’t going to do either of them any good to drag Whumpee, half out of their mind with a fever, into an emergency room. Maybe they could talk Whumpee into it if it came to that. Or maybe they’d call an ambulance. Caretaker let go of Whumpee’s arm and rubbed their shoulder. Their heart went out to Whumpee when they felt their breathing hitch beneath their palm.

“Okay,” Caretaker conceded. “No hospitals. But we have to get your temperature down. Where do you keep your thermometer?

“I’ve never been this sick before,” Whumpee said. Their voice was thick and apologetic as they dropped their gaze.

No thermometer, then, Caretaker concluded as they alternated between rubbing and patting Whumpee’s shoulder.

“Okay, what about some Tylenol?”

Whumpee paused and thought about it.

“Above the bathroom sink.”

Caretaker located the bottle. Empty. They sighed, discarded it, and moved to the kitchen. They rummaged through Whumpee’s fridge, but settled on taking them a glass of water. Whumpee sat where they left them.

“I want you to drink some of this,” they said as they pressed the glass into Whumpee’s hands. “I’m going to go pick up a few things, okay?”

Whumpee looked from the glass and back up to Caretaker. They nodded and took several sips of water before setting the glass on their nightstand. Caretaker took note of the way they winced each time they swallowed.

““Do you think you’d be more comfortable in different clothing?”

Whumpee gave them a tired mmhmm and tried to lift themself again.

“I got it,” Caretaker said as they put up a staying hand. “Let me help.”

Whumpee directed them to the bottom drawer of their dresser. Caretaker selected a pair of black athletic shorts and an overly large gray tee shirt. Whumpee didn’t protest when Caretaker helped them out of their old clothes and into the new ones. Whatever energy Whumpee had was depleted and they allowed themself to be helped down to the mattress without complaint. They used one arm to unevenly pull their covers back over themself. Caretaker refrained from helping them pull the covers more completely over them.

They didn’t want to leave Whumpee like this for any amount of time, but if they were going to help them, they needed to. Caretaker fetched Whumpee’s cell phone from the living room and put it on the nightstand next to the water.

“I’ll be back soon, but if you need anything, just call.”

All told, it took them about a half an hour for them to visit a drug store and a convenience store - both within walking distance - to gather what they needed and return. They organized everything on the counter, then took the immediate essentials to Whumpee’s room.

Whumpee was asleep beneath their covers and the water sat, untouched, on the nightstand. Caretaker regretted that they needed to wake them up. They put a hand on Whumpee’s forehead - still far too warm - then patted their cheek.

“Hey, Whumpee,” they said. “I need you to wake up for a minute, okay?”

“Mmm?” Whumpee mumbled as they looked up at Caretaker with bleary, half-lidded eyes.

“Just gonna get your temperature,” they said as they held up the oral thermometer they’d bought.

Whumpee frowned.

“It’s clean,” Caretaker said, though they doubted that was Whumpee’s objection. They leaned down and put the tip of the thermometer to Whumpee’s lips. “C’mon.”

Thankfully, Whumpee did as they were asked.

“Keep it under your tongue,” Caretaker told them, letting memories of their mother be their guide.

Whumpee kept their eyes closed while the thermometer worked, but they opened them again when the beepbeepbeep sounded. They reached for the offending instrument, but Caretaker halted them.

“Just leave it for a sec,” they said. Part of them didn’t want to see the reading, didn’t want the numbers to force their hand with Whumpee’s care.

They removed the thermometer and turned it so they could see the segmented, digital numbers.

“One-oh-three point nine,” Caretaker said, frowning at the thermometer as though it were to blame.

Not great, Caretaker thought, though they knew it could be worse. They tried to remember if they’d seen Whumpee eat anything the past couple of days. They picked up the new bottle of Tylenol, but paused when they saw Whumpee’s face. Whumpee’s jaw clenched as they clumsily wiped a tear away, They crouched down at Whumpee’s side - the pills rattled as they did so - and they put a hand on Whumpee’s arm.

Caretaker cursed themself for not stepping in earlier, for not seeing just how sick Whumpee was, for not making Whumpee take better care of themself. The latter was easier said than done, of course, but now it seemed the confirmation that they were sick was too much for Whumpee to bear.

“Okay,” they said, speaking more gently than they could ever remember speaking to Whumpee. Overt tenderness, or any other sort of tenderness for that matter, had never been a part of their dynamic. Whumpee let themself sniffle and that led to a coughing fit. Caretaker seated themself on the mattress next to Whumpee and patted their back as they waited for the coughing to pass. “It’s okay. I know this sucks. We’ve gotta work on getting your temp down, though, so I want you to take these pills.”

Caretaker helped them lean up and take the pills.

“You need to drink more, too,” Caretaker said, careful not to sound like they were scolding them. They wondered how much longer Whumpee would have let themself go without some sort of aid. A niggling thought worked its way into Caretaker’s mind. There was the very real possibility Whumpee had never had anyone to care for them in this way.

Caretaker gave Whumpee’s forearm a squeeze and then stood.

“Be right back,” they said.

They returned with a cool, damp washcloth. Caretaker swept Whumpee’s hair back and put the cloth on their forehead.

“Cold,” they murmured without opening their eyes.

“I know,” Caretaker said as they sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just don’t want your brain to get cooked.”

Whumpee hummed in agreement and laid still. Their breathing evened out and Caretaker removed the cloth when it had taken on as much of Whumpee’s body heat as it could. Whumpee didn’t stir while Caretaker repeated the process several times.

Once they were sure Whumpee was resting soundly enough, Caretaker went about the business turning their case over to other, equally competent hands. They didn’t look forward to telling Whumpee, but they’d cross that bridge when they had to.

When Caretaker returned to  Whumpee’s room, Whumpee was curled on their side. Their mouth was open and their breathing was deep. Caretaker risked placing the back of their hand on Whumpee’s forehead. Still warm, but it was better.

All was quiet until just after one in the morning. Whumpee stirred and Caretaker sat upright in the recliner in the corner of the room. Whumpee rolled onto their back and pawed at the covers.

“Hey,” Caretaker said as they walked over to the side of the bed. They put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder and shook it a little bit. “You good, Whumpee?”

Whumpee’s eyes slid open and settled on Caretaker. It took a moment, but Caretaker could see the memory of the evening return to them.

“Too warm,” they rasped.

“Fever’s breaking,” Caretaker said with a nod as they helped Whumpee off with the covers. To Whumpee’s chagrin, Caretaker got their temp again, though that time it was a much more agreeable ninety-nine point eight.

“Don’t have to stay,” Whumpee mumbled as they rubbed a hand over their face.

Yes I do, Caretaker thought.

“It’s no problem,” they said with a shrug. “Besides, I know your WiFi password. Can I get you anything?”

Whumpee swallowed and grimaced as though there was a bad taste in their mouth.

“Drink?”

Caretaker brought them ginger ale, more pills and chapstick. Whumpee was quick to fall back to sleep after that.

Whumpee’s fever spiked again in the morning, though it was nowhere near as harrowing. What worried Caretaker was how pliant Whumpee had become. Just more evidence of how run down they’d let themself get.

After they took a shower, Whumpee set up camp in the living room and Caretaker took the opportunity to change the bedclothes. It was a small thing, but sometimes those provided the most comfort. Caretaker knew they were well on their way to becoming a mother hen, but they couldn’t quite bring themself to care.

Caretaker waited for the inevitable questions about work, but they never came. Caretaker wondered if Whumpee already knew what they’d done. The day wore on and Whumpee alternated between dozing and trying to watch whatever brainless actioner Caretaker opted to play. Their blanket was on. Their blanket was off.

Caretaker intermittently cleared away tissues when they began to accumulate around Whumpee. Caretaker plied them with a steady stream of drinks (Tea with honey seemed most effective.), and in the early evening, despite their declaration that they weren’t hungry, Whumpee managed to eat some soup. Caretaker extended a hand to take the dishes away when Whumpee was done. Whumpee started to say something, but their words fell off and they looked down at their lap when Caretaker took the dishes from them.

Caretaker wanted to reassure them, but they knew whatever they said in that moment would sound useless and patronizing to Whumpee. Maybe the best thing they could do was give Whumpee some alone time. At least for as long as it took Caretaker to pick up some things from their own place.

When Caretaker got back Whumpee was ready for bed. Caretaker regarded them. Their cheeks were flushed again and their eyes were glassy. Caretaker asked them the same questions they’d been asking them all day. How’s your throat? You okay? Do you need anything?

“I’m just tired,” Whumpee said as they started off with shuffling steps towards their room.

“Okay.” Caretaker calculated the time they’d remind Whumpee to take more pills like the world’s most proactive medi-minder. They chewed their lip as they watched Whumpee go. They hoped they got some rest. “Let me know if you need anything.”

That night, Caretaker dozed in the couch, but a single whimper from Whumpee’s room woke them. They crossed the room and fumbled for the lamp’s switch. The golden light revealed Whumpee, sweating and tangled in their covers. Their eyes were dazed and frightful; their mouth opened and they let out a pathetic groan as they pulled themself toward the edge of the bed.

“Whumpee,” Caretaker said as they put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder; they were looking at them, but they weren’t seeing them.  “Hey, Whumpee.”

“Nonono,” Whumpee said. Their voice was far off, but it sounded no less distressed. “Stop Don't Please. It Hurts. N-”

Whumpee came awake and they panted as they braced themself on their elbows. They recoiled from Caretaker’s touch with a whimper and their feet worked at kicking their covers away.

“It’s okay, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “Ssh. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe, Whumpee.”

They risked putting a hand back on Whumpee’s shoulder. They reminded themself to stay calm for Whumpee’s sake. A sob escaped Whumpee as they fell onto their side, breathing hard. Their feet stil moved ineffectually under the covers.

Caretaker pulled the blankets off of Whumpee and they stopped trying to escape whatever was hunting them. Caretaker grabbed the thermometer and the tissue box before sitting down next to Whumpee and began rubbing the curve of their shoulder.

“It’s okay,” they repeated. “Shshsh. Just a bad dream.”

Was it, though? How dramatically had their fever spiked?

After a bout of coughing, Caretaker offered Whumpee a tissue. Whumpee blew their nose before Caretaker tried to get them to take the thermometer in their mouth. Whumpee turned their face away and pursed their lips. Caretaker might have found humor in the sheer petulence of the gesture had Whumpee not looked so scared.

“C’mon, Whumpee. I’ve gotta see your temp.”

“No,” Whumpee said as they reached with a weak hand, trying to bat away the thermometer.

Caretaker caught Whumpee’s clammy hand and lowered it to the bed.

“I’ve gotta know how bad it is, Whumpee. It’ll just take a minute.”

“Don’t…” Whumpee said as they looked at Caretaker with unfocused eyes. “Don’t take me to the hospital. I can’t be there.”

“I’m just-”

“I can’t.”

Caretaker took a breath. They couldn’t let Whumpee work themself into a lather.

“You’re just coming out of a nightmare, Whumpee. Just give things a minute to make sense.”

“I-”

Whumpee cut themself off; Caretaker hadn’t said whatever they’d expected to hear.

“Just focus on me for a minute. Can you try to do that?”

They nodded, blinked and looked at Caretaker as though they were actually seeing them. Silence fell between them. Whumpee took a deep breath and rested their head back on their pillow and stared at the opposite wall.

“Okay,” they said finally. They allowed Caretaker to place the thermometer under their tongue. It seemed to take an eternity for the thermometer to beep. Caretaker took it back and before looking at it, they prayed to whoever or whatever might be listening that they didn't have to get Whumpee to a hospital.

“One-oh-two point six,” Caretaker said with relief. “That's not so bad. Just a bad dream that did a number on you.”

The lines of Whumpee’s face relaxed and they rested on the pillow, but some sort of melancholy had taken the place of Whumpee’s fear. It was an equally disheartening sight.

“Need anything?” Caretaker asked after they went through the routine they seemed to have established in nursing their friend.

“No.”

“Okay, ” Caretaker said. “Just let me know if you do.”

Caretaker stood and pulled a blanket back over Whumpee, who took its edge in their hand and pulled it to their chin.

“Wait,” Whumpee said when Caretaker turned.

Caretaker paused and looked back at Whumpee.

“Can you…” Whumpee looked at them, their eyes begging Caretaker to understand. “Can you stay?”

What had they dreamed that had them so rattled?

“Of course, ” they said. They settled back down next to Whumpee and swept Whumpee’s hair out of their face. “Whatever you need.”

Whumpee slept late the next morning and Caretaker took the time to tidy the apartment and ask for updates on the case. It had been solved.

When Whumpee came out into the living room, they made a beeline for their recliner. Though Caretaker was constantly present, they exchanged few words and Caretaker could tell Whumpee was putting effort into avoiding their gaze. The news that the case had been resolved seemed to do little to cheer them.

After cleaning the lunch mess, and doing dishes Caretaker sat on the side of the couch that was closest to Whumpee.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Whumpee said without taking their gaze off of the TV.

“It’s no problem.”

More silence. Whumpee dozed off and Caretaker channel surfed.

Caretaker chose a book from Whumpee’s shelf.

Caretaker read the same sentence five damn times before giving up and putting the book on the coffee table.

Whumpee jolted awake with a gasp. Their fingers dug into the armrests and their eyes darted over the room as though they’d woken up somewhere entirely foreign. They cursed and let out a harsh breath.

Caretaker guessed embarrassment, and not sickness, colored Whumpee’s cheeks.

“It’s fine,” Whumpee said before Caretaker could ask.

Whumpee stood, shakily at first, then walked to the kitchen. Caretaker knew any attempt to help them would be rebuffed, so they waited for Whumpee to stare into the refrigerator before they selected a bottle of water before moving back to their seat.

Whumpee sat and sipped.

Caretaker needed to address the elephant in the room. Or at least let Whumpee know the elephant could stay where it was.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Caretaker said. “But I hope you know you can if you need to.”

Whumpee’s fingers worried at the armrests.

“I do. I do know. I’m just not used to...” Whumpee’s voice was low but solemn as they gestured toward all the signs of care that had been taken on their behalf. “... to any of this.”

Caretaker wanted to pull them close and tell them how sorry they were to hear that, that they never needed to hesitate to ask for help. They didn’t know what they could possibly say to make it better. Instead, they flashed the easygoing smile that had been missing from their features for the past couple days.

“Well,” they said. “Get used to it.”

[andilovetowrite]

Webs and Awkwardness P.P

Peter Parker x Bestfriend! Reader

Summary: Walking into your best friend’s room to find out he is Spiderman is terrible as it is, but what comes after is even worse, when Peter rips your t-shirt in the process…

Based on this prompt

Warnings: A couple of bad words (Mostly from May) and a little suggestiveness. Supportive Aunt May, and flustered Peter ;)

Word Count: 1.9k words

Posted May 2, 2021

Here is my Masterlist, in case you wanted to check it out :)

“Hey Aunt May!” you greeted, walking into the apartment. She smiled, hugging you.

“Good evening Y/N!” She gestured over to the pile of books in your arms. “Studying for a test?”

Nodding tiredly, you answered. “Physics...and Peter is probably the only one in the class who is passing. So I desperately need his help.”

Aunt May laughed, pointing to his room. “Thank god he is still doing his work, with being cooped up in his room all the time. Not to mention being so distant after getting that internship from that Stark guy.” She shook her head, primarily to herself. “I don’t like him too much.”

You smiled, thanking her before making your way to Peter’s room, knocking softly. There was no response. You did it again but figured Peter might be too engrossed in making something. So you went in.

And you will never forget the shock that went through your body. In the middle of the room, standing half-naked with only his boxers, was your best friend, Peter Parker. But that wasn’t what shocked you. What made you gasp was the clothing that pooled at his feet. Red and blue. Black lines crisscrossed over it. But even then, you wouldn’t overthink about red and blue clothes. The mask in his palm,, though said everything.

“It’s not-uh not what it looks like!” Peter shouted, haphazardly throwing the mask to the side. It didn’t help his case because the second he threw it, a light red light illuminated the ceiling, showing the iconic logo we all knew. “I’m uh, not- I promise it is not- this it just a- Oh god”,, Peter rambles on, kicking the suit back so harshly that it hits the wall hard, making a small dent before it crumples to the floor.

You could feel your eyes widen, looking at Peter in amazement and then the mask. Almost comically, you come closer, observing his face and then shamelessly looking up and down his body, eyes zeroing on his abs.

“You’re Spiderman. Peter Parker is Spiderman. My best friend is Spiderman.” You say slowly, trying to get it into your head. Peter nodded, trying to judge what you were going to say or do.

“I-”

“It all makes sense now!” you exclaimed, sitting down on the bed, knowing if you kept standing, you were going to pass out or something.

“What?” Peter asked eyebrows scrunched up. Out of all the possible things you could’ve said, that was the least expected one. The most expected one was a hit to the face,, and maybe then you would run out of the apartment.

“It’s- uh- now I understand. How you magically got rid of your glasses,”

“I got contacts”, Peter interjected, biting his lip.

“-no,, you didn’t. I asked May where you got your contacts from,, and she told me you didn’t have any.” Peter looked down, knowing that story went for a toss.

“Then how you also got abs overnight, as well as your overall muscles”, you said, gesturing to his body. Peter became bright red but made no move to put anything on.

“After that, you would never answer my calls in the night. For a bit, I thought you were ignoring me or at some girl’s house-”

“I wasn’t!” Peter shouted, then looked back at the door to see if his aunt heard him.

You nodded, thinking of other things. “Plus, you never speak about the internship, even though it was what you did most of the time.”

Peter hung his head down, now feeling bad about not telling you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t let people know who I am and then if they saw Spiderman coming into your house-the-they might start targeting you-an-and you might get hurt. I-I couldn’t live with myself if that happened to you be-because of me.”

You nodded, the seriousness of the situation hitting you suddenly. But in real life, it hit Peter. Well, you hit Peter.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME? BAD GUYS TARGETTING ME IS BAD AS IT IS, BUT THEM TRYING TO KILL YOU?! YOU COULD HAVE ASKED ME FOR HELP! I SWEAR TO GOD PETER PARKER, YOU WOULD WISH THAT THE BAD GUYS HURT YOU AFTER WHAT I DO TO YOU!” you walked closer threateningly. Peter’s eyes widened. No matter who he went against, even if it was Captain America, no one would be more frightening than you when you were mad.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, Peter mumbled, moving back further. He didn’t even realize that he was halfway up the wall at this point, his face touching the ceiling.

“Get down here Parker!”

“Okay”, Peter squeaked, jumping down with impressive skills. “I’m s-” He went to apologize again but was cut off by you.

“Come here”, you said softly, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, feeling his warm skin touch yours.

“Oh, this is nice”, he mumbled, hugging you back.

“You know how I would feel if someone came and told me my best friend died because of saving a city? Do you know how much I would stress out each night about you being Spiderman and fighting people twice or thrice your age?”

“Yeah”, Peter whispered against your skin, lips tickling your neck. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

You sighed softly. “But do you know how much it would hurt to know that you got hurt when I couldn’t help you? Just because I didn’t know that you were Spiderman?”

Peter stayed quiet, but his grip on you tensed up, clutching you tightened.

You pulled back, looking him in his chocolate eyes. “Please don’t keep things to yourself. Not with pressure like this. I know the Hulk or Iron Man might be there to help you, but tell me you’re alright. Just every now and then?” By this time, you could feel your throat closing, as you can feel tears prickling the sides of your eyes. Peter nodded, pulling you back in his embrace.

“I will. Plus, who will you come to to get Physics answers if I die?”

“Shut up!”, you laughed, leaving the hug but keeping your arm around his shoulder.

“So Mr Spiderman, how do you stick to buildings? And shoot webs? Do you make webs? Oh my god, are you part spider? Do you grow legs when you are outside fighting crime?”

Peter looked confused, listening to you babble on and on, but then chuckled. “With my suit that Mr Stark made. I make my webs. No I’m not part spider and of course not!”

“Wait, can I see the webs?”, you asked, curiosity blooming in your chest.

Peter shrugged. “Sure” Going over to his desk drawer, he opened it, pulling out a couple fancy technology gadgets. “Here, just press on this button.”

Gingerly taking it from him, you touched the button, not expecting such a light, featherlike touch to make it go on. Suddenly, a white stringy web hit Peter’s hand, jerking him towards you.

“Woah!”, he exclaimed as he banged into you.

“I’m sorry!”

“No probl-” he began, as he pushed himself off you, but one part stuck. His right hand was situated right on your chest, stuck with his web.

“Peter! Get your hand off!”

His mouth opened and closed, looking like a fish. “Uh-I’m sorry, you just- I grabbed onto the first thing, I mean, I didn’t try and grab your boob, oh god- I just-here let me-damn it, two hours.”

“What are you talking about? What’s two hours?” You asked, trying to concentrate on anything but Peter’s calloused hand on your thin shirt.

“Uh, I don’t know how to tell you this but uh-”, Peter looked incredulously at, his hand, quickly glancing at the ceiling. “The web takes two hours to dissolve. And I just ran out of web dissolver…The only one left is on the roof”

“Seriusly? Pete! You can’t...- your hand is on my boob!”

“I’m sorry, I promise, I can’t feel anything. Well, no, I can feel something, but that’s not what I meant! Um-”

You sighed, looking up to see Peter’s face close to your’s. “You’re Spiderman! Just pull your hand off or something?”

“Uh-ye-yeah sure”, he said hesitantly. Giving a couple small tugs, nothing came off, but then he got annoyed, and yanked his hand back.

Not the best decision.

Instead of his hand coming off the shirt, the shirt came with him, tearing off your body. Gasping, you threw your hand to your chest, covering yourself up. “Peter!”

“Oh god, oh my god!” Peter blushed hard, the pink going all the way across his body as he looked at the cut up cloth in his palm. As you tried to find something to cover yourself up with, Peter’s ears twitched.

“Shit!”, he whispered, running over to me. “May is coming here!”

“How the heck can you hear that?”

“Super-hearing…”

“Of course”

“Y/N! May can’t know I’m spiderman! She won’t allow me to do these things otherwise…”

You stuttered, looking around the room. “Quick! Hide the suit.”

Running over to his mask, you grabbed it, throwing it under the bed, while he jumped up and hid his suit in the small slot on the roof. Hearing her footsteps now, you ran over to Peter’s hoodie, but it was too late.

May opened the door. “Hey guys, you want some Indian for dinne- What are you doing!?”

You couldn’t blame her. It looked bad. Peter without any clothes but his boxers on, and your shirt torn open, revealing your red, lacy bra underneath.

“We-we aren’t doing- any-anything May!”, you half yelled, embarrassment flooding your body.

“Yeah, no, we are not- she doesn’t-uh”, Peter said, looking at my torn shirt as he quickly pushed me behind him, not wanting to show his aunt what I wa wearing.

“Um, okay. Kids, I don’t know what’s happening, but just, uh, use protection and don’t be too loud-”

“MAY!” Peter said, hands covering his face. “We aren’t doing anything!”

“Uh huh. Sure….”, she said. “With how much you talk about how beautiful Y/N is, I can’t believe it took this long for you to tell her. But maybe don’t sleep on the first date? I mean, I know you are 19, and it’s your decision.. ”

“NO MAY!” Peter said, glancing back at me, cheeks flooded with pink.

“Also, perhaps lend Y/N your shirt or something. Considering you ruined hers? And wear some clothes when you get out.”

With that, she left the room, winking at me and mouthing to Peter, “It’s under the bathroom sink…”

Peter groaned, falling on his bead, head still in his arms. “I’m so sorry for May! I don’t know what- I didn’t mean to- your shirt-”

You laughed, pulling Peter’s midtown hoodie over your ripped shirt. “It’s honestly fine Pete. Let’s go eat some food. And maybe after that, you can ask me out on that date you’ve been meaning to do?”

Smirking slightly, you walked out of the room, kissing Peter on the cheek and taking pride in leaving him behind in his room, stuttering a nervous “Yes”.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope this is good, and I did the story justice anon! Thanks so much for requesting this, and I would love to have a couple more to write since you all have such good ideas :) Until next time!

[lilykenz]

Round 1 ❥Kenma x f!reader

❥ Word Count ~ 1.6k

❥ Warnings ~ ⚠️ 18+, smut, female reader, edging, mention of alcohol, kitten play, dd/bbg.

❥ Summary ~ You’re visiting Kenma’s house for a fun hangout, yet things change -very- quickly when he catches your admiration.

❥ This is my first one-shot with the ‘you’ perspective! Please be gentle!!! Do not repost anywhere but I do appreciate reblogs <33

“YES! HAHA! New high score!!!” Kenma roared.

The shout made you jump in your seat and jostled your attention from your switch to him.

Kenma pushed himself with his upper body away from the computer desk and slid the rolling gamer chair back. With one movement, he unfolded his legs (which had been at his chest) and hopped to his feet. This guy really sat in weird positions while tending to his hobbies. Some of which made -your- back ache in protest. How’d he do it for hours at a time?

“We should play a round next!” He strained out in that cute higher pitch he gained when he stretched.

Was he talking to his friends over the mic? Or to you??

The heaviness from your handheld sat in your lap. Muscles flexed beneath the sleeves of his baggy black hoodie. It happened again when he brought those arms forward, pulling his hoodie tight at the back. The nape of his neck clenched just before he rolled his head. Long black hair faded to dirty blond messily draped over his shoulders, which was pulled back in a loose bun.

Damn..Long hair like that easily gets tangled up in a fist…You could hear your heart beginning to race and mind slipping into what you called “the gutter” all too often. A familiar heat swelled beneath the handheld, causing you to wiggle in your seat in a desperation to quell the discomfort.

He leaned forward, the tight denim jeans he wore hugging his calves, thighs, and ass. The world slowly tilted sideways while you watched. A pair of golden feline eyes glinted over his shoulder at you. But your mind continued to roam. Your breathing quickened and came out in soft little huffs. Did he absolutely -have- to have clothes on??

“Tch. Perv”, you caught him muttering when he placed his controller down with a clack on the desk. He turned around, his expression stern and unamused.

Uh oh. I know that look. You tried to swallow and bit your dry lower lip. Kenma was no longer in his normal playful mood. Flicking his nose with his thumb, he sniffled and glanced off to his left. Your gaze slowly followed to the right and stopped at the wide open door.

The arcade room door slowly shut and you watched as Kenma’s right hand stayed on the knob. His left hand fanned on the frame for support. The muscles in his back were again visible when he hunched forward against the door. A big sigh sounded before he straightened his back and casually turned to face you. One finger wagged with a tsk noise.

His walk possessed confidence with a stroke of sass. A nervous tension rose within you, as did something else. Your legs fidgeted together to hide the growing ache. Last time and the first time, Kenma had been so shy. So gentle. You could have sworn somewhere in the slew of your regular texts over the past week that he was going to try something. Something new.

And the vibes he was giving off were -definitely- new.

Kenma picked up the controller he had previously placed on the desk, opened a game, turned the stick to where the vehicle he controlled rammed against a wall, and left it idle. He straightened again and cleared his throat, the look on his face unreadable. But his eyes. His feline gaze shook you. It wasn’t a look of gentleness. Quite the contrary…

“Do you remember last Wednesday night?” His words purred into the silence and made you shiver.

You shook your head slowly, wracking your brain for evidence of what might have happened that night. The only thing you remembered was having too many daiquiris. And texting Kenma. You remembered the action of doing so, but your words were lost in a big drunken blur. A big swallow was your answer aside from your denial and you could feel your heart beginning to race. Shit! Shit! What the hell did I tell him???

A soft purring noise sounded when he approached your chair. He’s…he’s purring?? Kenma squinted down at you, mischief clouding his golden eyes. Slowly, he lifted and placed the switch off to the side of you. He then grabbed hold of the edge of the chair with his right hand. A grin spread across his face, loosening a few bang strands.

“Need I remind you, kitten?” His words hung on a low growl while he hovered over you.

“Wait…Kit-“ you began to say, but the words were lost in a squeak of surprise. The controller vibrated against your lower thighs. All you could do was pant out nervously, feeling your face heat up. You shot a look of desperation up to meet his, only to be met with hunger. Prowess. Possession. The vibrations continued further along the crease between your thighs.

Warm breath tickled your ear, “wait? Oh no. You’re a -good- kitten, remember?” The name calling was enough to make you melt, but paired with the praise, you couldn’t help but whimper. You didn’t have to see his face to hear the grin and scoff in response to your reactions.

The cruel handle of the controller hovered just above your clit. Layers of clothing didn’t matter. Your thighs clenched together from the sudden jolt of pleasure. A gasp followed by a whimper hung in the air and your lips began to quiver behind your shaky breathing. Kenma slipped his warm fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head up in place. Soft lips just barely brushed against your own.

“Uh-uh.”

The controller pressed harder against your swollen heat and up into you. Wave upon wave of pleasure surged through your shaking body and you couldn’t help but gasp, moan, and whine. He edged the controller down into the crease of your thighs, making your legs spread. A purr of approval sounded from his throat.

His waist rocked just inches from your view past his gaze. A tent formed beneath the taught denim. Pulsing. Throbbing. You reached out to assist when another pang of pleasure pressed against your damp folds. Your grasp found the bagginess of his hoodie, instead. More whimpers and moans sounded out from your parted lips against his. There came a soft hum from them as he chuckled.

“I could listen to these sounds of yours all day. You’re such a good kitten. Daddy approves very very much.” The words were like a drug of ecstasy.

Gawd. Fuck. Daddy???

The title whispered just barely beneath your breath against his mouth. Something warm and wet traced the contours of your lips. Another surge washed over you. The controller dipped then rubbed up and down your pussy in between your trembling legs. It was too much. You couldn’t last another second.

The vibrations pulled away for just a moment and you caught a growl with the delicious taste of his breath on yours. “Uh-uh…Finish when I want you to.”

His words were like velvet. His stare held you captive. You needed him so badly and yet he just continued to edge you on. Each time you came close, he’d pull away. Soft whimpers replaced your exhalations. His head would tilt up each time just barely and the creases of his full lips would curl. Sounds of indulgence of his own trickled into the air. Kenma was getting off without even touching himself.

“Say it, kitten.” He commanded lowly, the velvet thick enough to send shivers through you.

One end of the handle pressed roughly against your clit, the other against your folds. You couldn’t handle it anymore. Pleading cries answered him.

“Oh? Please? Please what, kitten??” His words sounded through grit teeth and his body began to show signs of strain.

“Please, daddy? Let me finish. Please?? Please please please” you begged. Fuck your pride.

A sexy grunt sounded after a chuckle. Kenma’s lips pressed to yours; that slender tongue exploring the confines of your mouth. Claiming them. It wrestled with yours. The vibrations pressed into your sex. Rubbing.Teasing. Kneading. Your breath shortened into quick pants. Trembling in desperation, you hesitated for a moment. Your hips began to sway into the controller a few times. Just a little more. Your thoughts imagined the tool being something else. Him. All of him. You needed him. Your body tensed and a bout of cum coated the fabric of your panties.

Hums of approval egged you on when he didn’t move the controller. With each wave of pleasure, your grip on his hoodie tightened. After the third time, the vibrations at last ceased. Yet the ghost pleasure remained while your pleasure-high receded.

“Goood girl” he purred between kisses, “fuck”, the end of the curse emphasised. He pulled away and with it, your lower lip, when he bit on it and tugged. A sly grin etched on his face as Kenma stood up straight, peering down at the sight of you.

“You’ll have to come over again. Maybe for dinner, a movie, a game or two. I can show you a few tricks.” He laughed at the possible dual meaning behind the last comment.

His glance followed yours and he lifted the black hoodie to further reveal his taught jeans. A blush coloured his cute fake-shocked expression when he met your gaze again.

“Yes! You did this. I might let you take care of it next time. We’ll see, kitten. In the meantime, Daddy has a meeting in a few minutes about the next online tournament.” He turned around and sauntered back to the door, taking the controller with him. He wanted you to notice the arousal in his step. The tease.

As soon as that door opened, his demeanour changed a little. He was back in his normal, playful mood. Back to cutting up with his online friends. You slumped down into the chair cushion, trying to catch your breath. A feline stare squinted back over his shoulder at you. You tensed. Then he winked.

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[stayatiny]

The King ~Chapter Four

Pairing(s) King!Werewolf! Bang Chan x Human!Reader Series Warning(s) – Swearing, Violence, Wolf Dynamics, Smut (in later chapters) and along with others that will be added later. Chapter warning(s) – Lots of Swearing, almost fight A/N – Thank you to everyone who has followed, like and reblogged. I feel someone shaking me awake. I crack one eye open to see Hannah. She’s in everyday clothing. “Hey, Y/N, its time to get up its 10am.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Your brother brought you some clothes. I'll help you get dressed if you need to,” she said. I throw my legs over the side of the bed. I was able to stand on my own and put weight on my ankle. “Good it looks like you can get around on your own now. But do you still need me to help you?” I shook my head. “No, I think I got it. But if I need you, I’ll call you,” I say grabbing my clothes. She nodded, happily and sat on the bed. I was still hobbling not really wanting to put weight on it yet but some. My brother brought me a t-shirt and jean shorts and even some sneakers. I finish getting dressed and handing my dirty clothes to Hannah. Jay even thought about packing a scrunchie for my hair. He knows me so well.

“Chris wanted to make sure that you ate before meeting with him. He knows that you have a lot of questions.” I nod and follow her into the dining room. She linked her arm with mine. I used to roam around these halls with her and Chris when we were young. Before our parents died, our family were the closest nobles to the royal family. So much so that us kids would play together. We hung out and played together constantly. But when I turned twelve, our parents were killed by the king. “Our chef made some French toast and hash browns. I think those are still your favorite, right,” she asked. I nodded. I’m surprised she remembered that. Although I was twenty now, I still eat like a child. “Good.” We continued in silence as she opened the dining room door to see Jay and Chris sitting at the table. “Good morning, Y/N,” Jay said letting me sit by him. I sat quietly while they talked. Chris smiled at me as I sat across from him. I half smiled back. “Did you sleep well?” I nodded looking around the dining room. Nothing really changed except the wall color was now a pale cream color instead of navy blue. I looked over at Chris. He was in a plain white shirt now, but I noticed some stray blood on his face. It was too small of a splatter to be his. I shudder to think on what happened to the suspect. I had heard that his three years as a king he is quite brutal when it came to crimes against his people human or not. Hannah pointed it out to Chris as he wiped his face. “Good. Food should be ready soon and then we can talk, okay?” I took a sip of water. “Okay.” We ate while talking about the olden days of our childhood like nothing ever changed. “Okay, I have to go to work. Chris will make sure that you get home alright?” Jay hugged me and kissed my forehead. Great alone again with Chris… “Y/N, come with me.” I hear Chris say. He grabs my wrist lightly and pulls me into his office once again. It brought back the memories of me finding out the truth a pang of guilt and sadness surging through me. “I’m sure that you have a lot of questions.” He sat in his chair waiting on me to say something. “Just one. Why?” He let out a sigh. He got up and stood in front of me leaning on the oak desk. “From what we gathered, they knew that you wouldn’t have a normal life and they though that killing us would make it better for the humans. But in all honesty, it probably would have led to another war between the two. I don’t blame them for wanting better for you,” he explained. “Why am I just now finding out about this?” Chris frowned. “You should have been told when it happened. I wish someone had I feel like you would have been around more had you known the truth.” I feel myself blush. I do have to admit that I did have a crush on him when I was young. “Maybe I would have. Everything is so different now that you are king.” He frowns again. “I’m still the same guy just with power and not as awkward.” I chuckle. He was. I was getting ready to hug him when fucking Miranda busted through the door. Motherfucker… “Chrisy, I was so worried about you,” she said going to hug him, pushing me out of the way again. I roll my eyes. Hannah followed in after her. “Miranda, leave my brother alone and go home. Also how did you even get in the castle grounds they’re off limits to the public right now?” Miranda smiled. “My mother works for yours remember so she let me in to see Chris,” she said putting her hands on her hips. She glared at me. “What is she doing here then,” she huffed and then pointing to me. I clenched my fist and my teeth. “I mean considering Y/N’s brother works here and my brother was protecting her last night. I also believe that’s its none of your fucking business to know why she’s here. Their family is still one of the most powerful families out there so I would watch who you’re talking too.” Hannah is in her face. Holy shit I forgot how kick ass she is. “At least my family didn’t commit treason.” Before I knew what I was doing. I lunged forward but Chris grabbed me holding me by the waist. “She’s not worth it, Y/N,” Chris

whispered in my ear. I kept trying to get after her. “You need to leave,” Hannah said, looking like she’s ready to her herself. Miranda flicked her hair back. “Fine then but wait till everyone hears that the human is hanging with the big dogs again.” She left out of the room leaving the tension at a high. Chris still held me in case I went after her. “Are you alright now?” I looked at Chris. I fixed my shirt that had raised from him grabbing me. “Yeah I’m fine,” I huffed. Not really but I didn’t want to end back up into his arms again. “I’ll tell mother that Miranda was let in. Why don’t you take Y/N back home? I’m sure she has work tomorrow,” Hannah said, looking to her brother. Oh yeah right full moons a thing. “Right. I’ll walk you home. Do you still know the back way?” I nodded as we left the office. We would take a lone path behind the castle that led to our house. I was tired and ready for a hot shower and my bed. Chris led to the path it was only slightly overgrown with colorful flowers, weeds, and vines. Even though grown over the ghost of a path still remained prominent. “It looks so different out here. But there again it has been years since I’ve been through here,” I said then letting out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah I didn’t realize how beautiful the flowers are through here,” he says smiling. I blush lightly. He grabbed my hand leading me down the path. “You know as kids we were pretty wild, right?” I looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah we were even up until…you know. We were always in trouble.” Chris nodded as we neared our back gate. As we reached my house, Chris stopped me from going in his eyes changing color. “What’s wrong Chris?” He pushed me to the side of the house gently. He points to the door. Its slightly ajar but I never open the back door “Stay here. Someone’s been in your house besides your brother,” he explained and headed in. My hearts starts to pound while waiting for Chris to come back. After a lifetime, or about 10 minutes he comes back out. “You’re gonna wanna see this,” he says following me into the house. Everything was still in place until I got to the basement door. I stared at Chris. He gave me a nod letting me its okay. “What did you keep down here?” My brows knitted together that’s when it hit me. “When my parents papers and journals were seized when the assassination attempt was made what ever was left my uncle put down in the basement,” I said flipping on the light. As light filled the room, I see everything thrown around papers, documents, even our baby pictures laid scattered on the floor. Chris bent down to look at what’s left of the papers. “There’s nothing here but old grocery lists, drawings you and your brother did, and receipts. What ever it was they didn’t find it and left.” I nodded. But what were they looking for?

[mandoalorian]

Touch Starved [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Summary: You and your best friend Frankie Morales have had silent feelings for each other since the day you met. No one could’ve ever guessed the strange circumstance which occurred one fateful night, and how the proceeding events would be the push you needed to take your friendship to the next level.

Word count: 6k (what the heck this is the longest piece i’ve ever written BY FAR)

Rating: 18+ only.

Warnings: SMUT, thigh riding, oral (m and f receiving), alcohol consumption/intoxication, food/drink mention, lot of pining over each other and just some general fluff

Author’s Note: This is my first ever Frankie fic anddddd my first ever smut lol. Please be kind I hope you enjoy. PS if you want a part two let me know! xx

MASTERLIST | Submit your requests HERE

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Your eyes were heavy and you shuffled into the cushion, adjusting your position on the couch until you felt more comfortable. You grazed your fingers against the pages of your book, but found yourself re-reading the same sentence over and over again in attempt to keep yourself awake. Even your two scented candles were close to burning out, and you figured it was time for bed.

Gently dropping the book on the floor, you closed your eyes and felt yourself drift off into a dreamy sleep when a loud bang on your door woke you up with a jolt. Your heart was pounding as you bolted upright, clutching the thin wooled blanket that was lazily draped around your body in fear. Within seconds, you heard another bang on the door. Rubbing your eyes, you flicked on your phone and checked the time. 11-48pm. Almost midnight. You groaned, standing up and padding to the front door of your apartment. Who could possibly want to see you at this hour? You wondered. Not even bothering to check through the peephole, you let out an elongated groan.

“Who is it?” You called out and rubbed your tired eyes. You ran your fingers through your hair in hope that you would look somewhat presentable for when you greeted your uninvited visitor.

Without hesitation you heard him. A voice you were so familiar with. “It’s Frankie, man! You gotta let me in!” you noted that his voice sounded urged and your stomach filled with concern. Was he alright? Why was he at your apartment at 11-48pm? A million thoughts raced through your mind in just the second it took you to open the door. The thought of Frankie being here made you nervous, but excited. In a fluster, you stumbled with the door lock before finally managing to get it open.

There he was. His dark brown waves were tucked into one of his infamous baseball caps and he was wearing a dark green flannel and a washed out pair of denim jeans. You tried to search for answers in his face, but he truly seemed fine, other than the slight panic in his voice. He slid past you, allowing himself into your apartment and began pacing around.

“Would you like a drink?” You asked, almost rhetorically. Frankie didn’t answer, nor did he need to. You were already clicking open the bottle of ice cold Bud and handing it over to him. He took a big sip out of the alcoholic beverage, and you took the liberty of admiring him as he done so. He wasn’t watching you anyway, but instead focusing on downing the drink. That's what he needed. A drink to wash away his worries. How could he ever explain this to you?

You loved the way his chocolate brown eyes shone under the candlelight and the way his skin looked almost soft and golden. You waited patiently for him to finish drinking, never wanting to hurry him.

Frankie appreciated the atmosphere of your apartment too. He always had. It made a change from his current living situation. Frankie wasn’t picky as such, but living with his four best guy friends definitely had its downfalls. Whether that be Ben constantly hogging the living room television to play his Call of Duty video games, or Santiago bringing home a different lady every other night, making such noise that nobody but Will could sleep, or even Tom with his untidy behaviour and complete disregard for everyone else who lived with him. It wasn't great but what other choice did Frankie have? Other than you. You didn’t feel like a choice to him, you felt like a necessity. He needed you. You were his safe place, and your chic apartment felt more like home than his shabby downtown place.

“I gotta ask you a favour.” Frankie prompted eventually, sliding down into the cream faux-leather sofa and placing his bottle of beer on the coffee table. You took a seat in the chair opposite him and folded your arms, waiting for him to continue. “Actually, I don’t know. Never mind. Uhm… it’s a funny story to be honest. But, maybe it’s fine. It’s not fine. It’s just, well-”

“Spit it out Frankie!” You giggled jokingly, reaching over and nudging him slightly. He was immediately put at ease by just the simplest brush of your fingers, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with you. He found himself staring into the burning flame of your cinnamon scented candle. He felt mildly ashamed about how this whole situation had even surfaced in the first place.

“Me and Santi… we had a bet. A dare kinda thing.” Frankie explained, shuffling around with discomfort. He was definitely embarrassed that he had driven himself all the way to your apartment in the dead of night just to tell you this— or rather, ask you this. “The guys were teasing, you know how they are. About how- well, you know, I’ve never really been with a girl since…” Frankie paused.

“Marià.” You sighed, and Frankie nodded slowly. “Your ex wife…”

“Yeah. And I know it’s crazy but after the divorce and everything… I just haven’t really uh, had the opportunity. I mean I’ve had the opportunity it’s just- never felt right. I suppose. And you know, it’s not that I don’t want to start dating again. Or seeing women. Sleeping with wo-” Frankie was about to start rambling about his sex life (or lack there of) and you were not prepared to let your mind journey there. Not that you had never thought about it before… no. He was your best friend. And it would be wrong. Besides, Frankie had a tendency to over share but you were always there to help him get back on track, whereas others, namely the guys, would tease and mock him for it.

“Why are you here, Frankie?” You cut him off with as much delicacy as you could muster up. Your voice was soft, and Frankie noticed how gentle you had always been with him.

“Santi said he bet I couldn’t ask a girl out if I tried,” Frankie explained with a short sigh and you frowned. You knew Santiago well and you knew that he and Frankie were like brothers, but Frankie had been through a lot lately and Santiago never really had the best choice of words. You wondered if he had hurt Frankie, and instantly felt defensive over your friend.

“And then what happened?”

“I told Santi I could get a girl, and then, this afternoon, he asked me how I had come on. I lied, told him I asked out a pretty girl. He asked me about her and well, the girl I described… I guess… in my head I was just picturing you.” Frankie said, and finally glanced up at you, his pretty eyes shimmering in the dim light. You felt your heart rate increase at his revelation. “You know? It’s funny. This made up girl looks just like you.” He chuckled lightly. Your silence was deafening and his stomach filled with anxiety. “I don’t know why!” he assured but that was a lie. He knew why. He was your first thought at the start of the day you were his last thought at the end of the day. Every moment he got, he was thinking about you— pining over you.

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to process any more words. You weren’t sure what to make of it. You brushed away your feelings, thinking that you only came to Frankie’s mind because you saw him so much. You were the only girl he really hung out with.

“Of course Santi didn’t believe me. I’m a terrible liar. You know that. But I really don’t want the guys to catch me out on this! It’s so embarrassing.” Frankie was exasperated. You took to your feet and walked over to him, falling back on the sofa and resting your hand on Frankie’s forearm. To Frankie, your touch was like electricity.

“You do not need to be ashamed of something like this Frankie,” you assured him. Frankie took off his cap and ran his fingers through his brown locks.

“I know I know,” he sighed before looking back at you. “Santi wants to meet this fake girl. He’s been seeing Yovanna again and he’s organised a double date kind of thing. For him, Yo, myself and well… I'm hoping, you.”

You blinked hard. “Wait,” you paused. “You want to go on a date with me?”

This had to be dream. Had you just fallen asleep on the sofa? You pinched yourself and checked the wall clock above the television. Only a few minutes had ticked by. Definitely not a dream.

“Fake date.” Frankie corrected and you felt your heart sink slightly.

Or maybe it was a nightmare.

You shuffled around, not knowing how to feel. “Uhm, Frankie… I’m not sure…” you hesitated. All you had wanted for so long was to go on a date with Frankie. A real date. You had been dreaming about the day he would ask you out since you first met him, but this wasn’t what you had pictured at all.

“Please,” Frankie begged, clasping his hands together in a pleaing manner. “Just pretend to be my date.”

And how could you ever say no to Frankie Morales’ puppy dog eyes?

The night of the date, you and Frankie had agreed to meet at the restaurant. You hadn’t really discussed anything prior, but this date, albeit fake, was all you could think about. Every chance you had, you were thinking about Frankie. You wondered how it would be, pretending to be his date. And equally, Frankie was thinking the same.

He struggled to catch any sleep, and instead would lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. He wondered how to fake a date. He didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable and he simply hadn’t dated anyone in so long. He was so sure that he would embarrass himself, and that you’d never want to talk to him again.

Frankie, Santiago and Yovanna were already sitting around the restaurant table before you arrived. It was a quaint little Italian place on the coast and it had the most beautiful evening view. The sky was darkening and there wasn't a cloud in sight, but instead, pearly white stars pierced the velveteen abyss above and it looked like something straight out of a romance movie. The environment was perfect. The place was slightly out of the usual burger joint budget for Frankie and Santiago, but Yovanna insisted on the high-end restaurant, and even Frankie had to admit it would be nice to eat some good quality food for a change.

You weren’t late, but rather Frankie, Santiago and Yovanna were early. Frankie had already downed three bottles of beer before you arrived, trying to wash away his nerves. By the time you came, he was already slightly intoxicated. His ease was all that mattered and besides, Frankie was a happy drunk.

When Frankie saw you enter the restaurant, it was like his whole world stopped. He always thought you were beautiful, but tonight he was looking at you in a whole different light. You weren’t in your usual sweats and hoodie, and truthfully he had never seen you like this before. Your little black dress hugged your body in all the right places, and your matching heels clicked against the marble floor as you padded over to the table. You felt a blush creep upon your cheeks when you caught Santi gawking.

“Whoa, you clean up well!” Santiago complimented, looking you up and down, grinning ecstatically.

Frankie tried to keep his cool, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He took in your bare legs and how fine they looked in your dress, and he admired the way you had styled your hair. It was out of your face, and he appreciated that, because now he could infatuate himself over your features. You wore minimal makeup, but your eyeshadow accentuated your eye colour and your choice of lip gloss plumped your lips slightly. Frankie’s eyes went from being drawn to your legs, to now your lips, and he cursed himself for the thoughts he was thinking. Fake date. He reminded himself; but he couldn't help but question— what if it was real? If he could, he’d take you in his arms right then and there and kiss you.

You took your seat next to Yovanna and opposite Frankie, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, but as you felt Frankie’s eyes burn into you, electricity sparked in your in your lower stomach. A certain kind of excitement. You pushed it away the best you could, focusing on reading the menu in front of you and deciding on the food you would order. Frankie pushed over a vibrant purple drink in a cocktail glass. “I got you your favourite,” Frankie smiled, and you felt your heart flutter. “I hope you don’t mind.”

You smiled and took a sip, but scrunched up your nose when the strong taste of vodka hit. “Um, sweetie,” You thought that tonight you would have to force out the pet names but it came so naturally. “How many shots are in here?”

“It’s a treble.” Frankie bit his lip, watching you with intent as you took another sip. His heart blossomed at the little name you called him.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?!” you gasped playfully and Frankie offered you another warm smile. “I don’t mind. Actually, I need it. Had a bad day at work.” you explained.

“It was Santi’s idea.” he admitted and Santiago innocently raised his hands in response. Frankie reached over the table, taking your hands in his and brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his touch. “Bad day?” he furrowed his eyebrows together, concern peaking in his gentle voice.

“Talk about it later.” you promised. Frankie brought your hands to his lips and kissed them softly. You had to stop yourself from swooning on the spot. Your heart began to pick up speed again and at this point, you were finding it difficult to remember that this was all fake.

As the four of you ate your food, you and Frankie were flirting all night; playing footsie under the table and exchanging dirty jokes. At one point, you accidentally ran your heel up his leg and he let out an accidental groan, fillet mignon almost spilling out his mouth. You hurled with laughter and his cheeks rosied up in embarrassment. Both you and Frankie were enjoying yourself way more than you had ever even considered.

“Wait,” you spluttered out in a fluster of giggles. You were still laughing at one of Frankie’s jokes. “Yovanna and Santi have gone home.” You noticed, pointing your finger at the empty seats next to yourself and Frankie.

“Oh yeah,” Frankie replied. “And we didn’t even notice.” He burst into laughter again and you followed, the alcohol really letting you both lose your inhibitions. “That bastard left me with his and Yovanna’s bill too.” Frankie shook his head in disbelief.

“Let me help you pay,” you unzipped your purse but Frankie put his hand out and stopped you.

“Don’t worry baby, this is on me.” Frankie promised and offered you a cheeky wink.

Santiago and Yovanna were gone. They had no one to prove their fake date to— and yet, exchanging flirtatious comments were simply too fun to stop.

“Okay,” you laughed, taking a gulp of red wine. You were sure the warm liquid must have stained your lips crimson with how much you had drunk, but you weren’t too concerned. “But next time, I’m paying.”

“There’s going to be a next time?" Frankie asked you hopefully.

“Isn’t there?” you returned a smile. “This was the best fake date I’ve ever been on.” You and Frankie let out a boisterous laugh, even catching the attention of other couples who were sitting around you trying to enjoy their romantic candlelit dinners.

“Touché,” he agreed, taking out his wallet and signing a check before clipping it to the bill and standing up. He took your hand, pulling you forward but you stumbled to your feet, falling into his chest. He was so broad and his arms were so big. Your feelings for him picked up a notch and you were unsure how long you could keep up the charade of pretending you saw him as just a friend.

You thought about how strong he was, barely flinching when you fell into him, and honestly, it turned you on. He slung his hands around your waist, slowly pushing you off his, but even when you weren’t resting on him anymore, he kept his big hands around you as you left the restaurant and walked through the parking lot to Frankie’s truck. You were grateful because without him guiding you and steadying you, you’d probably struggle to even reach the truck.

The close proximity between you and him made Frankie overwhelmed, his palms getting clammy and his cock hardening from your scent alone. Everything felt so intense. The cool night air took his breath away and he loved the way he could feel the shape of your body through your dress. He craved more.

He hoped that in the darkness of the night, you hadn’t noticed his throbbing length under his jeans. He slid into the driver seat of the car and you sat next to him, strapping yourself in. Frankie turned the key and as you set off, you both sat there in silence. Silence around Frankie was never uncomfortable, but this wasn’t a situation you were used to. It was a big difference to the environment in the bustling restaurant, but now it was just you two, alone, in his car— and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

“Come home with me.” You said eventually, not moving an inch and still looking at the road ahead. You managed to find the confidence, but you weren’t yet able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. He was your best friend. And you realised that what you were asking of him was a lot.

Frankie wasn’t put off, in fact, he felt his cock twitch at your words and he had to suppress a moan from escaping his lips. Did you really want him to take you home? As if on cue, you continued your proposal.

“Stay the night.” This verified Frankie’s thoughts and you hoped he had got the hint. You looked up into the rear view mirror and watched Frankie as he concentrated on driving, his body completely tensed up. He didn’t say a word, but when he detoured, you knew he was taking you back to your apartment. You wanted to calm him. Relax him. Soothe him. You let your fingers grace his jean clad leg, accidentally brushing over his erection. Frankie cursed under his breath. “S-sorry.” you mumbled, feeling your face flush. He was already hard. You crossed your legs tight together, trying to ignore the way your cunt was already dripping for him.

“No,” Frankie said. “Was good. Felt good.” his grip on the steering wheel tightened as you contemplated his words. He liked it. You moved your hand over his crotch again and began to palm him as he drove. He felt so constricted in his jeans and he couldn’t wait to get them off. It wasn’t long before his vision began to feel hazy under your touch but luckily he soon pulled up in front of your apartment. You removed your hand from his leg and let yourself out of the truck, feeling dazed also, and hurried inside. Frankie followed, loosing his belt as he stepped foot into the building. He was throbbing and in such desperate need of relief.

You pressed the button and waited for the elevator to come. By the time Frankie caught up with you, it was here, and the pair of you stepped inside. As the doors began to close on you, Frankie crashed his lips onto yours, pushing his body against you. This time it was his turn to touch you. His rough manner made you gasp but you needed to feel his body against yours. You let his hands explore you, his fingers rolling over the curves of your breasts and the dips in your waist. Within seconds, the elevator door opened with a ping and you had reached the floor of your apartment. Hungrily, you grabbed Frankie by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to your front door, unlocking it with haste. Once you were inside, you turned to shut the door behind you when Frankie pinned you against it. His hands were on your wrists and your arms were spread out over the wood. He pressed a kiss into your jaw. “You want this?” his voice was rough and barely above a whisper, and his manner made your knees weak. He was so close to you, you could smell the beer mixed with his fragrance.

You didn’t dare move, but instead mewled out a tiny “yes”. Frankie smirked and turned you around so he could look at you in the eyes. He still had a hold of you, his grip was as tight as vice and his eyes were no longer the usual shade of honeyed brown but instead were much darker and lustful with a predatory glint. He kissed you again, hard, and his tongue swiped along your lower lip, begging for entry which you quickly granted. It was easy to get lost in the kiss; he was so good and so passionate. He worked his hands all over your body, pulling the occasional moan from your lips. Hearing the noises you made felt like music to his ears. You felt his hardened manhood press against the inside of your thigh and you shuddered, breaking the kiss to regain your breath. “Bedroom.” you mumbled out. You took Frankie’s hand and dragged him through the living room and into your small bedroom. He sat himself down on the edge of your bed and began to kick off his shoes when you took him by surprise and straddled him, wrapping your legs around him and initiating another heated kiss.

You needed some kind of release and on impulse, you began to grind yourself over Frankie’s denim clad leg. Your heart was racing as you rubbed yourself over the material, a fire burning deep in your stomach at the friction between the jeans and the thin silk panties you were sporting. Frankie placed a soft kiss to your lips, along your jaw, and down your neck as you began to get yourself off on him. He bit down gently, leaving his mark, wanting to claim you as his own. “Mine.” His voice was dark and you grabbed his shoulders, grinding on his leg harder.

“Yours.” You shakily exhaled, trying to keep your composure. You shuffled forward, further onto him and started rubbing yourself over his erection, pulling a groan from his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile knowing that this was your doing. You kept at it, enjoying the control, and watched Frankie’s eyes close from the sensation as you grinded over him.

“Yeah baby that’s it,” he praised. “Take what you need.”

Those four words threw you over the edge. You reached up, letting your fingers tangle in Frankie’s chocolate coloured locks of hair, tugging at them as you rode out your high. He opened his eyes, watching you as you dropped your head back, seeing stars. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Feeling satisfied, you scrambled off him, your legs shaky and he grabbed the hem of your dress. He began to pull it off you as eagerly as he could. Frankie noticed the damp patch on his leg from your wetness and muttered another curse. You were so wet and it was all for him. He looked up at you, watching you kick your dress to one side and felt his jaw tick. He was mesmerised by your body. In only your panties, you straddled him once more, and Frankie let his hands roam over your breasts, giving them the occasional squeeze.

“My turn.” you told him, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing him into the blankets of your bed. He let out a soft groan as his head hit your pillow and you shuffled backwards a little. You unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them before pulling them down to his ankles. Frankie kicked them off and they pooled into a pile amongst his shirt and your dress at the bottom of the bed. A little gasp escaped your lips when you eyed up his hardened length under the thin cloth of his boxer shorts, a small patch of wetness already visible. You dipped your hands into his underwear and pulled him out, licking your lips at the sight of his precum beading at the tip.

You let your fingers wander his length, teasingly, making sure you were as soft as possible. Then, you pulled away and spat into your hand. You wrapped your hand around his cock and began pumping at it. “Ngh, s-so good,” Frankie grunted, closing his eyes as you worked at him. “Haven’t-haven’t been touched in so long.”

“Relax,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you.”

Frankie bucked his hips further into your hand and you kept going. His eyes fluttered shut and his mind was in a solid state of euphoria. This was better than he had ever imagined and he knew he wouldn’t last long. You stroked him up and down and watched him as he came undone beneath you.

“Wanted this for so long,” he admits mindlessly. “Imagined this, so many nights… imagined your pretty lips around my-”

You cut Frankie off by taking his length in your mouth and pushing as deep as you could, opening your throat up to him and gagging slightly from his length. However, it didn’t take long to become comfortable with the way his cock filled you. He let out a gasp, his back arching and his fists grabbing the bed sheets. You bobbed your head up and down and he took a fistful of your hair, only encouraging you further.

He raised his head and watched you take him. Your hand still wet, you begin to pump the remaining length of him that you couldn’t fit into your mouth and he shudders in ecstasy. With your free hand, you cradle his balls, rubbing circles with your thumb and you can feel him almost lose it completely.

“Won’t last,” he warns you. “Please, wanna be inside you. Wanna feel your pussy.” he practically begs and as soon as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, you pull off him, leaving a trail of your saliva between your tongue and his length.

You admired Frankie’s naked body spread out in your bed, a thin sheen of sweat glazing over his chest. It was a sight you had only dreamed about. He sat up and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you down so now he was on top. He positioned himself in between your legs and gently spread them apart, eyeing up the dark patch in the crotch of your panties from where you had previously orgasmed on his leg. He let his finger glide over the material, rubbing against the bud of your clit and you whimpered in desperation. “So wet for me.” he drew out. “Can I taste?” he asked, looked up at you with his big brown eyes. You wanted to smack that innocent look he had playing on his face.

“Frankieee.” you cried out. You would never, ever deny oral from Frankie but right now you craved something else. “Need you inside me. Please.”

Frankie pulled your panties down your legs and threw them to the floor. “Oh baby,” he moaned, running his fingers through your slick wet folds. “I’m just warming up.” his voice was like honey and he attached his mouth to your clit, sucking intently. You threw your head back at the sensation and felt his mustache and stubble tickle you as he worked your core.

This was better than anything Frankie had ever dreamed about. He needed to taste every drop of your arousal. He had wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening. He wanted to savour every moment like it was his last. After all, you two were the best of friends and he didn’t know where exactly you’d stand about all of this tomorrow. If you’d even want to see him again. You were both risking a lot but somehow, it felt worthwhile.

Frankie found it difficult to remain composed as he devoured you and felt your body shake as you neared your climax. He grabbed your thighs, steadying you as you let out a wail. “Please Frankie.” you cried out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Need you inside of me.”  You reminded, tugging on his hair even harder. He took his finger and grazed your entrance while still working his tongue against you. “Stop teasing.”

For once, Frankie listened to you and pulled his lips away from you. He thought he could cum just from eating you out and he didn’t want that to happen. This could be his only chance. You groaned in frustration at the break of contact. You were so close and he had edged you completely before pulling away. You had asked for it. He was such a tease. Frankie hovered himself over you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You felt his cock nudge against your core and you dug your fingernails into his back. You needed him now.

“Do you have a condom?” Frankie whispered into your ear. He hadn’t brought any to the fake date because truthfully, he didn’t expect the night would be ending like this.

“I’m safe.” you promised him and he smiled, kissing your lips. You laced your fingers into his hair as he steadied himself on the bed.

“Are you ready?” Frankie questioned, nudging his cock over your entrance again causing you to let out a wail.

“Please Frankie. I’m ready.”

The second those two words left your lips, Frankie thrusted deep inside you. You gasped as he slowly adjusted himself inside of you and, still experiencing your high from when he ate you out, you knew you wouldn't ask long. He felt your walls tighten around him and he knew it too.

“I’m gonna cum.” you warned him, tugging on his curls at the nape of his neck and pulling his head down into your collarbones. He pinched at your skin with his teeth and increased his speed.

“Cum for me.” He instructed, his voice dark. With a few more sloppy thrusts, you came undone beneath him, dragging your nails down his back. He didn’t stop and continued to thrust into you as you climaxed causing small screams to emit from your lips. Frankie loved the little noises you made.

“Shit,” he whispered, his coarse hands finding and massaging your breasts. “Your cunt gets so tight when you cum.”

“Frankieeee, keep doing that and I’ll cum again.” you said softly and you felt Frankie’s lips twist into a wicked smirk as he pushed himself deeper inside of you.

“Ngh you feel so good,” Frankie grunted, pearls of sweat beading at his hairline. “Can you cum for me again? Can you give me another one?”

“Yes Frankie,” you obeyed, cupping your hands around his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes while he fucked you. His coarse facial hair grazed your hands but nothing felt as good as his length filling you up, hitting you in just the right spot with each thrust.

“I want you to cum with me,” Frankie gasped, groaning loudly as he felt his cock twitch inside you. He was close, and you could feel it too. “Same time.” he instructed. He was so used to giving orders, that it turned you on even more. “Can you do that for me?” his voice was urged and he kept his pace consistent.

You managed to give him a small nod and closed your eyes feeling nothing but pure bliss and ecstasy. “I’m close!” you managed to cry out.

“Me too, n-not long baby,” Frankie promised you. “Say my name.”

“Fuck Frankie, you fuck me so good. Your cock fills me up so well. Feels so good,” you moaned, your legs tightening around his waist.

“That’s it.” Frankie groaned.

“Cum inside me Frankie,” you gasped. “Pl-please. Need to feel your warm cum inside of me.”

“Gonna count down baby girl,” Frankie said, straightening up and pushing more hard thrusts inside of you. He admired your tangled body between him and brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing at it while he finished fucking you. “Are you ready?”

“Frankieeee.” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“3, 2,” Frankie pushed one final deep thrust into you. “1.” You and Frankie both came together, your wet cunt squeezing his cock like a vice and his thick ropes of cum spilling inside of you.

Frankie rolled off you and lay next to you. You curled yourself into his damp chest and he slung his arm around you. You felt safe. Protected. You knew that Frankie would never let anyone or anything hurt you but now it felt different. He was your safety, and you were his home. For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence trying to regain your breath and settle down.

“That was-” Frankie started but you cut him off.

“So good.” you smiled and he grinned back in agreement.

“The best.” He replied and gave you a little squeeze of reassurance.

“Hey Frankie?” You asked and he hummed in acknowledgement. “If that was a fake date… what the hell do you do on a fake date?” You raised an eyebrow and giggled when you saw Frankie’s cheeks rosy up.

“Wanna find out?” He beckoned and your grin couldn’t have grown any wider. You were finally going to get your chance to have a real date with Frankie.

[pixie-cocaine]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™ 

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it. 

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment 

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe. 

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

•  ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep. 

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

[heavenfordoms]

”Innocent“ Hug (Deku x fem! Reader):

Pairing(s): Deku x reader

Warning(s): 18+ minors DNI, cussing, manga spoilers, riding, death, semi-public sex, eating out

Genera: angst to fluff to smut

A/N: wait this was actually fun and easy to write for me wtf

Fandom: My hero academia (boku no hero academia)

Glossary:

Y/n = your name

Summery: Bakugou looses his life in battle and y/n goes to comfort Deku, soon Deku ends up forgetting about Bakugou as y/n rides him

You sucked in a breath, holding it for a while as you stared at the villain in front of you. You where crouched down low so you knew that he couldn’t see you. But you sure saw him. Your quirk was called memory, you could memorize anything that you wanted. The downside to this quirk is that while your mind was full of knowledge your body was weak so it was no good for battle-training, another bad thing (or more annoying then anything) is that we can’t forget it, ever, even if you wanted to. You remember every single detail of your life and every single thing that has happened to this point in grave detail. Not like you wanted to remember it, but you felt so worthless that it was almost blood to memorize everything. Like how there where five street lamps outside the bar. They where dimly lit and flickered every five second, each one after the other. The one on the very right was the first to flicker then it would go all the way to the left. Sometimes the one in the very middle would shut off at random times as the other lamps brightly shone in the night-sky.

“Could you stop mumbling?!” Katsuki whisper-yelled at you. You slightly cringed at the blonde male’s words before nodding your head in a form of acceptance (for some reason people saw that as acceptance so you did as well).

Katsuki is a young man of average height for somebody his age, with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He has short, spiky, ash-blond hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. His hero costume is composed of a tight, black, sleeveless tank top, with an orange "X" across the middle, forming a v-neck. There are two dots along the left line of his collar, indicating the support company that designed his costume. His costume also has a metallic neck brace worn with rectangular ends that have three holes on each side. His sleeves reach from within his large grenade-like gauntlets to his biceps. His belt, which also carries grenades, holds up his baggy pants with knee guards, below which he sports black, knee-high combat boots with orange soles and eyelets. His mask is jagged and black, and as it goes around his eyes, a large, orange-rimmed flare shape protrudes from each side.

You focused your eyes off of Kastsuki and onto Dabi, the villain who was standing guard outside the bar. Dabi is a fairly tall, pale young man of a slim, somewhat-lanky build, described to be in his early twenties. He has white hair with a few red streaks at the crown that spikes upward around his head, hanging low over his eyes, which are thin, turquoise in color, and heavily lidded. Before the reveal of his true identity, his hair was dyed black. His most striking features are undoubtedly the patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that cover much of his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs due to him having a quirk at a early age and not knowing how to control it. These appear to be attached to the rest of his skin by multiple, crude surgical staples or hoop piercings. He has several silver cartilage piercings in both ears, and a triple nostril piercing on the right side of his nose. He also seems to be lacking earlobes on both sides of his ears upon close inspection, he wears a dark blue jacket with a high, ripped collar, and matching pants, cut off above his ankles, a pair of dark dress shoes on his feet. He also has a plain pale gray, scoop-neck shirt, below which a gray belt with a circular pattern wraps around his waist, a leather satchel attached at the back.

Nobody knew his real name, until now, Dabi had revealed himself as Touya Todoroki. Everyone now calls him Touya but it never settled right in your gut to call him that. His name was Dabi to you and it will always be Dabi. It didn’t matter if he did a big entry and say that he is part of the Todoroki’s Dabi didn’t seem like them. The Todoroki’s where a strict family with ruled set in place. Endeavor, now the number one hero, had tried to welcome his family with more open arms. You could tell that Dabi’s opening was not out of grief for his family but instead out of spite. Like saying to Endeavor that he needs to take a chill pill with this whole anime redemption arc thing that he has going on for himself (and you didn’t quiet disagree with the oriole scarred man either).

You often thought of life like a anime, it was easier to explain. If somebodies life was broken they just ended up in the wrong anime. It also helped reminded you that every villain has a backstory. You never got to see their perspective in things. You never got to see what happened to the villains after they got defeated. Nope. You never got to see that, maybe if people saw the villain’s side. Everyone would hate the hero‘s and build their own path just as villains do. They make a path that no one has ever gone on, slowly making it a dirt road and them turning it again into an actual road that everyone can go on. Villains never got the roadwork. Hero’s probably always destroy it.

“So what’s the plan?” You leaned in close to Katsuki and whispered in his ear, Kastuki tensed up next to you and sucked in a breath before looking at you through pointy eyes.

”I will distract scar-man while you go and get Deku from the bar.” Kastuki explained, you nodded your head ‘yes’ before you pointing in the direction you where going to go. Kastuki grunted to himself as he crawled slowly in the opposite direction. Sending explosion at Dabi’s face before ducking behind a large wooden tool-box that had the words ”Back Bend Inc” on it in Ariel black font. Although it had been there for so long that the black ink looked to be a dark smoky gray. You quietly padded off into the opposite direction, your head ducked and eyes darting every five seconds to catch every detail around you.

Silently, you slipped into the bar. There was a wooden plank that held up the first stand, it looked to be pretty normal from here. There was dark wine stands that had a light brown color to them. The walls where colored with a sand tan. Over by the bar there was stacks and stacks of different liquor that people could have. Above was the general black chalkboard menu, there was smeared blue chalk that said “SPECIAL: Burbon” the strong smell of liquor and whisky hung in the air. There was a cigarette hanging off the ledge, still lit and everything. It looked pretty normal, but there was a slight piece of the cigarette where it was unwrapped and that told you enough to not say ’fuck it’ and have a smoke break. Turning your head slowly you walked up to Kurogiri. Information began flooding in your head about the villains and the bar. Unluckily for you everyone noticed the smartness you had and quickly found out your quirk. They began to flood your Brian with information. Information that a kid didn’t want to hear. You heard everything when you where just in High School. Now, everyone hated your quirk, everyone fucking hated it. The people who raised you said that you where a monster and that they didn’t know you anymore. But the sad part was you didnt do anything wrong. After hours of racking through your mind you couldn’t find a single moment where you did something bad. “I need to see Tomura.” You stared blankly at the mist villain. Kurogiri's entire body is made out of a dark purple mist, save for his eyes, which are glowing yellow. He normally wears a very elegant suit with a tie and has a metal brace that goes from around his collarbone to just below his eyes. It was pretty simple description of the villain, but there wasn’t much to him.

“Now?“ The male inquired, a hint of annoyance traced his smooth and calming voice. His voice sounded a lot like a gently sea softly rippling in the waves. But in actuality he was more like a thundering storm as the large ocean waves crashed harshly against large dark-gray-almost-black rocks.

“Yes, it is important.” You answered, putting a fake smile across your face. You still heard the faint sound of explosions from Katsuki and knew that you didn’t have a lot of time. Katsuki only could hold off for fifteen minutes before he went full on battle mood. And the villains would definitely think at something is up. Kurogiri hummed thoughtfully before nodding his head in agreement and holding out his purple misted hand.

”Come on dear…” The man whispered soothingly and smiling up and down at you.

“Thanks!” You chirped getting up and going behind the bar, following the villain down the stairs that creaked underneath your feet.

“BOSS!! Somebody wanted you!!” Kurogiri called, you took a deep breath before flinching as you looked into the villains base.

It was the same red bricks that seemed to be different colors every brick that was placed down to make the wall of the bar. There was smooth fake wood counter with clean royal red plush bar stools with the smallest backs on them. There was a few hero posters scattered around the base, one medium sized All Might poster hung to the right of a small screen TV. The dull gray light picketed on and off as the headlights didn’t provide much protection against the dark loom of everything. Different types of bottles hung on narrowed shelves behind the bar. Right next to the bar was a metal door, the window had cages around it and a long shiny knob that went down the left side. To the right of the door was a old faction radio station with LED lights surrounding it. It was currently playing Take Me to Church, apparently just starting to play it seeing how the introduction was still on. You narrowed your eyes before leaning against the red brick wall and giving everyone a swept gaze. All of the villains names that where forced to memorize came to your head all of a sudden.

Himiko Toga was standing in the farthest left, spinning in the red barstools.

Himiko is a relatively petite, fair-skinned girl who is very prone to blushing and is frequently described as to having a rather pretty face. She has slightly inward-tilting bright yellow eyes with thin slits, making them somewhat resemble those of a cat, and her wide mouth is also rather feline, as both her upper and lower canines are more pointed and longer than the rest of her teeth, giving her a vampire-like appearance. Her hair is a pale, dirty ash-blonde and is styled into two messy buns, with numerous wild strands sticking out at all angles from their centers and where they’re fastened, a straight fringe and two chin-length side bangs to frame her face. Himiko’s outfit consist of a plain seifuku with a Kansai collar, both the skirt and the shirt dark blue with a double white trim, which is paired with a red scarf that she ties loosely below. Over this, she wears an oversized beige cardigan with a rather long hem and cuffs, and pockets on either side, the right one shown to hold a number of trinkets on either a keychain or a cellphone strap. She sports knee-length black socks and dark brown dress shoes with thick heels, the same as the outdoor uniform shoes students traditionally wear in Japanese schools.

Tomura was standing next to Himiko, a bored expression clouding his features.

Tomura is a slim man with deathly pale skin, tinged yellow, and wrinkled a great deal around his eyes. His lips are chapped and uneven, a small mole on the right underneath, with visible scars on his right eye and under his lip. He has messy grayish-blue hair of varying lengths, the longest clumps reaching to about his shoulders, left hanging over his face in uneven waves. His eyes are normally obscured, but when visible, they are usually stretched wide in a rather maniacal manner, their bright red irises are very small.

Interestingly, when Tenko was at the age of five, he bore a striking resemblance to Izuku Midoriya, with his blue hair originally being dark black in color, while also having dried patches of skin around his eyes, though his lips were shown to be healthy in appearance. After his Quirk manifested, his appearance changed giving him a wrinkled face and changing his hair color.

Nobody else was in the base, the rest of the villains where busy surviving customers or dealing with Bakugou.

Then you saw him

Deku…

Deku has been a classmate of yours for a while, although you guy’s rarely talked to each other you always admired his strength and wisdom. Soon he became the number one hero and you became the second, Bakugou and Todoroki following closely behind. The only real reason you where able to make it to number two was due to the popularity votes for citizens. Everyone liked you, they loo up to you. So rationally you often teamed up with Deku. He was not good with the citizens since he never got a chance to talk to them due to the fact that he broke his bones in battle often but his quirk was amazing. And you didn’t have a lot of strength so that gave you time to connect with the citizens. The two of you working together helped everyone live a better place. Now seeing him tied up and helpless, it made you pretty angry.

“I would love to sit here and chat, but I got a hero to save!” You smirked as you raced on ahead and grabbed Deku, pulling him out of the chains before the villains had any time to react. Standing next to the hero you where slightly taller (mind you he hasn’t grown since high school so that wasn’t really anything to brag about being taller then him).

”HELLPPP!!!” A scream shouted from Kastuki, your eyes widened as you sprinted off to get the number three hero. Deku closely followed you as he got his quirk ready. But by the time that you rushed out you knew it was too late. Katsuki had been crushed by the blue flames that wrapped around his body.

“KACCHAN!!!” Deku screamed, DabI whipped his head around and started at the number one hero.

”You idiot!“ You hissed as you grabbed Deku’s arm and made a run for it. Dragging him out into the open where a bunch of other hero’s where’s standing just in case something happened. You noticed that they where busy on their phones and probably didn’t even hear Katsuki screaming for help. You rushed Deku to the side of the red brick building and waited for a ambulance to come pick Deku up. Once they carried him away you narrowed your eyes at the pro-hero’s.

”I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY IF YOU ACT LIKE THAT AGAUN!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRESS YOU PUT US THROUGH??? DYNAMIGHT COULD HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE IF YOU HAVEN’T SAT ON YOUR ASS ALL DAY AND ACT LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING SLUTS!! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO RIP ALL OF YOUR HEADS OFF, FEED THEM TO MY DOG, MAKE MY DOG SHIT OFF A BRIDGE AND SEE THE SHIT SMEERED ON THE TIRE, GET A LIGHTER AND BURN THE CAR DOWN, TAKE THE ASHES AND PUT THEM IN A GROUND, I WILL TAKE THE GROUND WHERE THE ASH IS AND MAKE IT A STRIPER CLUB, AND THEN GET A EXORCIST TO PUT YOU TO HELL!!!” You started cussing them off, the pro-hero’s shuffled uncomfortably and looked at each other with weird stares. They knew that they where in shit when they pissed you off. You weren’t very easy to piss off so when somebody pissed you off they knew they were in deep horse shit.

*** You rushed into the hospital bed where Deku was at. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stood on the edge of the male’s bed and watched as thick tears streamed down his face. You grew soft and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down baby…I am here…” You reassured, slowly climbing on the bed and getting on him. Deku gulped thickly at the closed distance between the two of you and began sweating nervously.

“Y/n!“ You yelped, trying to scoot back. You looked up at him and gave the male a cocky smile.

“What? Are you suggesting something?” You leaned in and whispered in Deku‘s ears. Deku whined before nodding his head ‘yes‘ you rolled your eyes and began to unbutton your shirt. Popping out a few buttons in the process. Gently, you pulled down your panties and threw them to the side, lifting up your skirt and showing your ass to Deku. Deku trembled slightly and started licking at the entrance, slowly, he began eating you out. You moaned quietly before bucking Your hips backwards. Deku gasped before moaning also and continuing to do his work. Once Deku are you out for a few minutes you pulled away and Deku looked at you with large puppy dogs eyes. His Greek emerald eyes blown wide in lust.

You leaned down and took off his pants with your teeth, dragging your nails up his clothed hero uniform shirt. Deku bucked his hips up and whimpered. You smirked into the material. Once you actually got the pants down you slipped off his boxers and starting to get settled on Deku.

You and Deku had this off and on thing. You guy’s weren’t dating each other and fucked other people but it was always a delight when you got to fuck him. A smile always formed on his lips when you topped him. He always thought that everyone was going to leave him to be the top, so it was reassuring when he saw that somebody cared about him enough to dom him and show him who is in control.

You where snapped back into reality when Deku gasped in shock as you took him all in, groaning slightly at the fact that you took him with such ease because he has been in you so much. Slowly you waited for yourself to adjust (which didn’t take that long) before you started bouncing up and down. Deku threw his head back and moaned loudly as felt your walls clench around him. You kept bouncing on him up and down in a rhyme pattern.

“Come on baby, thought you liked it…” You pouted, looking down on the green haired hero and smiling cockily.

[myelocin]

the love in life which keeps us young | matsukawa issei

synopsis: in which matsukawa issei thinks of you as he says his vows.

characters: matsukawa issei, issei anon you

genre/wc: fluff, 2000+

a/n: no thoughts brain v empty only issei

-

“Do you wanna write out our vows or do you just wanna repeat after whatever the dude says?”

You look at Issei, his eyebrows knit together in the way that tells you he’s serious about his question, then at the faraway look he has on his face as his eyes zeroes in on the wall behind you. You laugh; the kind that fills you with a sort of giddiness that you don’t think you could ever get sick of, before taking a quick sip of your drink and thinking about his words.

“This is the one time in our lives where you get a chance to make me feel like a Y/N in front of a crowd, Issei,” you laugh.

Across you, Issei pops the straw of his drink out of his mouth as he focuses his eyes on you and sighs with a pout.

“You mean you don’t feel like Y/N already?” he asks, and you smile when he shifts his focus back to the straw of his drink, as he tries to aim for the remaining balls of boba at the bottom of the cup.

“I do,” you answer, and Issei grins because he hears nothing but honesty in the tone of your voice. He knows you mean it, but none the less he pries.

“So on a level of one to Oikawa’s breakdown when his team won the Olympics, how hard do you wanna cry?” Issei asks again, pushing his emptied cup to the side before he leans forward and smiles at you.

He looks a little sleepy, you think. Issei’s kept his hair a little longer than how he used to back when you were still in high school, and when he didn’t style his hair—like now—the wavy ends of his bangs always just hung around the front of his eyes.

His eyes, you think. Its deep brown hue that always reminded you of the oak trees from back home. And when he blinks, soft and slow in the way that never failed to make him look a little sleepier than he really is—you feel warm.

Maybe you do have moments where you feel like the main character of a book.

“You’re smiling all weird,” Issei comments, and when he grins it looks and feels just as familiar with the cotton of your most worn sweater.

“Just please don’t slip in a meme during the vows,” you plead, but instead of seeming concerned, you only let out a laugh that breaks your attempt of hardening your expression.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Issei across you hums, then closes his eyes as he lets out a light chuckle.

“Issei,” you start, but only break into laughter again when he folds his arms and lays his head on the table, his face facing the open window as he pretends not to hear you.

Despite your halfhearted protests towards him, Matsukawa Issei thinks he likes the moments he spends with you the most when it’s like this.

He knows he loves you every hour of everyday. But, it’s in the in between of life stopping and starting where he sits down across you, in the same tea shop you’ve become regulars at, sitting in the same table he was first hit with the thought that he loved you in, where Issei is overwhelmed with the feeling of pure gratitude.

The fan on the other side of the wall—the one right behind you, continues to whir even though he’s currently facing an open window. The grandmother who used to serve the two of you your favorite kind of tea is now retired, but her grandson who took over the business a little over two years ago brews your tea the same way. Your notebook—the one you used to write your random ideas in that you hardly ever expand anyway is now switched with a laptop that you bought when you graduated, but he knows that somewhere in there are files filled with the scattered pieces of dialogue that comes to you during the most random parts of your day.

Your hand, years ago adorned with the promise ring that took him a few shifts at his uncle’s convenience store to buy for you, is now worn next to the engagement ring he still had to spend a couple paychecks on.

Issei smiles. Consistency despite the inevitable change.

Familiar despite the new.

And he acknowledges change, he realizes. Because the only thing constant in the world is the fact that for as long as the world keeps spinning, the people—and the world—will continue to spin into a new era.

So when he closes his eyes, basking in the sunlight, sometimes Issei likes to imagine that the teashop he’s in is still the one from ten years ago. He imagines the open field that’s outside the window he faces and smiles when he thinks of how the sun would look against fields of wheat.

But before he even opens his eyes, he hears a man’s voice calling out orders instead of the grandmother who’d just ring a bell. He hears you tapping away at your laptop’s keyboard instead of the steady scratches of the pen you used to favor using. The sound of the street outside isn’t as quiet now that there’s a busy convenience store in place of the wheat fields who’d only woosh with the breeze at its loudest sound.

“You finally awake?” Issei hears you ask when he finally opens his eyes and sits back up. And much like how it used to be almost ten years ago, his heart skips a beat from just the sound of your voice. The look in your eye is still the same.

Somehow he feels like he’s still ten years back in time.  

“Just thinking of what meme I can slip into the vows,” he laughs when you snort at him and roll your eyes at his comment.

“I swear to god, Issei,” you warn, puffing your cheeks when he sticks his tongue out as his choice of a retort.

-

“When I said I’ll make you cry, I hope you know what you were getting yourself into,” is how Issei begins his vows when the microphone was given for him.

You look at him, already a little teary eyed despite him just starting to speak his vows.

“First off,” he says. “I love you.”

Maybe it’s just how the light of the afternoon sun is hitting him, you consider. Issei’s always looked good under the sun, you think. Perhaps there was just something a little more magical in the sunlight today that struck a chord with you.

“I’ll admit that by saying I love you, that’s probably as accurate as I can possibly get my feelings to,” Issei continues, and from behind the veil you laugh as you see him start blinking with his words. Then when he says I love you, again, you notice how his hold on the paper turns a little shaky as his right foot begins to tap steadily on the ground.

It was slight enough where it could have well been unnoticeable for others, but you knew him better. You always knew him better.

These were all telltale signs that Issei was about to cry.

“I rewrote these vows over and over again until I reached the point where the more I felt—the less I could write in the paper,” Issei across you laughs. “Just ask Makki, he’ll back me up.”

From behind him, Makki shoots you a thumbs up. “It’s true,” you hear Makki quip and so you laugh with the crowd.

“But I think that’s how it’s supposed to be, you know?” you hear him continue. “Love, with you has always been more of a feeling instead of just words. I could read every sentence or every story that talked about what love is supposed to feel like and in some way I’ll agree with it—because it’s just like that.”

You notice how Issei shifts his eyes from looking at the paper then back at you as he begins to sniffle with his words.

“Love,” he begins, then stops as he corrects his words. “—no, you, have made me agree with words I’ve never even come across before. There’s always something in everything that has me connecting it back to you even if that something is the most unfamiliar thing in the world.”

“And believe me,” he adds, “—as a dude working with dead bodies you see a lot of shit.”

From behind him, you laugh at the way Makki, Hajime, and Tooru snicker with Issei’s choice of words. The minister in front of you clears his throat a little awkwardly, motioning for Issei to continue.

“Honestly, I could talk about what I want to promise you and what you deserve, because right now I feel everything I wanna say—“ Issei says, then stops when he takes a few moments to look up and wipe the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his tuxedo.

“This is your fault,” he laughs, sniffling as he looks at you with a smile.

You laugh with him, the figure of him already blurred with the tears that welled up and slid down your cheeks.

“But I know words and promises will never come close to the value of my actions,” Issei finishes, folding the piece of paper to which you now notice barely even has sentences in it, and tucking it into his pocket.

“In this moment all I know is how I realized I loved you when we were sixteen sitting in that teashop while I drank the tea you said was good—which you lied about,” he interrupted, then laughed with the crowd, before continuing with, “—and how deep that feeling just hit me.”

“Even though we’re literally marrying each other now,” he continues, and you can only cry even harder when you hear his voice soften with his words. “I still feel that. Every moment with you still makes me feel like I’m sixteen and just realizing that I’m so in love with you over and over again.”

You’re as quiet as he is when he stares straight at you with glassy eyes.

“Love with you is something that I know is constantly changing and shifting with the world, but at the same time it’s the one thing that feels timeless. You’re the one thing that feels timeless. God knows how many times we’ve moved apartments or have changed cars, but you telling me welcome home still feels familiar. The way you always forget your chapstick in the car and then accuse me for stealing it a week later is still the same,” he laughs.

“Because everything in the world is moving so fast, I think that love is that one thing that grounds us back to the more steadier flow of time. You’re the reason why I wanna buy a house instead of jetset around the world. You always talk about that herb garden you’ve been wanting to start and we can finally get to that when we have a house. You noticing the weirdest things around every corner and smiling about it is the reason why sometimes sitting in traffic isn’t so bad anymore.”

“We’re all just trying to run somewhere with a destination we aren’t even sure of yet but you make it feel like we’ve already made it.”

“So for better or for worse, richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—till death do us part— I’ll love you.”

“You’re crying,” you whisper when he lifts your veil and stares at you with tears already sliding down his cheeks.

“Shut up,” Issei laughs, hands cupping your face while his thumbs wipe the tears on your cheeks, his face already leaning in towards you.

 -

[marvel-and-mischief]

Too Hot To Handle

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader Words: 1700 Warnings: sexual tension, removing of clothes to keep cool, swearing, wandering eyes, no actual smut but thots, angst, conversation about dying, brief mention of sexism Synopsis: You and Javi get trapped in an airless filing room at the embassy. Can you both keep your cool?

Fic Masterpost

You held your hands up at this one; you only had yourself to blame. Javier had told you to prop the door open with a heavy box and instead of listening, you had used your purse, got distracted with files, leaving the purse to slip and the next thing you heard was the sound of the heavy duty door slamming shut behind you.

Javier’s head shot up, a look of panic on his face as he ran to try and pry the door open.

“Steve knew we were in here Javi, he’ll realise something’s up and come find us.”

“Steve went to have lunch. With Connie.”

Your eyes widened as you finally understood his panic. If Steve was having lunch with his wife he would be in no rush to get back to the embassy.

“Shit,” you whispered, eyeing your surroundings desperately. The filing room was windowless with no visible vents, after all why would pieces of paper need oxygen to breathe? And the door had no handle on this side because who would be stupid enough to close the door behind them?

You looked to your partner, hoping he was coming up with a solution.

“I have nothing,” Javi shook his head and slumped down the wall, wrists resting on his bent knees. He looked like he had given up already.

“Someone will notice we’ve not returned to our desks, right?”

Javi raised a sceptical eyebrow. You both had a tendency to rush out unannounced based on a tip or new evidence so the likelihood of someone thinking you were stuck in a filing room was slim to none.

“Shit,” you repeated yourself, pacing back and forth with your hands on your hips. There had to be some way out of here, or a button to press in emergencies. This couldn’t be the first time someone had gotten stuck in the filing room.

“Why aren’t you trying to find a way out of here?”

“Because there isn’t one. Stop moving,” Javi chastised with a heavy sigh, “you’re using up oxygen.”

“Rude,” you muttered whilst taking a seat next to him with a sigh, “we can’t die in a glorified filing cabinet.”

Javier scoffed at the suggestion, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

After a few minutes of silence you were starting to feel the heat of the room, only made worse by the stress of the situation. You toed your boots off and pulled off your socks just as Javier reached for the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye, giving him an awkward smile before looking away to give him some semblance of privacy.

Javier was an attractive man and the women in the office never failed to remind you of how lucky you were to work alongside him everyday, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree. He was ridiculously charming and polite, a little flirty but you gave as good as you got. But you had always remained professional, keeping just this side of the line of what was ‘proper’. You couldn’t go sleeping with your partner when you’d worked so hard to be taken seriously as a female agent.

You could see him unbuttoning his shirt all the way down from the corner of your eye but you resisted the urge to stare, keeping your eyes trained on a box of files across from you as he proceeded to kick his shoes off.

“Of all the ways I thought I’d die in Colombia, I didn’t think it would be like this,” Javier said bleakly. You turned then, just in time to see a drip of sweat fall from his forehead onto the collar of his pink shirt.

“Where’s your pager?”

“Desk.” Javier’s eyes bore into yours, as if contemplating whether to ask his next question. “Don’t suppose you have a boyfriend that will ask where you are?”

You furrowed your brow.

“How long have you known me? Have I ever mentioned a boyfriend?”

Javier’s shoulders sagged, whether with relief or defeat you couldn’t tell.

You felt yourself sweating more profusely as the seconds ticked by. Your blouse was beginning to soak through and your jeans was becoming uncomfortable against your hot skin.

“Take your shirt off,” Javier muttered, eyes closing as he tilted his head back against the wall.

You hesitated. It made sense to rid yourselves of as much clothing as possible, with no ventilation it was only going to get hotter and if someone did come looking for you you needed to survive until then.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you quickly removed your blouse and flicked open the top button of your jeans for a shred of relief. Javier didn’t move but the hand resting in between you was curled into a fist.

“Who would miss you if you died here?”

It was something you sometimes thought about in your line of work, usually whilst holding a bottle at the end of a bad day. Who would care if something life-threatening happened to you (which it likely would)? Who would miss you? How many people would be standing around your grave at your premature funeral? And in the case of Javier who rarely spoke about home, who was he running from? Did he have someone he called to tell them he was safe and still alive?

Javier’s eyes opened and his jaw twitched. You wouldn’t put it passed him to tell you to fuck off but maybe he’d go easy on you given your current situation.

“My Papa lives in Texas. I give him a call now and then but if he never heard back from me I don’t think he’d be surprised.”

“You underestimate your importance to people, Javi.”

Picking up your blouse, you ran it along your bare skin, collecting the sweat there in the hope it would cool you down. You felt Javier’s eyes following the movements along your arms, the dip of your breasts and your bare stomach before wiping at the beads of sweat on your brow.

“When I first came to work here, I think you’d been here only a couple of months?” Javier nodded but didn’t interrupt, “you took me under your wing like you’d been here years. I felt safe with you. I got so much stick from people and I knew the shit they were saying behind my back about how I got here. But you, you had my back. You trusted me when I had my hunches when no one else would. I’ll never forget that.”

Javier cleared his throat uncomfortably. You knew he didn’t believe you but you had to tell him anyway, if it was the last thing you said out loud, you had to let him know how much he meant to you.

“And you’re like that with everyone. You’ve got the biggest heart in the embassy, I hate that nobody sees how much you care.”

Javier elbowed you softly, leaning closer in your space despite the humidity, or despite the tension? You couldn’t be sure.

“The people who matter know I’d lay down my life for them. That’s all that matters.”

You caught Javier’s sweeping gaze and relaxed for the first time since entering the room. If you were going to die with anyone, you were glad it was Javier.

“D’you remember when I gave you a tour of the embassy on your first day?”

“You hated giving me that tour.”

Javier chuckled, not denying it.

“This was still being built.”

“This part of the building is new?”

“Nah, it was offices. We didn’t need them.”

You frowned, the cogs turning in your head at this new information. “This was an office?” Javier’s response was nothing but a hum of agreement.

“So this room used to have ventilation?”

Javier looked confused when he turned to you.

“They bricked in the windows,” he said, matter of fact.

You knew they would have done that but didn’t say anything. Instead you let your eyes roam around the room, along the walls, in each of the corners and finally over the ceiling where you found a small ray of hope.

“There,” you pointed to a tile that was out of line compared with the others, the thin metal corner lifted down the tiniest amount.

“A vent?” Javier asked hopefully.

You stood too fast in your excitement, lightheaded and wobbling until Javier steadied you with his hands on your hips from his place on the floor.

“Careful, carino.”

You took a deep breath and padded slowly towards the tile you had your eye on. Javier wheeled a step ladder over to where you stood staring at the ceiling.

“Hold it,” he ordered. You held onto the top of the ladder as he ascended it.

“Can you pull it down?” you asked, watching as Javier inspected the tile. You kept your eyes trained on the ceiling and definitely not on the gentle slope of Javier’s small belly, his narrow waist and the sliver of hair that formed a trail that went below his belt.

“I think so,” Javier grunted with the effort. You could feel the sweat running off you, your whole body was on fire and you prayed Javier had enough strength in him to do it before you collapsed from exhaustion.

With a clang of metal the tile was thrown onto the floor. Javier peaked his head into the hole in the ceiling and let out an uncharacteristic yelp of joy.

“Tunnels! I can get us out of here. You stay here.”

You nodded, feeling the energy draining out of you. Javier struggled to pull himself up so you helped by planting your hands on his ass and pushing. Any other day you would have laughed and Javier would have grumbled but as you took a seat on top of the ladder’s platform and heard the bangs of his knees crawling above you, you couldn’t care less.

When the door finally opened you were half way to passing out, head hung in your hands to try and quell the pounding in your head. You felt arms around you as Javier picked you up and you faintly registered the sounds of a comforting voice whispering in your ear. You knew you were safe before everything went black.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @anu-simps @bts17army @computeringturtle

[mochiusagifanficchaos]

Sherlock x Mute!Reader •Part 7•

Metal crashed against metal as you yanked wildly at the handcuff around your wrist until you felt warm blood running down your ice-cold hand.

Silently sobbing you sank back on the bed. The sudden lack of noise made the dark room even scarier.

How have you ended here? What happened and why the hell can't you remember?!

These thoughts got stuck in your head, drove a rollercoaster, and made you feel sick.

Helpless you tried to remember what had happened, tried to puzzle everything together but the last thing you remember was going to bed alone in your flat.

Alone.

The word echoed in your head.

Something in the back of your mind told you that this wasn't right.

There was this feeling, this feeling of being watched. You had it right before you fell asleep.

Suddenly you remember that something was being pressed on your face. You couldn't breathe anymore and smelled something sweet. Panicking you had woken up and saw someone standing next to your bed. He was pressing you down and covered your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth.

It was Jonathan.

You screamed inside your head, wanted to punch yourself for your stupidity of trusting a man you barely knew instead of trusting Sherlock.

Your eyes darted to your left as a door was opened with a loud squeaking sound and bright blue light fell into the room.

A man was standing in the frame and threw a large shadow on the ground.

"Finally awake?", a deep voice asked with a sarcastic undertone and his heavy steps resounded through the room as he walked towards you.

"Oh, it was so easy to twist you around my little finger", he hummed as he tugged on his black curls, pulling down the wig from his head and revealing short blonde hair.

He chuckled as he saw the scared look on your face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not gonna harm you.", Jonathan pulled a phone out of his pockets and stood there for a while, typing something, before he sat beside you on the bed and turned the camera on, holding the phone away so that you both were visible on the screen.

"As long as Sherlock does what I want."

"Let's play a game, Sherlock.", the man in the video said and grinned evilly.

Watson heard this sentence for at least the 20th time in a row now since Sherlock kept restarting the video which he received 10 minutes ago on his phone.

"Watching it over and over again won't get (y/n) back here.", Mycroft said, trying to bring his little brother back to his senses but Sherlock completely ignored him, restarting the video again.

Annoyed Watson stood up from his chair and snatched the phone out of Sherlock's hand: "That's enough now."

"I should've stayed with her.", Sherlock mumbled under his breath and ran his hands over his face, his black shirt stretched over his back and arms as every muscle in his body tensioned.

Suddenly he stood up and threw his hands in the air: "For god's sake I should've stayed with her!"

"It's not your fault.", Watson tried to calm him down, shook from his unusual behavior.

"Don't fool yourself, Watson, of course, it is! That lunatic is just kidnapping her because of me."

On Sherlock's phone popped up a message from an unknown number and Watson gave it back to Sherlock. He swiftly opened it, just to nearly drop it as he saw the content of the message.

It was a picture of you sitting on the bed, a blanket half over your shoulders and your right hand was laid over the left. It was dark but Sherlock still noticed the handcuffs and the bloody strains underneath them on your skin. Your hair was parted to both sides of your face and you had a smile on your face. A forced smile, your lips were curled up but your eyes showed fear.

The phone rang loudly and Watson jumped.

Sherlock answered the call with a cold expression.

"Such a pretty girl, don't you think?", the man on the other side chuckled darkly.

Sherlock's hand tightened around his cellphone: "Don't you dare to touch her.", his voice had a deadly sound and even Watson needed to gulp since he never heard him talk like this.

"Oh, I won't, what are you thinking of me? But you should hurry.", the man made a dramatic pause. "It's getting really cold in here."

He chuckled again before he hung up.

Slowly Sherlock lowered his hand with the phone and stared blankly out of the window.

Watson didn't dare to speak and waited for Sherlock to tell him what was up, but he stayed silent and the only noise was the beeping of the disconnected phone call.

Without a word, Sherlock turned around, threw his coat over and rushed with fast and heavy steps past Microft and Watson and down the stairs. Watson followed him to the street and just about made it into the cab in which Sherlock had hopped in.

"Where are we going?", Watson asked as the car started driving.

"The national gallery."

Your shaking ice-cold fingers were wrapped around each other, your knees were tugged under your chin and your arms were pressed at your body to keep the warmth inside.

Your teeth silently chattering was the only sound in the room, beside the rattles of your handcuffs around the bed frame sometimes when you shifted your weight.

Jonathan had left you alone hours ago, he said that he needed to prepare something for Sherlock and you were scared of what he had planned, scared of what he might do to him.

His evil laugh still echoed in your head and made you shiver more than the cold air around you.

"If you're ever scared, my love, then count to three and think of me, count to ten and think of a friend, count to a hundred and your fear will be tamed"

You remembered your mum saying this to you whenever you were scared after what had happened to you as a child. After you lost your voice.

Warm tears rolled over your cheeks as you counted to three and thought of her smile and laugh, her warm embrace and her soft voice.

More and more tears rolled down your cheeks and you began sobbing as you thought about Sherlock.

1

Thought about him taking care of you on the day you had burned your hand in the café.

2

Thought about this proud smile he had on his face when you kept the keys for the register.

3

You remembered the day when he got you out of the hospital to eat some chips together.

4

And then took a ride with you on the London Eye. You knew that he had watched you and had a smile on his face as he saw you being so amazed by the night view.

5

You thought about the days you had tried to ignore and allure him since he wouldn't talk to you about the case and ended up being followed by a slightly sad and jealous Sherlock. Now you were sure that he hadn't understood his own feelings at this time and probably was really confused why you made him feel like this.

You chuckled slightly. When you would get out of here alive you would try to seduce him even more, you loved the look on his face when he was too confused about his own feelings.

6

The picture of you sitting on Sherlock's lap, both of you sleeping, popped up in your mind.

This was the moment you got aware of that you really loved him. You never felt so safe and like home before, then in his arms.

The thought of this brought a warm feeling back and you noticed that you had stopped sobbing and shivering.

7

You remembered him entering the café after not having seen or heard from him for over three months and that smile that crawled on his face as he saw you.

8

He had pulled you in this tight hug instead of saying hello and made your heart melt.

9

A loud bang ripped you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the dark and cold reality.

You held your breath and listened to if there were any other noises but everything remained silent.

Just as you gave up on listening a bright light suddenly flooded the room and you had to cover your eyes, pressing your face into the stinky mattress.

Blinking you tried to get used to the lack of darkness and it took you some seconds to see the big tv on the opposite wall.

It showed Sherlock and Watson who just came running into a big white room with paintings on the walls and you immediately noticed that it was a room from the national gallery.

"Will you tell me now why we needed to go here?", Watson asked out of breath as he watched Sherlock examining every painting in the big room.

"The picture.", Sherlock just answered and walked into the next room. "He made her look like the Mona Lisa and where do we usually find paintings?"

"The national gallery", Watson sighted.

Suddenly Sherlock's phone rang and he hesitated for a second to pick up.



"Where's (y/n)?", he asked straight out.

"Oh Sherlock, I'm not gonna make it so easy for you. Don't you remember that I wanted to play a game?", the voice on the other side said with amusement.

Sherlock tried hard to keep a straight face: "I already solved your little puzzle to get here and I don't want to keep on playing."

A loud laugh suddenly echoed out of the speakers from every corner of the room and Watson whirled around.

"If you don't want to play the game then you won't be able to safe (y/n). Aren't you having fun? I thought you liked puzzles, Sherlock."

The voice filled the room with a dangerous atmosphere.

Sherlock remained silent, grinding his teeth.

"I see, good choice.", the voice chuckled. "You know, I'll give you something to think about: she's here, somewhere, and I already told you where."

Sherlock narrowed his eyebrows, he couldn't think of anything right now, the feeling of fear for you had crawled into him and wouldn't let go anymore.

He took a deep breath and placed his hands in a praying position to his lips.

His eyes darted fast over the paintings on the wall to find anything that would show him where you were captured.

But he couldn't find anything.

"There got to be something!", Sherlock muttered and ruffled his hand through his hair in frustration.

A chuckle echoed out of the speakers again: "Oh Sherlock, don't make it so hard for yourself. I said that I already told you where she is."

Sherlock stopped in his actions and his eyes widened.

"Stupid!", he suddenly scoffed. "My god, Watson, why didn't we notice that earlier?"

"What? What didn't we notice earlier? Sherlock!"; Watson shouted after Sherlock who already ran down the hall.

A swear escaped Watson as he chased after Sherlock's flapping coat...

Next chapter will be up next weekend!

Thank you all so much for reading and your nice comments 🥺 ❤

Tag list ❤

@misselsbells06 @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @a-paper-cut @viviace

[padfoot-and-prongsie]

Secret’s Out || Oliver Wood

Character: Oliver Wood

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: Yes @jensenslight​

Summary: After a few drinks too many at a party, you end up drunkenly confessing your feelings to Oliver Wood.

Warnings: Underage drinking, mentions of sex, swearing

Disclaimer: I did not make this gif, credit to the creative person who did

A/N: Holy crap, 9 freakin pages. I never expected it to get that long but it was honestly so much to fun write. Let me know what you think, your comments always make my day and keep me encouraged to continue writing <3

Please do not copy or steal my work. Reblogs are just fine :)

You laughed loudly with your friends, pushing through the crowd of students after the quidditch match. Thousands of footsteps thundered down the stairs of the stadium, the air filled with shouts of excitement and frustrated groans at the results of the game.

Gryfindor had won 230-110, crushing Slytherin and deflating their heads after the way they had pummeled the red and gold the year before. You stepped out of the stadium and almost instantly deviated away from where the rest of the mob was moving towards Hogwarts. Instead, you made your way towards the locker rooms, waiting for your friends Alicia and Angelina to come out. 

The locker room opened with a bang and you instantly stepped forward, ready to congratulate the girls, but instead found yourself face to face with Oliver Wood. 

He took a step back in surprise. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, sending you a small smile. “Waiting for Spinnet and Johnson?”

Involuntarily your heart raced and your cheeks burned red. “Uh hi,” you replied back awkwardly, “and uh yes, y-yes I am.” 

You wanted to slap yourself. Why did you always have to clam up around him? Why couldn’t you just speak like a normal person?

Oliver shot you an odd look, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Game good- I-I mean good game,” you quickly stuttered, your cheeks only darkening more. “You played well.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Thanks,” he said, a slight spark of amusement in his eyes. “You going to the party later?”

You nodded, deciding that it would be safest if you didn’t speak around him. 

Whenever Gryfindor won there was almost always a wild party in the common room to follow. But the ones after Slytherin were always the biggest, loudest, and had the most alcohol. With your best friends being on the team, you never missed out on the after parties.

“Well I’m going to head up and shower,” Oliver said, running a hand through his hair.

You tried to keep yourself composed but couldn’t help but stare gawkingly at the way his muscles tightened against his shirt, which was slightly damp and see through with sweat. Oh how you wished you could be the one running your fingers through his air, kissing the lips that were turned up in a slight smile. You wanted him so bad, yet he could never know. You could never tell him the secret that you had been in love with him for the past three years. Only Alicia and Angelina could ever know that.

“I’ll see you later then Y/N,” Oliver said with a slight wave, before turning and heading up towards the castle, leaving you flustered, red faced, and heart racing, leaning beside the locker room door.

You watched him go, so drawn up in your fantasies and daydreams that you didn’t notice the locker room door open once more with Alicia and Angelina loudly stepping out. They on the other hand noticed you instantly, shooting each other a knowing look when they saw the direction in which you were staring.

“Did you two have a nice chat?” Angelina asked, causing you to jump violently.

“Merlin Ang, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your racing heart. “I didn’t even notice you two come out.”

Alicia threw a look in the direction Oliver had gone. “I wonder why,” she teased. 

“Oh him?” you asked, a bad attempt to feign disinterest.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes. “Your face looks like a tomato and when we came out you were all but drooling over him.”

“I was not!” You defended.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, fine, maybe just a little,” you conceded.

“Or a lot,” Alicia muttered, laughing loudly as she dodged your shove.

“Shut up Spinnet,” you grumbled, knowing she never would.

“If you would just get the guts to talk to him…” Angelina tried.

“You know I can’t do that, Ang,” you said, the three of you beginning to walk back towards the castle. “I clam up and can barely form words when I’m around him.”

“We know,” they both said, having had to jump in for you and talk their way out of many awkward conversations with Oliver.

“Then you know why I can’t talk to him,” you said in exasperation.

“But what if he likes you back?” Alicia asked, “you’ll never know if you don’t woman up and speak with him.”

“Alicia,” you said pointedly, “he only ever sees me when I’m stuttering, red faced, and can barely form a sentence.”

She shrugged. “True, but stranger things have happened.”

~

Oliver stepped into the common room a half hour later to loud cheers and music. It seemed the entire school was there, somehow managing to fit into the small space.

Lights were flashing, music was pounding, and Oliver really hoped the quieting charms they had but on the walls of the room were working or they were sure to be busted.

Someone ran by him and he stretched out his arm to block them. He looked down at the third year, her hand clenching a red solo cup filled with whatever crazy alcohol concoction Fred and George had whipped up.

“I think you're a bit under aged,” Oliver said, plucking the drink from her hand.

Her eyes narrowed. “So are you,” she snapped back.

Oliver gave a slight nod of agreement. “Excellent point, but that sign over there says fifth years and above, and last I checked you don’t seem to reach those requirements.”

“Well I don’t give a fuck,” she spat, stamping her foot. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he sighed. “Head on up stairs before a prefect finds you. In a couple of years you can make your own rules.”

She sent him a rather rude gesture, before storming up the stairs. Oliver didn’t doubt she would try to sneak back down in a few minutes.

Angelina raised her eyebrows as a girl angrily shoved past her on the stairs. She looked out, noting Oliver standing there, rubbing his forehead with a sigh.

“Ruining the fun for someone already, Wood?” Angelina asked, plucking the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

Oliver turned, noting you and Alicia were a few steps behind her.

“It was a third year,” he said in exasperation.

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “You let us in back then.”

“Because you were on the team,” Oliver argued, “and like the deal we made with Potter, you weren’t supposed to drink.”

“As if we ever listened to that,” Angelina scoffed.

She took another sip from the drink. “Damn, the Weasley’s really out did themselves this time.”

“Y/N, Alicia, wanna go get a drink?” Angelina asked.

“Sure, why not,” you said, as Alicia nodded beside you.

The three girls stepped past Oliver, with you shooting him a small smile. He smiled back, causing your cheeks to flush red. Oliver noted that with a slight grin. He always found it cute when you blushed.

You reached the makeshift bar with Alicia and Angelina. Alicia, never one for drinking, grabbed a butterbear whilst you Angelina went straight for Fred and George’s jungle juice.

“You’re right Ang, it’s not bad,” you said, taking a sip. “Definitely better than that one they made after the Hufflepuff match.”

Angelina laughed. “That one was horrible! I swear I vomited all night.”

“All night?” you snorted. “You kept at it in McGonagall’s class the next day. I’ve never seen her so mad.”

You finished the rest of your drink and refilled. “Let’s dance Ang.”

Alicia sighed, she was always the one that had to chase after you two all night. Just a couple weeks ago she had to prevent Angelina from stripping, much to Fred’s dismay, when she got particularly drunk one night. She watched as the two of you ran out onto the small makeshift dance floor, swinging your hips and laughing loudly.

Almost an hour later Alicia began to notice the alcohol set in. She grabbed Angelina’s arm, preventing her from falling into the bar as she came over to refill her solo cup.

“I think that’s plenty, Ang,” she chidded, steadying her friend on her feat.

Angelina stuck out her lower lip. “Just one more?”

Alicia gave her a pointed look. “You’re drunk.”

“I know but I really really really really want to make out with Fred but I need another drink to do that.” She argued drunkenly, before bursting out in spontaneous giggles.

“Angelina…” Alicia tried halfheartedly.

“One more mom-” she let out another string of giggles- “just on more.”

Angelina reached an arm over Alicia’s shoulder, her now terrible balance almost sending them both tumbling into the bar, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“Alica, make sure-” Angelina paused, gripping her friend's shoulders as she swayed from side to side. “-that if we end up have sex it’s not in front of too many people, okay?” She broke into another round of giggles, before hobbling back towards the dance floor.

Oliver watched from a few yards away, silently shaking his head at how bad his players looked right now. Both the twins were beyond wasted, and Katie Bell had passed out a few minutes ago. Even Harry, who Oliver had thought would be somewhat smart, had been convinced by the twins to take shots, and after a few cringes, had eventually gotten himself just as drunk as everyone else. Oliver almost had sympathy for him, as he wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when Hermione discovered him hung over the next day.

Oliver sighed, taking a sip from his butterbeer. Like Alicia, he didn’t drink.

Oliver heard a loud catcall from the other side of the room and turned back towards the dance floor where Angelina and Fred were kissing aggressively, seeming to almost be sucking each other’s faces off. He heard Alicia let out a groan.

Upon realizing he hadn’t seen the third musketeer in a while, he scanned the room, silently hoping you hadn’t taken after Angelina and were swapping spit with another guy.

Fortunately that wasn’t the case, and he instead found you stumbling back towards the bar, clearly struggling to stay up right.

You turned, feeling eyes on you. Your heart began to race upon noticing that Oliver was staringing at you. Changing course, you instead stumbled towards him, your brain not entirely aware what you were doing.

“Hi Oliver,” you slurred, “I haven't seen you since I got here.” 

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Were you looking?”

You giggled loudly. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” you said coyly, poking his cheek.

Oliver’s eyebrow shot up in surprise by how forward you were.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked, eyeing you in concern.

“More than okay!” you exclaimed drunkenly. “I’m talking like a normal person. Did you notice?”

You are beyond drunk, Oliver thought, but if he was honest with himself he did think your overly bubbly personality was rather cute. He did miss the constant blush you usually had though.

“I did notice,” he said, trying to bite back a smile.

“Good, because I’m not usually like that, it's just when you-” You swayed violently, causing Oliver to reach out and steady you. “It’s just when you’re around.” You finished, taking another sip from your drink.

Now this had caught Oliver’s attention and, as bad as he felt about taking advantage of your drunken state, he asked, “Is that so?”

You nodded vigorously. “Believe it or not I’ve been in love with you since Angelina and Alicia joined the quidditch team, I just never had the guts to tell you.” You laughed loudly as if the action of spilling your deepest darkest secret was actually humorous. 

That was a lot more than Oliver had expected. “In love with me?” He managed to gulp out.

“Yeah,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. “Angelina said today that I should talk to you, guess she was right.”

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. “Clearly you have had way too much to drink,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me, I have a high alcohol tolerance,” you slurred proudly.

You swayed on your feet, stumbling to catch your balance. Oliver quickly reached out to stable you, holding tightly to your hips.

“High tolerance my ass,” he muttered, deciding that he better get you sat down before you actually fell over.

You let him guide you to a chair, enjoying the feeling of his hand on the small of your back and the tingling sensation that came with it.

“See, I’m fine,” you stated, sitting up right in the chair. You took a long sip from your drink and toppled sideways, giggling madly.

Oliver lunged over to catch you. Propping you upright, he took the cup from your hand. “You are definitely done here,” he said, a light smile playing on his lips.

You stuck out your bottom lip. “Party pooper,” you pouted, “why did I have to fall in love with someone who ruins all the fun?”

He stared at you, the girl who had just confessed twice, without really knowing it, that she was in love with him. You were always the cute girl, the friend of Angelina and Alicia, the one who always seemed to be red faced and unable to speak without a stutter. How had he never seen it before? How had he been so oblivious? The way you looked at him now, lips pouted, eyes feigning sadness, he wanted to kiss you so badly.

“Are you okay Oli?” you ask, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Your words brought him back. “Oli?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning proudly, “cute like you.” You poked his nose, but in the action of moving forward fell straight into his chest.

Oliver let out a chuckle, pushing you back into the chair. You gripped his arms for support.

“Damn,” you whispered, feeling his tightened biceps under your hands. 

Oliver looked down at where you were staring and couldn’t help but smile. He looked back up at your face. “You good?” he asked, once he made sure you wouldn’t fall over again.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “but…”

“But..?” Oliver prompted.

“But I really want to kiss you.”

Oliver took a small step back. If he had had any alcohol in his system that would have definitely sobered him up. 

He looked at you, the way your eyes were so hopeful. But he also knew you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t do anything with you. At least not until you were sober.

“Let’s rain check that, Y/N, okay?” he finally said. “Wait until you’ll at least remember it happened.”

~

You woke up the following morning to a pounding headache and sudden need to vomit. After you came out of the bathroom you finally noticed Alicia, who was fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Where’s Ang?” you yawned flopping back onto your bed and trying to shield your eyes from the light. Everything was so bright.

“With Fred,” she replied simply.

“You didn’t stop her?” You asked, surprised. Alicia was usually the one to keep you two from doing anything stupid.

Alicia shook her head. “She told me not to, plus I was too busy watching you.”

You groaned. “Please don’t tell me I tried to give Jordan a lap dance again.

“Fortunately not,” Alicia giggled, before simply saying, “You were talking to Oliver.”

You shot up right then grabbed your head. Your pounding headache did not like the quick movement. “I did what?!” you exclaimed.

Alicia smiled. “It wasn’t that terrible. He even carried you up here afterwards for me.”

You looked down at your pajamas. You had not been wearing those last night.

Alicia knew what you were thinking. “Don’t worry, I put you in those after he left. I think the shirt you were wearing though is ruined, it had the jungle juice of Fred and George’s spilled all over it.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” you cursed, though you weren’t upset over the shirt. “Please don���t tell me I said anything bad to him.”

Alicia sighed. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

“Oh Merlin,” you groaned, “don’t tell me I did it.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “you kinda spilled the beans.”

“I could barely even talk to him before, now I can’t even be in the same room as him,” you moaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Why didn’t you stop me Alicia?”

“I was going to Y/N, believe me I was, but the way he was looking at you, caring for you, I knew he had to know, and there was no way you would have told him in any other way,” she sadly.

You turned to Alicia, wanting to be angry with her, but her sincere expression, the hope in her eyes, you couldn’t be mad at her for that.

“Cross your fingers your right,” you said quietly.

~

You stepped into the common room shortly after, a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You jumped violently before turning with a feeling of dread to face Oliver.

“Hi Oliver,” you said quietly, falling into step beside him as he walked towards the portrait hole.

“No Oli?” he joked, letting you step through first before following you out into the corridor.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

Oliver shook his head with a smile. “Nevermind.”

You sighed. “I called you that last night, right?”

His face lit up in hope. “You remember?”

You shook your head. “Alicia filled me in this morning,” you said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

It occurred to you then that that was the first time your face had turned red since being in close contact with Oliver. You hadn’t even stuttered once. Why that was the case, you didn’t know. 

“About that…” he said, trailing off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You don’t feel that way? I know, it’s okay,” you said, shaking your head at the sheer awkwardness of the conversation. “I’ll get over it. Like Alicia said, at least you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing, I- I do.” 

That last part came out real quiet and you turned to him, eyebrows shot up in surprise, heart suddenly racing. “You do what?” you whispered in disbelief.

Oliver looked down at his shoes. “I do like you, Y/N,” he said quietly, “and have for some time.”

“Even when I can’t talk straight around you and was a drunk babbling idiot last night?”

His lips quirked up in a smile. “The babbling idiot part was actually rather entertaining for that matter.”

You stared at him, hope swelling in your chest as you looked at the boy you were madly in love with.

“You told me last night you wanted to kiss me,” he started, and your face turned red as the memory came back to you. “And I said-”

“Raincheck,” you finished, your heart rate quickening. “Such a gentleman to do that.”

Oliver took a step closer. “I’d like to cash that in now,” he whispered softly.

“Please do,” you breathed, looking up at him as he moved closer.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he gently pressed his lips against yours, his hands resting on your waist whilst yours looped around his neck.

This kiss was a thousand times better than you had ever imagined. You barely even heard George’s wolf whistle when he walked by, or when Angelina turned to Fred with a grin, saying, “That’s five Galleons, Weasley.” It was just you two, in the middle of the hall, and Oliver’s mouth moving against yours was all that mattered.