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writingsbytee · 2 months ago

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POINT & SHOOT

Aaron Pierre x Black Fem Reader

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!* THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION *Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

WORD COUNT: 4,492K

SUMMARY: You fill in for a friend to be a photographer for a photo shoot and you and Aaron hit it off

PAIRING: Aaron x Phoebe (reader)

WARNINGS: none? Fluff; slow burn. Forewarning, this won’t have any smut. I just really wanted to write something fluffy and cute

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have worked on this fic for 40 days and 40 nights. I think I want this to be a series, but ultimately, you guys are the deciding factor; if you like it, I’ll do it. If not, then I won’t. This one might be dialogue-heavy; the reader is a yapper. I also might’ve gotten carried away here. Special shout out to my girls for giving me the courage to post this VERY self-indulgent fic. (@nayaesworld @theereinawrites @keehendrixx @megamindsecretlair). I also switched from 1st to 2nd person a couple of times, so if that’s not your jam, apologies.

TAG LIST: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @episodes-ff @blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @pinkkycherrishh @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @simplyzeeka @playgurlxoxo @yassbishimvintage @dbaileyblog @jimmybutlrr @versaceslutz @ruewritesoccasionally @kaylalb @noir-lullaby @jadatingz @madamedantes @charmedthoughts @daughterofapollo-7 @cardi-bre91 @thabiddie23 @mama-2001 @venusincleo @slvt4her @skrvpion @constanthavok @dutifulliythoughtfulenthusiast @massivenightdreamer @atasteofmir @callingallbaddies @nubiagurllll @theglamclosetsl @alicewonderringland @kimuzostar

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“Jesus Christ, I can’t even enjoy my day off,” I mumble, reaching for my screaming phone.

“This is Phoebe,” I sigh.

“Phoebe! Thank god! I’m so sorry to bother you on your day off but my water just broke,”my boss, Julia says into the phone.

“Oh my goodness! Are you ok?! Do you need a ride to the hospital?” I ask rushing to my dining room to grab my keys.

“Yes I’m ok, frazzled and anxious, I’ll feel better once I get this epidural! David and I are on the way to the hospital now. I was calling you to ask if you could fill in for me this afternoon?”

‘Goddammit’ I thought, “Of course, where’s the venue?” I ask. Julia and I are freelance photographers. We recently got picked up by a magazine, so we’ve had back to back shoots. This was my first day off in two weeks and I really wanted to sit back with a bottle of wine and rewatch ‘Rebel Ridge” for the millionth time. Julia spews the info to me over the phone and I jot everything down.

“What’s this shoot for anyway?” I ask.

“It’s called ‘hottest hollywood heartthrobs’. I’m texting you the address now,” Julia says. Great, I get to be around hot assholes all day.

“You better name that baby after me,” I say jokingly.

“I’m having a boy, Phoebe,” Julia laughs.

“Phoebe is a great middle name,” I suggest. Julia laughs before making sure I have all the details for the shoot today.

“Yeah, yeah, I got this. You go focus on having a safe delivery. Good luck! I can’t wait to meet baby Phoebe,” I’m jogging upstairs looking for my ‘go bag’. Julia and I say our goodbyes, and I prepare to get ready for the shoot. I shower and throw on a simple but cute outfit, hop in my Rav4, and make my way to the set.

I pull up at the venue and I’m surprised to see it looks like a regular Victorian home. You don’t see too many of these in Beverly Hills. I follow the sign showing me where to park my car, get out, and make my way to the set.

When I walk inside, I take in the organized chaos of it all. People ripping and running, shouts of the director, and models just waiting for direction.

“And where is Julia!!”, someone who I assume is in charge shouts. At hearing her name I turn towards the voice. My eyes land on a man who appears to be in his 50s with silver white hair and a jacket to die for.

“Julia’s in labor, so you’re stuck with me. I’m Phoebe,” I say, stretching my hand.

He breathes a relieved sigh, beams at me, and grabs my hand “Oh thank you! Sorry this day has been a cluster fuck. I’m Anton, the creative director on set. Follow me would you Phoebe?” I nod, pull my bag higher on my shoulder, and proceed to follow Anton toward the back of the house.

“You’ll be working with Aaron today. We want this shoot to be fun and goofy but also soft and seductive. Something that lets the reader see their personality but also want to rip their clothes off,”Anton explains to me. I nod along scribbling notes on my ipad.

“Here follow me, I’ll introduce you to the talent,” Anton says as he leads me through an open door. The set looks amazing with lots of regal colors. Gold, bronze, and emerald decorate the set blanketing everything in a posh appearance.

“Wow, the set looks great, your set designer really outdid themselves,” I say.

Anton nods, “Girl, tell me about it! Everyone is so excited to see the final product.” Anton leads me up a spiral staircase to an emerald green door at the end of a hallway. He knocks twice and we hear a muffled ‘come in’, prompting Anton to open the door. He leads us both inside and my jaw drops. Standing less than ten feet away from me is Aaron sexy ass Pierre. Lord, I thank you for every step that led me to where I am today.

To think, I was going to sit at home alone and watch this man on a screen, and here he was 45 minutes away from my apartment.

“Aaron, this is Phoebe. She’ll be working with you today,” Anton says, gesturing towards me.

Aaron smiles at me, all 32 of those perfect teeth on display, “Great to meet you Phoebe, be patient with me please. I’m a little camera shy.”

I’m pretty sure I look like a complete fucking idiot standing here mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You have to forgive me, I’m a little star stuck here,” I say, a nervous giggle leaving my mouth.

“Well consider me flattered, today’s going to be fun,” Aaron shoots me a wink before someone calls him away. Anton finishes giving me a brief tour of the set before showing me where I’ll be shooting Aaron. It’s a little private room set up like the inside of a Victorian palace. I place my things down and put my hair up, and begin setting up. I’m almost finished when Aaron makes his way back to the set.

“So where do you want me?”he asks, a charming smile adorning his face.

I know exactly where I want him, but I’m at work. I just can’t get over how truly fine this man is, especially up close and personal. He has an unmistakable charisma and mystery to him that draws you in. An adorable boyish charm that makes you want to pinch his cheeks. Not to mention his sex appeal always seeming to not know exactly how fine he is, or the effect he has on women. Constantly sporting a bashful expression anytime a compliment gets thrown his way. Well let me tell you, Mr. Mufasa knows what he’s doing.

“Uhh, Phoebe?,”Aaron asks, giving me a small wave. I can feel the warmth bloom across my cheeks, as a nervous smile forms. Shit, he caught me daydreaming.

“Sorry, I just got caught up in my own mind! Umm, feel free to just move around however you like. Whatever’s organic to you is what I wanna see. Sound good? I know it sounds cliche, but pretend I’m not even here.” I say, adjusting my camera settings. God, I hope I don’t sound like a blubbering idiot around him.

“Nah, I like that. I think it’ll allow me to relax and loosen up a bit,” Aaron says, sitting down on one of the plush emerald sofas.

I nod my smile growing, “Exactly! It’s already enough pressure, with the lights, all the people buzzing around, and you’re supposed to smile with a huge-ass lens up in your face,” and there I go babbling. I press my finger to my lips when I notice the subtle shake in Aaron’s shoulders.

“Uhh, please don’t mind me, I have a tendency to run my mouth for hours on end. Have you ever heard of the term ‘certified yapper’? Well, I think they made that phrase up just for me, feel free to tell me to shut up at any point. It won’t bother me,” I rant on, as I continue setting up for the shoot.

“I don’t mind at all, I prefer to listen to the ‘yapping’? That’s what you called it right?” Aaron finishes with a chuckle. My smile turns shy as I nod.

“Aww c’mon, don’t get shy on me now, I want to hear more about being a ‘certified yapper’”, Aaron finishes standing to head towards the tea kettle.

When his back is turned I give myself a mental pep talk. I’m trying to stay calm but I don’t know how many women can stay calm in front of him. He’s so fine, like the cameras don't do him justice. The tan ensemble he’s wearing further highlights his caramel colored skin. Finished with a small gold chain, mm my favorite.

A release a small giggle, “Ok I have to ask,” I start glancing over in Aarons direction. He’s making what smells like tea. I snap a few pics while he does this, just to get a few test shots. I definitely wasn't going to save the pictures to brag to my besties that I met my dream man wink wink. Aaron glances my way, raising a perfectly arched brow. How can one man be so motherfucking fine?

“How does it feel being Mr. Mufasa?” I ask, looking at him over my camera. I jump when his infectious laugh booms.

“Mr. Mufasa has a nice ring to it. All honesty, I’m so thrilled to have been gifted the opportunity to play a role that was played by one of my idols. It’s a truly humbling experience, everything’s been a whirlwind,” he finishes his rant with a sip of tea.

“Well that was a very rehearsed answer,” I chuckle. Aaron playfully rolls his eyes as he makes his way to me with two cups in hand. Holding a cup out to me, a gentle pout forms on my lips, “You made one for me?”

“Of course, you couldn’t leave here without trying my tea,” Aaron flashed that megawatt smile momentarily disorienting me.

“Well, how can I say no when you flash all 32 of those pearly whites at me,” I stand to take the mug from Aaron, sending him a wink. That causes him to grin even wider. When he hands the mug to me, our fingers brush, causing a spark to run up my arm. I watch his face and his smile falters just a bit when our hands touch.

He clears his throat, a bashful smile on his face, “Shall we get to it?” he asks.

I nod, taking a sip ,“Wow, this is good! And yes let’s start, just do whatever feels comfortable and I’ll help guide you if need be.” I turn and bend down to grab my miu miu cat eye glasses out of my duffle bag (I’m a label whore,sue me).

Placing the mug down,slipping my shoes off, and sliding on my glasses, I’m immediately in my zone. I glance back at Aaron and see him rapidly bring his eyes up to meet mine. Was Aaron Pierre just checking out my ass?

My inner goddess purrs at the attention, awakening from her deep hibernation. It’s been so long since I’ve looked at a man with interest, of course it had to be a celebrity I have no chance with. But you can’t blame a girl for fantasizing.

I snap a few pictures of Aaron as he’s wandering around the set, giving him subtle cues when needed. He starts fiddling with the record player holding up a Sade record, so I snap a few more, pulling my camera back to look at them.

“So fucking fine,” I whisper to myself, flicking through Aaron’s pictures. I admire my work, clicking through the pictures I took of Aaron.

“What was that?” Aaron chuckles, sitting on the couch. He narrows his eyes at me, a mirthful expression decorating his face. My mouth opens and closes like a person who’s caught, as I try to find my words.

“You see these ears right? How could you not think I’d hear you,” he finishes with a laugh.

I shrug my shoulders, “Well I’m sure you own a mirror, so the compliment should be nothing new. I mean look at you! Your side profile looks so good here! And how you mug the camera down! You’ve taken the internet by storm, got all the ladies going nuts.”

“I honestly wasn’t expecting to be received as well as I’ve been. The support has been amazing, slightly overwhelming with me being an introvert, but I’m just enjoying the ride,” Aaron says, relaxing playfully on the couch. I snap more pictures as we go back and forth.

“I think you’ve been really refreshing to the community. You and Kelvin together are hilarious, you guys are just so fun to watch. I can’t wait to see what’s next for you both. Ok let’s have you move to the sofa,” I say, standing to go switch out my film.

“You think I’ll go far?”Aaron leans back and manspreads, blanketing my brain into an immediate lustful haze.

“Uhh, yeah I do. I’d love to see you in a romance, horror, or even a supernatural thriller. I mean, look at how you’ve been received and not just by the women. The men seem to really like you too, I think it’s your easy going demeanor. You’re the gentle giant with the accent and the megawatt smile, and everyone can't wait to see what you do next,” I say, slinging my camera around my neck.

“Aww, you’re making me blush over here, “Aaron says, crossing his hands over his heart. He’s the cutest cutie ever.

“I’m just being honest, I think it’s important to give everyone their flowers. There’s so much hate out there and people tend to forget that celebrities are just people at work. You’re more than your latest project. I appreciate you putting yourself out there for our consumption, because you’re great at what you do. Oh god, I’m sorry! I’m completely fangirling over here,” I finish my rant. Eyes wide I quickly pull my camera up to hide my embarrassment. I take a steadying breath before focusing the lens on Aaron.

I watch him through the lens as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for. I like your rambling, it’s cute.”

I pull back, giving him a small smile, “You can’t take a compliment to save your life! Tilt your head to the right a little, perfect.”

This causes him to laugh, keeping a firm grasp on the teacup, “Thank you for your support love, tell me more about you. How long have you been a photographer to the stars?” I snap a lot of shots to hide my bashful expression.

“Okay, now lean back against the sofa. Look like you’re trying too hard to get comfortable but make it sexy,” I say, trying to sound like a professional photographer and not a swooning 26 year old.

“I’m pretty much an open book, I’ve been taking pictures since I was about 13 when I got my first camera. It’s always been my passion, being able to capture a moment in time whether that be good or bad is a gift.” The next forty-five minutes are spent with me giving directions and Aaron and I making pleasant conversation. “As far as photographing celebrities, I’ve only been doing this for about 10 months.”

“These are going to turn out so nice!” I squeal, doing a little happy dance. Aaron and I had somewhat concluded our shoot

“You at least have to show me the rough draft,”Aaron says,eating the distance between us. My spine straightens as he comes to stand behind me. My back almost pressed to his front as he looked at the pictures over my shoulder.

“Oh, I really like these! You did a great job at capturing my personality through the lens,” Aaron’s mouth was so close to my ear, if he leaned in a little further he could kiss me there if he wanted. I mean who wouldn’t want Aaron Pierre kissing on them? I could be being delusional, but I’m 77% sure Aaron’s flirting with me.

“Ok, that’s lunch everyone! Be back in an hour fifteen,” someone shouts overhead. With that, Aaron takes a step back, and I sort of miss his warmth. His phone rings from somewhere in the room, while he goes to answer it I gather my laptop, external hard drive, and sit on the sofa to begin going through some of the photos.

“You’re not going out for lunch?” Aaron asked, swapping his jacket.

I shook my head, “I usually just work through lunch. I like to see what material I have so far and then add on it if needed after. Plus I ate before I left.” I reach down into my bag, grabbing my airpods. Once I have my playlist queued up I lean back and start going over Aaron’s pictures. I feel the sofa dip, when I look to my right Aarons sitting down next to me pulling out his phone.

I pop an airpod out of my ear, “Umm, what’s up?”

Aaron slides his jacket off his arms, “I’m not going out to eat knowing you’re in here hard at work. I’ll just chill here with you and I’ll order us something.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re the talent, I’m the photographer, it’s important for you to be the priority. I’ll be fine, the food truck a block down has a really good chicken caesar salad wrap. They’ll still be open when we finish here, I’ll grab something on my way home,” I finished my rant, too embarrassed to look his way. I’m anxious about being alone with him, I’m not working right now so technically he doesn’t even have to acknowledge my existence. What if beyond my obvious fan girling we have nothing in common?

When Aaron finishes doing whatever it is he was doing, he gives me his undivided attention.”Okay, well I don’t want to encroach on your space and interrupt your process. I can leave --”

“No!” I cut him off. My face heats with embarrassment, thank god for being black, I couldn’t live with the embarrassment of him catching me blushing.

I clear my throat, “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind you being here. Sorry, I’m not used to you guys sticking around, to hang out.”

Aaron smiles warmly at me, his eyes shining as he stands up, outstretching his hand toward me. “There’s a cozy little garden outside that might provide a nice change of scenery. What do you say, pretty girl?”

My eyes widen as I peek at Aaron from under my glasses. Did I just get called pretty by the product of my dirty fantasies? Yes, I did. My inner goddess preens at the attention she’s getting, causing a grin to bloom on my face. “I say, lead the way, handsome.”

A satisfied chuckle leaves Aaron’s lips, clearly pleased by your flirtatious remark, “Lead the way indeed.” With a confident stride, he grabs your hand, leading you through the winding corridors of the set. His hand resting possessively on the small of your back. The warmth blooming there setting the butterflies in your stomach ablaze.

As you step outside into the cool Beverly Hills air, the garden unfolds before you. A tranquil oasis amidst the city’s thunderous heartbeat. “Here away from the hustle and bustle of a crowded set, we can get to know each other better,” Aaron says, sitting on a nearby bench. As you sit, an assistant or stagehand darts across the yard in your direction with a white paper bag in hand.

“Here you are, Mr. Pierre,” he said, handing the bag over to Aaron. He returns a smile, thanks the assistant, and takes the bag from him. Aaron pulls the food out of the bag, an excited squeal leaving you. “You got me a chicken caesar wrap?! Aww, thank you!,” you beam, wrapping Aaron in a hug.

A blush coats his cheeks as he leans into the hug. “I can’t let my favorite photographer starve, can I?”

“You’re so sweet, and such a gentleman. Thank you, Aaron, I really appreciate it." You bump your shoulder against his, causing him to laugh. The two of you sat and ate in a comfortable semi-silence.

“So that thing you said earlier about wanting to get to know me,” I started, nervously fidgeting my hands.

Aaron places his hands on top of mine, stilling their movements. “Hey, look at me, pretty girl. Tell me what’s on your mind.” His eyes softened as he calmed down my anxious brain.

“You seriously want to get to know me?” I asked, wincing at how self-deprecating it sounded.

Aaron’s eyes locked on mine, filled with genuine interest and curiosity. “Absolutely. Phoebe, there’s just something about your spirit, your energy that just draws me in, and I think you feel something too. I’d like to explore it and see where it takes us if that’s okay with you.”

“When Anton introduced you, I was awestruck by your beauty, and then you opened your mouth. I find it so attractive when a woman speaks from her mind, no matter how filtered. People always walk on eggshells around me because I’m a ‘celebrity’, but you didn’t, and I really appreciate that. You’re so focused on your craft, even now, you’re working through lunch!”Aaron finishes with a bite of his wrap.

I blow a deep breath, “Well, you guys are subjected to screaming fans all the time, it’s natural to want relief from that. Now, don’t get me wrong, I can scream with the best of them, but there’s a time and place for everything. I’m working, so as excited as I am to meet you and capture you on film, I also need to keep it professional and not make you guys uncomfortable because I would want the same thing.”

Aaron nods during my rant, that sexy ass frown painting his face as he listens. “I like talking to you without the camera, it takes some of the pressure off,” I say, brushing a piece of lint off his shoulder. He nods in understanding, leaning back, and he outstretched his arms across the back of the bench. “I like talking to you too, I like not knowing what you’re going to say next,” Aaron finishes with a laugh.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, playfully pushing his arm off the bench. He gazed at me playfully, hazel eyes shining with mirth and affection. “Nothing bad, I promise. It’s refreshing not to have to be ‘on’ all the time. I feel like I can just be Aaron with you. Not Mr. Mufasa, just Aaron. You unknowingly created a safe space for me in there. I’m very out of the way, and crowds and events can overwhelm me sometimes. Especially now that my fame has started to pick up. A part of me still tries to hold on to who I was before, just Aaron.”

“Do you think the old Aaron can be incorporated into the new Aaron’s life? I know you want to get back to that, but I don’t think that’s possible. You have to try to find a balance between your past and present. Please tell me to shut up if I’m overstepping. " You finish with a nervous giggle.

A laugh leaves Aaron’s lips at your response, “No, you’re making good points, I wanna hear them.” Aaron leans closer to you, finding himself drawn within your orbit.

You shrug, taking a shy sip from your drink, “I just feel that people are going to think whatever they want about you anyway. As long as you’re happy and living your life and doing what you love, other people’s opinions be damned. Life’s too short,” you finished passing him a fry. Aaron looks at you, his mind reeling at your insight.

“I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that. Wow, umm, sorry you kinda took me back for a second,” Aaron said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Reaching out to stroke his arm, “If I’m overstepping here, let me know. But I think that everyone deserves grace, we tend not to give it to celebrities because we put them on such high pedestals, but you’re a person and deserve some semblance of a regular life.” During your rant, Aaron moved closer to you, his hand reaching to find yours. You glance down, noticing a bright smile blooming across your face.

“What?” you ask, unable to hide the blush. Somewhere in the distance, you hear someone give a ten-minute warning.

“I might be a bit forward here, and please stop me if I am. Phoebe, I want to take you out. Tonight, if you’re free. I’m glad our paths crossed today, and I don’t want it to end when the shoot does.”

A smile blooms on your face, and Aaron smiles as he witnesses your eyes sparkle with joy. “You’re not being too forward, I’d love to go out with you,” you finish, your smile threatening to split your face in two.

Aaron shoots you another smile, his nose scrunches adorably, eyes crinkling at the corners, giving him a youthful look. You smile up at him with a dreamy look on your face. What a turn of events today has taken. When you answered Julia’s call, you had no idea that it would put you on this path. The two of you sit and talk, enjoying each other’s company, until the set manager calls you both back inside.

Aaron grabs your hand, slipping a piece of paper into it, “Call me when this is over, I’ll give you our date details. Wear something sexy.” With that, Aaron leads you back to the set, your mind spinning with the possibilities of your date.

THE END.

Okay, she’s finally here!! If y’all knew how long it took me to write this fic… but I digress. I really hope you guys like this one, it’s all fluff. Sorry to my freaky girlies. Go easy on me with this fic, again I’m sorry for swapping from 1st to 2nd person. Thank you guys so much for your reads, likes, comments and reblogs. I ADORE interacting with you guys. Happy Saturday and be safe!!

If I forgot to tag you, please let me know!

UNTIL NEXT TIME

TEE<3

#aaron pierre #aaronpierre #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black fem reader #black fmc #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre fic #aaron pierre fanfic #tee writes #writingsbytee #black girl aesthetic #black girls of tumblr

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juyeonszn · 1 year ago

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EXCITEMENT

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.22k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, best friends to lovers, numerous mentions of the female orgasm, ji changmin is a bit of a manwhore, mentions of alcohol, insane tension my b, intense making out x2, oral (m! and f! receiving), multiple orgasms, couch sex but missionary, unprotected sex (wrap before u fucking tap -_-), creampie, changmin is lowkey very whipped and very pussy drunk in this, also forewarning for every fic in this collab— there is lots of foreshadowing and references to the other fics since they all fall within the same timeline/universe!

SUMMARY you know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. what you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

MORE i hope u jichang lovers are strapped in and ready for this… kinda went crazy with it 😭😭 um anyway?? first fic of the black out or back out collab?? crazy!! this fic actually ruined me. it used up all my brain power so if every other one sucks u can’t blame me!! it’s the law!! also, i’d like to take a moment to wish my boyz a very happy 6th anniversary <3 so so proud of all they’ve accomplished these past 6 years and i can’t wait to see what they do in the next 6. in this deobi shit 4L frfr 🙏🙏

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

“No fucking way.”

You blink at Soyeon. It wasn’t that hard to believe. In fact, it was pretty easy to believe. You set down the bowl of popcorn on your lap and nod slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes fucking way,” a nervous laugh escapes your lips. “I’ve had to fake it with every guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t know what it is. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”

Men were… incompetent at certain things. And apparently your pleasure was one of those. Every dude you’ve ever slept with failed to make you finish. It was at the point that you felt that you were the problem. It would be understandable if it had been a couple guys, but every single one? Your luck had to be complete ass.

The only reason the topic had been brought up was because Soyeon had mentioned something about her last fling during your movie night. She was talking about how that had been the best sex she's ever had and it spurred you into making your confession. The last guy you’d been with had probably been the worst.

“Never?” Jiwon’s jaw drops, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you still alive, girl? How do you get your fix?”

“My hand, my vibrator, my pillow sometimes,” you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I’ve learned to make do with my situation, I guess. If I can’t get it elsewhere, I’ll just do it myself, y’know?”

Your girl friends look at you with pouts on their lips, as if they were the ones experiencing your misfortunes. You hadn’t even expected it to be such a big deal. You’d thought this was a normal, common occurrence. Boys usually sucked at things when it came to girls. But they all took this as a personal hit, like you were a fallen soldier in battle.

Perhaps the female orgasm was far more important than you assumed it to be.

“Considering who your best friend is, you’d think you were getting good dick left and right,” Dahyun snorts into her glass of wine. “This is actually kinda insane.”

You guess she had a point, despite you both leading very different lives. Changmin, your best friend, was known as one of the many heartthrobs on campus. He was in a fraternity, played on the school’s baseball team, and he even played with other things. Namely the hearts of practically every other girl at your university.

You’d think it would bother you to be so close to a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck about those of the same sex as you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to care. It’s not like he was bragging about the bitches he bagged on a regular basis. Though you were his best friend, he understood boundaries. He knew what was appropriate to talk about with you and respected that.

Your friends laugh at her observation, but drop the conversation after that, resuming the movie you were watching. However, it’s not that easy for you.

You can’t stop wondering if something really *is wrong with you. Why was it that everyone and their mom was capable of finishing and you weren’t? It was more unlikely that every single man you’ve been with sexually was that mediocre. Were you really that unlucky?

It bothers you so much that you find yourself still thinking about it well into the following week.

With the start of the new semester, came the adjustment of new classes. Even though you were a Communications major, you made the grave mistake of taking Lifespan Growth and Development with Changmin for the extra credit. He was an Early Childhood Education major, so it was a requirement for him, but not for you. (Honestly, he only forced you to take it with him so you had at least one lecture together. He was afraid your friendship might start to fade if you didn’t see each other often.)

Imagine how horrified you felt when your professor began to talk about babies and their circadian rhythm, but the only thing in your head was the fact that you’d never orgasmed because of a man. You felt like you were going crazy at this point. Really, the thought should’ve been long forgotten by now. But you couldn’t help yourself from dwelling on it, especially after your friends made jokes at your expense.

As you’re walking out of the lecture hall side by side with Changmin, you keep your focus on the ground, your hearing going in and out. His voice is staticy, your brain only registering words here and there. You’re a little pissed off that this has become such an issue.

He notices your lack of response and stops walking, eyebrows furrowed. You pause in your tracks along with him. “Are you good? You’ve been spacing out all morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head as if that would rid of these stupid thoughts. “I’m just a little tired, I guess. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

“Well, you better fix that. We’re expecting this weekend’s party to be one of the bigger ones this semester. Juyeon’s passing those fliers around like it’s his job,” Changmin purses his lips with a snort, ruffling your hair. “I need my beer pong partner to be in tip-top shape.”

You scratch the back of your neck. Half of you was kind of hesitant to go to this weekend’s TBZ party considering that was where you met the dude who started this whole downward spiral. He made an offhand comment about seeing you again, but you were actually hoping that would never happen. And with your fortune, the probability of running into him was pretty high.

“You see…“ You begin, but Changmin interrupts you with a distressed groan before you can continue.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of flaking,” his arms fall to his sides as his head tips back dramatically. “Y/N, I really need you there. How else am I gonna smoke everyone? I need— I mean we need to keep our title.”

Sometimes you wish Ji Changmin took anything else as seriously as he takes beer pong. You suppose it came with being a fraternity brother or something. They all drank alcohol like it was fucking water. You’re still sort of surprised none of them (Sunwoo) has gotten alcohol poisoning yet.

“I’m just… trying to avoid someone. And they’ll probably be there.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers. Your best friend gives you an unreadable look that flashes across his face only for a moment.

“Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure they’re not allowed in. I’d much rather have you there than some rando who’s bugging you.” He says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

“That’s really unne—“

“Yo, Changmin! Aren’t you going with us to Cobie’s?”

You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the voice belonging to Eric Sohn. He’s around 50 feet away from where you’re standing, joined by Kim Sunwoo and Ju Haknyeon. Changmin yells out his answer and spins back to you, an apologetic smile on his face. Somehow, you’re a little grateful for the interruption.

“We’ll finish this later, okay?” He nods at you, heading backwards in their direction. “You’re going, Y/N.”

You really should’ve listened to your instincts when they told you to skip out on the party.

You’re well aware that every attendee was crucial for the TBZ boys and their stupid rivalry with the KAT girls. So maybe you understood why Changmin needed you there so badly, aside from the obvious beer pong thing. However, you were starting to regret showing up.

First of all, Ji Changmin was nowhere to be found. Second of all, Jeon Soyeon was hounding you all night about the secret you so idiotically shared with your gal pals.

She was dead set on finding you a solution. (Basically, she was scanning the crowd of partygoers for a suitable man to satisfy your overdue needs. And she was proving devastatingly unsuccessful.)

You were too anxious to drink, also. Your feet were bouncing from where you sat on the couch, and your fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. The antsiness was getting annoying at this point and you were hoping your knight in shining armor (Ji Changmin) revealed himself soon. Lest he wanted to lose out on his beloved beer pong partner.

It appears that your years of honing in on your manifestation powers have finally come to fruition when you spot Younghoon and Juyeon hauling the beer pong table into the living room. Where one of those tables are stationed, you know you’re guaranteed to find your best friend. The shorter of the two gentle giants cups his hands around his mouth and announces the first round of tonight’s tournament.

You stand from your seat, grabbing the opportunity to break free of Soyeon’s efforts to pimp you out. You’re ready to confirm you and Changmin’s spot in the tournament, when you see that you’ve already been beaten to it. It takes absolutely everything in you not to let your jaw drop and your eyes to tear up.

Some girl who happens to be in your Lifespan Growth and Dev class (you think her name is Iseul) is draped over Changmin’s arm, signing them up for the first round. He doesn’t look like he wants to, but makes no effort to refuse her.

You don’t know why it irks you. It shouldn’t irk you.

You’ve never cared about who he spends his free time with in the past. It’s been so easy for you to let his behavior slide, brushing it under the rug like it was no biggie. But this time, you care a whole lot. You chalk it up to the fact that he was seemingly replacing you as his beer pong partner, even though that was the entire reason why he wanted you to come to the party.

Yeah. That’s why.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips just as Hyunjae passes by, no doubtedly heading to the beer pong table. You catch the sleeve of his polo and force him to halt in his steps. You’re not even sure why the hell he’s wearing a polo in the first place, his outfit embodying the stereotypical frat boy perfectly. This looked nothing like his usual wardrobe.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’s up?” He smiles that award-winning Hyunjae smile, the one that manages to charm every girl in the room every single time he pulls it out. He brings the brim of his red solo cup up to his lips and finishes whatever’s left in it with one swig. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Do you wanna be my beer pong partner?” Okay, well now you’ve said it so there’s no going back.

His eyebrow shoots up in a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. “Me? You’re not gonna ask Changmin?”

“He’s…” Your eyes flitter over to where he stands with Iseul(?), Hyunjae’s following. No. You’re okay. This isn’t getting to your head at all. Everything’s cool and peachy. “He’s too preoccupied.”

Hyunjae chooses not to say anything, instead nudging you over to the opposite end of the table. Changmin’s eyes widen when he sees the two of you, even having the audacity to look scandalized. God, maybe that was his biggest fault. He was so entitled.

So, it was just fine for him to bail on you in favor of some girl he didn’t even know, but the second you talk to one of his frat brothers, it’s off the table? What a fucking hypocrite. The whole ordeal was actually beginning to get on your nerves now. All you wanted to do was win this stupid beer pong game to show him that he’ll never find a partner as good as you.

Woah. Holy shit, Y/N. You need to dial it back a bit with the possessiveness. That was a lot, especially for you.

Juyeon narrows his eyes at you and then glances over to Changmin, the cogs turning in his head slowly. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s so used to seeing you both on the same side of the beer pong table, or because his vision was so shitty. Either way, it has you cowering behind Hyunjae a little as he dips the ping pong ball into the cup of water in the center.

“Okay, you know the rules. Let’s have a healthy, friendly game,” Younghoon says, tapping the table with a smile. “No playing dirty. I’m looking at you, Hyunjae.”

The brunette raises his hands in surrender, doing a quick bout of rock, paper, scissors with Changmin to determine which team went first. He wins with a quirk of his lips, sauntering back over to you. After rolling his neck around and popping his fingers, he tosses the ball right into Changmin and Iseul’s center cup.

You hate to admit it, but Hyunjae’s actually pretty good at this. You’ve never really paid attention to anyone else’s beer pong skills considering you’ve only ever played with Changmin as your partner. Who knows, maybe you’ll switch over permanently after this. At least, you might if he keeps up whatever it is that he’s doing.

Your best friend’s jaw tightens as he grabs the red solo cup, chugging what’s inside. He huffs and takes his turn, nearly missing with the way the ball circles around the rim. He sighs in relief at the same time you grimace. You still hadn’t had anything to drink all night and starting with fucking beer was probably the worst idea.

The game probably would’ve been a bit more competitive had Iseul been decent at beer pong, but she sucked. So Hyunjae and yourself always kept your lead by one cup or more. Karma is a dish best served cold, or however the saying goes. And karma certainly presented itself in the form of Ji Changmin’s first ever TBZ beer pong tournament loss.

Hyunjae high fives you with a cheesy grin, lacing your fingers together and shaking them around. He presses a kiss to your temple and guides you away from the table as Juyeon and Younghoon clear it for the second round. It wasn’t odd for any of the TBZ boys to show you affection since you were like a sister to most of them, but this felt… kind of weird. You can’t pinpoint exactly why, but it made you feel off.

“You’re my secret weapon,” he laughs, hands burying into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I’m gonna steal you as my partner permanently.”

As much as you joked around in your head, the truth of the matter was that you could never actually replace Changmin. In spite of him acting like a complete dumbass tonight, he was still your best friend. Not even the biggest of fights would change that fact.

Before you can dismiss him, Changmin is stalking over to you with a slight scowl. His nostrils flare a bit as he asks, “Can we talk?”

You barely nod and then he’s fisting the material of your top at the small of your back, urging you away from the living room. Your feet keep tripping over themselves while you attempt to match his pace but he’s too determined to reach his destination in mind to even notice. No one even bats an eye as you get ushered to your demise.

You’re coaxed into a nearby bathroom without a word, your best friend standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Because you hadn’t seen him a majority of the night, you hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a long sleeve striped polo and some baggy jeans, which probably would look basic on anyone else. But this is Ji Changmin. Girls flocked after him for a reason.

“Why would you play with Hyunjae? You know the type of guy he is. Now he thinks he has a shot with you or something.” As soon as he opens his mouth, you remember the type of guy he is.

“What does it matter to you? You were too busy giggling with your flavor of the week. Of course I wasn’t gonna wait around for you.” You bite back, mirroring his stance.

“Flavor of the—?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and then everything settles in. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you laugh humorlessly. “Don’t act all hypocritical with me, Changmin. I can’t believe I even came to this fucking party for you when you didn’t even bother giving me the same energy. Best friend, my ass.”

A scoff brushes past your lips and you turn to exit the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist. His grip isn’t too harsh, but it’s tight enough to stop you from going anywhere. “Wait. Don’t leave.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Your eyes flick back and forth between his and the fingers wrapped around your forearm. And you know, you really should’ve predicted what would happen after that. The nature of your words were provocative in their own right, not to mention the tension brewing in the midst of your argument.

From one second to the next, Changmin’s mouth is on your own, your back pressed to the bathroom door. His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once; digging into your sides, running through your hair, caressing your face. You feel insane. Your head feels empty, no coherent thoughts running through it as his lips move against yours.

They migrate along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking wherever they feel fit. Everything is moving way too fast for you to comprehend what’s happening. His lips feel so good on your skin, you’re having trouble finding the strength in you to stop him. But you know you have to. This was your best friend, for god’s sake. And besides, you didn’t want to deal with the disappointment you’ve faced time and time again when it came to men. You couldn’t handle feeling that way toward him.

Your palm presses against his chest and you try your hardest to ignore the sensation of his heart thumping beneath it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you push him off of you gently. Not expecting the sudden disruption, he stumbles backwards slightly. He’s a little dazed, like he, too, has not a single thought in that brain of his.

“I can’t— we can’t—“ You’re breathless, heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a damn marathon. “I have to go.”

You don’t give Changmin any freedom to react, escaping the bathroom exasperated. There’s too much going through your mind to search for Soyeon, leaving the party as quickly as you can. The moment your foot steps out of the front door, it’s like you’re given some clarity. The fresh air feels cool on your warm skin while you take the walk back to your apartment, not in the mood to sit in a stuffy car with anyone else. You needed to think clearly and vulnerably, and someone being there would just hinder that.

But first, you had to figure out where to go from here.

It’s been a couple days since the last TBZ party and you were still avoiding Ji Changmin like he was the plague.

You were definitely wishful thinking when you decided to just ignore things until you had class together. And even then, you were planning on pretending like nothing even happened. Fucking up your friendship with him was something you couldn’t stand emotionally. Or physically. It would be akin to the pain of having your heart ripped straight from your chest.

Meeting Changmin when you did was almost like a blessing in disguise. His attitude about life was exactly what you needed coming into university. You were shy and scared of your new surroundings. You had no friends, you were far from your family, and your imposter syndrome was through the roof. But then he swooped in and made everything better somehow. As much as it was a snooze fest, you’ll eternally be a little bit grateful for sharing that First Year Seminar class with him.

Deep down, a piece of you has always belonged to Changmin. From that first day of freshman year to now, you’ve always held him to a different standard than everyone else. You liked to believe it was because he was your best friend, the one person who sought you out even when it felt like no one ever would. And until very recently, you kept trying to convince yourself that was the case.

If you slept together that might be worse. What if he ended up like every other guy you’ve landed in bed with? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? It would make it even more strained. You didn’t want to end up like every other girl who’s vied for his heart and failed miserably. He wasn’t a relationship person.

Falling for him alone would complicate everything. If he didn’t feel the same, it would be weird between you and your friendship would never go back to normal. Yet as you lay here, body bundled in your comforter and drowning in one of the many sweatshirts he’s left over at your apartment, scrolling through his feed, you realize that there’s no return from this point. Now that you’ve contemplated the idea, you’re too far in.

You know, the universe had funny ways of rewarding you. (Or rather, punishing you.)

There’s a knock at your front door. You’re not entirely sure who it could be since you weren’t expecting anyone, but one glance through the peephole and it’s all over for you. You consider stepping away, running and cowering in your bedroom until he disappears so you can go back to dissimulating that your entire life wasn’t crumbling to your feet.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up, please, we need to talk.”

You curse under your breath but unlock the door anyway, maneuvering so he can come inside with ease. Changmin stares at you with an unreadable expression for a minute, vision raking over your figure. Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s something similar to how men have looked at you before, like they were undressing you with their eyes. That’s when you remember that you were wearing his sweatshirt.

Without pants underneath…

The wind knocks out of him in an instant, something primal coming over him when his gaze lands on you in his clothing. He knows he shouldn’t think about you the way he does. He shouldn’t think of how pretty you are when your pen is caught in your teeth, attempting to make sense of whatever your professor was talking about. He shouldn’t think of the way your cheeks flush when you’ve had too much alcohol at one of the TBZ parties. He shouldn’t think of kissing you, or pressing up against you like a dog in heat. He shouldn’t be thinking of the kiss you shared Friday night.

You’re his best friend, the one person in the world who has ever understood him. The one who’s always glued to his side even when he may be in the wrong. Why would he ever want something different? How could he ask for more when he should be thankful for what he was already given?

“Why are you pushing me away? Why are you ignoring me?” Is what he finally asks after the silence has become unbearable.

“Changmin,” you swallow thickly, hesitative with what you say next. “Friends don’t kiss— we don’t kiss.”

He takes a step forward, and then another, and then another until he’s only arms’ length from you. “But, we could.”

You release a shuddery breath, reaching out to stop him from coming any closer. “P-Please. We can’t do this— I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He pushes. He knows he’s tiptoeing the edge of something else. There’s a fine line between what you have now, and what he’s wanted for so long. It’s always been a matter of if you wanted that too. “Is it because you just don’t want to?”

You’re not even sure how to respond to him. Of course you want this. It isn’t that you don’t want him. You’re more scared than anything. You’re scared of becoming just another victim of Ji Changmin’s charms, of giving into him and it leading to another let down. Your resistance is evident on your face, and you’re not all that taken aback when he sighs.

“I’ve wanted you since that first day of First Year Seminar, Y/N. No one has ever compared to you and no one ever will,” he confesses, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I sleep with random girls to get you off my mind, to forget that I’m pretty fucking in love with my best friend.”

Then it all clicks.

It’s like you’ve come to the biggest realization of your life, an epiphany striking you suddenly with the weight of a freight train. It all trickles into place, the reason why you’ve never enjoyed yourself during sex. The reason why you’ve never finished at the hands of any man you’ve been with intimately.

None of them were Ji Changmin. None of them were the best friend that your heart has belonged to since your freshman year.

You press your lips to his without any warning, nearly colliding into him with the force of your impatience. He reciprocates immediately, fingers tangling in your hair and holding you closer than physically possible. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue dragging along his lower lip. Years of repressed longing and pining find themselves surfacing in this one kiss.

Changmin’s hands travel to your waist, burrowing into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he yanks you toward the couch. He falls to a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge, your knees resting on either side of his lap. You don’t break apart once, not even to gasp for air as he grinds you down onto him. Through the material of his cargos you can feel him. He’s just as throbbing as you are, your core pulsing with a need unlike any other.

His fingers reach for the hem of the sweatshirt and that’s when you pause him, your nerves getting the best of you. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” admitting this a second time isn’t easier. “I’ve never— nobody’s ever made me… you know…”

The corners of his lips curl up, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs. “You’ve never came before, baby?”

Your breathing stutters in your chest, the smugness of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. You should’ve fully expected him to be a master at pillowtalk, what with the whole Sex-God persona and all that jazz, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head shyly, arms hooked around his neck. His mouth attaches to the spot behind your ear, sucking the skin tenderly.

“I’ll make sure you’re ruined for anyone else,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but sounds deafening to the cotton stuffing the place where your brain should be. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t think twice about who you belong to.”

A small whine emits from your throat, hips gyrating themselves onto his crotch. He bucks up into you instinctively, keeping you still on his lap. The sheer possessiveness of his tone is driving you up the wall. That seemed to be something you had in common with each other. You’re lightheaded, too many layers of clothing blocking the space between you. Changmin connects your lips again, sliding his hands beneath the sweatshirt so his fingers can hook into the waistband of your panties.

He helps you out of them and your top, baring your entire body to him. The way his cock twitches makes him feel like a goddamn teenager. You paw at the zipper of his pants as he pulls off his t-shirt, tugging the cargos down his legs so you can kneel between them. If he thought he wasn’t going to last before, he’s certain of it now. He wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail, watching you with hooded eyes as you kiss his tip.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” his voice is wavering, his composure drifting off.

That encourages you to take him into the wet heat of your mouth, tongue twirling around the tip. You run it along his slit, tasting the precum that had formed there. His head falls back onto the sofa cushions, jerking his hand back a bit and tugging your hair just enough for it to sting. You moan around his dick, the pain providing more pleasure than its intended purpose.

He bucks up into your mouth yet again, his length gliding down your throat. Not prepared for the intrusion, you gag, pulling off of his cock with a string of saliva bridging your lips to the tip. Tears prick at your eyes for a second, and then you’re going back in.

This time you manage to relax your throat, fitting more than you could prior. Changmin’s eyes are half lidded, not once daring to look anywhere that wasn’t you. The sight of you so eager to please, so desperate to reward him in spite of you being the one who’s never orgasmed before, was clouding his thinking.

The image of you on your knees, sucking him off like your life depended on it, would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. (Not that he minded. You lived there practically rent free, anyways.)

Your attention stays on the tip of his cock, tongue repeatedly alternating with dragging under the head and the slit on top. He could die happily, actually, the fear that he may never have you in this way finally dissipating into thin air. Want could only take a man so far.

He doesn’t stay sentimental for very long, remembering that you were currently between his legs and the inner monologue could wait for later. Though, he makes the grave mistake of making direct eye contact with you and it’s game over after that point.

Changmin finishes with a groan, his cum painting your chest with milky white ropes. He cups both sides of your face, bringing you up to kiss you messily. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself in your mouth, nipping your bottom lip to pry it open. The two of you swap spots, with him now on the floor and you on the couch. He pushes up your knees, spreading them to gain access to your cunt, glistening with your slick.

He presses a soft kiss to your clit, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He not only had a reputation to defend, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to be the first man to make you cum. But it wasn’t sufficient to just fuck you, he needed to do more than that. He needed to flood your senses and show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.

His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his ring and middle fingers going counter-clockwise on your entrance. He can hear the laboring of your breathing, the sharp exhale through your nostrils when he experimentally slides one of them inside of you. He starts to pump it slowly, building up the pace until he adds the other finger, curling them.

You whine when Changmin’s lips envelope your clit, suckling like a man starved. His fingers south don’t halt their assault, the palm of his other hand flattening on your lower stomach. You reach down to card through his hair, clutching the strands for support. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations contributing to the knot growing tighter in your abdomen.

He switches his tongue and fingers a moment later, lapping at your hole and swiping at your clit in a close ovular pattern with his thumb. You’re dizzy, lids fluttering shut and back arching off the cushions in a weak attempt to minimize the space between you. Changmin pins down your hips with his forearm, continuing making out with your cunt.

He flips the stimulation once more, mouth on your clit and fingers buried deep inside of you in an instant. He keeps his eyes on you, focused on every scrunch of your face and slacking of your jaw. The sudden difference in sensations has a loud moan ripping from your vocal cords, that knot coming undone almost too quickly for it being your first time in this position. You feel his lips turn up in a smile, like he’s proud of himself for doing the impossible.

Changmin pulls back slightly, his fingers still working you down from your peak. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he’s up and kissing you, petting your hair gently. “You did so well for me, baby.”

“I’ve made myself cum so many times before, but never like that— holy shit, Changmin…” You’re a little stunned and he finds it cute, despite you both being in such a compromising situation.

“I need you to give me one more, is that okay?” He lays you on your back, hovering over you. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock.”

You pull him down for another kiss, pecking the side of his neck with a hum. “Want you to fill me up, too.”

The groan that leaves him is guttural, his forehead falling onto your collarbone. Dreams really do come true. He hikes up one of your legs, lining himself up with you. He guides his cock into you and watches you for any moves of discomfort. A whimper bubbles past as he slips in, bottoming out smoothly. Half of you still couldn’t believe this was happening. No fucking way was Ji Changmin on top of you right now, dick compressed in your cunt to the hilt.

He holds your knee to your chest as he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock deep from the get go. Each motion jostles you further up the sofa, but you’re too gone to care. Your eyes have started to roll to the back of your head and you already feel that pressure rising in the pit of your stomach.

At this rate, you’re not sure you’ll last very long. You’re still extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and Changmin’s plowing into you like he might never get the chance to do it again.

“You’re so— fuck— you’re so tight, baby… Squeezing me in like you don’t wanna let me go,” he rasps, trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and carrying them down your jugular.

You moan something about how deep he is, about how you can feel him everywhere. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And despite him giving you everything he has to offer, you crave more. You’re yearning for more.

Something in you snaps and you’re cradling his face in your hands. “Love you so much, Changmin. Wanna be with you forever.”

His eyes widen at your off-kilter confession, but he doesn’t cease once. If anything, his speed increases as he kisses you passionately, noses bumping but so far on the spectrum from the others. This one is more emotional, more meaningful. It’s not long before he’s spilling into you, moaning against your lips. You follow closely behind, your second orgasm cresting like a tidal wave.

You stay like that for a minute, both of you soaking it all in. Your chests meet in the middle with each breath you take.

Changmin pulls out of you carefully, laying so you can rest comfortably on top of him. A smile inches across his feature, like he was on the inside of a joke you weren’t. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What…”

“Nothing, it’s just,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead to leave a smooch there. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you how I felt for a while now. I just wanted to assure that you wouldn’t scream in my face and run the opposite direction. But you went ahead and beat me to it.”

“You meant what you said about the other girls?” You nibble at the skin of your cheek, nervous. “You slept with them to distract yourself from me? Even Iseul?”

He nods, albeit a little shamefully. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll say. I could’ve gone about it a million other ways. But yeah, I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you just because I couldn’t get my feelings in check.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh, cuddling further into him. “It’s a good thing I’m kind of into that.”

“Kind of?” He quirks a brow at you. “I don’t know, you were saying something about loving me so much and wanting to be with me forever earlier…”

You smack his chest playfully. “Shut up. That was a moment of weakness or whatever.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles at you fondly, as if you were the reason that the sun shone so brightly. “I love you, too. And I wouldn’t mind being with you forever.”

1K notes · View notes

lessersole · 1 month ago

Text

Bridging Boroughs - Part Three

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x reader. Platonic!Matt Murdock.

Summary: You and Bucky meet to talk after the events of the gala.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Some swearing, mention of alcohol.

Part two | Part four

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

“You are the only person I know who could end up doing something illegal on a first date,” Sam laughs. “So the transition to respectable member of congress is going well?”

Bucky glowers at him, “It’s not funny, Sam.”

“It’s kinda funny,” Sam counters.

Bucky’s in DC for work and as usual, has taken the chance to catch up with Sam for a few beers. Since Joaquin’s out of town, it’s just the two of them - and with you almost constantly on his mind, the conversation quickly turned to the events of the charity gala a few days before.

Sam sighs, recognising Bucky’s sour attitude, and continues more seriously, “Look, you said more of a misdemeanor than a felony, right?

“Yeah.”

“And well-intentioned, not immoral, and she didn’t ask you to get involved.”

“She wanted to use me as cover. Without asking.”

“Okay, that part’s not great,” Sam concedes, “But there’s clearly still some trust there, or you wouldn’t be refusing to tell me the specifics.”

Bucky frowns. He’s told Sam the broad outline of what happened at the charity gala, but he didn’t want to give away anything that could get you - or Sam, if he doesn’t disclose it - in trouble. He just wants advice on what to do.

“And I’ve never seen you fall for someone so fast,” Sam adds, lifting his beer. “Actually - I’ve never seen you fall for someone, period.”

“Except Sarah,” Bucky can’t help correcting with a smirk.

Putting his drink down hard, Sam points a stern finger at Bucky, “No. Still no.”

Bucky’s grin fades. “So what do I do?”

“About your criminal girlfriend? Give her a chance,” Sam shrugs, “Talk to her about it. Make sure she doesn’t drag you into anything worse - you said she was doing this for a friend?”

Bucky nods.

“So stay away from that friend, I guess.”

—

You check your phone for the hundredth time - still nothing from Bucky. The night at the gala had ended awkwardly, the flirting and teasing of your previous encounters killed by you breaking and entering into the mayor’s office. You’d understand if he didn’t want to see you again - he was a congressman, and you’d used him as an accessory - but you desperately wanted to. The memory of the kiss you’d shared still lingered in your mind.

After waiting a few days for him to make the first move, you’d caved and texted him, only for him to reply that he was in DC for the week. At least he hadn’t ignored you. Or blocked your number. But he should be back in town by now, and you’ve still heard nothing.

“A watched phone never rings,” Matt tells you with a knowing grin.

“Not helpful,” you sigh, clearing away his drink.

Matt’s taken to dropping in on you at work, trying to convince you to join his crusade against the Kingpin - although he’s still vague on the details of his plan, other than recruiting a team of vigilantes.

Despite your repeated refusals, he still turns up, sometimes just to talk or quietly work on cases at the bar. Today it’s to talk.

“You know, it’s not my fault he hasn’t called you.”

“Yeah, because a little B&E really goes down well on a first date.”

“Pretty heavy event for a first date,” Matt observes, “And you chose to do it.”

“After you asked! And what have you done with the information anyway? I’ve ruined a potentially really good relationship with a really good guy, and all for nothing.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.” He explains, before cocking his head in curiosity. “And I thought you don’t usually do relationships. Or good guys, for that matter.”

You glare at him so hard even he has to see it. “You haven’t known anything about my love life for a while now, Matt.”

He holds his hands up in submission. “Sorry. Low blow.”

You wipe down the counter to stop your hands twitching for your phone again. “Given that unwarranted observation, and since you’re only interested in good guys for your little militia, I take it that means you haven’t invited Frank?”

“No,” Matt grimaces, “He’s too out of control.”

“Meaning he won’t follow your orders.”

“Meaning he murders people. I want to protect the city, help it heal - not just rip it to pieces in a different way.”

Before you can reply your phone buzzes in your pocket and you snatch it up. It’s finally Bucky.

I’m back in town. Can we talk?

—

You hate how nervous you’re feeling as you walk towards your agreed meeting spot outside Central Park. You might have snapped at Matt about it, but you’re not used to being so invested in someone, especially so soon. Seeing that Bucky’s already waiting at the entrance to the park, you hope him arriving early is a sign that he’s feeling similarly.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You both stand awkwardly, unsure how to greet each other. The soft cheek kiss he welcomed you with before the gala feels like a million years ago.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry,” you burst out in a rush, exasperated by the uneasy atmosphere, “You invited me to the thing, and you’re a congressman, and I used you as cover for something not entirely above board, which was not cool of me. If you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine. But I wanted to say sorry.”

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but you keep going.

“Although you chose to join me in doing that, which I didn’t ask you to, and it was absolutely for a good reason, and I didn’t plan it, and no one got hurt or even found out about it. And a fancy, high profile gala is a really weird choice for a first date, so you kind of set a precedent for unusual behaviour, so you’re not really blameless in this.”

Bucky looks both amused and surprised at your outburst. “Are you done?” He asks.

“I could continue,” you answer defensively.

You hide your delight as Bucky smiles, “You’re right about it being a bad choice for a first date. I guess I wanted an excuse to see you, and I had the event anyway, so it made sense in my head.”

“So you were using me?” You challenge with a smirk. “You’re saying you’re the one who should be apologising?”

“Don’t push it,” Bucky answers, “But - can we reset?” He nods to the park you still haven’t entered, “I hear a walk is a more normal first date these days.”

“So I’m forgiven?” You ask hopefully.

“Let’s see how this goes,” he answers more cautiously.

—

One hour, a couple hot dogs and an ice cream later, you’d say the date was going well.

“So, congress - what’s that about?” You ask.

“Well,” Bucky begins, “congress is a branch of government with the power to pass or-”

“Okay, smartass,” you interrupt, gently smacking his arm as he grins, “I mean why for you? What made you want to run?”

“I wanted to make a difference,” Bucky answers, simply and seriously, “I thought I could stand up for people who aren’t really represented at the moment.”

“People with ‘special abilities’?”

Bucky nods.

“And do you feel like you’re able to do that?” You don’t doubt his intentions, but it wasn’t too long ago you felt even more strongly than Matt that working within the system was hopeless - and recent experience has taught you that the only politicians able to actually effect change are the bad ones.

Bucky pauses for a moment before answering, “I think it’s possible. I believe it is. It’s complicated - and difficult - but there’s a lot that needs changing in this country, and this seemed like the best way to help make it happen.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You can’t help thinking of Matt again, and his repeated assertions that he could help people using the law just as well as, or better than, outside of it. And how thoroughly he seems to have given up on that idea now. “So why the drive to help people? You’ve been through a lot, no one would blame you if you wanted an easy life, and politics is, like, the opposite of that. Are you just that good of a guy?”

“Maybe I’d like you to think so,” Bucky shoots you a roguish smile, “but actually it was sort of my therapist’s idea.”

Your horror is only half in jest, “Your therapist suggested you go into politics? Christ, Bucky, you need a new therapist.”

He laughs and you glow at the warm sound, the distractingly sexy way his eyes crinkle, and at you at being the cause of it.

“Making amends was her idea.” He explains. “Owning my past and taking responsibility. Acknowledging what I did, apologising for it, and making up for it.”

You frown, confused. “We’re talking about your past as-”

Bucky takes a deep breath, “As the Winter Soldier, yeah.”

“But - I thought you were brainwashed or something.” You remembered the news around the time of his pardon, the details re-emerging when he ran for congress.

“I was,” he clarifies.

There’s no joke in your coldly appalled tone any more. “Your therapist told you to take responsibility for things you were forced to do - things you had no control over?”

Bucky looks puzzled by your outrage in a way that half breaks your heart and half enrages you on his behalf. “I still did those things.” His voice is quiet, but firm. “I remember doing them.”

“Bucky-”

“Making amends helps. It helps with the guilt, the ni-” He stops himself, not ready to be so vulnerable.

For a moment, you’re unsure how to react, then an idea flashes into your mind. “Is it okay if I make a quick phone call?”

“Alright,” Bucky’s answer is uncertain.

He watches warily as you step away from him, unsure what’s prompted this. Maybe he should have been clearer about his past, but it’s not exactly a secret. You’d known who he was from the moment you met, and part of what he liked about you was how completely unphased by it you were - not just untroubled by it, but willing to sass, argue and hold your ground against him.

But perhaps he’d misjudged something somewhere.

You return to him, a broad smile on your face that he’s starting to recognise as the look that appears when you have a plan.

“Are you okay with me derailing this date in a much more legal way than last time?”

—

A quick cab ride later, the two of you arrive at an unassuming diner back in Hell’s Kitchen. Bucky follows as you enter and head into a private room at the back, but he lingers to read the simple paper sign on the door - there’s a ringed image of a defiantly raised fist and the words Kilgrave Victim Support Group. Understand, Rebuild, Move Forward.

When he catches up with you, you’re greeting the smiling man who seems to be in charge and turn to introduce them. “Bucky, this is Malcolm. Malcolm, Bucky.”

Malcolm steps towards him with an outstretched hand, “Great to meet you, man. Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Bucky shakes his hand, but says to you both, “I’m not sure I should be here. I don’t even know what a Kilgrave is.”

“It’s not just for Kilgrave’s victims,” you assure him.

Malcolm nods enthusiastically. “Right. It was set up for Kilgrave’s victims, but we support all survivors of mind control here. Everyone will introduce themselves, but we’ve had people affected by the thing in Westview, someone who worked for some organisation called the TVA, even Professor Selvig drops by when he’s town, after the incident in 2012. Actually we should probably change the name.” He adds as an afterthought. “But I promise you’re more than welcome here, Bucky.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky hesitates.

“You don’t have to say anything. You can just observe if you want.” Malcolm explains. “Come on, we’re about to get started.”

“Go on,” you nudge Bucky’s arm, “I have to get to work anyway. Just give it a go. And - you can let me know after if you want a second date? This doesn’t count as part of the date though, you can just rate me on the fun park stuff. And remember that I bought you a hot dog.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell there are some nerves beneath his gruff exterior. “Fine.”

—

It’s hours since the support group will have finished, and you realise you’re back to waiting for a text from Bucky while you go through the motions at work. You resist the urge to message him and ask how it went, and just as you’re telling yourself - again - not to obsess over him, Bucky’s familiar frame fills the doorway. You greet him as he approaches the counter. “How was it?”

“It was - interesting,” he runs a hand through his hair, and if it wasn’t for the visible tension in his shoulders you’d have to force yourself to focus on what he’s saying and not how attractive it is when he does that. “I went for a walk after. I guess I’ve got some things to think about. But I think I’ll go back.”

“That’s great, Bucky,” you tell him softly, biting back the question you’re desperate to ask about a second date.

As though he’s read your mind, Bucky glances at you apologetically before dropping his gaze to the floor. “About - us. I think I need some time to think about that too. And you should as well. Given my job, and my past, things are going to be complicated. You need to think about what you really want. And so do I.”

Your heart drops, but your usual defensiveness kicks in and you try to play it off. “I mean, it’s not like I’m proposing here, Buck. We can just have fun, right?”

His troubled eyes meet yours, “I don’t know.” He answers quietly. “Sorry.”

With that, he turns and leaves. You’re shocked at the strength of the disappointment that rips through you and have to blink rapidly to push back tears. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to carry on with work as normal, and have just rounded the counter when the door crashes open to reveal Bucky once again.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” he says as he strides desperately towards you, reaching for you and pulling you into him. His lips crash into yours in a heated, frenzied kiss, which you return full force, your hands grasping at each other, tongues and teeth tangling, the desperate press of your bodies against each other saying more than any of your words have been able to.

I want you.

I need you.

It’s only a piercing wolf-whistle from one of the regulars that prompts you to break apart, laughing breathlessly. Bucky presses his forehead to yours as you flip a middle finger at the old man who interrupted you.

“You can back out on me any time,” Bucky tells you.

“No chance.” You grin back at him. “Can you stay until close?”

“Of course.”

You kiss him gently, your lips teasing his, “Then I can take you home?”

Bucky pulls back slightly, running his fingers reverently along your jaw, tracing your mouth with his thumb. “As tempting as that is,” he tells you softly, “I don’t want to rush this. I really like you. I want to do this properly.”

“So what was that before about needing to think about things?”

“Some bullshit,” he mutters, making you laugh again, “I wanted to protect you. It’s true that dating me will be complicated. I don’t want to make your life difficult. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone in 80 years, maybe never. If you’re up for it…”

“I am very up for it,” you assure him firmly, “And I can look after myself.”

“I know you can,” he smiles, his tone lightening, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stay until your shift ends and then make sure you get home safe.”

Disentangling from each other enough for you to reluctantly get back to work, Bucky settles in at the counter.

“They’re never going to let me live that down,” you grumble goodnaturedly as you make your way over to the still chuckling regulars to collect their empty glasses.

While your back’s turned, someone enters and joins Bucky at the bar. When you see who it is, you rush over, your good mood dented.

“Evening,” Matt smiles at you, “I was just telling Congressman Barnes how good it is to meet him. I guess you two have worked things out?”

“Now’s not the time, Matt.”

“I think now’s the perfect time,” Matt answers, blithely oblivious to Bucky’s angry stare.

“I know you’re her friend,” Bucky tells him, his voice carefully even, “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of us to get to know each other too well.”

Despite the hum of customers and low music in the background, a hush seems to fall over the three of you.

Ignoring Bucky’s comment, Matt leans in closer to him, “Do you ever think, with your abilities, your skills, you could help this city more if you tried something other than being a congressman?”

“Jesus, Matt, straight in with it?” You hiss.

Bucky scowls at him. “I think the less I know about whatever you’re getting up to, the better. For all of us.”

“Seriously,” you warn Matt through gritted teeth, “drop it.”

“Fine,” he surrenders, getting up to leave. “But I’m just saying - to both of you - if you ever change your mind, there’s a lot you can get done as part of a team.”

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

Part four

Tags: @yesshewrites1 @itsmeamysworld

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chaos-chloe · 2 months ago

Note

Hii! I'd like to request a droid xfem reader story, where the whole clooles gang (+reader) is playing never have I ever on stream and drinking and droid and reader get drunk-flirty and chat goes crazy maybe it gets a bit too heated 👀 and puffer has to emergency end the stream so droid and reader don't expose too much lmao, I've read like 100 stories with this same trope but I just love it so much 😭. I'd love to see more droid stories in general cuz there's not that much out there, anyways I'll stop bothering you now thanks, bye 🖤

You can never bother me love! and I have this write here just for you! I hope you enjoy!

Truth Or Hydrate - Droid x Reader

Summary: Truth or Hydrate where alcohol create loose lips

TW: Alcohol consumptions, established relationships, cursing, kissing

“Hi chat, hellooooss, Chat can you hear me?” Puffer said while speaking into his orange foam microphone.

“Hiya, my favorite internet people!” I greeted them hoping they could hear me as I was away looking at the laptop, “OO! You guys can hear me?” I said excitedly hoping our set up was working. I started seeing chat fly by quickly saying all types of ‘yes’, ‘yeah’, and etc.

“Okay guys since you can hear me on my mic, lets see if you can hear the guy's microphone?” I said try to troubleshoot if something goes wrong.

“Of course they can hear you, they all simp for you.” Puffer said in a degrading tone towards chat.

“No comment from me, but they can hear you Puffer, okay someone else try.” I say changing the topic and moving on with the stream.

“Elloing chat, ellos? Testing, testing.” Pezzy started trying in a funny voice as he was playing with strings on his sweatshirt.

“Alrighty they can hear Pezzwald, grizzy or droid?” I asked seeing if they would greet chat

“Yer” “What's going on?” They both greeted Chat at the same time and started laughing.

“Now turn on the camera.” I gave Puffer the cue, to show off our set up in our living room, you can barely see our hallway leading to our bedroom.

The bigger monitor I had stored away lit up with the guys in the frame on the couch with their respective drinks. I got up from my squatted position, to go make myself a strong raspberry margarita.

“Chat calm down, ___ is making herself a margarita right now, for what we are doing.” Puffer yelled at chat for spamming.

“Chat what's going on? Chat. Do yall know what's going on today?” Droid asked as he was watching the monitor .”Someone else wants to explain, bro.” Droid acting like he was exhausted from ‘setting up’.

“Dawg, it was your idea!” I yelled from our kitchen, “By the way I'm making my marg, be ready for loud noises.” I forewarned the guys and Chat.

“I mean it is my stream I guess I can.” Puffer spoke as he took over, “Alright listen up, we are doing Truth or Drink, we are doing white girl sorority things.” Puffer spoke, his eyes swiping over the guys and making sure I was paying attention.

“Oop hold on, ___ needs to mix her drink.” Droid yelled over the guys laughing, I gave him a thumbs up and a wink and clicked ‘Blend’ on the blender.

“Okay, we are waiting for __ to join us on the couch, she is sitting in between Grizzy and I.” Droid began again as he was scooting closer to Puffer, and Grizzy scooted over to Pezzy.

“Chat, you guys are so weird towards her, you will see her outfit in a minute. She's literally joining us in a sec.” Pezzy stepped in, protecting me from the weirdos in chat.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m here, hello, chat.” I said walking into the frame of the stream waving. “As requested by my girl fans, this is a lazy day so I’m wearing an old black/dark blue off one shoulder shirt. I have had this shirt for a long ass time, I have no idea where I got it. I paired it with a cream drawstring lounge shorts, I usually wear these when I’m cleaning but oh whale.” I explained my outfit, doing a little leg lift showing off my no-show black socks, that the girls do with their OOTD videos; all while holding my big glass.

“Damn let me get a taste of that drink.” Grizzy piped in, letting me walk through the maze of alcohol bottles or drinks on the floor.

I handed him my drink, so I could get comfy on the couch in my assigned seat. I put my hand on DRoid’ shoulder to make sure i wawa balanced properly. He moved his head and kissed the top of my hand. Once I finally settled down, I grabbed my glass back from Grizzy and started siping, not paying attention to any of the rules or the jokes going on.

“Wait, what were the rules again? I was disassociating.” I was muffled with my straw in my mouth, I moved my attention to my boyfriend.

“Truth or drink, you either tell the truth or you take a shot. In your case, take a big sip rather than your leisurely sips.” Droid repeated holding eye contact with me, making sure I was actively listening and paying attention to him.

“Alright, I can do that. So we are starting with the cards, once those become boring we move on to chat?” I asked to make sure that the information was correct, Droid was still holding eye contact with me, so I sent a wink towards him.

“Yes ___” I heard from each of the guys, moaning and groaning from my lack of attentiveness.

“Oh shit, this is supposed to be played with hot sauce?” Grizzy questioned since Droid was opening the box of cards. He put the box to hold the card behind me on top of the couch.

“Yeah, I mean do you wanna try it?” Droid offered Grizzy the bottle, while he was trying to get the pack of cards out of the box.

“No.” Grizzy declined quickly, “He’s a pussy, dude.” Pezzy making an effort to egg on Grizzy.

“Do yall realise that he keeps it at eighty-nine degrees in the house?” I interjected siding with Grizzy instantly, looking at Pezzy with a humorous look on my face.

“SEE EXACTLY!” Grizzy yelled “Yall think I want hot sauce right now?!” He asked with disbelief and slight disgust in his tone.

“That’s all Pezzy and ___, bruh.” Droid defended himself, holding his hands up by his face.

“I pay the electric bill, of course I want it cold in the house.” I defended myself by acting offended at his accusation.

“Bitch, you were just saying you were freezing before the stream.” Grizzy shot back at Droid.

“I was freezing, feel ___.” Droid said while putting his left hand on my thigh. “DAWG GET THEM COLD PAWS OFF OF ME!” I yelled getting up and walking away from Droid, trying to warm up my thigh.

“See Grizzy, feel this.” Droid switched his attention to his next victim. Grizzy flinched, “YOOO!” He was looking at Droid as if he had frostbite on his hand.

Pezzy put out his hand to see if Droid and I were just being dramatically extra for the camera. Once their hands made contact, “Dude are you okay?” Pezzy asked due to shock.

Puffer reached for Droid's right hand to feel, and they interlocked their fingers together, “Now I’m okay.” He responded with a joking tone.

“Okay how are we doing this?” Puffer asked impatiently, he was wanting to get this shit done.

“We will take turns, you’ll get a turn, I’ll get a turn, ___, Grizzy and Pezzy or whatever.” Droid explained the ‘circle’.

“Who are we asking?” Puffer continued wanting to get the base down pat.

“It's-its- It’s a group thing, so it's everybody. Whoever is in the room, pretty much .” Droid stuttered his answer, I started giggling due to his stutter.

“Wait this is bad then…” Pezzy dragged on, with me shaking my head in agreement.

“Imma need to add another shot real quick.” I added, “Y’all may need to get more alcohol.” Grizzy said with a suspicious tone and look on his face.

“Alright Puffer your on the end, do your Pokémon card thing.” Droid laughed as we all joined in cause the motion Droid did.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?” Puffer read the card out loud.

“I shit myself on a car ride home.” Grizzy said instantly and Pezzy started laughing along with him. “I was like 8, bro.”

“Oh, oh, I got one.” Puffer said, remembering his memory. “Oh I know yours.” Droid and I said together.

“I fell into the San Antonio river.” “Oh! Nevermind I did not know yours.” Droid taking back his statement.

“Mine was when I was in school and I trusted a fart way too much.” Pezzy brings the mic right up to his mouth resting it on his chin.

“Okay so all of y’all shit yourself except Puffer.” I nodded my head and laughed along with them.

“Okay Miss Clooless Princess, what’s your most embarrassing moment?” Pezzy snapped at me for laughing at them.

“Bleed through my pants multiple times in school and left a stain on my chair.” I said calmly and started sipping, Droid wrapped his arm around my shoulder bringing me closer and slightly kissed my head. Thankfully chat did not see it and no one is freaking out.

“Ugh that’s so basic for girls.” Puffer groaned wanting to know more juicy details.

“Oh, Oh!” Droid was reacting to the card in his hand. “Ask it.” Pezzy sneered “Okay you wanted this, dog.”

“In your opinion-my opinion who here in the room is the freakiest in bed?” Droid nodding his head trying to not make himself noticeable with me.

“Uhhh ___, is the most definitely.” Pezzy said out loud, he smacked his hand against his mouth so fast. I was astounded that the alcohol was hitting him this fast, but he did catch us in a situation once.

“You know what? I'll agree with you there, Pezzy.” Droid agreed, shaking his head and dapping him up. I looked at him as if he was a crazed man, not wanting our, mostly mine getting leaked on the internet. He shushed me and we kept moving on with the game.

“I'm not going to answer.” Grizzy and Puffer both agreed with me, as we took our respective shots.

“You know what? I'm going to say Droid and I feel like it because he’d be like ‘Yeah I have seen some shit.” Puffer started laughing, I started blushing and hiding my face while laughing.

“And we just started going to town!” Droid continued as he lifted his Twisted Tea. He looked over at me to wink and send me a kiss.

“Okay, okay.” I picked up my card for my turn, “You can only have one best friend, tell us yours.” I read out loud.

“I'm thinking of a title right now.” Droid deviously acted like he was an evil villain, plotting a big reveal.

“Uh-um- nevermind.” Puffer was buffering thinking if he should reveal it, “Nah, just say it.” Pezzy, Droid and Grizzy taunted, “My old high school friend.”

“I have known you less,” Pezzy pointed to Puffer, “Damn, sorry.” Puffer responded. “But I have known all of y'all the same amount of time.” Pezzy said to us.

“Um i think you have known them longer than me.” Droid Pointed out. “Don't forget that we fucked.” Droid pointed out the fake news, to rile up fans. I smacked his arm with the back of my hand hard.

“I know,” Pezzy rubbed his face, already feeling the alcohol, “My cat. Fuck you.” Pezzy flipped off Grizzy.

“Man, I was just about to say you but okay.” Grizzy shrugged his shoulders as everybody laughed at the turn of events. “You know what ___ has always been there and here for me.” Grizzy said while putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I'm going to say Yum Yum.” I said while thinking of all the times he and I were in late night discord calls, Yumi was there when I met Droid, etc.

“For fans who don't know who Yum Yum is, it's Yumi, only ____ can call him that.” Droid said pointing to chat cause they were spamming confused emotes.

“Who’s your hottest friend?” Pezzy read the card out loud, “Grizzy.” Puffer answered right off the bat, he looked over to Droid for him to answer.

“__” Droid answered, I was leaning back on the couch with my glass in between my thighs. “Can I choose myself?” I asked back, everyone laughed together.

“Egotistical bitch.” Pezzy carriedon, which made us die of laughter and red in our faces.

“Everybody has insecurities, what are two of yours?” Puffer pulled that card that I avoided earlier in the stack.

“Uhhh, my weight and my relationship.” Droid answered honestly, “Huh? Whatcha mean with that?” Pezzy wondered what he meant due to me sitting literally right there.

“If I’m good enough for my partner, my confidence is wack bro.” Droid explained his reasoning, with an all around ‘Ohhh’ of understanding. I quickly stretched back leaning where they couldn't see me on camera.

“I love you no matter what.” I whispered behind his ear. “I love you too.” He turned his head towards my direction so the microphone couldn't pick it up.

“What is your biggest online screw up?” Grizzy read with a smirk, “I'm taking a shot.” I said right off the bit.

“Nah, nah it's already out there, just say it __.” Grizzy said to me. “UGH fine, I sold my feet pics a couple years ago.” I whispered into the mic as the other guys just gasped in shock at this revelation. “I'm still taking a shot for even saying it.”

“Are you still making money off it?” Puffer as his curiosity peaked, “Nah I’m taking another shot, I do not care.” Downing another tequila shot while making a sour face.

“Let the host read your last text message with either your significant other/partner or best friend?” Grizzy chuckled thinking he was going to get something juicy. “Oh hell no!” Droid busted out. I handed my phone over to Grizzy, knowing he wont purposefully snoop through our messages.

“Okay okay, __ has herself a little boo thing that she loves and wants to make sure that they stay hidden. She has him or her underneath “Hawt Stuff” and no picture, and I definitely do not know this phone number.” Grizzy read out loud thinking this was going to make me walk out, but instead I was just sitting there smiling and blushing. My eyes cut towards Droid quickly to see his reaction. Thankfully, his attention was being taken up with Puffer and Meghans text messages.

“I mean we don't have significant others,” Pezzy pointed out to Grizzy “and our friends are literally each other.” He laughed at the contradiction.

“Hey Droid, who have you been trying to talk to recently?” Puffer fish for information, “Absolutely no one, but here's my phone.” Droid handed over his phone caught in a lie as Puffer started cackling.

“Droid who’s LOML?” Puffer coughed out as he caught Droid, “HUH?” He yelled into the microphone. “No one man.” He quickly said, “Why do they have the same type of message that __ had?”

“I’m taking a shot, man.” Droid reached down for the Crown, and while he was reaching his hand on my leg to balance himself, he started rubbing his thumb on my leg.

“I have a good one, How many sexual partners have you had?” Pezzy read with a small evil smirk on his face.

I heard three from Puffer, ‘five’ from droid, 4 from me, and two from Grizzy, the Pezzy asked “what does sexual mean?”

“Sex.” Puffer deadpanned answered, “So full on sex?” Pezzy made sure, as everyone was nodding their heads yes.

“Dick and penis.” Droid said confirming but misspoke, which had all of cackling, hitting our legs or the couch, rocking back and forth, and wheezing to breath for a good hot two minutes.

“There's my biggest online screw up, right there. I mean dick and pussy.” Droid corrected himself, as we were settling down and my margarita was hitting me I decided to put my legs over Droid’s lap and my head still on the cushion of the couch; scooting down a bit to get comfortable. Droid put his can in his right hand and wrapped his left arm around my shoulders and head. I kissed his shoulder, showing him some love on camera that some fans saw but not that many.

“What kind of sex are you having?” Puffer wondered jokingly, “Listen, I'm straight as hell, straighter than a goddamn candy cane. I mean look at this beautiful lady in my lap.” Droid said, calming down from that hilarious miss-speaking.

“He’s like so dreamy, ‘who should i pick?’” Droid mocked Pezzy while holding his microphone up to his face like he was a teenage girl in a 90’s movie. I started laughing and everybody joined in, while feeling out shots hit us.

“Let's pick Droid, anywho Would you rather have sex with Droid and no one knows–” “Sure.” Puffer cut Pezzy off from reading the black card. “Huh-What?” “That was a bit too quick, man.” Droid joked as he looked over at Puffer.

“--But no one knows or not have sex with Droid but everyone thinks you did?” Pezzy regained his focus to finish reading the card. “That's our chat anyways!” Pezzy exclaimed, pointing over to the laptop Puffer had set up earlier.

“Fuck it, I already let him hit for free.” I slurred while taking a sip of my raspberry margarita, not wanting to look at Droid for suspense.

“Whaaattt?!” “HUH?!” “SHHHH?!” “hmm okay then.” I heard from every direction, due to the echo in the living room.

“I mean chat already thinks we had sex, so why not?” I said, lollying my head to the other side looking at Pezzy.

“CHAT! ___ is way too drunk right now, we are ending the stream, say byeeee!” Puffer yelled into the microphone, as he was walking over to the computer, I turned my head to admire my boyfriend as he was looking at me, I gave him a quick peck on the lips right as the stream ended.

“Did you know that chat definitely saw that?” “Mmm yeah, oh well.” I shrugged my shoulders. “That's a mess for tomorrow.”

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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syeren · 1 year ago

Text

WARZONE.

summary — once you caught his eyes, he cannot stop thinking about you.

genre — comedic fluff!

Megumi couldn’t help it— Help his slight and ever-so-growing obsession over you, that is.

Ever since you, a new student, transferred to the Tokyo Metropolitan location of Jujutsu High he couldn’t help but be curious. Sure, it’s always the talk of the school if a new face shows up out of the blue… But you? It felt weird to him. He plastered on his signature stoic expression as he waltzed down the halls from his dorm, letting a faint yawn escape him as he neared Yuji’s door.

“Coming in, you better be wearing clothes or else,” he forewarned the boy, opening the door lazily and slowly removing his shoes. As he placed it neatly to the side of the door, an unfamiliar voice caught his attention.

“You don’t wear clothes? So you just walk around butt-naked and everything?”

The sound of Yuji’s whining instantly pierced his ears right after. “No! Megumi only enters my room after my shower, so technically… Not my fault!”

The boy in question rolled his eyes and walked around the corner of the entrance, seeing you and Yuji situated at his PC.

Megumi let out a soft sigh of relief and muttered out, “Just so you know, normal people wear clothes after they take a shower.”

“W-Why are you still acting like I’m completely naked?” Yuji groaned out, slumping in his gamer chair with a loud huff. “I had socks on.”

Megumi could see your expression in the corner of his eyes, a look of disbelief and pure confusion.

“… Socks?” You reiterated, blinking blankly at the boy in front of you.

“Yeah. Socks,” Yuji replied, perhaps a little too proud of his statement. A soft slap sound from Megumi’s palm met his forehead as he shook his head.

“But you didn’t think underwear would be the priority?” he deadpanned.

“My feet get cold,” Yuji replied and casually grabbed a nearby chip packet from his drawer of endless snacks. “Anyway, whatcha doin’ here Megumi?”

This time, Megumi looked around in thought, pondering about why the heck he was even there in the first place.

“I need some paper,” he boredly responded, making a beeline to the opposite side of the room in a hurry. Hell, he had no idea if his only chance to not look like a fool in front of you was actually going to be there, but with little hope, he continued to stride over to Yuji’s messy bookshelf.

He scanned from top to bottom, bottom to top, side to side, his eyes were getting overstimulated with how much Yuji had stuffed all kinds of trinkets on the ledge of the shelves.

“Lined? Blank? Ooh, or these fancy eco-friendly ones I made?” Yuji called out to Megumi, shuffling out three small stacks of different types of paper. Megumi let out a shaky breath, of course they would be at his desk. The very area he wanted to avoid. He turned around and reluctantly hobbled back.

“Lined.”

Taking one sheet from the stack, he swivelled his stature away again to the entrance, obviously leaving you and Yuji bewildered.

“Just one sheet of paper?” You asked Megumi, who was struggling to step into his boots.

“Yeah,” he muttered, grunting as he finally slipped his foot in after struggling for what felt like a century. He could already feel a thin layer of cold sweat form along his nape as you spoke.

Yuji turned to you and shrugged his shoulders, before patting you roughly on the arm. “Can you force him to stay? I need another person on my team for Warzone.”

“Why don’t you ask him? He’s still here—“

The sound of the door shutting at the front was enough for you to shut up instantly.

“— Nevermind.”

At your words, the pink-haired boy stretched his arms up and stood on his feet, rolling his shoulders as if he was preparing to lunge into battle. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave you the impression that he was, in fact, going to fight off his dear friend for him to play a game… Or prepare himself to be beat up, and then plead his surrender. As much as you wanted to watch the gruesome battle between two teenaged boys have a bickering show-down, you interrupted Yuji and pushed him back into his chair.

“Fine, let me talk to him,” you sighed, before heading your way to the entrance. Yuji on the other hand squealed in delight, following right behind you before grabbing hold of your wrist to high-five his hand with yours.

“Great because I was really not looking forward to another argument— I mean, I would win of course… But I would feel bad for Megumi if he lost! Soooooo… I’ll let you talk to him,” Yuji exclaimed, boastfully leaning against the doorframe with his chin held high. You stood outside his dorm room and shut the door in his face, before walking to Megumi’s room right beside his.

You knocked once. Twice. Possibly three times, you’ve lost count, until it finally opened. Megumi opened the door with a grumble, not bothering to look up as he barked, “I don’t need anymore paper—“

“Not about paper,” you added, peeking your head around the slight crack he managed to pry open. “Come play Warzone.”

Megumi eyed you blankly and you couldn’t help but feel a bit weirded out. Was there a strand of hair sticking up? Something wrong with your face? No, it was him trying to calm his nerves and train his brain to go back into his zen state of mind for a moment— Just for a second! So he can actually talk to you properly without worrying about stammering his words. Thankfully, it’s something he’s good at.

“Warzone?” he questioned before sighing, “Did Yuji ask you to do this?”

“Yes and no,” you glanced back at Yuji’s closed door, before turning your attention to Megumi again. “I guess he was pre-planning to ask you and it seemed like he was really getting into it, so I just offered.”

Megumi stiffened. If there was one other thing Yuji was good at, it was be subconsciously picking up on emotions at the right times (only the right times, he’s not giving him that much credit), and perhaps he had caught on to Megumi’s white lie he suddenly used. It was a stupid cover-up, he had tons of paper in his room already.

“Ahh, I see,” he mumbled before quietly stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him. You smiled at his acceptance to your invitation and walked back to Yuji’s room with Megumi trailing behind.

“… You’re new, right?” he asked, stuffing one hand in his pocket and using the free one to reach out to open the door for you.

You quickly thanked him, entering Yuji’s bedroom and hearing his screams. He must be in a practice game by now waiting for the both of you. The muffled sounds of gunshots and comms gave you enough context.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” you said playfully with a laugh, making your way inside and opting to sit on Yuji’s bed. Megumi trailed in and flopped onto the free chair next to Yuji, and continued to talk to you. “You seemed the type to be in his own world”

“Well, I am… But, I did,” he responded to you quietly with his eyes locked onto the screen. A faint ‘nice kill’ emerged from his lips as he watched Yuji’s fingers fly across the desk with his mouse, headshotting an opponent. His eyes flicked back to you in intervals and tapped the tips of his fingers on top of the desk. He cleared a lump in his throat before breaking the awkward silence between you two.

“So, why did you transfer here?— To this school I mean. Not in a rude way,” he stammered, briefly looking at your face and turned back to look at Yuji’s screen. He wanted so badly to crush his forehead into the wall.

“Came here from the Kyoto region, I think Gojo wanted me to be here,” you mumbled, watching Yuji completely get demolished in the game.

“If Gojo sees potential in you, you must seem like a well-adaptable individual,” he added, eyes still glued to the screen. “That being said— he also has the urge to take someone under his wing if you’re substantially adorable to him and are in need of his ‘educational expertise’… As so he would call it.”

You let out chuckle, letting your gaze wander to the two bodies haunched over the screen; Yuji, childishly hogging the keyboard even though he wanted Megumi to play with him, and Megumi, not caring in the slightest. As you looked at him, the subtle glance of your eye caught you off guard— He was already looking at you.

“What?” you mouthed at him, narrowing your gaze until he shakes his head. A hand comes up to gently rub his cheeks, covering the slight smile you didn’t see. The faintest hue of pink dusted his cheeks, reaching down to the column of his neck.

“Nothing.”

____________

AN; SYEREN here! been a while, how’ve you been? :3 creds to sssA_km

#jjk #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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chelseeebe · 2 years ago

Text

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #eddie munson x female reader smut

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puppetwoman17 · 7 months ago

Text

Billy in the Watchmen AU (spoilers for Watchmen Chapter 1)

For anyone who already knows who the Watchmen are and avidly read and generally consume the media, this is a post from a newbie, so don’t expect any nuance, lol. I’ve only watched the recent animated movie. Also be forewarned that this does mean the timeline is way more recent. This takes place in at least the 2010s, not the 80s like in canon.

If you don’t know who the Watchmen are, they are a group of “heroes” from an alternate dc universe where it’s the 80s and superheroes are outlawed. There’s also a group called the Minute Men who were there before them, who were all either taken out or had their lives wrecked.

The second Nite Owl got the permission of the first to dawn the name and costume. The second Silk Spectre is the daughter of the first. The Comedian was part of the Minute Men along with the first Nite Owl and Silk Spectre, and he is known to be part of the Watchmen. There’s also Rorschach, who’s like a darker version of Question. Dr. Manhattan is like if Martian Manhunter didn’t feel emotion and also cannot shape shift, but his power set is still extensive. Ozymandias is apparently a hero turned villain, and I already see that playing out a bit in the animated movie—

Holy shit he kills people. So many people. He has a warped sense of justice and he kills a whole bunch of people under the guise of an alien invasion just to unite the population. Yeah, now I get it. Anyway before he was a member, and after retiring he has this huge company called Veidt, where he sells toys and stuff.

Whole lotta other stuff to say about the Minute Men and Watchmen, but I’m sure you get the jist.

SO, with all that out of the way. TIME BUBBLE, people. Maybe it pops sometimes, maybe the bubble isn’t a bubble but it stops the aging process until it pops, idk. But Billy joins the Watchmen and goes through all the tough shit they go through, like Dr. Manhattan not understanding human emotion so he watches The Conedian kill a woman pregnant with his child.(I know, but I’m too lazy to explain every single detail lol).

He’s in the background while everyone starts hating their team and watches the Comedian wreck their whole image. Keep in mind that he’s not in his Cap form for his stint as a member because it’s way too flashy. He’s like their tech guy, but the tech is actually magic.

After the law against supers, Billy hightails it for Fawcett and leaves a note for the Watchmen who he actually like(everyone but the Comedian, fuck you Edward Blake). When Superman comes into the scene, he brings a new vision with him, and new and old heroes are able to come into the limelight. However, with three members working for the government (Manhattan, Comedian, and Silk Spectre 2), one on the run(Rorschach), one staying away,(Nite Owl 2), and one going into mass producing himself (Veidt)…Yeah, they think better of that.

A decade goes by and Billy’s(looking like) an eighteen year old living it up with his JL pals. Meanwhile, a retired army veteran, Edward Blake, has just been murdered. He doesn’t have the best thoughts on the US military, so he doesn’t pay much mind. That is until Amanda Waller kidnaps and takes him to a remote facility and decides to info dump that yes, she knows who he is, and yes, she knows he used to work with/for the Watchmen. Also, Edward Blake is the Comedian, surprise.

Yeah, Billy gets the hell out of there as soon as possible. Waller says she wants his help bringing in the members who aren’t on government watch, but he’s firm with his refusal, and she can’t just keep Captain Marvel locked up without facing the wrath of the Justice League and Squadron of Justice.

A couple days later, the JL are in Fawcett and planning to go to one of those magic infused restaurants with performances and everything, but Billy has to make a pit stop at his apartment. They’re cool with it and go with him, and guess who’s sitting in the dining room inhaling canned beans?

Iiiiits Rorschach!

Billy is FREAKING out because the Watchmen can’t be seen together! He rushes the JL out as quick as possible and says he’s “so sorry, but something’s come up, I can’t go. Just tell the front desk fawn that I sent you and she’ll know.”

Naturally, Diana is the first to say that she is not leaving him alone with someone who BROKE INTO HIS HOME. Billy waves her off and says that “it’s totally cool! This happens all the time in Fawcett!” before slamming the door closed.

Billy: what the hell were you thinking?

Rorschach: Im here for good reason, B.

Billy: Save it, I know about the Comedian and Blake.

Rorschach: You don’t think this is a one and done thing, do you? Someone’s clearly gunning for masks, and for some reason, they started with one of us! Why not those new flashy heroes you hang with? Superman? Batman? Wonder Woman? Why one of us?

Billy: In case you forgot, we operated during the Cold War. We made enemies. And even without that, Blake was a military man who enjoyed making people suffer. If he had no enemies, I call bullshit!

Rorschach: I’m still determined to make sure this doesn’t happen to the rest of us. I’m going to everyone’s homes, and—

Billy: Okay, now you’ve blocked me. No one is going to listen. Daniel(Nite Owl) has moved on. Laurel hates the guy and Jon(Dr. Manhattan) does whatever Laurel(Silk Spectre) wants. Adrian(Ozymandius) is perfectly happy with his company. And I swear, if you bring any of the Minute Men into this…

Rorschach: I have to try. Even if they don’t believe me, I have to get it into their heads somehow. The Minute Men went through the exact same thing.

Billy: no offense, but your wording does not get across to people as “caring.” You’ll just as soon make them throw you out.

Rorschach: Agreed. So, I’ll need to bring along someone who’s better at that than I am.

Billy:

Rorschach:

Billy: Damn it.

Cue the cancel out duo of Billy and Rorschach going to the home of the former second Nite Owl and freaking him the hell out. Daniel and Billy reminisce about the old days while Rorschach gets across his point. Daniel naturally thinks it’s a flimsy take, and Billy says he gets it, but being a little more careful never hurt anyone, right?

They also talk about Blake. Dan says he’s thinking of going to the funeral, but he also has mixed feelings. Billy says he isn’t going. After what happened with Sally Jupiter(the first Silk Spectre, and Laurel’s mom), he can’t look at any pictures of him the same way.

They leave, next going to Veidt Inc.

Predictably, it does the same way. Except this time, Billy is able to glean that something is off about Adrian. He can’t put his finger on it, but he tells Rorschach to leave as soon as possible.

Laurel and Jon are a little less angry(they have good reason tho) because billy is there. Laurel’s so happy to see him! Jon on the other hand doesn’t know what to do.

They used to be close. Billy was used to speaking to higher beings who didn’t understand the concept of human morality and the like. Jon’s a little different, because gods are able to feel, but it’s as close as it can get. Billy stood up for him on multiple occasions, except when Jon cheated on his gf with Laurel, that got him a two month no-talking period until it didn’t seem right to do so and he got to know Laurel.

Then the island stuff happened. The Comedian may be an asshole, but he doesn’t lie. Jon just stood there while that woman bled out. Billy just…couldn’t look at him the same anymore.

Unlike in the movie, where Rorschach says something stupid and Laurel tells Jon to make him leave, Billy stops Rorschach from making that idiotic mistake and says that they don’t have to hide themselves or actively look for danger. It’s just important that they generally keep themselves safe by any means that they want to. They readily agree because wow, boundaries!

Meanwhile, Bruce and his gaggle of detectives found out who that weird guy sitting at Billy’s dining table is. A member of a team that hasn’t been talked about in decades. Of course, there are no articles or pictures involving the Watchmen interacting with a kid with magic. So, they naturally want answers from HIM. Billy is tight-lipped when they see him, and is somewhere else in his free time(with Rorschach).

Unfortunately, that’s when shit really takes a turn. A former villain that Rorschach and Billy spoke to tells them that the Comedian, without a mask, was in his bedroom weeks before he died! Spouting nonsense about Dr. Manhattan, an island, a list, people who were apparently worse than him, so much worse that he started begging to be forgiven.

Dr. Manhattan goes on live television for the first time in decades. This is the first time the JL has ever seen him. Billy’s watching it carefully with Rorschach and just about has a heart attack when some reporter gets up and tells him that several people who he used to know have contracted forms of cancer. At least a dozen. There’s a list.

A list. Oh shit!

Jon cries out in anger and disappears, rushing who knows where(Mars).

Meanwhile, Adrian kills someone. At least, it looks like he did. The other guy attacked him and his assistant, and was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. Adrian puts his hand in his mouth to stop him, but he’s too late. He’s been framed for murder.

With all of this happening, Rorschach gets a message from Moloch saying that they need to talk. Cool, have fun. Billy’s at the Watchtower and he’s swiftly avoiding the topic of that weird guy in his apartment.

Two seconds later, Rorschach is on the news. He’s been caught. His mask is off. Billy is screaming internally.

That is the exact moment when he turns to the JL.

“…I need your help breaking someone out of prison. And presumably stopping a mass killing. And that mass killing kind if sort of includes me.”

Yeah, they’re gonna need more info. Like hold up, you were in a team before us😠?

Anyway that’s where the brain rot ends until the second movie. Jeez this was a lot.

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