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rebelfell · 4 months

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Evidently never gonna be done with thoughts of these two... 18+, MDNI 4.8k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: unprotected piv, finishing inside

cont'd from here, index here

The ride back to the house is silent.

No music playing. No words being said. Just the rumble of his van’s engine and the spin of its tires making the floor vibrate underneath your feet. Eddie’s hands keep tensing, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never loosening as he navigates the deserted, winding backroads.

The trip that seemed to take only minutes on the way now stretches on interminably. Like when you wake up from a dream and the elasticized time snaps abruptly back in place and you realize your alarm has been going off for over an hour and now you’re definitely late for work.

You swallow thickly as you stare out the window at the blur of trees whipping past, your fingers twisting in your lap as you pick at the skin around your thumbnail. You rack your brain for some words, any words, that might be helpful. That might somehow fix this mess you’ve made.

But there isn’t a lot left to say after the lake.

Eddie, don’t, you can’t say stuff like that.

Why not? It’s the truth, it’s how I feel, I—

Because this can’t go anywhere! I’m leaving, I’m going back to—

Then I’ll leave too! I’ll go with you, I’ll go wherever you go, I just want to be with you.

Stop it, you don’t know what you’re saying.

He tries to tell you he does mean it. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He doesn’t care about Hawkins or his stupid community college classes or his handful of odd jobs he could do literally anywhere. He’ll pick up and move. He’ll work. He’ll take care of you.

He’ll do anything so long as this doesn’t end.

What about Steve?

You stare at him plainly, certain you’ve delivered a death blow. And his face does flicker, if only for a moment, as the guilt that’s been festering in his gut for months finally shows through. And even as he shakes his head as determinately as he can, the waver in his voice is unmistakable.

I’ll…I’ll explain it to him.

Explain what? That we fucked on every available surface in his house?

Eddie shrank at your harsh words, not ready for the anger that flashed in your eyes, nor the vitriol that rose in your voice when you so crassly described the best summer of his life.

No! Well…yeah, but—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!

Okay, and then what? We date? You practically spat the word out. Show up for Christmas dinner at your best friend’s house? Sit across the table from him as his aunt’s…as my…

You can’t even say the word “boyfriend”—it feels so juvenile, so high-school.

The argument drags on until the deep, brilliant midnight blue sky begins to tinge gray with the arrival of a cold and sickly dawn. Eddie probably would have kept going until the sun rose, until it hung in the middle of the sky, until it had set and come back up all over again. But you told him as calmly as you could that you had to go back.

It was time.

His van practically crawls to a stop in the driveway, the screech of his brakes mixing with the soft tweets of birds just beginning to stir. He shifts it into park and reaches up to grab the keys and cut the ignition, but you lay your hand on top of his to stop him.

“I don’t think you should stay,” you tell him, forcing back the wobble in your voice.

And the way he looks at you when you say it makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed. His face crumples, his brow pinching together, his mouth contorted in an ugly shape more snarl than frown.

“Don’t do this…” he says, gritting out the words through a clenched jaw. “Please.”

And it’s not the sort of begging you’re used to hearing out of him. It’s not an eager plea for you to kiss him or touch him, nor a cheeky request to fuck you somewhere you could get caught. This is real begging. It’s him clawing at you from behind a chain link fence, a lost puppy who wants only for you to take him home from the pound.

Not asking for anything but you.

“Eddie, we can’t—”

He reaches out for you, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, his touch somehow soft and tender despite the rigid tension you can see in his arms, in his back, in his shoulders.

“We can do anything we want,” he whispers.

His breath is warm on your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He really believes it. And god do you want to believe it too. But…

“I’m sorry.”

Tears brim along your lashline as you wedge your fingers under his to wrench them from your face, rushing to get out of the van before he can stop you. Your footsteps thud on the concrete as you retreat inside the house and lean on the door in the foyer until you hear him backing down the driveway and the glow of his headlights has disappeared completely from view.

You drift back upstairs, heading for your sister’s room that has lain untouched since they left. Past all the places you and he defiled this summer. Past your bed with its rumpled sheets that still smell of Camels and cologne. Past the guest room where Eddie barely slept, lying awake at night thinking of you instead. Past the answering machine and its flashing red light that signals a new message has been left, one you’ll listen to in the morning with bleary bloodshot eyes.

It’s your sister letting you know they’ve changed their flight. They’ll be home tomorrow.

Which is now today.

Having John and Viv back in the house is an adjustment.

Upon playing their message, you and Steve did a sweep of every room trying to get it back up to his mother’s impeccable standards you’d let slide since your arrival…in more ways than one.

You don’t see much of Steve’s father, which feels normal because you never do. Even after all the deals he closed this summer, he somehow only has to work more now that he’s home. Most mornings, he’s up and headed to the office before the rest of the world has hit the first snooze on their alarms. And some nights he stays until long after the rest of the house has gone to bed.

It gives you and your sister lots of time to talk. Well, it gives her time to talk. And the one thing she simply can’t seem to stop talking about is how incredible the yard looks.

She keeps looking out the windows and sighing wistfully as she stares at the haven Eddie has created. She starts to take her morning coffee, her afternoon tea, her evening glass of port out on the patio just to marvel at the perennials just beginning to flower. She’s beyond thrilled.

And you’re…fine. At least you can pretend like you are. Most days.

It’s easy to slip back into the state of numbness that was your home base after everything with your ex. But with him, you had just felt mad. There was no guilt or remorse eating away at your insides. No bottomless pit of doubt in your stomach, no needling thoughts of regret gnawing at you constantly. No part of you left wondering if you’d made a terrible mistake.

Or rather, another one.

What’s really not helping is Viv going out of her way to berate you about how you’re going about this all wrong. She’s quick to scold you for moping around the house, asking if this is what you’ve done all summer. She’s adamant you should be getting back out there—back on the bike or the horse or whatever other tired ass cliche you preferred.

It’s during one of these rants that the phone rings and mercifully cuts her off. Steve is calling. He left his lunch at home and he’s wondering if someone can bring it to him. Vivian grins.

“Your aunt would love to. She was just saying she needed to get out of the house.”

And she’s not wrong, even if it’s her and not the house you need a break from.

But as you make the turn into Family Video’s lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the brown and white van parked out front. Eddie’s long frame leans on the hood, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his hands resting on the hips of a girl he’s got pressed up against him, his fingers toying with the frilled hem of a baby pink top that flashes the bare skin of her lower back.

Your neck is as stiff as death as you walk past, keeping your eyes glued to the door in front of you, trying to ignore the breathy laugh that floats on the air and punctures your brain. You yank on the handle a little too hard, the silver bell overhead even louder in your already ringing ears.

Steve lets out a loud groan of relief when he sees you, or rather when he sees his lunch, and he tears into it right there on the sales floor. He’s the only one on today and the store is deserted— everyone likely at the pool or out enjoying the last few weeks of freedom and warm weather.

Or going for a gold medal in tonsil hockey.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean on the counter, sneaking a glance over your shoulder you know you’ll regret. Most of the display going on outside is obscured by the decals and posters on the windows, but you can still see plenty.

Eddie’s head dips to whisper something in that girl’s ear and you feel about as tall as the crumbs scattering from Steve’s sandwich.

As he chews, your nephew’s gaze follows yours out the window. His brows raise as Eddie grins and he starts to run his hands down the curve of her spine, slipping them snugly into the back pockets of her jeans. Unable to see the grimace on your face, Steve just nods approvingly.

“About time,” he sighs as he rips off another bite. “He’s been like…catatonic lately.”

The sourness in your stomach only curdles further until you mutter out a goodbye to Steve and turn to make your escape. But the very moment that you do, that girl is taking Eddie by the hand and pulling him along behind her into the store. You and she nearly collide at the door, close enough you can smell the sickly sweet peach lip gloss she’s wearing.

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am,” she says, blithely smiling as she floats over to the new releases.

Behind her, Eddie stands staunchly in the doorway. He takes up the entire exit, his dark clothes seemingly absorbing all the light in the room as you lift your chin to look him in the eye.

You expect to find contempt. Something callous and unfeeling. More than merely smug, you’re sure he will be dripping with arrogance and condescension. Because he’s got every right to be, doesn’t he? You really think I cared about you? Don’t you see how fast I can replace you?

But when you do look at him, there is only pain etched into his features. He holds your gaze for no more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. You think that all of civilization could be crumbling into ruin around you and you would never know because you can’t stand to tear your eyes away from his. And you don’t, until he drops his head and turns sideways to let you pass.

His cologne stings in your nostrils as you do, and your arm brushes the edge of his denim vest. And you don’t make it but a block away before you have to pull off onto a side street and cry.

For the next two weeks, the sky is permanently gray.

Dark and mottled clouds roll in sometime that evening and suddenly even the smallest sliver of sunshine becomes as precious as real gold. Their coverage is dense and the air becomes thick and muggy with humidity that only gets more oppressive, yet never gets any closer to breaking.

Every day, the house seems to get smaller. It’s like you’re a rat in a maze and the scientists who are studying you keep removing portions of it until you’ve been boxed in with no escape. But the idea of going out, the thought of running into Eddie again, is too much for you to bear the risk.

The only thing that brings you any sort of solace is that the school year will start soon and you’ll have work to distract you again. Truthfully, the only reason you have yet to extract yourself from Hawkins is because your new housing—a little craftsman you’re going to rent from the head of your department at the university—won’t be ready for you to move in until the end of August.

But the looming threat of your departure somehow only encourages Vivian.

You should have known something was up the moment she said she wanted to have a “family dinner” to celebrate your last night. You should have known when you came into your room and found a bag from her favorite department store sitting on your bed containing a sundress far too floral for your taste. It might as well have had a post-it on it that said “Wear Me” like your mother used to put on your school clothes when she laid them out for you in the morning.

If you were smart, you might have thrown it out the window. Or maybe even climbed through it yourself and scaled down the trellis to make a run for it. Instead, you put it on. And your feet are like lead on the steps as you come down to find your sister bustling around the dining room.

Your brow furrows as you count four place settings. “I thought Steve had a date,” you say.

“He does,” she hums, shooting you a sidelong glance. “And so do you.”

“Viv, no. Please don’t do this—”

“I haven’t done anything!”

She throws her hands up and smiles, but all the faux innocence in the world can’t disguise that glint of mischief in her eyes. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by the doorbell.

“That must be him,” she titters, flapping a napkin behind you to shoo you into the foyer. “Go on, now, don’t keep him waiting!”

Eddie parks his van down the street from Steve’s house, under the cover of some tree branches that hang low over the road. He smokes two cigarettes down to the filters and debates on a third as he tries to summon the courage to get out of the car. Every part of his body seems to be at odds with him, unwilling to settle until he finally kicks open the door and gets out.

His feet carry him forward in long, determined strides but they falter when he sees a car he isn’t expecting sitting in the driveway. It’s a cruiser. One Eddie found himself pulled over by on more than a few occasions, being scrutinized by the giant hulking man now ringing the doorbell.

Hopper.

He’s not in uniform. In fact, he’s more dressed up than Eddie has ever seen him, all trussed up in a sport coat over a button down that he’s actually buttoned. Shit, is his shirttail tucked in?

“Munson?” he says in surprise. “What brings you here?”

But before Eddie can answer, the door is opening and it's you on the other side. Eyes widening when they land on him and then blinking furiously when you realize Hopper is there as well.

“Um…hi.”

It’s hard to say who looks more uncomfortable as you step aside so Hopper can come in and you exchange some stilted pleasantries. You remember him from high-school and you aren’t all that surprised the town’s terminal bachelor is the one your sister has decided to foist upon you.

What is surprising is that Eddie is here. And his eyes are searing into you, while you have yet to fully acknowledge him. In all honesty, you're not entirely convinced he isn’t a hallucination. Only when Viv appears and glides into the chaos like a parade float do you actually believe it.

“I thought that was you, Chief. So glad you could make it—Oh, Eddie!”

Her eyes fall on the boy still hovering in the doorway, her hand coming up to her chest.

“I’m so sorry, dear, but Steve’s already left for his date. Wait right here, though, I have some money for you for all that work you did.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

Eddie takes a hurried step forward, his white sneakers finally breaching the threshold. Vivian is already gone, though, rushing up the stairs. Leaving you alone. With both of them.

“Hey…Hop. John’s in the den, if you want a drink,” you tell him, pointing the way.

With a terse nod and a gruff sound you presume is him answering in the affirmative, Hopper heads down the hall and leaves you and Eddie to your uncomfortable hovering. He leans on the narrow table in the entryway, staring at his own hand as he traces the edge of the wood with his finger, the rest of his hand closed in a fist. He won’t look at you now. Won’t lift his chin an inch.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper.

Eddie just shrugs, staring now at his sneakers he’s scuffing against the oriental rug under his feet. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. His chest rises with the breath he draws, but he swallows his non-response when he hears Vivian at the top of the stairs.

“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing over the envelope full of cash with his name written on it that’s been sitting on her bureau for weeks now.

His head shakes. “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! You did such beautiful work out there, it was so wonderful to come home to. You ought to think about going into landscaping.”

Vivian just about forces the envelope into his hands and he mutters out a thank you, tapping his fingers on it and making furtive glances towards the door as she whirls around to you.

“You two met, right?” she asks. “He must have been here all the time working.”

“Y-yeah, yes, we—”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his back pocket and reaching for the doorknob in one motion. Still not looking you in the eye. “I’ll, um…I’m sorry to disturb you…”

He goes to leave, one foot already out the door when she suddenly stops and looks back over his shoulder. You feel your breath catch, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours.

“Have a good night,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone.

The door doesn’t slam. He doesn’t even shut it particularly hard. Still, you can’t help but flinch as it closes soundly behind him. There’s something so final about it, but it doesn’t feel like enough after everything that’s happened—it doesn’t feel right for it to end with something so hollow.

Vivian just smiles and loops her arm with yours.

“Ready to go find the boys?”

You walk Hopper to the door after dinner, more or less coerced into it by your sister.

There’s a slight scuffle as you try and figure out how to say goodnight to one another. He winds up reaching out a hand as big as a bear’s paw and clumsily pats your shoulder, almost like he is one, when he seemingly can’t decide between hugging you or shaking your hand.

Chuckling through it the best you can, you keep the same fake smile you’ve worn all night firmly plastered in place until the door closes with him on the other side. And you stand there for a minute, not too keen on going back in the kitchen for your impending cross-examination.

But then your eyes land on the vase sitting on the table in the entryway. More specifically, on the folded piece of paper tucked behind it with only a ripped edge peeking out.

You reach for it, flashing back to a ringed finger tracing the edge of that table, fist clenched around something, and your hands shake as you unfold it to read Eddie’s note scrawled inside.

I’m parked down the street.

It’s just starting to rain as you hurry down the driveway, skulking through shadows as you walk along the quiet street. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of the approaching storm as fat raindrops hit the top of your head and slide down your scalp through the forest of your roots.

A pitch black sky overhead matches the road under your feet, scantly lit by a lone streetlight. The wind picks up as you look around for Eddie’s van and just when you’re starting to think he must have left already, you spot him on the side of the road under the cover of some trees.

At first all you can see is the glowing orange dot at the end of his cigarette, but his face steadily comes into view as you approach the driver’s side door. A blatant attempt to avoid what you know will happen if you climb in the passenger seat.

The rain starts to fall a little harder as he rolls his window down. It soaks the ground at your feet, clouds of steam rising from the pavement. The air is thick and heavy, like standing in a bowl of soup. It has your shoulders sagging with the weight and your lungs struggling to draw breath.

At least that’s what you let yourself believe.

“How was your date?” Eddie asks with a bitter laugh that does little to disguise his disgust. You shake your head, pushing back a wet piece of hair clinging to your cheek.

“It wasn’t a…It was just dinner.”

The hurt in your voice makes his eyes round and soften, cheeks hollowing as he takes a long drag. Seemingly breathing in as deeply as he can to steady his own frayed nerves.

“I was afraid you might have left already,” he says.

“No,” you tell him, eyes falling to your feet. “Not ‘til tomorrow.”

He nods.

“I, uh—I know I shouldn’t just show up like this. But I wanted to tell you…” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip shaking almost imperceptibly, corners of his mouth turning downwards as he stubs out his smoke. “I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Any of it.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours on the last words, brown eyes like twin black holes that hold all the mysteries of the universe. There’s a terrifying vastness to them, a depth you’ve only barely scratched the surface of. Your lips press together and you pinch your eyes shut as your hand creeps up to rest on the door, fingers curling around it as raindrops splash on the interior.

The thunder only gets louder as the storm nears, the rain now falling in a rapid patter. Here it is, you tell yourself. This is what you knew was coming. This is where you knew you’d end up.

“I don’t regret it either,” you say, raising your voice over the sound of the rain, forcing down the tremble in it. “And I…I’ll never forget it.”

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you have to look away. And as you do, you give the door a tight squeeze, wishing it was his hand instead.

“Bye, Eddie.”

Your feet carry you away like you’re on autopilot.

You’re barely conscious of the steps you take or the direction you head in as the rain ramps up to a downpour and fully soaks through your clothes. Your head is spinning and foggy, unable to register much of anything until one sound breaks through—the creak of the van door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by the splashing of water under sneakers.

The solid weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you start as he turns you towards him, the rain falling harder and the wind blowing faster all around. The trees overhead whip back and forth in a frenzy, their branches dipping low and their leaves swirling wildly in the air.

“Eddie, someone could see—”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to wrench you closer, pulling you into his body, both of your faces splattered with rain, barely able to see anything beyond each other.

“Let them,” he breathes out before his lips slam into yours.

The sound of the storm is only magnified inside of Eddie’s van, every drop of rain on the metal roof practically deafening as you climb through the rear and your bodies slide against the floor. The carpet inside is rough and scratchy, the fibers imbedded with decades worth of dirt and crumbs and tobacco and weed particles, but you can’t find the will within you to care.

All you can think about, all you can focus on, is him.

His kiss is harsh and punishing, lips mashing rough against yours, teeth clacking as he devours you. Aggressive and bruising in a way that, deep down, you know you deserve.

Your wet clothes cleave to your bodies as you struggle to drag them off, steadfast in their refusal despite your feverish attempts. Eddie’s jeans and boxers only make it to the middle of his thighs before he’s pushing inside of you and a strangled moan releases from his throat.

The stretch makes you writhe, the stinging pain quickly becoming an afterthought as your need for him overrides everything else. You fist his wet shirt in your hands, rivulets of water trickling down your forearms as you clutch it tight to pull his body as close to yours as it can get.

Adrenaline races in your veins as he begins to thrust and you realize it’s the first time he’s taken you bare, the velvet of his skin dragging against your walls with nothing to separate you.

He fucks you fast and hard, your legs kicking up to wrap around his waist, your ass burning from the friction, your muscles tightening and tensing with every move. His whole body is quaking as he drives himself inside, the van rocking, teetering like it’s about to tip over the edge of a cliff.

He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll get to, because he’s pretty sure it will be.

“Let me come in you,” he groans in your ear, more command than request. “Want to fill you up, want you to feel every…fucking…drop…”

The words are grunted out in time with his thrusts, his hips pushing deeper with every heaving breath, his cock twitching inside you as your walls pulse and tighten around him.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god!”

Your fingers weave into his wet curls, twisting them in your grasp at the root, tugging his head up and holding him there so you can stare into his eyes, your own vision strained in the dark.

Lightning flashes through the windshield, followed instantly by a clap of thunder. So close it could have struck right outside. For an instant, the van is illuminated and you see his face fully—eyes wide and wild, hair half-dried in damp coils, tattoos stark against pale skin that glows white.

It only lasts a second, but it shows you everything you need to see.

“Come, Eddie,” you gasp as the lightning dissipates and the whole van rattles from the force. “Want you to come for me, come in me—”

And he does. As fast and hard as the lightning strike, Eddie’s cock bursts with rope after rope of his release spurting inside of you, your center tingling as the feeling of it spreads throughout your body. The noise he makes in your ear is ungodly. It pours out from deep in his throat, guttural and resonant as the echoing claps of thunder. He drops all of his weight onto you, shaking from the force of his orgasm as you’re flattened between him and the floor.

“It’s okay,” you coo softly, your fingers loosening your grip on his hair to stroke it instead, nails dragging soft and slow against his scalp.

He shivers at your gentle and soothing touch, inhaling shaky breaths of you with his face pressed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Safe and dark and warm.

“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking in a dry sob as his tears slide off his cheeks to mix with the rainwater and sweat on your skin. Your throat clenches as you swallow, still trying to force down the words that have sat heavy in the center of your chest for weeks now, fighting to be said.

Finally, finally, finally, they make it out.

“I love you too.”

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #TSITA

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jolapeno · 3 months

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18. calming peach

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eighteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.2k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. too idiots who clearly want to have a future together. an: we're so close to the end and i'm crying.

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You’d never consider setting an alarm an hour early for anyone else, silencing it with a groan and stretch, leg bending out like a lazy, sleepy starfish until it meets him.

He who is waiting, palm sliding over your thigh, up to your waist, gently tickling your stomach until you wiggle. Frankie’s breath grazes your neck as he sighs, pressing each syllable to your skin, Morning.

Sometimes when you wake next to him, you stretch out and he comes to your side; others you fold over onto his, and occasionally you meet in the middle, leg between his, rousing to the sounds of neighbours, heartbeats, birds, or silence.

But like clockwork, always after a moment, your lips meet his in a tender kiss, soft and layered with a smile before growing needier, the only time his movements aren't slick and coordinated.

“Shower?”

He hums against your mouth, tracing the band of your sleep shorts.

Soon enough, the hour is stolen by cuddles and whispers before a shared shower washes away lingering sleep. Hisses blend with steam until you're both towelling off and slipping into clothes.

“Do you think you’ll be gone all day?” you ask, pouring fruit into your yogurt, handing him the bowl as he sips his coffee.

“Not sure—could be. You’re staying here, right?” You nod and grin, chewing a piece of fruit. “Good. I like knowing I’m coming home to you.”

His words spread warmth through you, a blaze of happiness. You stare at him for a moment before asking, “Is that so?”

Placing his elbow on the table, he traces his jaw as he stares. “Yeah. That okay?”

Shrugging, fighting a smirk. “Not the worst thing I’ve been told.”

“What you working on today? ” he says, pinching a piece from your bowl—ignoring the chopped-up, untouched yoghurt ones left for him. “Still those graphics?”

Nodding, you motion to stab him with your fork when he tries again. “Get your own, Morales. Stop wanting mine.”

“Can never stop wanting you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you watch him grab a piece from the free bowl, smirking as he chews.

“I made you a lunch, by the way.”

Chewing and smirking, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. “Like a lunch lunch or—?”

“A lunch in a brown bag—with maybe a love note in there.”

His tongue pokes his cheek as he smirks. “Yeah?”

You nod, pointing at the fridge. He moves quickly, opening the brown bag, rustling through it before pausing and turning fully.

“You made me lunch.”

“I did.”

You might have ruined me for lunches from now on.

Ah, this is why I didn’t make you them before—wanted you to fall in love with me for me, and not my excellent packed lunch. You hating what you have today?

It’s not hitting the spot.

Did you make it yourself or grab it on the way?

Grabbed it?

Well, there’s why. It isn’t made with love.

I did like the fact I got a note in mine the other day.

Special treatment. Hope you didn’t throw it away.

Don’t laugh, but it’s in my wallet.

Aw Butterscotch, you loveeeee me.

If you make Luca a packed lunch, I think he’ll make you stay forever.

Well, I’m not going anywhere. If that’s okay?

I meant living with us, but good to know that we’re on the same boat about being a forever kind of thing.

I don’t make lunches for just anyone.

Because of the risk of them falling in love with you?

It’s a blessing and a curse, Morales.

Placing the platter down, a breeze blows the tablecloth on the newly painted and restored garden furniture Frankie had surprised you with.

The temperature warm, birds chirping as you check and recheck the various paint shades ready on the paper plates—the canvas’ already set up on their stands as he waits, resting his chin on his palm.

“Ready?”

Scrunching your nose, you sigh. “I think so?”

“What if I can’t paint you how I see you?”

Kissing the top of his head, feeling his head tilt up as you press another to his forehead, to his nose. “Oh, I’ll cry if I look like a monster.”

His laugh ripples out as you press your mouth to his, feeling one of his hands skate around your middle, squeezing.

A scroll on your phone one night had led the two of you to purchase a vase from Harold’s small homeware section, filling it with a bunch of different date ideas. Some cheap, at home, some further afield that required more planning.

Last week’s had been backyard camping. The tent had been big enough for all three of you, fairy lights strung on the inside as Luca’s s’mores (an insistence on them from both you and him) had accompanied well with Frankie’s reading of Luca’s ghost story. Which was basically one of his books with a ghost on the cover.

Today’s, on a rare free day off, had you both back outside and ready to paint. Thirty minutes on Frankie’s phone, a set of paint shades that would definitely make it difficult to capture the beauty of his eyes and an array of nibbles that smelt too good to keep avoiding.

As you sit, both grabbing a brush in hand, you glance over at him and nod as he begins the timer, his focus already deep on his canvas. He looks up, catching your eye and offering a smile that’s familiar, all but warm.

“You know,” he says, dipping his brush into a bright blue, “this might be my favourite date yet.”

You grin, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the sun. “Because you’re getting to paint something other than a dinosaur?”

He nods, eyes twinkling. “I do paint a good dinosaur.”

“You do. Very talented.”

Laughter continues as you begin with his outline, the conversation flowing as you try to capture his nose, his smile—the crinkle of his eyes. By the time the alarm goes off, you're almost happy. Dropping your paintbrush, hands up as you admire for a moment before picking yours up to show him.

“You’re going to be blown away.”

“I’m ready, baby.”

Turning yours first, his brows raise, leaning forward, slightly squinting. “I'm getting the idea that you like my nose...”

Smirking, slowly lowering yours back to the stand. “Oh, I like your nose, Butterscotch.”

Laughing, he then turns his and what you see takes your breath away. His painting of you, beautiful but also absolutely hilarious, has your smile cutting up into your cheek, teeth showing before a laugh rumbles out. It high-pitched, scratching your throat as it forces it out—tears pricking at your eyes, as he slowly lowers it.

“See? I told you I couldn’t paint you how I see you.”

You laugh, blinking back tears, heart full. “Frankie, you drew me as a dinosaur.”

He cracks then, mirroring you, laughing. “I wouldn’t run from you.”

Shaking your head, wiping another tear from your eye you snort. “I’d trample on you.”

“I’d let you.”

Wanted you to know that a certain person is wondering if he can watch cartoons and eat ice cubes with you. Aw, how’s the little man feeling? He’s still got a temp, but it’s less than yesterday and he’s managing to keep toast down. I’ve rang Harold already, thought he might have been okay today but. Does Harold need help?

You don’t even think, question.

The offer had been on your tongue on the day Frankie had called from the car to tell you he needed to pick Luca up. Explanation interspersed with hissing at traffic and grumbling, as you conjured the image of him tugging on his hair as he hurried his way to the school.

Frankie had said it would be fine when you’d offered before—it’ll be one day, that’s it. Now it was day three, and medication from the family medicine doctor as Luca battled an ear infection that had him not even wanting to talk dinosaurs.

There’s a delivery, but he says he’ll call his nephew.

Dialling his contact and pressing the phone to your ear, you drain the last parts of your coffee, tidying away the opened letters on your countertop as it rings, and rings, and—

“Call him and tell him I’m on my way.”

Frankie laughs, mumbling a hello as you hear him clanging a pan and something else. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I haven’t got much on—and even if I just accept it for him, let him tell me where he wants it, then it’s sorted.”

“You sure? This… you don’t have to do this.”

Laughing, grabbing a t-shirt from your drawer, before pulling out a pair of older jeans. “You kidding me right? I get to hang out with Harry—hear his puns first-hand? I’m more excited than he’ll be.”

“Rainy…”

Your mouth opens, letting out a heavy exhale before you stare at yourself in the mirror. Seeing the smile on your face from his words, finding yourself unable to tear yourself away from it for once. Liking it, the look of joy on your face, the one he etches just from his voice.

“Rainy?”

“It’ll be good for me—think I need to get out of the office, my house.”

There’s a silence, just for a moment. “You okay?”

Muttering an uh-huh back to him as you place him on loudspeaker, dragging the t-shirt over your head before he says your name.

“Just another rough day with a person who is using me as a punching bag. Woke up to an email, but… it’s fine, it’s really fine.”

“I hate that you keep having them.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me too. I feel like I brave it up and get rid of one and two grow in its place.”

Frankie exhales, his breath sliding down the phone, “Can I do anything?”

“Well, if you don’t mind me being fake Frankie, I’d love to go help Harold out—it’ll be good for me. Feel like… I’m good at something.”

“Rainy.”

“I know,” you say, finger-tracing a pattern on your bedsheets, “I know. But… just how I feel.”

“You’re good at lots of things.”

“Like?”

He snorts, loudly. “Making me laugh.”

“You laughed at a meme for ten minutes the other day about a dog’s tongue poking out.”

“It was hilarious.”

Sitting yourself down, back lying on your made bed, you run a hand down your face. “I’m just a little tired, I think. Usually, it wouldn’t bother me this much.” Frankie makes a noise in agreement, the back of your wrist resting on your forehead. “Truthfully, I want to see if Harold would be impressed by my puns.”

Frankie laughs, more clanging heard under it. “I’ll call him—but only if you promise to let me order you food for when you’re done.”

“Oh. Not worried I’ll get whatever Luca has?”

He snorts, and you can imagine the roll of his eyes even down the phone. “Unless you think you can catch an ear infection, I think you’ll be good.”

Smiling, slowly pulling yourself up to a sitting position, a pang of worry knocks through you—threatens to shake things. “Harold won’t mind, will he… I know you said he runs things differently.”

“I think he’s been wanting to replace me with you since you wandered in that day—he’ll be hoping it becomes permanent.”

Are you doing okay?

Yeah! It’s been fine, most are on palettes. Did spot a large order of butterscotch paint—that for you?

Haha, no. It’s actually been picking up in popularity.

It’s you modelling it on your page.

Shh, no it isn’t.

Baby, I love you—but I saw your latest video. From when you helped Benny, if I wasn’t already getting the chance to be in the sheets with you, I’d be thinking it.

It wasn’t that hot.

You really, really grossly misunderstand how hot you are, Francisco. Your arms for one.

You’re making me blush.

How the turn tables turn. Me, in your apron, you at home being flirted with.

Now I’m picturing you in my apron.

Yeah?

Don’t tell me what’s under it, let me fantasise.

Should I bring it to yours later?

Yeah. Yeah, do that.

There’s something about the noise of fight night.

It is both thrilling and anxiety-inducing as Frankie leads you in, his palm firmly on your back, guiding and easing you in. You reach a hand back to touch his wrist, a comforting ritual you’ve developed since that first time.

Your eyes scan and search for the others, a routine that brings a sense of normalcy to these events. Feet slowing, almost coming to a stop as you see Will wave, drink in hand, pointing at it as you nod back to Frankie and guide him through the growing crowd.

The music is louder tonight, the air tinged with more restlessness as you move, slide, and push your way through until you reach the rope.

“VIP, are we?” you call out, wrapping your arm around Will’s neck in a hug.

“Only the best.”

You step aside as the rope is reattached, letting Frankie and Will greet each other while you wave at the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you see all the slaps on the back, Frankie’s fingers cupping the back of his friend's head as he grins, nods, and talks right into his ear.

Then, there’s an arm around your middle, a familiar warm breath on your ear. “You good, baby?”

“I am.”

His lips press a tender kiss to the side of your head before you follow Will to sit down. As you settle in, you listen to Will telling Frankie that Benny is in the back and how he’s really stepped up over the last few days. You find yourself distracted, your tongue chasing the straw in your drink, until the conversation turns to yoga. Will mentions that you think it’s been quite good for Benny to shut off, and you give Frankie a look, mouthing, ‘Told you,’ to your boyfriend.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Will says suddenly, shouting over the music. “How did it go showing him the—”

Involuntary, your elbow slams into his side mid-sip. Your eyes widen as it forces a cough to smother the other words, staring boldly, almost coldly, right into Will’s face.

“I haven’t had a chance to show Benny the video,” you say, curtly, sharply. “It was very bright in the helicopter.”

You hope the lie is good enough, solid enough. You also hope Will picks up on it. Notice the distress in your eyes as Frankie, who is hanging onto your side and you can feel is darting his eyes from you to his friend and back again.

It takes a second, eyes narrowing, your stomach knotting as you fear the surprise you’ve been planning for Frankie is about to unravel.

“Ah, alright. Well, it would be good to see when it’s ready.”

Nodding, you lean into Frankie’s side, watching his eyes smooth out, relief washing over you as the tension dissipates. “Hey, so how does this night go? Is he the main fight?”

Shaking his head, Frankie adjusts his hold on his drink as he slings his arm around your neck, beginning to explain things as you shoot a smile at Will, managing to catch, quickly, the mouthed apology as you wink and let Frankie explain what tonight is for.

Your phone vibrates on the side, glancing at it as you help Luca roll out a small pizza circle from the dough you made last night.

“Rainy, can you helps me with my hat?”

Fingers adjusting his chef hat further down his head, a thing you hadn’t been sure if he would like until you saw his face light up when you pulled it out with its matching apron.

We should be done in about half an hour. And then I can come inside? You will be greeted at the side door by our mini-waiter who will be happy to show you to your seat. You breaking child working laws, Rainy? He had a work permit I swear.

Stepping back from him, you turn the oven on as you mentally tick off another thing, before scanning over the recipe that you have printed out.

It’s splattered in the sauce you’ve already made—and slightly damp from grabbing Luca's water earlier.

I think you’re lying. I think you grossly misunderstand how seriously we take things at Dino-Moralesaurus Diner. Excellent name though. I can’t take all the credit, your son is a genius.

At the sound of a knock, you help Luca down from the cooking stool Frankie had made him as he runs off excitedly screaming. It’s even harder not to grin at the sound of his boots coming off, as he comments nice hat, chef to Luca as you continue rolling out the dough.

You’re aware you’re covered in flour, that the side is a mess of sauce stains and random half-chopped ingredients.

“What’s this?”

Luca, now hatless, fulfils his duty as a waiter, offering the chalkboard to him as he explains, in the most adorable voice, that the special is pizza, the main is pizza and the dessert is—

“Rainy, what’s the dessert again?”

“Ice cream.”

“’Tis ice cream, Daddy.”

Lifting your head from chopping toppings, you catch his eye and exchange a knowing smile before Luca leads him to the already set table, clinking plates and silverware as he clambers up onto the chair to pour him a glass of lake water.

“Now, tell me, are the pizzas dino shaped?”

“Hmm, lets me ask the chefs. Chef Rainy?”

“Yes, Waiter Luca-saurus.”

You can’t fight the smile that spreads as you announce that unfortunately, tonight's dishes won’t even be fully round, never mind dinosaur-shaped.

By the time you’ve rolled out the dough and just about to begin spreading tomato sauce, Luca decides that there needs to be more dinos on the table. Freeing Frankie from sitting at the table and allowing him to join you.

“Chef Rainy, would you like some help with the toppings?"

“Only because you’re nice to look at,” you say, watching him roll up his sleeves as he moves to stand beside you.

You hand him a spatula for the sauce while you sprinkle cheese. Frankie insists on creating a ‘masterpiece’ with a mix of all the toppings, while you opt for a simpler choice, sprinkling it with fresh basil and tomatoes.

“By the way, Luca’s is store-bought. Thought poisoning your child would be hard for me to live down.”

Together, you lean against the counter as Luca runs back in, little feet slapping against the tiles as more dinosaurs begin filling up the table. Frankie goes into dad mode as he asks if he’s washed his hands before he’s running off again.

It’s barely a few minutes, but the timer goes off. Springing into action, removing Luca’s pizza from the oven—seeing the cheese golden, bubbling, filling the kitchen with a rich, cheesy aroma before you place it down and throw both yours and Frankie’s in.

You call out to Luca, who’s been eagerly waiting in the living room. “Luca-saurus! Your pizza’s ready!”

Luca comes running in, eyes wide with excitement as he climbs onto his chair at the table and you slice it up into smaller pieces and place it down.

“Mmm, this is so good!” he exclaims, his cheeks puffed out like a little chipmunk.

As Luca continues to enjoy his pizza, you and Frankie take a moment to savour the anticipation of your own creations baking in the oven. The timer goes off again, and you carefully remove the pizzas, setting them down on the counter.

“They look amazing,” Frankie says, admiring the crispy edges and perfectly melted cheese.

Taking your first bite, you’re hit with a burst of flavour, the freshness of the basil and the tang of the tomato sauce mingling perfectly with the gooey mozzarella. You share a look with Frankie, who gives you a thumbs-up, his mouth too full to speak.

“How did you like your homemade pizza?” you ask Luca, smiling at his enthusiastic nodding.

“It’s the best pizza ever!” he declares, reaching for another slice.

Frankie leans over, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he says softly.

You squeeze his hand, before moving to the sink to begin soaking them—just as Luca drags Frankie to pick the second part of the evening.

By the time you’re joining them, finding your saved spot in between them both, the movie is ready to begin, the opening credits starting before you’ve even got under the blanket. It’s minutes before you feel Frankie’s fingers sliding up and down your shoulder, your head turning, smiling as Luca sighs loudly next to you, eyes still closed, sinking deeper into a heavier sleep.

“You had a nice evening, Butterscotch?”

“Was perfect.”

“Thank you. For letting me do this—let us do this for you.” Shrugging, his free hand stroking over his face. “I’m proud of you. Six years is… monstrous.”

Snorting, resting his head on the back of the sofa, he grins a little wider. “Can tell the pair of you have had the afternoon together—monstrous.”

“He says it better.”

Nodding, Frankie shifts in his place, hand pausing on your shoulder, before squeezing it. “T-thank you. For tonight. For making a big deal but… not making a big deal.”

“Big deal not big deals are kind of my forte.”

Laughing, his thumb and index tracing over his lower lip, as you flick your eyes back to the brightness on the television—the high-pitched voices of the characters making you giggle, as the cartoon scene plays out.

“Wish we could do this all the time,” you whisper, fingers stroking along Luca’s hair—feeling him nuzzle further in the space between your calves and bent knees.

Frankie doesn’t move, or shift, but rather drags his fingers up and draws a different shape on your neck, forcing your eyes to move from the screen to his. And you see it, nestled there—a question, one his mouth opens to speak.

“What?” you ask.

“We could… do this all the time.”

Brows raising, you smile. “Oh? How would we do that?”

“Rainy.”

“Francisco.”

Snorting, continuing his drawing on your arm, he lets out a weighted exhale. “We could… maybe live in one place?”

“Oh?”

His hand slides over your shoulder, squeezing it as your heart races as he takes a breath, as more of his words hang in the air. It isn’t that you haven’t thought about it—that it hasn’t come up casually, a promise of asking you properly previously teased—but now it’s here, there, present.

Things crash into you as you run through the list. The image of waking up with him every morning, is slighted by the worries that he’d grow sick of you if you didn’t have your separate spaces. Would you disappoint him? Would he like the version of you he sees all the time—and not just part of it—

But, even still, the answer is so clearly there, sitting, teetering on the tip of your tongue as you begin to grin, smile. Almost about to answer when Luca mumbles in his sleep beside you, something incoherent before his eyes flip open and he makes a funny noise.

Frankie shifts, hand dropping from you as he calls out his name.

“I… Daddy, I don’t feel very well.”

“Shit,” you whisper as you throw your legs down from the sofa as Frankie moves to kneel at the same time as he whispers, “Mierda.”

The back of his hand presses to the boy’s forehead as Luca begins rubbing his stomach. “You feel sick?”

Luca nods, rubbing his eyes as Frankie helps lift him from his place between the sofa and your legs and makes him stand up.

“You think Daddy was right about all those sprinkles?”

Nodding again, Luca buries his head into Frankie’s neck and chest, little hands sliding around as Frankie looks at you and smiles, reassuringly. “He’ll be fine. But, I’m gonna put him in bed—do not press play without me, Rainy.”

Grinning, your lashes flutter as he lifts his son and stands. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Morales.”

“And, maybe we can finish the conversation too.”

Okay, you whisper—fingers pinching at the skin on the back of your arms as your brain begins to tally, to list, to think.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: have you seen the bonus graphics on the masterlist? if you have any moments you'd love to see from the series till now, let me know and i'll make them for after the epilogue (chapter 20)

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales

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trashcanplant · 8 months

Text

The Harvest

Mob Au to @//clownsuu

Penny to @cherrythepuppet

Vince to @cloudy-dreams

TW: Spooky scary scarecrows send shivers down your spine! Rotting meat.

Grover sat at the bar, keeling over a hearty glass of rye whiskey like there was no tomorrow. He felt miserable, grabbing at his chest and struggling to breathe. His mind spaced out, and when he came back to reality, Penny was sitting beside him.

“Ugh… what do you want.” He groaned, slamming back another cup. Grover let Howdy finish pouring him a new one before he turned back to Penny.

With the changing of the seasons in full swing and clumps of leaves layering the ground, she had now taken a poofy feather boa oon her bare shoulders. The little lady raised her eyebrows at him as a snarky grin graced her lips.

“Hi.” She said quickly, turning to Howdy and raising her finger. He nodded silently and started to prepare a Shirley Temple.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Grover grumbled worthlessly, sinking into the bar stool like his roots were planting into the ground.

“Well, Scarycrow—“ Penny began before a cough from Grover interrupted her.

“Not my name.” He growled. Penny rolled her eye.

“Yeah, anyway, Boss told me to tell you ‘Feed him’ So. Feed him. Whatever that means. Has he started talking in third person?” She questioned, looking down at the pear bracelets over her opera gloves. Grover perked up. He looked out the window, downed his drink, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Penny asked, reaching for her drink that Howdy had just finished shaking and topping with whipped cream and cherries. Her eye followed Grover as he grabbed a coat.

“Out.” He said. This piqued Penny’s curiosity. She’d heard from Antoni that Grover wasn’t allowed ‘out’ without permission. She hopped from her barstool, chasing Grover into the night.

“You’re not allowed out! Boss said-“

“Boss told me that I need to go when he gives the word. Where the fuck are those birds..” He growls, eyes on the skies as he listens for a distant cawing. His eye spots two birds, barely visible behind the night sky as they cry from their branch. Grover huffs, turning to Penny.

“You’re helping me make a delivery.” He said sharply, practically dragging her by the arm to one of the cars.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She shouts, struggling against his grasp.

“Help me make the delivery and I get you whatever treat you want.” Grover replies, getting her in the car. It’s not the usual continental that he’d drive. It’s a pickup truck, back covered with a tarp. Penny sits in the passenger seat, holding her arm nervously.

“Fine.”

And they drive off into the night. Penny watched as the lights from the city began to dim. The truck passed by the warehouse that marked the edge of town and drove farther than that and parked at the tree line. Grover got out of the truck and took the cover off the truck bed.

It was a cacophony of flies, buzzing over the top half of a deer. It had been ripped in half, and smelled like it had been a long time since it had died. Its guts had stained the bed red and maggots had begun to creep through the deers skin and pelt. Grover looked down on it, grabbing it and easing it out of the truck. It hit the ground with a somehow wet squelch. Something leaked from the deer.

“Help me.” Grover said, and when Penny got around the truck she screamed. It alerted the crows which dotted the trees, and Grover slapped a still wet glove against her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. Vince don’t like noise.” He commanded. Penny stared at him with a wide eye, shivering in her unfit-for-weather dress.

“Grab the back.” Grover said, looking over his shoulder into the tree line. Penny squirmed, reaching down to try and carry her half of the weight. It was unfair, Grover had to lean all the way down and walk backwards into the trees with Penny trying to direct him in the dim light. He was pricked by several brambles and stabbed with sticks.

When the pair passed the tree line and entered the clearing, it was like walking into the world’s most terrifying sculpture park. The figures were all in the midst of fleeing. To the untrained eye it would look like wood carvings, but the way that the flies landed on them and how new branches grew from they eye sockets and mouths of these people made it obvious that it wasn’t just sculpture.

Grover and Penny carried the deer, sticks crunching under their shoes. The two approached the center of the field and Grover dropped the deer. He looked around at the stillness, searching for something in the trees. Penny felt uncomfortable, her head on a swivel as she looked through the field. She could have sworn she saw one of the bodies still breathing.

Grover whistled, taking a step away from the dearly departed deer.

“Watch em feast.” He said with a little grin on his face. The crows flooded from tree line, swooping at the carcass. Grover laughed, and Penny turned over her shoulder to see a hunched over figure with dark eyes and an elongated mouth. She screamed, grabbing onto Grover who looked down at her.

When his eyes landed on Vince in the darkness, reaching out to grab Penny, Grover swatted his hand away.

“No, Vince. I get’cher real hungry to have someone new join ya but not her. She’s family.” Grover said, staring at Vince as the cut noose swayed around his neck. They held eye contact. Vince opened his mouth and murmured something in a low, unfamiliar tone that sent chill down Penny’s spine.

“Look, how bout next time I bring one here fer ya I’ll letcha do yer tree thing an’ all that. I like them screams too, gotta admit..” Grover said with a low chuckle. Vince had a raspy laugh, not saying a word but staring at Penny. Grover looked down at her again.

“Her names Penny. I needed an extra set a hands pullin’ the deer. I know ya like a bit of a scaredy-cat, but I got reprimanded by Wally when I had brought Poppy out here. You ‘member her, Vince? Real tall bird broad?” Grover said. Penny had a look of horror plastered on her face as she kept a grip on Grover’s pants. Vince did not respond, reaching out a finger to graze against Penny’s skin. The taller of the scarecrows grabbed at the other, holding his gloved hand tightly.

“I’ll see what I can fix up fer ya. But not her. Not her.” Grover said protectively. The crows behind him cawed as they finished their feast and flew back into the trees. The plot was silent again, save for Vince’s ragged breathing. Penny stared up at Grover, then at Vince.

“D’ya need help spreading the bones across the field?” Grover asked. He gave Penny a little pat, a nonverbal way of telling her to head back to the truck. As she began to walk away, Vince turned his head with an audible creak. Grover kept his attention, talking to him calmly.

It took over an hour for Grover to return to the pickup truck. Penny was asleep, her head against the window. Grover glanced out the driver side window at Vince who stood just beyond the tree line. He waved goodbye, then turned around on the road to drive home.

From just under Penny’s opera glove, a small leaf began to sprout.

#welcome home oc #grover haymaker #penny peaches #vince vineyard #mob au #welcome home au #welcome home mob au #mob grover haymaker #mob penny peaches #mob Vince vineyard #planty stories

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oceansprompts · 1 year

Text

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

#rp sentence meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #sentence starters #text message prompts

1K notes · View notes

ms-snape · 1 month

Text

Prejudices (young!remus lupin x slytherin! reader)

request: not a request, request are OPENED

Summary: Remus is in a relationship with a slytherin and his friends are... NOT happy about it

Warning: Angst, argument between lovers, argument between friends...

Wors Count: 2776

Masterlist

---

The soft light of the setting sun filtered through the ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest, casting long shadows on the ground. Remus Lupin stood at the edge of the forest, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the clearing for any sign of his friends. He could hear their laughter in the distance, a familiar sound that filled him with both warmth and dread.

“Hey,” a soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see Y/N approaching, her long Slytherin robes billowing around her. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re not going to run off again, are you?”

“No,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face. “I just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, stepping closer. The air between them was charged, electric, filled with unspoken words and the weight of their secret.

“About us,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She tilted her head, a playful smirk on her lips. “You mean our relationship that’s destined to cause chaos?”

He chuckled softly, but the laughter died in his throat. “You know how it is. I told them about us, but I can't introduce you to them. They’d never understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms, the playful glint in her eyes replaced with something darker. “And why is that, Remus? Because I’m a Slytherin? Because your friends hate my House?”

“It’s not just that,” he replied, running a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “They wouldn’t see past the House rivalry. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t risk losing them either.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. “So, you’re choosing them over me?”

“No!” He stepped forward, his voice rising slightly. “I’m trying to protect what we have. It’s complicated.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Complicated? Or just cowardly?”

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, his heart racing. “I just need time.”

She took a step back, her expression hardening. “You know what? Maybe we don’t need time. Maybe we just need to face the truth.”

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked away, her robes swishing in the fading light. Remus watched her go, his chest tight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

The next day, Remus found himself in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by his friends. James, Sirius, and Peter were engaged in a game of Exploding Snap, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. But Remus couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts were consumed by YN, by the conversation they’d had, and the rift that was growing between them.

“Oi, Moony! You’re awfully quiet,” Sirius said, glancing up from the game. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just tired,” Remus said, forcing a smile. He picked at his sleeve, avoiding their eyes.

James raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been off for weeks now. Is it because of that girl Slytherin again?”

Remus’s heart dropped. He had been careful to avoid mentioning Y/N, but it seemed James had picked up on his distracted demeanor. “No, it’s not—”

“Because if it is,” Sirius interrupted, leaning forward, “I’m telling you, Moony, you can do better than a Slytherin. Those snakes will stab you in the back the moment you let your guard down.”

“Yeah, man,” Peter chimed in. “You know they’re all about ambition and power. It’s in their blood.”

Remus clenched his fists, tension coiling in his gut. “You don’t know her, okay? Y/N isn’t like that.”

James’s expression darkened. “Then why are you hiding her? If she’s so great, why not introduce her to us?”

“Because it’s complicated!” Remus snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try us,” Sirius challenged, his jaw set. “We’re your friends, Remus. We care about you.”

“Do you care about me, or do you care about your stupid prejudices?” Remus shot back, his voice rising. The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Moony, we just want what’s best for you,” James said, his tone softer now, but still firm. “Slytherins are dangerous. You know that.”

“Dangerous?” Remus echoed incredulously. “Or just different? Y/N is not dangerous. She’s smart, funny, and she cares about me. Why can’t you see that?”

Sirius’s face hardened. “Because we know how this ends, Remus. You think you can make it work, but she’ll end up breaking your heart. They always do.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Remus said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re acting like you own me. I’m not a bloody puppet!”

“Then stop acting like a fool!” Sirius shot back, standing up now, his hands clenched at his sides. “You can’t just ignore the truth because it doesn’t fit your little fantasy!”

“Guys, calm down…” Peter stuttered, glancing nervously between them.

But Remus was beyond reason. He felt the weight of betrayal crashing down on him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a fool for thinking you would support me.”

He turned away, storming out of the common room and into the maze of corridors that led to the dungeons. His heart raced as he navigated the familiar path, each step echoing the turmoil within him.

Y/N was waiting for him by the entrance to the Slytherin common room, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. The moment she spotted him, the tension in her posture visibly relaxed. “You came,” she said, relief flooding her voice.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice heavy with unspoken words. “But it’s not good news.”

Her expression shifted, concern flickering in her eyes. “What happened?”

“James and Sirius are idiots,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They… they still don’t approve.”

“Of course not,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “They’re Gryffindors, and I’m a Slytherin. What did you expect?”

“I thought maybe they’d be okay with it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But they’re not. They think I’m making a mistake.”

“Are you?” she challenged, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“No! I’m just trying to figure out how to make this work without losing you or them,” he exclaimed, exasperation rising in his chest.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before getting involved with a Slytherin,” she shot back, hurt flashing across her face. “It’s not like I forced you into this, Remus.”

“I never said that!” he argued, frustration spilling over. “I care about you, but they’re my friends—”

“Your friends who don’t care about you! They only care about their stupid prejudices!” YN snapped, her voice rising. “You’re so afraid of losing them that you can’t even stand up for what you want!”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be realistic!” he shouted, the words echoing off the stone walls around them. “You think this is easy for me? Hiding who I care about just because they might not accept you?”

“Then stop hiding!” she yelled, tears welling in her eyes. “You say you care about me, but it feels like you care more about their opinions than about our relationship!”

“I’m trying to protect us!” he exclaimed, his heart racing with anxiety.

“Protect us?” she said incredulously, stepping back as if struck. “You mean protect your friendship with people who don’t even see me as a person! They see me as a stereotype!”

“Y/N, please…” he said, his voice cracking.

“No! You can’t keep playing both sides!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Either you stand by me, or you let me go.”

“Y/N, don’t say that,” he begged, desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then you need to make a choice, Remus,” she said, her expression resolute. “Because I won’t be your secret anymore. I deserve better than that.”

With that, she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, leaving Remus standing alone, the weight of his choices crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Days passed, and the rift between Remus and Y/N deepened. The halls of Hogwarts felt emptier without her presence, and every time he saw James and Sirius, the anger bubbled to the surface again. They had no idea how much he was hurting, how much he missed her laughter and her teasing smiles.

“Moony, you’ve got to get over this,” James urged one evening as they both sat in the Great Hall. “There are plenty of girls in our House.”

Remus shot him a glare. “I don’t want anyone else. I want Y/N.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James asked, leaning back in his seat. “Just tell her you’re done with the secrecy. Bring her here, introduce her.”

Remus slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple!”

“Why not?” James insisted. “If you really care about her, you’ll find a way.”

Remus stared at them, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. “You want me to choose between you and her.”

“We want you to be honest with us,I'm sure that's what Pads and Wormtail want as well ” James said quietly. “We want to understand.”

“I’m trying,Prongs” Remus said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard when I feel like I’m fighting everyone I care about.”

“Then make a choice,” James said softly. “You can’t keep living in the middle. Either you stand up for what you want or you let it go.”

Remus looked down at his plate, the reality of James' words sinking in. It was time to make a decision, to confront the truth of his feelings and his loyalties. He knew what he had to do, even if it meant risking everything he had.

Outside, the crisp evening air hit him like a slap. He walked aimlessly, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Memories of YN flooded his mind—the way her laughter would light up a room, the way she challenged him and made him feel alive. He missed her so much it was like a physical ache in his chest.

Just as he rounded a corner, he spotted YN standing by the lake, her figure silhouetted against the moonlight. His breath caught in his throat as he took a step toward her, but she turned away, her posture tense.

“Y/N,” he called softly.

She didn’t respond, staring out over the water, her expression inscrutable.

“Please, can we talk?” he asked, his heart pounding.

After a long silence, she finally turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What’s there to talk about, Remus? You’ve made your choice clear.”

“I haven’t made any choice,” he replied, stepping closer. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been trying to find a way to make this work, but my friends… they don’t understand.”

“Maybe they’re right,” she said, her voice breaking. “Maybe it’s just too complicated for us.”

“No,” he said fiercely, shaking his head. “We can make it work. I want to fight for us.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her voice laced with pain. “You’re not the one who has to deal with the fallout of being with a Gryffindor. You don’t know what it feels like to be judged every single day.”

“I know what it feels like to be judged,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m a werewolf, YN. I’ve felt that sting my whole life.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “But you have friends who support you. I don’t have that. Not now, not ever.”

“You could have me,” he said, stepping closer, his heart pounding. “I want to be with you, but I need you to believe that.”

“Believe what?” she asked, her voice trembling. “That you’ll stand up to your friends for me? That you’ll choose me over them?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, the words pouring out of him. “I choose you. I choose us.”

“Then why don’t you prove it?” she challenged, her gaze unwavering. “Stop hiding me. Bring me to your friends, face them together. Show me you really mean it.”

Remus’s heart raced at the thought. He had been so afraid of the consequences, of the judgment, but now he saw clearly. YN was worth it. “Okay,” he said, determination filling him. “I’ll do it. I’ll bring you to them.”

A flicker of hope crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by uncertainty. “And if they don’t accept me?”

“Then we’ll deal with it together,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I won’t let them dictate our happiness.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching his. “You really mean that?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I won’t let fear keep us apart anymore.”

YN hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, their fingers intertwining. “Okay, but if they make a scene…”

“They won’t,” he promised, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll make sure of it.”

With a small smile breaking through her tears, YN nodded. “Then let’s do this.”

The next evening, Remus gathered his courage and headed to the Gryffindor common room with YN by his side. His heart raced as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, her gaze scrutinizing them both.

“Password?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“caput draconis,” Remus replied, his throat dry.

The portrait swung open, and they stepped inside. The warmth of the room enveloped them, but the laughter and chatter stilled as everyone turned to stare. James, Sirius, and Peter sat at a table in the corner, their expressions shifting from surprise to confusion.

“Moony?” Sirius said, rising to his feet. “What’s going on?”

Remus took a deep breath, feeling YN’s hand squeeze his for reassurance. “I want you all to meet someone,” he said, his voice steady. “This is YN. She’s… she’s my girlfriend. I told you about her”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sirius’s expression hardened, and Peter’s eyes widened with shock. James looked between them, a sligh smile on his face.

“You can’t be serious,” Sirius finally said, disbelief etched on his face. “You brought a slytherin into our commun room?”

“Yes,” Remus said, feeling a surge of defiance. “And I care about her.”

“You know she’s not like us, right?” Sirius pressed, crossing his arms. “She’s a Slytherin.”

“Last time I checked, love doesn’t have a House,” Remus shot back, his heart racing. “She’s a person, just like you and I.”

Peter stepped forward, trying to mediate. “Look, Moony, we just want to protect you. You know how Slytherins can be.”

“Right, because all Slytherins are the same,” Y/N interjected, her voice sharp. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about who I am.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Remus held up a hand. “Let her speak.”

Y/N took a step forward, her confidence shining through. “I’m not here to cause troubles. I care about Remus just like you three, and I’m willing to prove that to you. But I need you to give me a chance.”

“Prove it how?” Sirius asked, skepticism still etched on his face.

“By showing you that I’m not a stereotype,” she replied, her voice steady. “I want to get to know you all, but I can't do it if you’re going to judge me before you know me.”

James looked at Remus, searching his face for a sign of uncertainty. But Remus felt only determination. “She’s right. If you want me to be happy, you have to accept the person I care about.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance. Finally, James sighed, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Let’s give her a chance.”

Sirius shot him a look of disbelief. “James, are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am,” James replied, his tone firm. “If Remus cares about her, then we owe it to him and to her to see what she’s really like.”

Remus felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at YN, who looked equally surprised.

“But,” James added, raising a finger, “you better not pull any Slytherin tricks on us, or I swear…”

“I won’t,” YN promised, her voice steady. “I just want to be treated like everyone else.”

“Just don’t expect us to let you win at Exploding Snap,” Sirius added with a smirk.

The tension in the room began to dissipate as the other Gryffindors resumed their conversations, albeit with curious glances at YN. Slowly, she began to relax, and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the small victories.

211 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-imagine · 10 months

Text

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

#taigen #taigen x reader #taigen x you #ringo #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #Akemi #akemi x reader #incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes x reader

679 notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 11 months

Text

how seventeen react to their s/o's grandma hobbies

requested by anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

my man goes bird watching with you. does he get a little embarrassed when you deck out in full bird-watching gear and peer through your binoculars at the trees while making fascinated noises? yeah, but he also finds it rather endearing. knows nothing about birds, and doesn't even try learning bc he knows he'll be hopeless at it anyway, so he's sitting next to you for hours with no clue what's going on. but at the end of it, you're packing up with a bright beam on your face, delighted that cheol came with you, and honestly it makes it all so, so worth it

jeonghan

see, here's the thing. he's not allowed to tease you for your countless puzzles, and you're not allowed to tease him for his countless lego sets. it's a mutual agreement. sometimes, you'll have days where you both sit down with your respective crafts, poring over them individually, sometimes with music on, often in silence. and then jeonghan will bring up some interesting thing he heard the other day, and the both of you will start gossiping like old ladies (or teenage girls?) the entire time, and honestly, those times are the highlights of your day

joshua

he's banned from using your yarn or your knitting needles for anything ever, because one time he somehow stabbed your couch cushions and shredded them to bits. (you're still now sure how that happened. he won't tell you.) but sometimes, he'll see you knitting in bed and smile, before slipping off somewhere and returning with his guitar, and those are the softest nights that remain ingrained in your memory, where you knit stupidly tiny socks for joshua and he serenades you with 'sunday morning' on loop

junhui

honestly, he's just utterly fascinated. several of your cross-stitching projects are stored in the fancy glass cabinet in your living room, and sometimes you'll catch him staring at them when he thinks you're in your room, wide-eyed in wonder. he saw you making all of these pieces, saw you make every single one of those stitches, but he's still so amazed at how beautiful the end product is. you gifted him an intricate piece of a moon and flowers for his birthday, and he still calls it the most precious thing he owns

hoshi

this man takes your collection of tiny european spoons very seriously. seungkwan teases him, saying that you've turned him into a grandma too, but he ignores the younger guy because your spoons are important to you, so they're important to him too. polishes them for you when you're away. asks for updates on your spoons while he's away on tour. helps name each and every spoon, and when he comes back from going abroad, he greets you with a grin and a kiss and a new spoon for your collection

wonwoo

??? he's so confused bc your gardening hobby does Not sound very grandma-ish to him, no matter what you say. you were initially rather awkward, very shy when telling him that you really loved gardening, but he supports u and thinks that it's such a nice hobby. wonwoo has very un-green fingers, so he always watches you tend to your garden from a good few feet away, but he can't help but smile at how earnestly you work, beaming so brightly the entire time and it's so obvious how much you love gardening

woozi

he never sees you do sudokus unless you're sitting on the couch in his studio, biting your nail and waiting for him to finish up so you can go home together. he just thinks it's really sweet, actually, and the idea of you doing the sudoku while he's agonising over his latest composition is something that he can't think of for too long because then he gets distracted by how adorable he thinks that is. you've fallen asleep over your sudoku too many times to count, and when you wake up, woozi feigns innocence to how your latest grid has suddenly magically filled itself

minghao

drinking tea isn't a fucking grandma hobby, kwon soonyoung, it's called being educated. both of you like drinking tea, going through tea ceremonies when you're both exhausted, taste testing different types of tea and commenting on the different notes and fragrances you can taste from them. he met you while on a tea tour around asia, and since then, the two of you just clicked so well, and he loves sipping sakura tea in the evenings and reminiscing on your first meeting, all those years ago

mingyu

fucking!! loves!! everything you knit for him!! the socks you knitted for him are his fluffiest sleeping socks. he Only wears the scarf you knitted for him during the winter months. one time, you gifted him a knitted sweater for his birthday and it instantly became his statement piece that he wore everywhere until it finally grew too threadbare and you had to make him a new one. the gentle clacking of your knitting needles on a saturday evening is the most relaxing sound in the world, and he's fallen asleep on your shoulder while you knit countless times

dokyeom

he has, admittedly, fallen asleep more than a handful of times while sitting next to you on the sofa as you indulge in your guilty pleasure: tv shows on antiques. he understands that it's something you find very fascinating and very interesting, but ten minutes in his eyes are getting droopy but nonono baby he's not falling asleep! he's just gonna… rest… his eyes… but then he eventually ends up dozing on your shoulder. he likes listening to you talk about your favourite episodes, though, the fondness colouring his lips as you gesture animatedly, eyes bright

seungkwan

the highlight of his sunday morning is sitting at the table with two cups of coffee ready, twiddling his thumbs and staring out of the window, waiting for you to burst in through the front door, coming back from your daily walk with the newspaper in your hands and slamming the crossword down in front of him. he loves poring over them with you, and sure, maybe he teases you about this very grandma-like hobby, but you tease him back because he's literally here doing them with you, isn't he?

vernon

supports you in your dream to own all of the most grandma-style cardigans in the entire world. that's it. he has no other opinion. he's pretty chill with it, and don't listen to what minghao says,babe, 'cause he personally thinks that the purple and orange zigzag cardigan with aquamarine dots is the most stylish cardigan of your entire collection. sometimes unironically steals your cardigans to wear himself, because they're all so soft and so comfy and they smell like you so when he's at work, he can feel like you're there with him too <3

chan

you swear, your tomato plants love your boyfriend more than they love you, their actual owner. ever since you admitted to your boyfriend that you have a part of an allotment where you grow various fruits and veg, he's come to visit your babies and honestly, you've never seen your tomatoes flourishing as much as they are right now. does he think you're like an elderly person for tending so solemnly to some plants? yeah. but he can't exactly talk, because he loves your plants, and you two literally have skits where you pretend to be an elderly couple literally every day, so it's nothing out of the ordinary at all

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dreaisgrayte · 3 months

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HEHHEHEHEHEH WHATS UP MY BBG? I hope you have had a good day/night! I have this idea in my head that I'm ITCHING to get out but you can feel free to ignore❤️

Can you do what would happen and what would Sanemi, Giyu, Tanjiro, and Obani do if reader got turned into a demon during a battle?

LIKE I SAID FEEL FREE TO IGNORE!! YOU DA GOAT BBG❤️

GEHEHE I'M DOING SO GREAT! 🫶🫶I HOPE YOU'RE DOING EVEN BETTER THOUGH 😡🥹 It was raining here all day and I was a worrisome parent and got soaked going to check on my kitties🥰🥰. (also why would I ignore such an angsty request MWAHAHA😈)

Includes: Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Tanjiro Kamado, and Obanai Iguro CW: pretty much reader dies in all scenarios, but... yeah no my heart hurt writing these so there's no hope for any of us. Death, angst, sadness.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The demon’s claws slice through you, tearing your skin apart. You fall to the ground, crumpled and bleeding

“San-Sanemi,” You choke out, the life draining from your beautiful eyes.

A vengeful scream erupts from his throat, burning his very vocal cords as he rushes the creature

Its head falls to the ground with a gruesome thump, Sanemi dropping to his knees next to your corpse. “YN...I’m so-”

Your eyes, they’re open and your pupils pull into slits. His next breath catches in his throat. “Sorry,” He breathes, his eyes stinging with hot tears

He picks up his nichirin blade, using it to help him into a standing position. Sanemi’s choked sobs echo through the forest valley. The glint of fresh sunlight reflecting off of his blade as he plunges the tip into your heart. The sun is cresting over the mountains in a new dawn.

Your garbled noises nearly drive him to the brink of whisking you off to a shadowy haven, but you wouldn’t want to live out your life being the very thing you fought so hard against.

As the ashen belongings of your body blow past him he feels like he’s just stabbed himself through the heart.

“Sorry…so sorry.” He cries, but the sunlight dries his tears.

Giyu Tomioka

He was by your side one second then cornered off by a second demon. He wants to remain close to you and protect you, but as he lands the final blow to the demon in front of him he catches the tail end of the demon lifting you by your throat.

His blood runs cool, the demon’s features twisting in a cruel sneer as it makes you lick up the blood from his wounds.

Too late, too late, too late

Just like with Sabito, Giyu was too late to save you. His head spins, running through possibilities to somehow not fuck up again

Tanjiro and Nezeko were a special case, who’s to say Giyu would break through to you? And when he didn’t? Would his heart finally go numb? The risk was too great.

The demon has dropped you and ran off, leaving you panting on the ground. You touch your throat, hacking up the blood it tried to feed you. A glimmer of hope sprouts in Giyu’s chest. Maybe you had saved yourself? You meet his gaze, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Giyu,” you smile, the one he’d grown accustomed to seeing every morning when you greeted him. “Giyu, I need you to be strong,” you start, but he can’t hear you. He doesn’t want to.

“No, I’m not strong,” His voice is trembling. His body aches with the knowledge of what you’re about to request of him. He couldn’t do it. You meant too much to him and he was a selfish man. When everyone else ignores him you see through his suffering to the little boy underneath, scared of being seen for the fraud he was.

There’s that smile again. “Giyu. You’re a Hashira, you’re more than strong – you’re kind. You know what you have to do. Please, before it’s too late.”

Giyu’s body feels limp as tears mix with his sweat. He was too weak to save Sabito, but he could still save you. He yells into the night, a pained scream that rustles the birds from their branches.

Your head thumps to the side, fanning into dust as he sinks to his knees, sobbing over your remains. Turns out – he wasn’t numb after all.

Tanjiro Kamado

You’re bloody, a demon standing over you, it’s foul stench dripping round droplets onto your wound

“Let’s see if you have the heart to kill one of your own, slayer.”

Tanjiro had been through this before, with his younger sister Nezeko and things were turning out alright with her.

Would his bond be strong enough to snap you out of the demonic craze? You had acted like an older sibling to him, watching over his progress and always cheering him on. Often he thought the gods had blessed him with you so he would have someone to look after him when he had no one.

“YN!” He screams, the demon slipping away into the night. “YN talk to me. If you can still talk that means there’s still time.” But the veins on your face bubble and contort your expression to one of hatred.

Tanjiro falls back on his hands, heart loudly echoing in his ear. “YN, please… it’s me…your little brother.” But it’s far too late to work on your once human heart. As you rise to your feet Tanjiro stumbles to his as well

His katana is shaking in his grip. You were a demon, but also his friend. He can’t see through his blurry vision.

“Pathetic,” you spit, then before Tanjiro can will his heart to do what he knew he couldn’t, you spill into the shadows

His vow to cut the head from Muzan Kibutsuji’s body grew a thousandfold that night

Obanai Iguro

You had been on this mission for weeks now, fighting side by side. Obanai had grown fond of you.

That was until a demon stole you away, reminding him that fondness sprouted weaknesses. However, he tracks you down regardless.

The demon had set up in a cave, the dawn making this rescue mission easier, but as he steadily slides into the heart of the cave he finds you’ve been tied up, dried green blood on your lips

“Fuck,” Obanai hisses into the darkness, searching around for the creature that did this to you

“It’s gone Obanai…” You drawl, your voice raspy and strained. He winces at the state of you.

He rushes to untie you, hoping it’s not too late and the insect Hashira can work some miracle cure on you. If Obanai was fond of you he couldn’t even imagine how the corp members felt about you.

It had been a while of your fighting off the urge to turn, there had to be hope for you. If only he could get you back to headquarters fast enough…

As if reading his mind you shake your head solemnly. “Please, let me see the sunrise one last time,” you croak, gaze drifting to the sunlight filtering in from the cave’s entrance.

Obanai squeezes his eyes shut, the electric buzz of his heart making it hard to fulfill your request. He was stagnant, breath quickening as you pleaded with him.

He offers you his hand, willing his chest to return to steel. He leads you to the outside world and your grip tightens as you step into the sun. Obanai’s body aches with unrelenting sorrow. If only he’d kept a better eye on you.

Soon enough, a faint ‘thank you’ blows past him on the wind, and he rushes away from the spot, not willing to look at what he had so carelessly taken for granted.

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scekrex · 6 months

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Hey absolutely love your stuff (obviously since I keep requesting lol) anyways could I request Adam who somehow survived after getting beaten up by Lucifer and stabbed who even knows how many times by Niffty gets found by the reader who while an overlord isn't that powerful is super rich (I also picture them being like a mix of Alastor and Vox where like Alastor still holds a lot of more old timey views but also tries to adapt with the changing views like Vox) and decides to take him back to his mansion to try and help him survive (wants to make a few bucks later using him) after a bit the two share an oh fuck moment when they realized they have caught feelings. I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Overlord reader?? Uh fuck yeah!! I fucking love this ask so much xoxo/p

Bird of Hell's Paradise

Chains on my lips just add flames to the fire

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & sexual tension

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The battlefield was a mess through and through and while the devil and his daughter had built up the hotel again, a new, more inviting looking building was now located on the lonely hill in the pride ring, you still felt Adam's presence. The residents of the hazbin hotel must've already forgotten about him and therefore didn't notice you at all, too caught up in their doing.

The first man was badly injured and while you normally wouldn't care for such things, especially because it was an exorcist angel, this case was special. Because not only was the brunette laying in front of your feet the first man god had ever created, no, he was also the leader of said exorcists. You could only imagine how many sinners and Hellborn people would pay a good amount of money to harm him, even if it was just the slightest injury possible. So you bowed down and scooped the passed out man in your arms. If these sinners and even Lucifer didn't care for him, you would put him to good use. For your own benefit that was, but no one had to know about that yet. So you carried the first man across the entire pride ring of hell until you reached your home. The brunette man in your arms was still unconscious and given the blood he had lost and the hits he had taken that was pretty normal.

Once inside your mansion, you headed to the hospital wing, walking through the building with slow, heavy steps that echoed through the empty hallways. The hospital wing was close to the entrance, a decision you had made after stumbling through the doors with a fatal wound that had been exposing your guts. It was quicker to reach in an emergency and while those rarely occurred, you didn't like the risk. You put the first man down onto one of the beds, your claw sliced smoothly through the fabric of his once holy robe to get it out of the way. You needed to take care of the stab wounds the nifty little demon girl had caused. The stabs were deep but nothing you couldn't fix. You gave Adam one last glance before you stepped over to the medicine cabinet and for a quick moment you asked yourself why Lilith and Eve had left Adam, he wasn't bad looking at all, quite the opposite. And Lucifer had mentioned that Adam had ‘kinda let himself go’ which meant back when the two women were married to him, he must have looked even better. You quickly shook your head, what in the devil's name were you even thinking?

With wound cleaning supplies and a healing potion you stepped back to Adam's bed, the first human ever seemed to be slowly waking up. He braced his palms against the mattress, tried to lift himself up but you were quick to push him back down, the more he moved while his wounds were still ripped open the more blood he lost. And while Adam would be able to recover either way, the more blood stayed inside of his body, the better. At least that's what you thought. “Stay,” you hummed as you cleaned the blood from his skin. It was unusual to clean off golden blood instead of the red mess you were so used to. But you didn't mind, didn't care even.

Adam flinched away from your touch, tried to lift himself up yet again. Your hand took a hold of his throat and held him down by it, “I said stay, stupid angel.” Adam's eyes seemed to clear up a little, the fog that had covered his golden eyes, had made them seem yellow, lifted and the brunette stared at you, clearly not knowing what to feel. You saw anger in his eyes, rage and hatred but at the same time there was fear. Fear and pain.

Once the blood was no longer staining his perfect skin, you took the potion you had grabbed, popped the cork and held the smooth, cold glass against his bottom lip, “Open up,” you demanded, yet your voice stayed gentle. Adam hesitated and you really couldn't blame him. “It will cause your wounds to heal,” you explained to the former leader of the exorcists and he seemed to consider his opinions for a moment. Then he actually parted his lips and let you spill the disgusting liquid onto his tongue. His face scrunched up at the bitter taste and he kept the liquid in his mouth. “Swallow it, Adam.” Adam looked up at you, once again seemingly considering alternatives he had. Given the fact that he did as you told him, there hadn't been many.

Adam checked his chest as the wounds that had caused enough pain to make him pass out healed quickly. The only hint left that they ever even existed were golden scars that seemed to be permanent from now on, but the first man couldn't complain, could he? He was still alive and on top of that there was no more pain. The first man frowned at you, mistrust was lingering heavy in his eyes as golden orbs followed your every move. Yet he remained silent, not a single word was falling from his lips.

Your hand that had been holding him down by his throat let go of him and Adam was sitting up right in his bed in an instant. His hands traced over the new found scars, you watched him in silence. There was something about him, about his vibe that was different. It wasn't the fact that he was an angel, no, even though that made his vibe different too, but it was something soft, something afraid to break. You cleared your throat loudly and Adam's eyes were on you within a heartbeat, while mistrust still lingered heavy in them, curiosity was close behind and you couldn't help but catch yourself that you were curious about him too.

Adam always bragged about being the first man, like that was his biggest accomplishment and if you looked at it from a different viewpoint it wasn't even his accomplishment but God’s, Adam didn't create himself after all. Yet it was the only thing worth mentioning whenever he didn't want to do something, “I’m the fucking man, not your fucking housewife, I'm not gonna fucking clean that.” You sighed as you took a step towards Adam and he flinched, trying to back up but his back hit the kitchen counter sooner than expected. Your hands grabbed a hold of his waist and you effortlessly lifted him up to sit on said counter, Adam was taken aback by that.

It had been a couple of weeks since you had found and saved him and the mistrust that had been filling his eyes from the first second on had never truly left them. He would always leash out on you only to back down as soon as you reacted in some way that seemed too unpredictable for him. “When will you learn to think before you speak?” Your voice held a certain amount of softness, it always did when you were speaking to Adam. The guy wasn't a threat to you, not in his current situation. And you were trying to use that to your advantage. Because he was scared, basically a deer in the headlights, why not put that fear to use? You nudged his knees apart to stand between his legs, still taller than him you hovered over the first man with a mix between a sly grin and a soft smile. “When you start to suck my fucking dick,” you chuckled as his choice of words, very aware that he simply wanted you to fuck off and leave him be, you acted oblivious to that. One hand was placed on the counter to steady yourself, right next to his thigh, the other grabbed his chin to tilt his head upwards, forcing the brunette to look you in the eyes.

“Right now? Right here?” your voice sounded so delicious, Adam wanted to eat it up, in fact, he wanted to devour you entirely, feast on every piece you had to offer and only stop once he swallowed it all. In Christ's holy name, what was he thinking? Your lips were so close to his, so so close, all he would need to do was - he leaned into your touch, why he wasn't sure, it was as if his body was following a call sent to him by nature itself. And then his lips met yours and a low groan spilled from his throat as his hands grabbed your shoulder firmly, he was afraid you'd pull back, that you'd leave him like Lilith and Eve had and he didn't even know why. Why was he afraid of losing you, a sinner, a man he barely knew? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. And yet he kissed you like his life was depending on it.

The hand that had been braced against the counter was now on his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh playfully and drawing a delicious sound from Adam's lips. Oh you could drown in the noises the first man made, the little huffs and puffs, his groans that he tried to keep as quiet as possible, the whimpers he would later deny. Adam was the most beautiful creature that had ever set a foot into hell and you mentally punched yourself in the face for wanting to use him to make money. There was no way you'd use such a divine, holy and glorious man for that, no. Adam was yours, your little secret and you'd keep it, keep him.

When you two partened a sting of saliva connected your lips and both of your eyes were hazy, he looked blissed out and it was then that you decided you wanted to see him like that more often - as often as possible. You were to lean in yet again, wanting more, needing more. But your phone rang. “Pick it up, bet it's something fucking important, they don't fucking call overlords for shits and giggles, do they?” You knew Adam was right and you hated it. You pushed your body away from the first man's and you saw how he wanted to reach out, wanted to keep you close but didn't say a thing about it. You grabbed your phone off the dining table and answered the call, “The fuck do you want, Vox?” It was the first time Adam had heard you speaking so vulgarly, you usually seemed to be collected, considering your words wisely, but that? In the name of God, that was truly something else. And it was ridiculously hot. “No I fucking can't, ask someone else,” and with that you hung up, tossed your phone carelessly back onto the table and found your place between his legs yet again. “Where were we?” you hummed through hooded eyes. And it was only then that the two of you seemed to realize what exactly you had just done, what you were about to do again.

Both of your eyes widened and the next thing you felt were Adam's hands on your body, not just your shoulder this time but also your waist, your chest, your thighs, your back. It seemed as if he was claiming you with his hands and the worst part of it? You truly didn't mind, you even enjoyed his touch on you, leaned into it and closed your eyes to fully focus on his hands roaming over your body.

Fuck, you had fallen deep for this man, way deeper than you ever thought you'd fall. But Adam had followed you, had fallen with you.

“You were about to suck me off,” Adam mumbled, his voice already sounded fucked out and you hadn't even started yet.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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urrockstar-xe · 11 months

Text

starstruck - p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 7th, 2023 10:15 pm

my silly little imagine i wrote today just for you silly little guys

summary: after a nasty run in with the Rhino, Spidey goes to his favorite civilian, who happens to be good with bandages, but not great with science.

reader is implied to be bad at science and thinks Midtown High is a nerd school, reader is also implied to know spidey fairly well atp

part two :)

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

the sound of "thwips" and wind coming from outside your window mixed with the usual city noise that served as your own personal lo-fi as you studied.

A sudden knock on your window caught your attention, grabbing you away from the task at hand. a bird, you assumed, turning back to your laptop and trying to find the point you left on, right, essay, you begin typing again,

in the early- thump thump Thump

three more rapid knocks on your window. Okay, not a bird.

but a spider.

you groaned, moving your laptop to your nightstand and standing from your warm bed, hissing at the cold hitting your bare legs, and cursing yourself for not doing laundry when the sun was out.

You walked towards the window, opening your curtain to reveal the familiar mask of New York's very own superhero.

“spidey, we talked about this” you spoke in a sing-song voice as you pulled your window open, another hit of the cold wind hitting you as Spiderman stumbled into your dark bedroom. Laughing quietly and breathlessly as he did so. “Need your assistance,” he groaned once more, sitting on your floor and watching you through his mask as you closed the window.

“You're hurt?” you moved to turn on the lights, cringing at the sudden brightness and then wincing at the sight of Spiderman’s side, “what the hell did you do?”

“I fought a giant rhino” his response was too quick to be one of his usual snappy jokes, causing you to give him a confused and mortified look in response as you hurriedly dragged the first aid kit out from under your bed,

“Don't worry about it- hey, wasn't that in your bathroom before?” he asked, before taking another deep breath and turning his gaze to your ceiling. “yeah, moved in here after you fought that lizard guy” you mumbled back, focused on getting out the proper supplies

or at least what you thought was the proper supplies

“hey aren't you cold? why aren't you wearing pants or like a onesie or-“

“Oh, you mean like yours?”

“Alright, touche”

You can’t help but laugh at the stupid word exchange the two of you had as you watched Spiderman peel off the top half of his suit, careful to leave his mask untouched and you respected this as he was vulnerably showing you a different side to the hero already, allowing you to see what most couldn't which was most definitely the rocky side of being New York’s Spiderman and definitely not his abbs (though you appreciated those too)

“By the way, not that I took what you said seriously or anything or that it hurt my feelings but, this is a suit, not a onesie,” Spidey said through small gasps of pain, leaning his head back into the edge of your bed as you cleaned the gaping stab wound in his side.

“I’m sorry” You're not sure if you meant the onesie or the pain he was in but either way worked at this moment as just his shaky breaths alone made you feel guilty

Spidey stayed unusually quiet as you cleaned him up, so far having avoided stitches pretty well as you topped it off with as much bandaging supplies as you had.

He groaned once more, before picking his head back up and looking back at you as you stood up and made your way to your desk, carefully picking up the roll of paper towels that you were previously upset at yourself for leaving in your room after cleaning this morning, although now that feeling was replaced with gratitude as you used a few sheets as a barrier to not get blood on your doorknob-

“Hey, where you goin'?” you turned your attention back to the masked vigilante who was just bleeding out on your bedroom floor. “Just to the bathroom, to clean my hands, why? Is there more?” You asked, panicked you’d have to go rummage through every cabinet in your house for more bandages.

“Just be fast okay? Don’ wanna be alone' ' His voice sounded weak and barely audible which honestly made you panic more as you nodded in response, leaving your room to not only wash your hands but also grab a water bottle and the package of bread from your counter.

Quickly you examined the bread, searching for any sign of mold as you walked back into your room and sat across from Spiderman, setting your new items down and opening the water bottle.

“Let’s make a deal, Spidey, you drink this and you eat some of this bread at least one piece and I’ll turn around so I won’t even see a little of your face” You began negotiating, Spidey responded by lifting the bottom half of his mask to just barely above his nose, taking the water bottle with shaky hands.

You stilled, watching him take a drink and then quickly looking down and fumbling with the packaging of the bread when you realized you were just staring at Spiderman’s lips.

Thankfully though, he ignored it, instead deciding he had the energy to tease you about something else, “bread? Just plain bread?”

You scoffed, taking out a slice and handing it to him, watching him to a bite.

“you get what you get and you don’t throw fits” you scolded the way you did the little boy you babysit occasionally, earning a choke in response before another quiet chuckle,

okay so he’s not all lost, good.

You sighed, putting your hand on your cheek for a second and realizing just how warm you had gotten, “listen, you wanted me back fast and this was the only thing I really had in my kitchen right now so-” He cut you off before you could finish your explanation, “thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you”

I don’t know what I’d do without you, These words that Spiderman just said to you rang in your ears for a few seconds until you sighed once more, nodding. “Although some pizza-” You groaned as he began talking, earning another more lively chuckle in return, a lingering smile on his face, this time you allowed yourself to stare, having never seen even the smallest bit of his face let alone his smile. It's nice.

“What is?” he frowned in confusion, you felt your face heat up once more. “Your smile it’s nice,” you explained, earning a nod of thanks in response as he bit into the slice of bread. He hummed as if it was the best thing he had ever tasted before once more leaning his head back into your bed.

You tried to ignore the way he looked like this, he’s injured, take a cold shower. “So, what now huh?” you asked quietly, suddenly anxiously aware that other people lived in your apartment.

“Oh, my bad, I’m so inconsiderate- I-I’ll get out of your hair, your family is asleep and it’s school night I- my bad, I’m sorry” You watched as he stood up incredibly unstable as he did so, “hey, you don’t have-” “thank you, for you know, lettin me stain your nice carpet” he joked meekly, letting out a weak laugh as he gasped once more, struggling to put on the remains of his mangled suit,

“Okay, Jesus, c’mon Spidey, let me help you with that” You mumbled, standing up and doing your best to help him into the top half of his suit and then watching him shove on his left glove while the other hung in his mouth.

He tried to talk, words muffled by his glove but quickly released as you took it from his teeth, causing his attention to fall completely back on you as he stopped his actions. “See you around?” He said, in an attempt to sound normal and not in immense pain. “Be safe, Spidey, don't really know what I’d do without you” You threw his words back into his face in a soft tone, gently pulling his mask down over his nose and mouth.

“Of course,” he responded in a similar tone, almost starstruck as he put on his right glove, thanking you quietly once more before limping back out onto the fire escape outside your window, not sparing a second look as he swung into the noisy city and out of your quiet and now rather lonely room.

After cleaning up the mess you had made, you quit studying for the night, no longer able to focus with the image of Spiderman’s smile stuck in your head, you settled for bed.

But you didn’t get to sleep for another few hours.

After spending a few unfortunate hours in school the next day you had finally been free to go home and take a nap but of course, not before meeting the tutor your counselor had found for you, a student from the fancy school not too far from yours, Midtown High but of course you and your friends just considered it the school of nerds-

“Hey, You Y/n Y/l/n?” The voice that You had thought sounded awfully familiar took you away from your thoughts as you turned around to see who you assumed was Peter Parker, your tutor. “Peter?” You ask with a friendly smile, holding onto the straps on your backpack.

He looked almost starstruck before he shook his head and gave you a similar polite smile, “Nice to meet you”

#tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Spotify

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