#good and fresh hot take i thought up of in class today

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 5

Hey guys!! Things are finally starting to move in this story, I'm not sure how much longer we have, but I just started Eddie's training, so whooo!!

In this we have Eddie being dumb, fixing it, and then apologizing properly! He can be taught!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Robin smacked the back of Steve’s head as she walked past. “No staring. It’s creepy!”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. He had been caught staring so many times today that, yeah, it was starting to be a little creepy now. But in all fairness, Eddie was staring right back. A thought that sent Steve spiraling. But like in a ‘oh shit, that’s hot!’ way.

Which he really, really needed to tamp down on, because yes, the guy was eighteen, but like barely.

“You should just go talk to him,” Robin encouraged gently. Because for all her teasing, she knew how important it was for Steve to talk to him about his swimming.

Steve nodded. He had time until his next class. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He walked up to Eddie and flashed him his patented Harrington smile.

“Hey, you’re Eddie, right?” he said warmly. “Robin tells me you like to swim on Saturdays, yeah?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Um, hi. Yup! That’s me. My mom used to call me her little fish.”

Steve grinned. He liked that. He wished his mom had taken that kind of interest in his swimming. “I saw you swimming when I was helping Joyce set up for the party last weekend and you were really good! Did you compete in high school?”

“Nah,” Eddie said with a shrug. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t get someone to take me that early in the morning so I stopped. Competed in middle school, though. I was decent enough, I guess.”

Steve was shocked. To have to stop just when you hit your stride must have been quite the blow.

“That fucking sucks, man,” Steve said with a grimace. He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “You ever think about competing on the national level? Because I really think you could.”

Eddie rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Yeah, right. I couldn’t afford the coach let alone all the traveling I’d have to do to make it to meets. I’m going to have to pass on that one.”

“There’s actually a program here for people who can’t afford it,” Steve hedged. “Robin used it when we both first started out.” He was fighting back the urge to start biting his nails.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and Steve gulped. “Is that so?” He nodded. “Well ain’t that nice. Still not interested.”

Steve wished the floor would swallow him or that pool would suddenly flood or that he’d get a brain aneurysm and die, right there on the spot. He pursed his lips together and nodded with his whole upper body. He turned on his heel and walked away.

When he was about to the other side of the pool, Eddie called out, “Who would even want to coach me?”

Steve turned around with a grin. “I would.” Then he spun on his toes and walked out of the pool area to the cool fresh air of the hallway.

~

Once Steve was out of the pool area and into the hall, he had a full on panic attack. He sank to the floor and held his head in his hands. Why the fuck did he offer to coach Eddie? He didn’t know Eddie, he was afraid of deep water, and he hadn’t even talked to Joyce yet.

It was a real mess now, but the words just forced themselves from him and now he wants to gobble them back up. Well maybe they’ll just avoid each other from now on. They had done a pretty good job up to this point, they could just continue as normal and forget all about how Steve made a fool of his himself.

Then slowly he began to come out of his panic attack to the sounds of soft words and the gentle rubbing of his wrists with their thumbs. His breathing evened, his heart rate dropped, and his eyes fluttered open.

The eyes looking back at him were warm chocolate brown and deeply concerned. The angel in front of him said something but Steve couldn’t hear. Then all at once all the sounds came rushing back into the hall. And suddenly there were more people in the hall with him than he thought. In addition to Eddie who was the one holding his hands, Robin and Joyce were there too.

“I think he’s coming around,” Joyce said gently as Steve’s eyes focused on her. “Hey, there, Steve. Are you okay now?”

Steve gulped, nodding. He was feeling better. In fact he didn’t have a pounding headache like he usually had after an episode. “My head doesn’t hurt.” He looked over at Robin in confusion. “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“Uh...” Eddie said hesitantly. “I might have something to do with that. I used some calming techniques my friend’s dad showed me.”

Steve turned to him, mouth open in awe. “Oh. Thank you.” He didn’t know what to do with that because technically it was his conversation with Eddie which caused the panic attack in the first place. But maybe that’s why Eddie helped, because he knew he’d caused it. That was a nice thought, Steve supposed.

Eddie smiled and stood back up. “I have to get back to work. You take care of yourself, okay Stevie?”

Steve nodded and Eddie slapped his hands on his knees, standing up. He muttered goodbye to the two women and then wandered off.

As Robin helped him to his feet, she said dryly, “I take it the conversation didn’t go well.”

He barked out a laugh causing Joyce to look back and forth between them in confusion. So Steve put her out of her misery. “I was telling him that he was good enough of a swimmer to compete, but I think he thought I was mocking him or something, because he kinda blew me off.”

He rubbed his temples for a moment before adding. “I even offered to coach him.”

Joyce blinked at him for a moment. “You offered what now?”

When he looked up both Robin and Joyce were looking at him with large, wide eyes and slack jaws. “Yeah, that’s kinda what started the panic attack if I’m honest. I know I am like the worst person for the job with all my...” he waved his hand helplessly. Then he snapped his fingers. “Issues. Anyway. It was nice of him to help me out after all that.”

“Dingus...” Robin said with a heavy sigh. “What were you going to do if he accepted?”

Steve grimaced and ducked his head. “Have you help me?” He looked up at her through his eyelashes and batted them, pouting.

Robin pushed his shoulder. “Disgusting!” Then she gave him a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. “Of course I’d help you.”

“I think it would be perfect,” Joyce blurted out. They both turned and looked at her. “This place could use the publicity if I’m honest. There are other pools in Indy that have been bringing in the bigger names. So if Eddie accepts and starts training under five time gold medal champion Steve Harrington...”

“Then this place could start bringing in the big names again,” Robin said. “Not to say that Steve isn’t a big name of his own,” she added when Steve’s face twisted into something like offense.

Steve shook his head. “Which isn’t going to happen because he said no.”

Joyce and Robin sighed. There was that. But they knew they shouldn’t go trying to pressure Eddie into it. Plus, despite how good he was there was no telling he’d be on par or better than his younger peers.

Steve and Robin left Joyce standing there, pondering her dilemma.

~

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He was grateful that the technique worked, but he was pretty sure that he had caused the attack in the first place. Which was... not good. He could have handled the offer to have him trained to compete a little better. Steve was paying him a compliment and he threw it back in his face as charity. He didn’t need charity not from no one.

There was no two ways about it. He was going to have to apologize. Which was never his strong suit. But he’d do it. He just wasn’t going to take Steve up on his offer. He would see about staying on here as paid help because then he could still have access to his beloved pool.

It took him a couple of days but finally their schedules matched up and Eddie was on his break and Steve had time between classes again.

“Um, hey,” he said timidly, sauntering up to Steve. “I just wanted to apologize for being a bitch on Monday. I was rude and that wasn’t fair.”

A slow smile spread out over Steve’s face. “Thanks. I did just spring it on you without an preamble, so...”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, there was that. But it still was mean and I should have been nicer.”

“Well, you made up for it by helping me with the panic attack afterwards,” Steve said. “I’d say that makes us even.”

“A panic attack I’m pretty sure I caused.”

Steve winced, confirming the worst of Eddie’s suspicion on that one. Steve rubbed his chin thoughtful. “I’ll tell you what, if you teach Robin and Joyce that technique you used to pull me out of my panic attack, then we’ll be even.”

Eddie smiled that sweet closed mouth smile that melted Steve’s insides when he saw it. “Sure thing I can do that. On Saturday before the crew swim. I’ll teach them both.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed. That was going to be so useful, having multiple people know how to get him out of an attack would make it easier for him to go out in public. Something that was very limited after the incident in Beijing.

“That’ll be great, thanks.”

“You should come too,” Eddie suggested. “I know you don’t like being in the pool, but you could come hang out and have a little fun for a change.”

Steve gasped dramatically. “What do you mean? Isn’t teaching beginning classes meant to be fun?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. It took him two seconds long than it should have to realize that Steve was joking him. He pushed Steve’s shoulder playfully.

“At least with us,” he teased, “we won’t try and drown you, deliberately or otherwise.”

Steve tilted his head to side and looked at him in confusion. Where the urge to bite those cheeks came from, Eddie will deny knowing until his last breath. “I saw that snotty teenaged little shit try to pull you into the pool. That’s fucked up at hell.”

Steve’s smile was blinding. “Fair enough. I like getting to sleep in on Saturdays, but we’ll see.”

Eddie grinned back. “I never used to get up this early for school. But ya know, keeping out of jail is pretty inspiring.”

“I could see that, yeah,” Steve agreed. “It was the one downside being on the swim team in high school.”

“You went to a regular high school?” Eddie asked tilting his head. “I would have thought after getting fifth in your first Olympics you would have gone to a special school for kids that are huge in sports or whatever?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “Do they have schools like that?”

“They do for like actors and shit,” Eddie said with a shrug. “So I assumed they would have something similar for the jocks.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no. That would have been preferable.” He shook his head. “But no, it’s much more cut throat that than that. Pretty much, schools try and poach students from other schools to make the best sports teams.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?”

“Yep!” Steve said beaming at him. He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Look, my next class is about to start. So I really should get going. Especially with Joyce’s son in the class, I don’t want to be late.”

“Why is he starting so late?” Eddie asked. “I would have thought with Joyce being in charge of the rec center and his older brother literally being a trainer too, he would have been in the tots class.”

Steve nodded. “She didn’t get the manager position until five years ago and Will was afraid of the water by then. So they just waited until he was ready.”

“So he’s ready now?” Eddie asked curiously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed. “All his friends are going to be in the class with him, so he ready to hop in the pool with them.”

Eddie smiled. “That’s cute.”

That surprised a huff of laughter out him. “Sure is. But don’t tell him that. He’s at the age where cute is akin to baby and well...”

“He’s too old for that?” Eddie finished.

“Yeah.”

“I feel that,” Eddie agreed. “Have fun in your class, and remember you can always make it look like an accident.”

Steve laughed out right at that and waved goodbye. Eddie watched him go feeling better about the whole panic attack thing. Now all he had to do was make sure it never happened again. Or at least not by his own big fucking mouth.

~

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[x0xomady]

touchdown*

⭒⭒⭒

⭒ Football!Harry / Coaches daughter!reader ⭒ frat boy harry ⭒ shy reader ⭒

warnings: smut, 18+, cursing, unprotected sex.

summary: harry is the varsity quarterback for their universities football team. after a practice harry is accidentally left at the field with no ride home. y/n is there to help him.

⭒⭒⭒

y/n’s dad was her universities football teams head coach which meant she was forced to go to most of the games. she didn’t have a huge interest in sports, but she went to support her dad.

she occasionally went to practices because she loved to study outside. she was studying film so she would film the teams pre-game videos and promos.

today was a beautiful day. y/n decided to go to the practice and sit up in the stands so she could study in the fresh air. the whole team knew who she was so it wasn’t awkward or weird when she walked in.

y/n was sitting in the first row of seats editing her film assignment. she wasn’t paying much attention to the running and yelling going down on the field. she heard her dad close up practice which meant she had to pack up and go get her stuff from his office.

harry was having a good day. he had an amazing practice and felt good. his frat was having a party tonight too so he knew that would be fun. harry liked to take a few minutes after practice to stretch so he wouldn’t injure himself. after that he did his normal routine of showering, changing, and getting a snack from the vending machine.

however, today he realized that everyone from his team had left together by the time he was done, and harry didn’t have a car. he looked around the locker room and field to see if anyone was left but he was completely alone.

maybe his coach would be nice enough to give him a ride. harry walked to the office looking for him, but instead saw y/n exiting.

“hey y/n!” he says with a smile.

“hi!” she was cute, very shy, but cute.

“do you mind giving me a ride home? they ditched me.” he laughs a little.

“of course!” y/n thought nothing of it. harry and her had an english and psychology class together so it wasn’t their first time interacting. they actually ran in the same big friend group. they just never hung out one-on-one.

the car ride was filled with quiet music and mindless chatter between the two of them. y/n always had a small crush on harry so she was a little exited about the private time between them. she would never admit it to him because he didn’t like her back, but she thought he was hot.

i mean who didn’t?

harry was practically the most wanted guy on campus. he had an array of tattoos covering his arms and chest, he had the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, and he was built. as she pulled her car up to harry’s frat house, he turned to her.

“are you coming to the party tonight?” harry thought she was hot. she wasn’t super out going, but he liked that about her. girls that were super loud and in your face weren’t attractive. she was sweet and cute. he secretly hoped she said yes just because he wanted to see her again.

“yeah i’m going with y/f/n!” she nods at him.

“cool we can hang out.” he smiles and hops out giving her a ‘thank you’ and a wave.

unlike most frat boys, harry was super sweet. he was always respectful and kind to her whenever they talked. which is why she liked him so much. that and the fact that he was insanely attractive.

she was almost bursting with excitement by the time the party rolled around. y/n was wearing a mini strapless black dress. she would never admit it, but she was wearing it to get attention from harry.

harry was just as excited to see her. he was wearing a thin black sweater and blue jeans. he put on a cologne that she had complimented one time when they were hanging out with their friends.

y/n and her friend pulled up to the house and it was already blowing up. harry was in the biggest frat on campus so everyone was anticipating this party.

when they walked in they were instantly struck by the large group of people filling the home. luckily, since they were friends with harry and others in the frat, they were let into the back where only select people were allowed to go. it was much less cramped in there and their friend group was sitting around on couches drinking.

“hey!” niall, y/f/n boyfriend walked over and greeted them. the rest of their friends welcomed them as well. y/n was immediately handed a drink from one of the pledges harry and niall had walking around serving drinks.

she accepted it and walked over to the couch to sit. niall and her friend were already making out so she needed to get away from them. y/n’s eyes started searching the room for the boy she had come to see.

“hey y/n.” she looked up to see harry standing next to the couch.

“oh hi!” she smiled and scooted over so he could sit next to her.

they talked for a bit and joked around with the other members of their friend group for a while until y/f/n walked over to you.

“c’mon let’s go dance!” she grabbed y/n’s hand and pulled her away from harry.

the dance floor was filled with people and the only thing that could be heard was ‘Rock your Body’ by Justin Timberlake.

y/n and her friend were jumping and dancing with the other people when she felt somebody walk up to her.

“missed me that much” she laughs at harry who was smirking down at her.

“oh it was terrible” he says dramatically.

they dance together and y/f/n gives her a look and a knowing smile before walking away to find niall.

when the song changes y/n feels harry grab her hips and flip her around so she is facing him. without any warning he leans down and kisses her on the lips. she was shocked by this and pulls back.

“fuck i’m sorry i shouldn’t have done that.” harry’s eyes widen. maybe he had misread the signals and she didn’t like him like that.

she doesn’t respond and instead stands on her tiptoes to give him another kiss. y/n wraps her arms around her shoulders to deepen the kiss. his lips felt amazing. he had his fingers in her hair holding her to him tightly.

“wanna go to my room?” harry says leaning down to kiss her on the neck. she nods and pulls him towards the stairs to his room. they had to get through a maze of people making out against the walls.

she has been to harry’s room a couple times before while they were working on homework and projects together. as soon as the door is locked harry is on her.

he leans down to pick her up against the door and press his lips against hers hard. y/n whimpers out and holds her hands on either side of his face to deepen their kiss. harry presses his hard on to her core and groans.

“see what you do to me?” he slowly grinds into her while they continue to kiss hard. “can i taste you baby?"

“please harry” she whimpers as he moves them from the door to his bed. he wastes no time in pushing her dress above her hips. harry presses kisses against her clit through underwear. “need you."

“where do you need me baby?” he teases her by running his fingers against her inner thighs.

y/n was too shy to say it. “you know.”

“no i don’t you have to tell me.” harry smirks. “here?” he presses a kiss to her inner thigh. y/n shakes her head.

“please harry need it so bad.” she begs him.

“only cause you’re so sweet.” he smiles and pulls her underwear off. he hastily presses an open mouthed kiss to her clit. “such a pretty pussy.” he licks a stripe from her slit to her puffy button.

harry brings his lip to her clit and sucks hard. y/n moans and wraps her legs around his shoulders. “fuck harry!”

this is all the encouragement he needs to go faster. he gives her clit one last kiss before leaning down to push his tongue past her entrance. y/n is experiencing true bliss from the feeling of harry’s thick tongue and his nose that’s pushing against her bundle of nerves.

he brings his hand up to press a finger into her entrance while moving his mouth back up to her clit. he fucks her with two fingers while suckling on the bundle of nerves. this has her approaching her orgasm faster than ever.

“fuck i’m gonna cum harry!” she gasps and pulls on his hair slightly.

“cum for me baby.” he moans out at her tug on his hair.

with one final kitten lick against her clit she cum's on his face.

“gonna let me fuck you baby?” he gives her cunt one last kiss before climbing back to press kisses along her neck.

“yes please need it so bad.” she nods quickly and leans down to help harry take off his pants and shirt. once they are both naked he wastes no time in pushing past her tight entrance.

“shit got the tightest pussy i’ve ever felt.” he moans and leans down to kiss her on the neck again. he starts rolling his hips into her hard.

“harder harry.” she whimpers at the feeling of his thick cock running deep into her cunt. she clenched tightly around him moaning louder.

“if you say so.” he picks up her hips and starts drilling faster into her dripping hole. y/n was losing it. he was thrusting at the perfect angle. his cock was hitting her g-spot perfectly and his hip bone was stimulating her clit in just the way she needed to orgasm.

“such a perfect little cunt.” he groans and thrusts harder. harry was obsessed with her. he was obsessed with her moans, her face while she was coming, and her cute little moans.

“let me ride you.” y/n turns harry over so she can be on top. she hastily raises her hips above his cock and drops down hard. this makes the two of them moan out in satisfaction. she grinds over his hard length which has harry groaning.

“gonna cum in you baby.” he moans and grabs her hips to help her move faster over his cock.

“cum with me.” she gasps and pushes her hands against his sweaty chest for stability. the two of them are experiencing pure ecstasy.

with one final grind against him y/n cum's on his cock while harry empties his balls deep inside her cunt.

“fuck why haven’t we done that before?"

[girliism]

80’s aerobics dance instructor patrick teaching a class bare chest hairy and toned wearing nothing but tiny shorts and gym shoes. “come on ladies thrust those hips!” patrick’s shouts.

aerobics wasn’t really your thing, but you had took a class with your mom last month and caught a glimpse of patrick giving you the perfect motivation to keep coming back.

“todays class was really good pat.” “yeah the music selection was great today.” you watch as middle aged women old enough to be his mother feel up his arms and flirt with him. “thanks ladies, i always try to keep fun and fresh for you all.” he flashes that perfect smile and they erupt into giggles.

you take a little longer to pack up leaving just the two of you left in his studio. “um, patrick i’m having some trouble on one of the moves could you help me?” patrick being the devoted workout instructor he is he says yes.

“so what’s the problem?” you’re laying on your back on the floor patrick sitting in front of your bent knees. “well when i do my glute bridge i feel it more in my low back than in my glutes.” you move into position lifting your hips up when he tells you.

you wore a high cut leotard skipping on putting leggings underneath cause of how hot it gets in the studio. patrick’s eyes zone in on the imprint of your pussy lips against your leotard.

patrick coughs to cover up his smirk. “common mistake. you just have to make sure you’re bracing your entire core.” he says placing his hand on lower stomach pushing down encouraging you to brace up against it. “like this?”

“you know a sure fire way to tell if your core in engaged is by seeing if your vaginal walls are contracted.” patrick’s tracing the back of his fingers up and down your clothed cunt. “mind if i check?”

have you dreamed about this happen before? yes. would this classify as boarder line harassment? probably, but you wanted him so bad.

“yeah, yes you can.” you sigh.

patrick pulls your leotard to the side smiling at how wet you’re growing. “remember to engage your core and squeeze tight around me.” with that he slips two fingers in. tips immediately hitting your g-spot. “oh!” you squeak. “am-am i doing it?” you breathe out trying to hide your moan.

“oh yeah, you’re doing it.” patrick brushes his thumb over your clit to see how you’d react. “oh my god” you whisper eyes falling shut as you roll your hips fucking yourself on patrick’s fingers.

patrick watches you use his fingers as if he wasn’t even here. the moans falling from your lips and the tight wet heat on his fingers has his pants tenting.

not wanting to disturb you patrick leaves his fingers in you making a move to slip his shorts off.

so caught up with your own pleasure you hardly notice how quick patrick removes his fingers and replace them with the bulbus head of his cock. “what are you doing.” your eyes snapping open while patrick folds you up hovering over you, legs off the floor wrapped around his waist your ass lifted of the ground.

“you were fucking yourself on my fingers like a whore, thought i’d give you my cock instead.” barely giving you time to respond he’s pushing his thick cock into your tiny pussy.

“so big. holy shit you’re so deep.” you slur out as patrick snaps his hips into your fast and hard. “bet you’d look so hot riding me.” he grunts in your ear. pulling you up with ease. sitting himself down on the ground back facing the mirror.

you throw your head back and bounce frantically up and down on his dick. patrick sucks at your neck yanking down the necklace of your leotard freeing your boobs. “fuck.” patrick dips his head sucking and licking your nipple.

the dark bush and the base of his cock his adding stimulation to your clit and it’s your screaming moans echo in the studio. “shit patrick m’gonna cum.” you whine. patrick holds your head up telling you to open your eyes. you’re faced with the image of yourself in the mirror behind him.

“keep your eyes open. watch yourself get fucked like a slut.” patrick’s groaning in your ear thrusting up into you. you lock eyes with yourself taking in how fucked out you look. patrick hits that spot inside you hard and your nails dig into his shoulders as you cream on his cock. patrick is quick to pull out spilling himself on your thigh and the floor.

you both clean yourself up and you go to leave before patrick stops you. “you know i do home visits if you ever wanna work on your form more.”

[sugusatosluut]

Yuuji Itadori x Fem!reader

MDNI✨

heads up: fluff, smut (experienced!yuuji, Virgin!reader , yuuji really wants you.

Your friend group was pretty big. Outside of school, the Tokyo and Kyoto classes hung out despite their differences. You guys hung out in a large group, so it was easy during these times for you and Yuuji to slip away and go makeout in an outlet dressing room or just talk and eat ice cream. Nobody knew about you two.. or at least that’s what you both thought. Nobara picked up pretty quickly, sometimes even foiling you guys’ plans to be alone. Megumi grilled yuuji about it until he confessed, making Megumi feel proud of him. Even going so far as to tell him to take that pinup poster down now.

The sun was setting, you and yuuji decided to slip away quietly again. Nobody really seemed to care because they were too caught up in arguing about water being wet and where you guys should go for dinner. You figured you guys would just be a short while since all you wanted to do was kiss him. The feeling was mutual to you from him as well. Yuuji grabbed your hand and snuck you into the nearest clothing store. You both stumbled into a dressing room, locking it behind you as you both stood looking at eachother. Yuuji sat down, then he gave his lap a pat.

“C’mere.” He smiled.

His smile was like looking over Tokyo at night. It made your heart warm and felt like a breath of fresh air. Yuuji was always so gentle with you, even when he was so wrapped up in kissing you, his compulsion to squeeze your hips into his was overshadowed by how soft you were being with him. You sat in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling at him. He couldn’t lie, he’s been wanting more than just a glance at you all day.

“You look good, is that the shirt I picked out from So-Chee?” He smiled.

“Mhmm, I wanted to wear it today. The fabric is soft for a tank top, it’s very tight fitting and my boobs finally feel secure.” You giggled softly as you pressed a kiss to his neck. You flowered your kisses all over as he moaned softly.

“Your body looks amazing. I’ve been wanting this all day.” He said kissing you back.

You sucked on his neck softly, moving place to place leaving small marks that were barely recognizable. He pulled your body close, kissing you passionately on the lips. He let his tongue glide and part your lips, finding his way to your own eager tongue. His hands grabbed both sides of your face, his thumbs on your cheeks as he tongued your mouth down, exploring your minty breath. He pulled away softly to look at you, then planted his face in the cleavage of the light pink tight tank top he got you. Your breasts were practically screaming for him to put his face there. You had something for him, something you’ve been waiting to tell him for a while and you didn’t want to do it on an outing like this.

“Can we go to your dorm after dinner with the group tonight? Just me and you?” You asked.

“Mhm, I have something for you anyways, been meaning to give it to you.,. Ugh why do we have to go...” He groaned quietly as he pecked each of your breasts with a sloppy kiss.

“Let’s go before they think we died. The last thing I want is for kugisaki to make a scene like last time.” You joked.

“Yeah, let’s see if they ever figured dinner out.” Yuuji smiled at you.

The dinner plans went through, you all sat at a place similar to hot pot. It was a major success between the two groups. Forget bonding at school, the schools would never agree to fund a trip like this. It was good to outside of school and all the rivalry. You sat next to yuuji and yuuta, smiling the whole time.

That was, until yuuji put a hand on your thigh under the table. You were a blushing mess at something so innocent. His hand stroked the bumpiness of your knee. Fingers threatening to creep up and touch your pulsating mess under the skirt you wore. Both your hands were under the table, but you didn’t dare try to stop him from doing what he was doing. You wanted to show him you were ready too.

“Hey, Itadori. Can you please pass the meat? Maki says the ramen would go good with it and I kinda want to try it.” Yuuta smiled.

“Of course.” He smiled.

Yuuji’s wallet dropped out of his pocket, you got down and smirked to yourself internally before ‘accidentally’ palming his crotch to catch yourself.

He breathed in a sharp breath before taking a glance at you. You were smiling at him.

“Oh-im sorry yuuji. Here let me fix that.” You said from under the table. You gave him a quick feel up under the table over his clothes. He was already hard. You got up from under the table and playing between his legs. He was quite shocked to say the least but he was turned on. The innocence you kept in front of your friends was intriguing especially since he’s been the one to feel and witness how nasty you could be in private. Oh god when could he touch you?

After dinner, you and yuuji walked to his dorm instead of dropping you off at yours first. You sat on his bed having already explored his room many times before. Nothing devious or naughty the previous times, you two watched movies and cuddled and held game nights at his place usually. Tonight was different though. Tonight you wanted privacy.

“Okay sweet girl, stay right here. I got you some stuff just because I was thinking about you really hard the other day.” He smiled. Yuuji Itadori just had one of the warmest smiles. It could pull you right out of sadness.

He approached you with a big bag.

“Woah! What’s all this?” You asked. If your eyes could be giant hearts, you’d let them stay that way forever.

“Go ahead, open it.” He gestured.

You took the paper out of the bag and a card fell out.

“You can save that for last though, here lemme see.” He said gently taking the card from you.

You took some things out the bag.

Some lip gloss that you glanced at the other day while it was just the two of you, some scrunchies, a new purse, some socks, a yellow hoodie to match his own, and a.. what is that?

“It’s a vibrator.” He smiled nervously.

You looked at him lovingly.

“Oh- yuu i wanted to ask you something.” You smiled at him.

“You know whatever you ask for, if I can give it to you I will. I cant say no to my pretty girl.” Yuuji said caressing the small of your back.

“Can we do it? I know what I’m asking isn’t easy but I know what I want and I want it to be with you.. I’m ready.” You blushed.

Yuuji moved your hair out of your face and brought you on top of his lap. You looked pretty like this. Face red off your nerves, eyes hopeful yet full of curiosity and desire. Yuuji wanted to make sure you were sure because he wanted this just as bad as you did. He wanted to see you fucked out on his cock, damn near drooling and begging for more. Some night’s he would jerk off just thinking about the lewd images that popped up in his head while he was already thinking about you. He’s glad Megumi made him take that damn pinup poster down.. he never looked at it or admired it, but sometimes in the heat of the moment, instead of seeing the pinup girl, he’d imagine you on the poster, fingers lingering over your dripping cunt and eyes squinted shut. God, was Yuuji Itadori lucky..

“Okay princess, take it all off.” He smirked at you.

You smiled at him, taking off your tank top and your skirt. Yuuji was kinda shocked, no bra? And the lace panties he was staring at through the lingerie shop window? God you were perfect. He couldn’t waste any time, he needed to make you feel good, he needed to be the one to corrupt you, make you feel so good. He took his clothes off, leaving him completely stripped in front of you, his cock slapping the skin of his stomach, just long enough to reach past his belly button. You were shocked at the sight in front of you. You and yuuji and done stuff but you’ve never seen him naked. He had a girlfriend last year but you didn’t know much about their relationship, you assumed they’d probably had sex. You were in for a treat.

Yuuji lied you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked softly at first, your quiet moans edging him on. He wondered if he sucked harder, would you get louder? So he did. He sucked hard and your body writhed needingly in response.

“ah-yuuji- feels s’good.” You whined.

His fingers traced your panties, feeling how wet you were. There was already a wet spot on his sheets. How embarassing, you couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Looks like my sweet girl couldn’t wait any longer for me, you’re already so wet. I bet I could just slip right in.” He kissed your neck. While kissing your neck he discreetly slid one finger inside you. It felt uncomfortable at first, then the pleasure hit. You grabbed onto his shoulders as he fingered your hole perfectly. Loud mewls escaping your lips, showing him your satisfaction. There was a feeling in your stomach, it kept growing more intense until you finally felt it, you released all over yuuji’s fingers.

“Naughty girl, you didn’t tell me you were getting close.” He smiled at you.

“I’m-s-sorry yuu.. I can keep going, I want more. I want to feel that again.” You panted.

Yuuji’s eyes lit up with joy. He moved you, he took his spot under you and positioned you so that he was perfectly aligned with your leaking hole. It was still pulsating at the thought of his cock entering you.

“Princess this might hurt or it might feel good. You’re really soaked. Just tell me if it hurts I’ll stop.” He said looking you up and down.

You nodded. “Yes baby.” You smiled.

You sank down slowly onto his cock, feeling it stiffen up more inside you. You yelped, closing your eyes and catching your breath.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, just needed to catch my breath. You’re so big.” You whispered.

“You can bounce whenever you want, just hold onto me.” He said grabbing your waist.

You wasted no time, both your hands were placed on his chest as your knees helped while you lifted your waist and dropped back down on his hard shaft.

“Y/n- Princess-slow down, you’re already so tight, I might just cum.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry, just feels so good yuu.” You panted.

You continued at a slower pace, yuuji was a moaning mess. He couldn’t believe it. His love, this pure virgin school girl was riding him, hole tight and gripping his cock so tightly. He was more than qualified to take this from you, to corrupt you with his cock and make you his. He couldn’t take it anymore, he moved your hands behind your back and held them together with one hand, while he gripped your waist with the other. He started thrusting into you at a fast pace with heavy force, tits bouncing everywhere and moans filling up the room along with the slapping of his balls against your ass cheeks.

“Hah-huh- oh yuu—— ah- ah, fuck me!” You screamed out.

“Anything for you princess- fuck- mm.” He moaned.

Yuuji scooted himself up, continuing to thrust into you. His lips attached to one of your tits as he nipped and sucked. He’d left several marks that only he’d be able to see whenever he wanted. His thumb bruised your hip, he was gripping you so tight. You weren’t able to see it but you knew it would be there later.

The ripple of your ass as he smacked his hips into yours at such a strong and fast pace was getting him so close. The coil in your stomach started to build up again.

“Yuuji- I’m close!” You cried.

“Me too- hang on- fuck.” He cried out. He threw you on your back in a swift motion and continued his sweet assault on your cunt, his thrusts growing sloppy.

“I’m gonna cum y/n, fuck you’re so perfect for me.” He moaned.

Without warning you squirted all over, making you a panting, moaning mess. Yuuji enjoyed your fucked out expression. The one he’s been daydreaming about and imagining every night. The coil in his stomach was ready to snap. He pulled out, spewing hot white ropes of cum all over your breast and your stomach. You both were sweaty and panting, just staring at eachother. Yuuji kissed you on the forehead.

“I meant it, you’re perfect.” He smiled.

“You’re perfect.” You said back to him.

“Let’s get cleaned up so we can cuddle.” He said.

Yuuji quickly changed the sheets before hopping into the warm shower after you, then when you both finally calmed down, you got comfortable under the new warm and thick blankets he changed for the bed.

“Aren’t you glad I kept some of your underwear here?” He chuckled.

“Mhmm, my hero.” You sighed as you got sleepy.

“Hey, if you’re ready.. I’d like to tell the group we’re dating. I was gonna ask you regardless of when we did.. this.. but I’m serious. I never wanted anyone as bad as I’ve wanted you. You’re perfect for me, and I love you.” He said playing with your hair.

“Yuu.. I’d love that. Can we still sneak away and have our own little adventures?” You asked.

“We can do anything you want sweet girl.” He winked, kissing you as you both fell asleep soundly in his dorm.

[murdockparker]

Foolish Endeavor - Part 8

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: To be, or not to be (a Bridgerton), that is the question. One that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has yet to ask.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, no actual smut, angst

A/N: it's a happy-sad chapter. that's all I gotta say mad lads

first part - previous part - next part

__

She hadn’t felt very well rested, not even the tiniest bit. No matter how tired she felt after last night’s escapades, the excitement that lingered in the air coursed through her veins, keeping her alert and awake for the entirety of the night. He hadn’t kept it much of a secret, not really.

Benedict Bridgerton was proposing. 

Today. 

While he practically proposed last night, bodies tangled together in a sweaty embrace, she knew a more formal question was coming later this morning or afternoon. It was only a matter of time before Benedict asked for her company, asked for her hand. She imagined he already discussed the details of their engagement, dowry and the like with her father before their visit to Aubrey Hall. Seeing as how her father couldn’t accompany them for the week and knowing how formal Benedict could be about situations just as this one.

A soft knock rang through the spacious room, followed by the entrance of Agnes, her lady’s maid. She was carrying a pitcher of fresh water and a rag, smiling lightly at the girl rolling in bed. 

“Good morning, miss,” Agnes said lovingly. She set the pitcher down on the desk, draping the cloth over the back of the chair. “I trust you slept well?”

“Of course,” she lied. “The beds here are divine, I reckon they’re stuffed with only the finest.”

“Oh yes,” Agnes nodded. “I’m sure the viscount has only the best in his home.”

“Did you sleep well, Agnes?”

“I slept just fine, my lady,” the maid said sweetly. “The staff’s lodgings are quite elegant. If I had half a mind, I would mention something to your mother…”

(Y/N) giggled, the sound dampening against the plushness of the bedding. “Consider it done, I’ll bring it up over tea.”

Agnes’ eyes lit up like a candle in the night—bright and ever glowing. She nodded softly before floating over to her lady’s bed to assist in her dressing. “I drew you a bath for this morning, I figured you may wish to take one after the exhausting day that was yesterday.” (Y/N)’s entire face flushed, the color creeping up from her neck. Surely the staff couldn’t have possibly heard anything from the study last eve, could they? “The carriage ride was much too hot for my liking, I myself washed up last evening.”

“Oh,” she coughed, patting her chest lightly. “Yes, I agree. Traveling in the summer months is always a hassle.”

“Should I set out your dressings for when you return, my lady?”

“Of course. That would be lovely.”

“Which one do you fancy for this morning?” Agnes asked, opening the wardrobe, now fitted out with the various silks and outfits they had packed for the week. Her eyes danced across the rainbow of colors before placing her hand on one. “I reckon Mr. Bridgerton will quite like this one."

“Agnes!” (Y/N) chided, suppressing a laugh.

“I’ll set it aside,” the maid hummed knowingly, placing the selected dress on the door to the wardrobe.

—

The dress Agnes had picked out was quite the stunning piece, the fanciest of the day dresses they had packed. The sleeves were almost entirely a thick lace, meeting the crook of her elbow with grace. Colored to match the sky on a summer’s day, the gown had matching white accents one could nearly mistake for clouds, a slightly darker azure pulled everything together on the bodice. It was the epitome of class, the finest handiwork once could find in the ton.

He thought she was breathtaking. 

He normally thought so, of course. This morning, however, she looked nearly as radiant as the sun. His sun. He knew it was going to be a good day, with her smiling as sweetly as she was. He had to restrain himself from reaching into his pocket and falling to his knee immediately, his better judgment getting the best of him. 

“Lady (Y/N),” Benedict greeted her, bowing lightly to appease the other eyes following them in the room. 

“Benedict,” she curtsied back. 

“Might you do me the honor of accompanying me on a promenade this morning?” He asked, brow arched up, his lovesick smirk ever apparent.

“Of course,” she nodded before turning to her side. “Though, we will need to find a chaperone—” 

“I’ll join you.”

“A walk could do me some good.”

Both the countess and dowager viscountess spoke in the same breath, flustered at the sudden attention on themselves. They both seemed too eager to join the happy couple this afternoon, for no reason in particular.

“You are both free to join us,” Benedict nearly laughed. “We are set to promenade around the gardens, I wish to enjoy your lovely flowers, Mother.”

“Oh yes,” (Y/N) nodded enthusiastically. “Lady Bridgerton, your gardens are quite the spectacle.”

Violet waved them off, nearly embarrassed. “Oh you two flatter me so terribly.”

“Oh but I have to agree, Violet. You simply must tell me where you found your florist,” the countess smiled. “Theodore would love the blooms you have out here.”

“Well, I hardly think they’re a secret,” Violet said, voice dropping to a murmur before leaning into the countess’ side. “But I’ll extend their information to you posthaste.”

The women giggled, both taken at the joy of the afternoon—Benedict and (Y/N) still in their own little world.

“Pall-mall is this afternoon,” Benedict said thoughtfully, extending his arm for his beloved to take. “I recall your proficiency at the game, has that changed?”

(Y/N) shook her head, beginning to walk with Benedict towards the gardens, mamas in tow. “No, of course not. If anything I simply have gotten even better than you recall.”

He let out a laugh, warm and thick like honey. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Anthony suggested the match a day or so prior to your arrival, something about fond memories from childhood—” 

“Really? You’re sure he doesn’t wish to try and best his family to look good for his future bride?”

“Ah, the viscount would never dare use his family as a pawn for his marriage,” Benedict said seriously. “But, trying to best Daphne will be his greatest feat.”

“The duchess is joining us?” She asked, allowing Benedict to open the garden gate for her. He hummed.

“She would never dare miss an opportunity to lay claim to her rightful place as the best Bridgerton pall-mall player,” Benedict chuckled. “Well, I suppose she also wished to meet Miss Sharma, should Anthony get off of his sorry behind and actually propose…”

Violet Bridgerton loved her garden in Kent—her and her husband had a rather fondness to the country—leaving her gardens to be quite the sight to behold. The young couple spent many a day in the gardens in their youth, playing and chasing the other around. Last year, Anthony had commissioned a small fountain to be added for their mother's birthday, it was the new jewel of the grounds. 

It was the perfect place, Benedict had decided.

“Why do you think our mamas are following us so closely?” (Y/N) asked quietly, tightening her grip on Benedict’s arm.

“They’re pretending to be interested in the roses,” Benedict whispered, turning to look back at his mother and the countess. The women seemed flushed, their attention drawn a bit too closely at the blooms. “But I believe they’re waiting with bated breath for something extraordinary to happen."

“And what, pray tell, would they be waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?” Her heart began to pound, surely the small babbling of the fountain did nothing to hide it.

A grin spread across his face, one that was lopsided and all-too-sweet, his gaze warm enough to set aflame. “Perhaps they’re waiting for…this?” He removed his arm from (Y/N)’s grip, slinking down to one knee. Benedict thanked any God who would listen he had the bright idea to practice the gesture before this moment, as it hopefully looked as graceful as it felt. With only a slightly shaking hand, he took her own.    

“Oh!” Lady Kent squealed from behind. Lady Bridgerton was quick to pull her close—as if to not ruin the moment. 

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have been a constant at my side. Your friendship has been a balm on my worried heart for the many years I have had the pleasure of knowing you,” Benedict began, trying to keep his voice steady. “How lucky am I, to have found such a partner in my greatest friend? How lucky would I be, if that partner agreed to spend the rest of her days with me?”

“Benedict…” She had begun to cry. She had known he was proposing today, and yet, she still begun to cry.

“(Y/N),” Benedict repeated her name like a prayer, “will you do me the honor of making me half of the happiest pair the universe has ever seen? Will you marry me?”

A box suddenly appeared in his other hand, a glittering ring shining in the morning sun. It surely wasn’t a family ring, no, it looked to be brand new, like he had it made especially for her. Benedict had asked Lady Bridgerton about family rings but never quite found one that spoke to him—so he took matters into his own hands. 

A delicate cluster of pearls with shining sapphires, all adorned like a flower in bloom. He had been torn on the sapphires, but secretly, a part of him wished for her to have the staple Bridgerton color, blue, with her always. A small claim, a slightly possessive way for him to show she is his at all times. 

If she didn’t already have her answer before this moment, seeing Benedict on the ground, bearing his heart out to her in front of a beautiful scene—and their mamas—it couldn’t have come any easier. 

“Yes!” She squealed, falling to the ground to meet Benedict in an amorous embrace—dress be damned, society be damned.

He nearly fell over, arm steadily snaking its way around her waist, holding her tight against him. He knew he was close to tears, but seeing his love on the same precipice nearly sent him over the edge. “If our mamas weren’t looking…” Benedict whispered into her ear, holding her tight against him, his words a secret to her alone. 

“I simply don’t care,” (Y/N) murmured, turning his face towards her own, lips nearly attacking his. What started as a passionate celebration had melted into something more substantial—a far cry from any other kiss they had shared before. This was not just a kiss from a friend, a kiss from a lover, no, this was a kiss between a husband and wife. The passion was not lost on them, but it took perhaps a second too long to fully realize that their mothers were still very much watching.

“Ehem!” Lady Kent cleared her throat, cheeks rosy as the blooms beside her.

“Relax Mama,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling herself to her feet, assisting Benedict to reaching his own as well. “What is the worst thing to happen? Force us to marry faster?”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Benedict murmured, dusting off his pants. 

“Er, no, I suppose there’s nothing—” Lady Kent sighed, turning to Violet. “Should we petition for a speedy ceremony?”

“Oh hush,” Violet admonished, laughing lightly. “One kiss between betrothed is not a ruin. However,” she looked at the newly affianced couple with a narrow gaze, the one of a strict mother, “I would not make it a habit until you are wed.”

“Of course, Mother,” Benedict nodded, trying his very best to not laugh out loud. 

“My lady,” a butler had come up from behind the proud mothers. “The duchess has arrived.”

“Oh! Splendid,” Violet cooed. “Benedict, do see to it that you and your fiancée greet your sister, I am sure she would be most pleased at your news.”

“We shall inform the family before pall-mall,” Benedict said decidedly. “Just another reason to celebrate.”

“Just think,” Lady Kent sighed, turning to walk with Lady Bridgerton back to the estate. “By the end of the week you will have two sons set to be wed! A joyous celebration indeed.”

“If Anthony is truly engaged at the end of the week,” Benedict said quietly, words only meant for his fiancée to hear, “then the world has turned upside down.”

They both laughed. 

—

“Is Anthony still attached to the black mallet?” (Y/N) asked, arm in arm with her new fiancé. “I recall a near bloodbath for it the last time I played pall-mall with your family.”

“Far more than one would realize,” Benedict nodded. “One would suspect he carried and birthed the bloody thing…”

“Funny,” (Y/N) said. “He birthed the mallet? Here I thought he still had a stick up his—”

“(Y/N)!”

“What? I will not apologize for saying what I was thinking—and if I knew any better, you were too.”

“He’s been… a bit un-agreeable the last few weeks, regarding the whole notion of Miss Sharma and whatnot,” Benedict sighed.

“So you do not disagree.”

“He is my brother,” Benedict stated.

“Indeed,” (Y/N) hummed.

Even having descended these steps only two hours prior to their inevitable engagement, the yard had completely transformed. Shade and snacks had been put up for the spectators, hoops were currently being put in the ground and staff were carrying out the dreaded mallet container.

“What a lovely afternoon for pall-mall,” Lady Mary said.

“And a lovely afternoon to celebrate an engagement,” Lady Bridgerton added, looking directly at the happy couple. 

“Oh yes,” Lady Mary smiled. “Congratulations on the engagement, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Kent.”

“Save your congratulations for the ball in the next few days,” Lady Kent laughed. “I suspect it will be the talk of the ton anyhow.”

The older ladies laughed with one another. The younger adults began their trek to the mallet box, determination in each of their eyes. 

“Eloise, are you sure you do not wish to play?” Colin asked, turning to his younger sister.

“I have other matters to deal with,” she said sitting from the steps, nose in her book. “Besides, someone had to sit out so our guests could play…”

“I could have sat out—” Colin began.

“And the sky is green, Brother,” Benedict said, clapping his younger brother’s back. “Everyone knows you would’ve been a worse spoilsport if you sat out instead.”

“Perhaps Lady (Y/N) could have sat out, then?”

“You’d make my fiancée sit out?” Benedict gasped, clearly jesting. “She is to be your sister soon, Colin. It’s preposterous that you would even suggest such a thing!”

“Ben,” (Y/N) giggled, hand placed gently on his shoulder. “I do not think Colin truly meant it.”

“Congratulations, again,” Colin nodded towards the to-be-Bridgerton. “Why you wish to marry into this family is beyond me.”

“I fear I am still asking myself such a question,” she hummed, plainly ignoring Benedict’s souring expression. “But I am sure I’ll be reminded during our spirited game of pall-mall.”

“Reminded of what?” Daphne asked, walking with the Sharma sisters. She had been explaining the game in earnest to them.

“How much fun our family has playing a rousing game of pall-mall,” Colin said, shit-eating grin on his face. Anthony tried his best to ignore it, taking his attentions to Miss Sharma—the younger, not the elder.

“Shall we begin?” Anthony coughed, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“I shall pick first,” Colin said, reaching for the black mallet.

“No!” Anthony practically yelled, causing a shock to the group. “I-I mean, we pick based on alphabetical order.”

“So, by Bridgerton standards, eldest to youngest?” (Y/N) mused. Benedict huffed a laugh as his brothers began to fight.

“The only fair thing to do,” Daphne spoke up, ever the voice of reason, “is to let our invited guests choose their mallets and strike first.”

“Please, take your pick, Miss Edwina,” Anthony conceded, bowing to the younger Sharma. Edwina looked carefully over the mallets, eyes scanning over every color—almost as if she was afraid to pick the wrong one. She pointed decidedly to the blue one, Anthony grabbing it for her with haste. “An excellent choice.”

Kate wasted no time in choosing her mallet—black and foreboding. The mallet of death. 

“Would you look at that, Brother?” Benedict sniggered, clearly amused by Anthony’s annoyance. 

“Is this yours?” Kate asked. 

“Not at all. You’re welcome to it,” Anthony sighed.

“You near threatened to beat me the last time I touched—”

“You exaggerate,” Anthony fumed, eyes like daggers towards Colin.

“Are you the superstitious sort, Lord Bridgerton?” Kate asked, twirling the mallet like a prized trophy. “I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools. Like a child with a blanket.”

“Oh I like her,” (Y/N) said softly, her words nearly lost amongst the guffaw of the Bridgerton family.

“I can play perfectly well with any mallet,” Anthony said.

“My sun, I do believe it is your pick,” Benedict said, clearing the laugh from his throat. She nodded, taking her claim on the lavender mallet. It seemed the most appealing and an easy color to spot from the grass. “Lavender is a fine color for you.”

“Shall we dilly dawdle all afternoon?” Colin sighed. “Or shall we…” 

It was like a hunt. Each of the playing Bridgertons tried to stake their claim on a mallet, all avoiding one in particular. Benedict grabbed a golden yellow, Colin choose green, Daphne a nice seafoam color, leaving Anthony with the pastel pink. 

“To the field of combat!” Daphne exclaimed, holding her mallet straight up in the air. 

Combat was an accurate descriptor. While it had been years since she had played pall-mall, even longer since she had played it with the Bridgertons, Lady (Y/N) found it refreshing. It nearly made her wonder if this could have been her life growing up—a lively life with siblings to bicker with and pick on. 

Regardless, it will be her life now, as soon as she marries Benedict. Soon she’d be a Bridgerton. Soon she’d have the family she’d always dreamt of. Siblings, children, the whole lot.

“I say, that was a good shot Lady (Y/N)!” Colin cheered, clapping politely at her latest hit. She had managed to knock Daphne’s ball near a cluster of bushes. “Always a win in my book to best Daph.”

“Oh hush,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “It was a bold move, I will concede to that, well done (Y/N).”

“Dropping her title, are we?” Benedict asked, stepping beside his sister. “You of all people know better etiquette, Your Grace.”

“And what is better etiquette than calling my newest sister by her given name?” Daphne sang, hopping along to her ball. She may be married and a new mother with one on the way, but she still was very much a girl at heart. 

“I truly don’t mind, Benedict,” (Y/N) insisted. “It won’t matter in a few weeks, anyhow.”

“Perhaps you won’t mind this, then?” Colin said. In a blink of an eye, her purple ball went flying towards Daphne’s. 

“Not at all, Colin,” (Y/N) curtsied. “You only made the game more fun, I would have been crestfallen if you were taking it easy on me.”

“Never,” he scoffed. 

“Exactly right,” (Y/N) said, following Daphne over to her ball.

“I’m happy for you. She’s a catch, Ben,” Anthony said, pulling his younger brother out of his love-sick daze. Benedict nodded, not fully listening. “Everyone suspected it to happen, since we were young.”

“I wish someone would have told me sooner,” Benedict jested, “it would have saved us both some time, I manage.”

“I believe Father had made a joke about it once before,” Anthony said. “But, I assume your head was too stuck in the clouds to hear it.”

“Father did, truly?” Benedict’s brow raised. “He was rather observant, I suppose I do not doubt it.”

“You know, I must hand it to you, Brother,” Colin said, cutting in with his brothers. “Courting Lady (Y/N) was a feat I’m surprised you pulled off.”

“Do you not think we are a suited match?” Benedict asked. “Am I not charming enough? Not handsome enough?”

“You are a Bridgerton, of course you are enough,” Colin said.

“I think he means he is just surprised you managed to snag the daughter of an earl,” Anthony said simply. “You are a second son, it is nearly unheard of.”

“She is more than that—”  

“Of course she is,” Anthony said, raising his hand in defense, the other on his pink mallet. “She is your greatest friend and soon to be your wife—of course she is more than just the earl’s daughter.”

“She is my sun,” Benedict said simply. 

Anthony and Colin gave each other a look. “Ever the poet,” Colin chuckled. “You could have stopped at ‘she’s more than that’.”

She had been trying to strategize how best to get her purple ball back to the next wicket. Colin had sent it rather far from the next target, but it was no matter. She was determined to get it back into play—to show the Bridgertons she could roll with the punches. A small wave was sent her direction, one attached to a rather love-sick man, tall and handsome with a wicked grin. 

She waved back, an equally lovesick smile on her lips. 

“How fortunate,” Anthony noted. “Now your son will inherit the earldom, yes?”

“I…” Benedict’s regard turned back to his brother. How easily he was distracted by Lady (Y/N). “Yes, I suppose that is what’s expected of our union, what her parents expect of us.”

“Just think,” Colin said boisterously, “two titles in one family!”

“A viscount and an earl, both Bridgertons,” Anthony cooed, much like a child. “Well done brother! What a success for our family—Father would be proud.”

“I understand the sudden interest in Lady (Y/N) now, Brother,” Colin said, balancing on his mallet. “It rather makes sense, does it not?” 

“I think Father would be more proud that I am marrying for love,” Benedict corrected, growing a bit annoyed at his brothers jesting. 

“Love? Oh yes,” Anthony waved. “Sure, sure. But the earldom? How lucky you’ve bagged her, Brother. Bridgerton, Earl of Kent!”

Benedict forced a laugh. 

“Well, that is not—” 

A purple ball rolled next to his feet, stopping just before his toes. 

She had looked like she had seen a ghost, Lady (Y/N). Her grip tightened on her mallet, white gloves contrast to the purple. “I think I shall cut out for the day.”

The Bridgerton brothers were silent, Benedict inching towards her.

“(Y/N)—”

“I am in need of a respite,” she said, not looking back. “Too much sun.”

Benedict felt his blood run cold, his hand glued to the air. Every sense of his was fleeting, his sight blurring, his mouth running dry. 

“You dolt,” Daphne admonished, smacking her second eldest brother as she came upon them. “You must talk to her.”

“I-I will,” Benedict nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Well not now,” Daphne sighed. “Give her a moment to collect her thoughts. A conversation now could be… explosive.”

“Is the game finished, my lord?” Edwina pranced over, brows furrowed.

“Ah, yes,” Anthony cleared his throat. “Well, no. Lady (Y/N) and Benedict have cut out, isn’t that right?”

Benedict nodded numbly, dropping his mallet to the grass.

“The game is still set—minus yellow and purple,” Anthony said stoically, rightfully ignoring his brother heading towards the estate. 

Feet like lead, every step he took felt like a death sentence, a man on his way to execution.

Somehow, he much preferred that thought.

__

He knocked at her door, three hours later. 

For two hours he sobbed and for an hour he drank, trying to wrap his head around how he’d approach this, how he’d approach her. He had pressed a wet rag to his face. Helps with the puffiness, a staff member told him. He hoped for it to be true. 

He knocked again.

“Go away.”

Benedict sighed, leaning up against the wood. “I’m afraid that’s unlikely. We must speak.”

“I am not opening the door.”

“And I am not leaving.”

A pause. 

Then, the lock clicked. 

The man took a deep breath, preparing for every possible outcome. He was never much of a planner, but in this very instance? He wish he had clairvoyance, a crystal ball perhaps, to see how this would end. Benedict could only hope it ended with them at the end of the aisle, hand in hand at the altar. 

“You would have stayed out there all night,” she said simply as he entered the room. She had resigned herself to standing in the dead center of the bedchambers, her arms crossed.

“Yes,” Benedict said. “I would have.”

“Stubborn,” she scoffed, turning towards the window. 

He took the moment to shut the door—they were engaged, no need for propriety now. “We are expected at dinner this evening,” Benedict said quietly. “To celebrate the engagement.”

“Naturally.”

“You do not wish to go to dinner,” Benedict surmised.

“Naturally,” she repeated, her shoulders tensing.

“You must eat—” 

“I would rather starve.”

“That is a bit ridiculous,” Benedict scoffed. “Surely you are not that angry.”

“You do not get to tell me how angry I am allowed to be,” (Y/N) said, finally turning around. “If I do not wish to show face at dinner, I will not show face.”

Benedict’s gaze softened on her, finally seeing her face. He would never assume anything about her, it would make for a terrible habit for the years to come, but if he had to make an educated guess, she had been crying just as much as he had.

He wished he had a rag to offer.

“I apologize—”

“For which instance?” (Y/N) asked cooly. “For earlier? For dictating my feelings?”

“The first—both, I suppose,” Benedict ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps he was losing strands from the stress. “Look, (Y/N)—” 

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“What?”

“You have known me for many years,” (Y/N) said. “Do you take me for a fool?”

He had the fleeting thought of mentioning how poorly she played cards, how foolish her tactics were. The only time he’d ever call her a fool. He decided he’d be more the fool if he so much as loosened his lips on that thought. “No.”

“I do not need you to explain yourself, you and your brothers made it quite clear this afternoon,” (Y/N) tightened her arms, nearly folding in on herself. “Quite clear on your true intentions with the earldom.”

“My true intentions? My only intention is and ever was to marry you. Absolutely none of this came from the title.”

“Is that why you suddenly had an interest in me? To secure another title of nobility for your family’s lineage?”

“Of course not! I have loved you since I knew what love truly was, (Y/N). It did not happen overnight.”

Frustrated, she began to pace about the room, fire crackling nearly in time with her beating heart. The air was tense, thick. Shadows begun dancing from the flames, painting themselves onto the bookshelves with ease and without hesitation. Their furrowed brows were prominent against the flickering, set in stone. 

“‘Did not happen overnight’,” (Y/N) scoffed. “You had the opportunity when I debuted seasons ago, why now? Why not then?”

“I was fooling myself,” Benedict pressed a hand against his chest. “I know how this may look, my sun—”

“You,” she cut him off, eyes hardened. “Do not get to call me that. Not right now.”

Benedict took a step back. She was dead serious. He could only recall one other time in their lives that she had such a ferocity to her character—it had involved her father discarding a handful of books from her own personal collection, resulting in her not speaking to him for the better part of a month. If he thought her looks could kill then, Benedict Bridgerton was expecting to have his funeral by the end of the night.

“You misunderstand,” Benedict began carefully, as if to not break any eggshells. “My brothers—you know how they are. Anthony was merely making a joke.”

“It was in poor taste.”

“I agree!” Benedict exclaimed. “My laughter then, it was one of the forced kind, one I save only for the deeply unpleasant conversations I tend to have during the season.”

She stood silent for a moment.

“Yet you laughed."

“I… did. My su—love, I apologize from the deepest parts of me. I wish to marry you, earldom or not. Titles mean nothing, but you? Darling, you mean everything to me."

“So it was just a coincidence that you decided to show up at my door the morning after I shared the truth of my family’s wishes for my future match? Surely you do not take me for a fool.”

Benedict sighed, feeling the anger bubbling in his chest. “While you may have shared that information, the only thing I could even begin to think about since you had left that afternoon was that I had a chance!”

She blinked. 

“Imagine, loving your best friend, watching her and admiring her from afar, knowing she’s destined to be with and marry another. Marry some… some duke or titled man, someone every mama would be floored to have pair with their daughter,” Benedict felt as if he were on stage, his only audience watching him intently. “But to fathom you’d ever marry me? A second son? Surely you could consider me mad for ever entertaining that, for even ever dreaming of it.”

“You have no idea the type of man I wished to have married,” (Y/N) said, her voice cooler than ice. Calculated, perhaps. “Had you been honest from the start—”

“And ruin our friendship?” Benedict laughed, no humor found in his voice. “Lose you? The greatest thing to come of my time on this planet? No. Perish the thought.”

“You’re a fine actor,” (Y/N) said slowly, trying to keep her composure. “Because from the way I see it? You found a way to ensure a new title for the Bridgerton name—woo your ‘greatest friend’ and effectively ruin her by taking her on your brother’s desk!”

“Do not make it seem like you had no say in the matter—”

“I loved you!” (Y/N) screamed, finally reaching her breaking point. “I thought you would be the man I would marry! I wanted you, Benedict, more than I ever wanted anyone.”

“Loved…?” Benedict felt smaller than dirt. “You do not mean—”

“I will still marry you,” (Y/N) continued. “Only because you have effectively trapped me—what if I am to be with child?” She nearly laughed at the absurdity. “Seeing as you had the grace to not only ruin me, but finish in me—”

“Is that what you think?” Benedict broke, his voice quavering. “You think that I tried to trap you into a marriage to ensure my family a new title? That I had the thought—the foresight—to try and make you with child to give you no other options? In no way you could think so little of me—”   

“And yet here we are,” her voice was like venom. "Perhaps you will have your Bridgerton earl after all."

He dared not speak a word.

“I need some time to think. Mother and I are going back to Mayfair—do not follow us.” (Y/N) left the room, slamming the door so hard one might have assumed it cracked. 

Much like his heart.

__

TAGLIST

@nikkisilassheep, @cavghtbythewind, @chaotic-onigiri, @440mxs-wife , @mymyma , @perdynerd , @wotcherboo , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @babyhoneystvles , @korol-lantsov , @riddlerloveb0t 

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 6 🍒 "Daddy Issues & Dads With Issues"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1,906

Summary: after Joel's admission, the following day is rife with possibility, and a path is set for the future. (Basically a breather chapter)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, talk of reader 'needing to get laid' (said by friend at work), talk of side character having hooked up with a teacher when she was presumably underage, mutual pining, finding out Joel was your dad's best friend (stumbling into dbf!Joel territory, but it's glossed over in this chapter), Joel basically agrees to be your first, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), reader's race not specified but she is tomboyish, story takes place in summer 2003, no outbreak, no use of y/n

Series Masterlist

You wake up feeling like shit.

Your head hurts, your stomach hurts, your mouth feels like cotton. But then you remember the very best part of the night.. the end of it. You made out with Joel Miller. And that is the thought that puts a big silly grin on your face and turns those aches in your gut to fluttery little butterflies. At least momentarily.

You're stuck with the late shift at work, for which you are only mildly thankful. You have time to try to sleep off the effects of the party last night. But then you get a call which jolts you awake. It's Sarah.

"Are you okay?" her whispered, worried voice comes over the line.

"Yeah, not too bad. Kinda feel sick. What about you?" Closing your eyes you lay back on your bed. And then a terrible thought occurs to you. Does she know?

"I'm okay too. My dad was pretty pissed, but not as much as I thought he'd be. He seemed to have calmed down once he got in. But I'm still grounded. Was he pretty mad at you?"

You remember Joel's hands on you, how his tongue devoured your mouth, the thrust of his hips into yours, mimicking what you both really wanted in that moment.

"Uh, I don't think he's mad.. per se.." you answer.

"Yeah, you're not his daughter, he can't ground you," you hear the sarcasm in her voice and you laugh a little.

"I feel bad that you're grounded, even though you shouldn't have come along in the first place you little twerp," you tease her. "Listen, I have to work today but I'll bring you a frappuccino since you won't be able to leave your house until school starts."

Sarah giggles. "It's the least you could do."

You feel somewhat better when you finally get to work, and of course Hailey's there, commenting on your arrival. "Wow.. you look like shit."

You give her a deadpan stare. "Thanks. I feel like shit." You tie on your apron and get to work.

"Sorry.. about the cops busting the party," Hailey helps you start washing dishes at the sink. She looks fresh as a daisy, and you know you look like a monster compared to her. "Do you want to come by tonight? It's gonna be just a few of us. I could introduce you to some guys.." she nudges you and you fight to not roll your eyes. "Come on, you're young, you're usually hot." (This earns Hailey a playful shoulder shove from you.) "To put it mildly you need to get laid before college starts."

You sigh. Going out into the world alone you never imagined there would be such a strong emphasis on sex. And Hailey's waiting on your response.

"I can't tonight."

"Why? Got a date? I knew it! Someone from my party?"

There's no point in telling the truth. It's much easier to just lie to her. "Yeah," you say, hoping that if you just think of Joel you'll blush a little bit.

"I knew it! Well good luck tonight," she gives you a playful nudge.

You smile but remain quiet as you slowly wash, deep in thought. "Hailey, can I ask you something? Like, personal?"

"Of course," she shrugs.

"Have you ever been with anyone.. older? Like way older?"

Hailey's eyes grow wide. "How much older?"

This time you blush for real, keeping your head down to hide it. "Um, let's say.. ten years older?"

She smirks. "Once. He was a sub for my World History class."

"Oh.." you hide your look of shock. "What was it like?"

She looks up, a look on her face like she's trying to remember a state capitol instead of a former lover. "It was fine. Rushed. I think for him it was the thrill of being with someone younger."

You absorb her answer. Your situation is very different and for that you are glad. "On that note, have you ever been with someone older than that? For instance.. twenty years older?" This is the question you really mean to ask, but you let her think it's purely hypothetical.

"Twenty years older? No.. that's like sleeping with someone my father's age." Hailey's nose wrinkles in disgust.

"Yeah, no, you're right," you say quickly, not wanting to be under suspicion. "But in general, older guys are.. like, it's not weird?"

"Not really. It can be really hot. Most guys know what to do by a certain age and they love to teach what they know. Well. not most guys. Some guys," she amends her statement. "So what's up? You got the hots for an older guy? Little Miss Daddy Issues?" Hailey giggles.

"Yup. Got a date with your dad, bitch," you say jokingly, finishing up and giving Hailey's ponytail a little tug.

Driving home after work you have Sarah's drink in your cupholder. A quick glance at the Miller's driveway shows that Joel's not there, or at least his truck isn't. You're both relieved and sorry to miss him. You park at home and make the short walk to their house. The sky is already turning a pale purple from rose and gold. Maybe a dip in the pool is exactly what you need tonight.

Sarah greets you at the door, looking bored then she lights up when she sees you with her drink. "You're a lifesaver," she says.

A truck pulls up in the driveway and you turn to see it's Joel. Your stomach flips upside down and you tell Sarah bye, but when you start to leave you freeze as Joel gets out of his truck. "I'm glad you're here. I've been meanin' to talk to ya." He approaches you.

You gulp. "Oh, okay."

"About last night.." he looks around. "Can we talk in private?"

You remember what passed between you the last time you were in private. "Are you sure we should?"

He exhales but keeps his composure. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for my words and my actions yesterday. I had no right to say or do those things." He takes a closer look at you. "You do.. remember, right?"

"Yeah," you reply, your face scarlet.

He blushes in turn. "It was wrong, and I hope that you can forgive me."

Your stomach sinks and you feel ridiculous for having entertained any notion that he could possibly want you or even like you.

"It's fine," you manage a smile. "Forgiven and forgotten."

You turn to leave and he calls your name, lightly gripping your arm. You realize how much the sound of your name on his lips entices you, and even more so how such a small touch has such huge meaning for you. You turn to him and for the first time you see something like affliction in his eyes. Your heart turns over in your chest.

"I don't really get what's stopping you," you tell him quietly. "You say you like me, next thing you turn me away. Do you think I'm afraid of you? Because I'm not." You remove his hand from your arm and hold it in your own.

You can see from the rise and fall of Joel's chest that his pulse is quickening. He casts a nervous glance at the house, at the yards of each house around you, and you get it. He's worried about what other people think. And you can't really blame him.

"I'm not a child, Joel. And I don't care what anyone thinks. People never pay as much attention as you believe they do." He hasn't released your hand and you take that as a good sign.

"There's a lot you don't understand, sweetheart." His voice is low, gruff, yet soothing. He gently strokes the pad of his thumb against your hand.

"Then tell me. Let me be the one to judge if I can understand or not."

He shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, and slowly releases your hand. "Your dad and I were friends growin' up, through high school. Best friends, I s'pose. We drifted away after he got your mom pregnant, right before graduation. I knew about you before you were even born." His fixes his gaze on you, as if to merge the idea of you with the person you have actually become. "Does that bother you? Hell, I'm your dad's age. And by the way it pisses me off to hear he just ran off on you and your mom. That fact has been boilin' in my chest ever since you told me." He sighs and leans against the bumper of his truck, arms crossed. "Sweetheart, you oughta find someone your own age. You deserve that."

"I don't want someone else," you say stubbornly. "Do you want someone else?"

He's quiet so long that you worry you won't get an answer. But then he says, "No."

Your heart vibrates in your chest as you get closer to him, hoping he'll let his guard down but not willing to pressure him.

A little smile graces his lips. "Sweetheart, if you come any closer I can't guarantee I won't kiss ya."

"You want to kiss me, you just won't." It's half-challenge, half-assumption.

"Is that some reverse psychology?" Joel smirks.

"Is it working?" you counter.

He swipes a hand through his hair and you want so badly to do that too. He says your name under his breath, three times, chuckling to himself. "You're gonna be a handful, ain't ya?" The way he smiles at you makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You sayin' you can't handle me?" you playfully mimic his accent, hands on your hips, as a smile lights up your face, making Joel laugh. You love the sound of it.

"I think I wouldn't mind tryin'," and even though he's smiling you notice the slow ogling he gives you.

The coming dusk has tinted the entire world with a lavender light, giving a dreamlike touch to you and to him. And it definitely feels like a dream when you go into his arms and they wrap around you, and he presses his lips to the top of your head. "Don't think you're off the hook yet for takin' Sarah to that party," he mumbles.

You start to feel rebuffed but you pull away slightly to see that playful little smirk on his handsome face. "In that case maybe I should be punished," you offer.

He exhales quickly and presses you close to him, hands on your hips. "You're temptin' me to do just that, sweetheart."

You're in his arms, right where you want to be. "Did you mean what you said last night? About.. being with me?" Though you've both admitted how you feel, you still can't bring yourself to use the verbiage Joel used.

He doesn't even blush, doesn't even bat an eye. "I do mean it. Is that somethin' you want?" He looks at you intently.

"Yes," you say without hesitation, and he trembles with emotion before kissing you. This time he takes his time with you, gently pressing his lips to yours, his hand gently cupping your face. Even his tongue is gentle, teasing, igniting a slow burn in the deepest part of you.

Afterwards, he holds you again, gently stroking your back. "So. Your first, huh?"

Your head on his shoulder, you nod, heart jumping when you realize where his thoughts are.

"I'd be honored, sweetheart.. "

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next chapter ->

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics

[muddyorbsblr]

friday nights & hot dates [kinktober 2023: slow & soft]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: A few months after he first showed up at your house to keep you company on your birthday, Conrad finally tells you how he feels. | sequel to 'you deserve better'

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k [please prepare drinkies & snacks accordingly]

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, get on outta here i won't ask twice); unprotected p in v sex; language; insecure reader; the smut scene is 1.3k words long idek if i should say sorry for this… [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: simp Conrad; a touch of aftercare in the end 😳🫠

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "Once he realized what you were about to do" and ends at "We're nowhere near done"

A loud chime boomed across the Monarch training field, announcing the top of the hour. The setting sun only barely blocked by the visor atop former Captain James Conrad's head and doing a piss poor job of straining his eyes as he watched on the first troop of soldiers assigned to the lab.

He'd been tasked to train the few handfuls of privates to be able to face the challenges that Skull Island would have in store for them throughout subsequent missions. They were decent enough, but to handle both navigating the hostile, monstrous terrain and serving as protective detail for the scientists on their tasks to obtain more samples and document its ecosystem, they would need to be exemplary. At the top of their game.

Especially if they are to be protecting Y/N, he thought to himself. Then again, he probably wouldn't let any of them anywhere near you. He would see to your protection personally. Make sure that there was little to no room for error when it came to your safety.

But they all had a long way to go before he decreed any of them ready for the field. And none of them would be closing the gap on their endurance or their agility within the next few minutes. The chime that rung out through the field not only signaled the top of the hour, but the end of your own work day, and he wanted to at least see you off to your ride home. Perhaps walk with you to the pick-up point.

"Alright, that's enough for today," he called out to the privates, everyone standing to attention at his word. "We'll resume on Monday morning. Get adequate rest this weekend."

He took off his training jacket and his visor, haphazardly running his hand through his short cropped hair. While he took a quick inventory of his belongings before heading off to your lab, one of the women privates approached him.

"Do you need anything, Pearson?"

She began to shuffle her stance, somewhat incapable of meeting his gaze as she spoke to him. "The other guys and I were going to check out the new Mexican place that opened up a few blocks from here. I was--I mean we were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

Pearson straightened her stance in a particular manner, jutting her chest out in a blatantly clear attempt to draw his attention to it. You're fresh out of luck, my attentions are for one woman and one woman only. And she's in the lab.

"Thank you for the invite, Pearson, but I have what you and your peers might say a…'hot date' tonight." He fought against the smile playing at the corners of his mouth at the thought of being on a proper date with you.

"Oh." She barely tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Okay then. Have a good weekend, Sir."

"Don't look now but he's here again," Brooks muttered from across the lab, the sound of him clacking away on his keyboard taking the briefest pause to tell you that once again, the former SAS tracker James Conrad was right outside the door. "You ever gonna share with the class how you two became a thing? 'Cause we have a bet going on in the lab about who made the first move and--"

"There's nothing to share, Brooks, because we aren't a thing," you cut him off, taking on a snippy tone while you ran the genome of the last flora sample from the set you collected in Skull Island against every recorded organism known to man so far. "We're friends, that's all. Give it time and he'll get tired of slumming it out with me and go back to haunting pool bars and nameless hookups."

"I don't know, Y/L/N…I never had a friend look at me like that."

The results from your test finally came up on the screen, confirming that the flora on the island were all, in fact, undocumented. You took a quick screenshot and placed it into your report. "Looks like we're getting funded," you announced, your half-deadpanned tone met with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Don't everyone stand up at once, I know how pumped we all are to get back to the island of death."

You finally stood up from your desk, looking outside the door and seeing Conrad outside giving you a little smile when your eyes met. You tried to ignore how your heart started doing backflips in your chest at the sight of him, keeping your expression fairly neutral as you gave him a small wave in response. Once your computer had finished shutting down, you grabbed your things and bid everyone goodbye, stopping at Brooks's desk last.

"If what you mean is looking at me like a barnacle he can't scrape off his boat, I hope you never have friends that look at you like that, my guy."

Before you stepped through the door, your fellow scientist let out a final remark. "You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"Takes one to know one, Brooks," you shot back, stepping across the threshold and almost immediately becoming face-to-chest with the tracker that towered over you effortlessly. "Hey Conrad," you said slowly, trying your best to keep a hold of your composure. "Did you need something from us? I think I have Bryant running CMP for the guys you're training you should have the results tomo--"

"I didn't come here for the blood tests, Y/L/N," he cut you off, giving you another little smile that had your pulse thumping violently at your throat. "I erm…it's Friday." His eyebrows scrunched together in the slightest wince at his words.

"It is…" you echoed lamely, starting to tap away at your phone to get an Uber home, holding back the urge to sigh in relief seeing that your ride was only a few minutes away. "Have a good weekend, then," you tried to wave him off, pointing vaguely at the pick-up area, starting to awkwardly shuffle away from him.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around yours, stopping you before you got away too far. "Actually, I was thinking…perhaps we could go and grab a bite to eat? There's a new place that opened up just a short walk from here. Maybe we could try it out?"

As if on cue, your stomach let out an audible grumble, rudely reminding you that the last time you ate was this morning before you left your house. Before you could dwell on it any further, you canceled your Uber, giving him a tiny smile of your own. "Lead the way."

Dinner was a rather quiet affair, the two of you starting off by sharing a plate of nachos before you ordered your mains. Sometime before your entrees were served, a small group of people you recognized as the privates being trained as the Monarch Defense Team walked through the doors, the women immediately spotting Conrad and tossing a scornful dismissive look your way.

"What's wrong?"

His voice took your attention away from the group, the motion of him reaching across the table to take your hand in his causing a resounding stomp from across the restaurant followed by a barely contained "What the fuck?!"

"It's uhh…it's nothing," you waved off, trying to slowly pull your hand away so as to not elicit a stronger reaction from the group and grab his attention. "Just…thinking about work. I have to put a recommendation for another mission to the island in my report."

"We'll be better prepared this time," he reassured you, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "We have a better idea of what we're to face when we get there, and what not to do. And with enough time the troop that I'm training might even be field ready, so you and your team would have better protection."

Your neck twitched at the idea of the woman with the derisive eyes being tasked to protect you. Might even just throw you to the gigantic insects voluntarily. "Right…at least the team will be safe."

"And you, Y/N," he insisted, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'll see to it myself, I promise you."

You nodded at his words, feeling your face strain at the smile you tried to give him before slipping your hand out of his and standing up. "Ladies room, I'll be back in a few."

While you were in line for the restroom, your thoughts wandered to how you could potentially word your recommendation so that maybe you didn't have to go with the rest of the team back to Skull Island. You weren't physically cut out to be in such a high-stress environment, and frankly you would be more of a liability if people had to look out for you on top of trying to survive a hostile environment.

When your turn came up in the queue, you were stopped in your tracks by someone wrapping their hand around your arm in a claw-like grasp, yanking you slightly backwards. "We need to talk, Y/L/N," a woman seethed.

You swore your blood chilled to near freezing point when you saw the woman private from Conrad's troop, her hateful eyes and vicious sneer too close for comfort.

There was something troubling you, Conrad could tell that much as he watched you in line for the restroom. Much as he usually found it adorable when you were muttering to yourself over your research, he had to fight to resist the urge to stand up and do what he could to somehow put you at ease.

He knew that you weren't all too excited that you had to return to the island, but his gut told him that it was more than just that. You seemed almost fearful when he mentioned the troop that he was training, and not in the way that told him it was simply because you doubted their ability to guarantee your safety.

Did you not realize that he would never even think to put your safety in anyone's hands other than his own? Didn't you know how valuable you were to him? Of course he would keep you safe. He'd put you in the same tent if he could just to make sure you'd never leave his sight.

The sight of a woman marching towards you as if on a war path had him leaving his seat within seconds, immediately recognizing it to be Pearson. When she stopped you from moving and he clocked the vice grip she had on you it had him seeing red. He saw the way you flinched back when she started hissing in your face, her words making every muscle in his body tense and burn with the itch to protect you from someone so obviously spiteful.

"Don't tell me you're the hot date that Captain Conrad turned me down for, this has to be the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard in my life," she spat out. Your face contorted with obvious discomfort from her talon-like hand tightening around your arm, nails undoubtedly digging into your skin.

"Listen, Private Pearson, I think there might just be a misunderstanding," you spoke softly, your tone laced with caution. "He's probably gonna go to said 'hot date' after this, I'm just his friend. We're friends…I think…"

Silly sweet girl, he thought to himself. Are you really so unaware of how I see you?

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Y/L/N? I don't need to have a PhD in God knows what the ever loving fuck to know that you're into him. The only thing I can't figure out to save my life is what the fuck he sees in a mousey jumpy little thing like you, and where you found the goddamn audacity to steal him away the way you did."

"I'm not trying to steal anyone," you insisted, trying to wrestle your arm out of her hold. "We're just friends, Private Pearson. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that he doesn't want me like that. You want him, he's all yours, you won't hear a peep out of me."

"You better be right," she scoffed, releasing you with a slight shove, causing you to stumble backwards and fight to find your balance for a few seconds before righting yourself on your feet again. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck away from him. Preferably before you see what happens when your stupid little face gets me triggered."

Rather than give her a verbal agreement, you simply nodded your head, scurrying off into the restroom, your face looking as if it had been drained of color and your bottom lip quivering with an obvious concern for your own safety.

So this was why you were concerned over your protection detail if you had to return to the island. Of course. Who would ever feel safe if someone assigned to the team that was tasked to protect them behaved the way that Pearson was behaving now? Who was to say that it wasn't beneath her to intentionally endanger you out of sheer spite?

The private let out an arrogant huff, flipping her hair and standing up straight with a smug look on her face before making her way back to her table with the rest of the privates in her troop.

"Pearson," Conrad spoke, letting his irritation over the entire encounter lace his tone. She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to face him with a touch of fear in her eyes. Good, you should be afraid after the way you just spoke to the woman I love.

"Cap…Captain Conrad, hi!" Her cheeks strained with the smile she tried to keep plastered on her face despite the obvious nervousness that remained in her eyes. "We're so glad you decided to join us after all, we're seated over--"

"You're dismissed. Don't bother coming in on Monday." Her face fell immediately, indignation coloring her expression. "If you cannot treat the people you're expected to defend and protect with professionalism and respect, then you're not fit to stay on this team, let alone be deployed to the island."

"Come on, all this for a shifty little nothing? This is completely unfair!" she scoffed. "You could do so much better than her--"

"Hold your damn tongue, Pearson. I won't have you disrespect her--"

"She can't even hear us!"

"But I can." He began to raise his voice, calling the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. "That's the woman I love you're talking about. It would be wise for you to choose your next words very carefully."

All the color drained from her face and she stood up straight again, back at full attention. "I apologize, Sir. I'll have my locker cleared before the weekend's over." And then she made her way back to her table, heavy footsteps sounding throughout the whole restaurant.

As Conrad sat back in his seat waiting for you to return, he replayed his own words over and over in his mind. After all this time keeping his emotions bottled in for the sake of preserving what friendship he had with you, the words had finally formed and solidified what had been building ever since the day he met you on the way to that forsaken death island.

He loved you.

By the time you made your way back to your table, you spotted Conrad signing a receipt and placing his credit card back into his wallet.

"You know I keep a tally on how many times you've refused to let me pay, right?" you sighed, taking out your phone and once again trying to book for an Uber home. "I'm perfectly fine with and capable of splitting the bill."

"Next time."

"I also keep a tally on how many times you've said exacty that." You shuffled your feet awkwardly where you stood, avoiding looking at both him and the table that sat his trainees, including the cruel witch that was Private Pearson. "Well uhm…I should get going, it's getting late. Enjoy your weekend, Conrad."

He reached out before you took another step, placing his hand at the curve of your waist. "Walk with me back to the lab and I'll drive you home."

The sound of a fist slamming down on one of the tables made you take a step back from his hold. You didn't have to look to know who it was or what caused the outburst. "I-I really don't wanna be a bother, it's fine. Really. I can take care of myself."

You tried to step forward again, making him stand from his seat, placing a large hand on your shoulder before running down the length of your arm to lace his fingers between yours. "You could never be a bother for me, Y/L/N," he spoke softly, lightly touching your chin with his other hand. "Come on."

For the most part throughout the drive to your place, he was touching you. Whether it be holding your hand between stoplights to make you stop picking at your fingernails, or rubbing circles on your knee to stop you from fidgeting, all the while keeping his other hand steadily on the wheel.

It was hands down one of the most illegally distractingly attractive things you'd ever seen. A sight that you thought was only reserved for leading ladies in those romance books you read, definitely not something you were supposed to experience in your lifetime.

It had you fighting back the urge to pout when you saw your house start to come into view, knowing that in a few short moments it would all be over. He gave your knee a light squeeze once he'd pulled up in front of your hourse, making quick work to make his way around the front of his car to open the door for you and undo your seatbelt.

The combined scent of his woodsy citrusy cologne and something that was just uniquely him seared itself into your brain as his face was mere inches from yours. He made it even worse reaching for your hand to hold you steady while you stepped out of the car.

"Thanks, Conrad," you muttered when you got to your door, your mind spinning from the feel of him running his thumb across your knuckles. "You should uhm…probably get going. Don't wanna keep you from any other plans you might have tonight."

You felt your pulse start beating furiously at your neck when he answered you. "What plans?"

Didn't Pearson have a full blown meltdown over him talking about a hot date and then seeing you with him at dinner? What the fuck was he going on about?

"Come on, Conrad, you don't have to pretend, it's just us here. Pearson practically yanked my spine from my throat earlier at the restaurant harping on about you having plans tonight so really, I'm sure you have better things to do on a Friday night you don't have to feel like you're…I don't know, obligated? To spend time with me. And at least you'll stop looking like you're doing some weird pity charity work, too--"

"Y/N, stop." He took a step toward you, closing the distance and framed your face in his large hands. "The only plans I had for tonight were with you. Do you remember what I told you all those months ago, that first night I came here?" You only stared at him blankly, wordlessly prompting him to answer it himself. "I wanted to let you know that I'm here. For you. And I still am. I always will be."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Fleeting, but it resumed the near violent fluttering in your stomach from the contact. He gave you no time to react before he pressed his lips to yours again, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head with his hand before pressing you against the door.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he breathed out when he broke the kiss. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you saw how dilated his pupils had become after that kiss. "How is it that you're so observant of everything around you and yet you fail to see what's right in front of you?"

"Conrad what--"

"How could you look at me and not see a man so desperately, so irretrievably in love?"

You swore all the air left your lungs at his words. In love? No. This couldn't be real. This was beyond simply improbable, this was impossible.

There was no way on this Earth that he felt the same.

"I can almost hear the gears in your brilliant mind turning, Y/L/N," he said softly, weaving his fingers into your hair as he proceeded to press tender kisses on your temple and the side of your face. "Invite me inside. Let me take you to your bedroom. Let me show you what you mean to me."

Before you could think about it any longer, you wordlessly slipped your key into his hand, slowly nodding your head. The only response you got from him was him latching his lips onto your neck, groaning into your skin as he lifted you off the ground with one arm, unlocking your door with the other.

He'd carried you all the way upstairs to your bedroom, constantly pressing a kiss wherever his lips could reach. When he started fumbling for the light switch, you tried to hold out your hand to stop him. "No lights," you muttered. If you wanted this to go anywhere even remotely good tonight, that would require him not running for the hills the second he got you naked.

"Without the lights, I can't see you, sweet girl," he said back teasingly, kissing along your jawline until he captured your lips, smiling into the kiss.

"Exactly," you murmured against his lips, causing him to chuckle against your skin.

"Seeing you is the best part of my day," he told you simply, flipping the switch on and bathing your bedroom in a warm white glow. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the brilliant smile he gave you once he saw your face. "There you are."

He set you down on your feet, touching the top button of your shirt with a question in his eyes, only proceeding to undo the button when you have him a slight nod. Once enough skin was exposed to him, he started to trace a line of kisses across your collarbone, running his hands down your arms to strip the shirt off from you. And then he sent your mind racing as he gave you the same treatment working both your pants and panties down your legs.

"I've dreamed of this since the island," he whispered into your skin, kissing his way back up to your lips as he reached behind you, unclasping your bra. "Lie down on the bed, my love. Let me see you."

He kept your hand in his as you lowered yourself to lie on your back, your heart thundering in your chest and your lip quivering as his eyes hungrily roamed your body. Thoughts began to swim in your head again, of how different, how much less toned nearly all parts of you were compared to him. Compared to the women he'd been with before. You tried to pull your hand away from his, to start to cover yourself.

Once he realized what you were about to do, he moved to hover over you on the bed, placing his hand in the space between your arm and your torso to block your way. "No," he said simply before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "Don't hide yourself from me." He kissed his way down your neck to your chest, paying close attention to your breasts, holding you steady as you squirmed under him while he kissed and sucked your nipples into stiff peaks.

"Conrad…" Your voice came out faint, the air too thick to breathe while you drowned in his attentions. His lips moved down your stomach, peppering kisses along your mound before placing his hands on your inner thighs and gently parting your legs, opening yourself more to him.

You clenched around nothing watching him lick his lips before his eyes found yours, desperate whimpers coming out of you when he started kissing along your inner thighs. The ache between your legs started to grow stronger the closer his mouth got to where you craved him.

"Conrad!" Your back arched off the bed when he licked up the length of your slit and pressed a fleeting open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

"Lay back down, sweetheart." Your back immediately met the mattress again at his soft spoken order, your stomach fluttering violently again at the sight of him standing over you and pulling his shirt over his head. "You are the most breathtaking sight," he breathed out. "My love…"

"Could say the same from here," you shot back, still struggling to breathe properly under his gaze. The air was practically stuck in your throat the second his hands went to his pants, taking his time to undo his belt and pants, every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body moving and flexing as if he was trying to seduce you with such a seemingly mundane action.

As if he needed to seduce you.

The sound that came out of you was borderline inhuman the second he pushed his pants down his legs, and you'd gotten a good look at the sheer size of him. There's no way that's gonna fit, you thought nervously. "Conrad, I don't--" You huffed out a deflated sigh. "It's been an embarrassingly long while since I've--"

"It's alright, sweetheart." He quickly made his way back to his position on the bed, pressing a line of kisses along your jaw until he reached your lips, making an almost relieved sound against your lips. "We'll go slow. Please just tell me if I hurt you, that's the last thing I'd ever want."

Your eyes flew open at the feel of his length pressing against your entrance, your walls stretching just shy of the point of discomfort as you accommodated to his size. Any other thoughts and doubts in your mind took a backseat to the sound of Conrad's soft groans as he inched his way into you.

You'd never felt this unbelievably full.

He moaned your name in your ear. "Like you were made for me." He pressed his lips to your temple, the gesture somewhat calming your erratically beating heart. "I'll keep going now."

"Wait Conrad you what--Oh!" You felt a thrill at the back of your head once he pushed even further in, more arousal rushing and slickening your inner walls clenching around him as if pulling him deeper into you. All you could utter over the overwhelming pleasure he was subjecting you to was a faint whimper of his name.

"I love you, Y/N," he sighed in contentment, his warm exhale hitting your already heated skin before he resumed kissing along the side of your face.

"Don't say that," you blurted out. "You don't have to--"

"I want to," he cut you off, moving his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip. "I've wanted to tell you for so long please don't tell me to stop. I can't--"

"No one's ever said it. Not to me. I'm not--I've never been--"

Your words stilled him. He rested his forehead on yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. "All the more reason for me to tell you." He muffled your moan with a kiss when he inched in even more. "I love you." He kissed up your neck, gently capturing your earlobe between his teeth before kissing the same spot. "I'll say it so often everyone around us will be sick of hearing me say the words."

"Conrad…" you cried out when he finally bottomed out, your hips flush together. "Please--"

"I love you." He started moving his hips in slow grinding circles, repeating the words every time he fully entered you.

The words were lodged stubbornly in the back of your throat; all you could utter was his name while your body trembled trying to raise your hips to meet his thrusts. Meanwhile a vicious voice in the back of your mind questioned if this was even real, refusing to accept any reality where a guy like James Conrad actually genuinely fell in love with you.

You lived by the saying that if something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was. And this…this sounded like a chick lit romance novel where the devastatingly handsome decommissioned soldier fell for the nerdy scientist that most days couldn't even bother to check if her hair looked alright from the back.

This was definitely too good to be true. And all you could do now was allow yourself the fleeting opportunity to lose yourself in the pleasure he was more than capable of and seemed quite willing to give you.

And brace yourself for the moment he pulled away. The moment he finally realized that yes. Yes he could do better, actually.

Before you could dwell on it any further, he pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts when his fingers made contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves above your entrance, rubbing at the spot with the same languid pace of his thrusts.

"You feel divine, my love," he moaned in your ear, pressing his lips to a spot behind it that sent your mind reeling, the tension tightening in your stomach even further. "Come for me, Y/N." He upped his pressure on your clit, still keeping the pace with his slow, deep thrusts.

The coiling tension finally snapped when he started sucking at your skin, your walls convulsing around him while your body shook under him, your hold on his shoulder blade weakening until you finally let go, arm landing on the mattress with a soft thud. He stilled his movement inside you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss while you came down from your high.

"I love you," he kept whispering between kisses. The words had you feeling the traitorous tears prickling in the back of your eyes, every part of you filled with the overpowering urge to say them back. Tell him that you felt the same.

Instead you wanted to slap yourself for the question that slipped from your mouth. "Wait what about you?"

The smirk he gave you in response had thrills shooting throughout your body, feeling the faintest tinge of embarrassment in the back of your mind when you felt your pussy clenching around him at the sight. His mouth stretched into a devilish grin as he thrusted into you in return, his eyes filled with an obvious mix of sexual and romantic intent.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart," he rasped, starting to slowly grind his hips again. "We're nowhere near done."

He's not coming back. He left the bedroom and give it time, you're gonna hear him leave the house.

You were being irrational, and most of your mind recognized your thoughts for what they were: absolutely batshit crazy and dead wrong. For one, Conrad left the room without a stick of clothing covering him, telling you he was going to get water. He didn't know how to navigate most of your house so it would reasonably take him a few minutes to actually go get it and come back up.

That didn't stop you from making your way to the head of the bed, and crawling under the covers, drawing your knees to your chest as if you were bracing yourself for emotional impact. You caught a glimpse of your reflection on the full-length mirror, instinctively bringing your hand up to your hair to start working at the knots and tangles that developed over the last few hours.

Conrad came back to the room at that moment, holding a water bottle and two cups, giving you a soft smile as he looked on at all the effects from your lovemaking. "You look like an angel…perched on a cloud." He handed you your cup before pouring one for himself, raising an eyebrow at you when you remained sitting motionless and staring at him blankly. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just--I thought you were just gonna get for--"

"Myself?" You nodded at him once he finished for you, making him click his tongue in disappointment, realizing what kind of experiences you'd had before. "You're making it too easy for me to spoil you. I could never be so selfish." He briefly touched his glass to yours, the clinking sound filling the room before you both downed your drinks.

Even while he climbed back onto the bed, situating himself beside you and pulling you into his arms, your irrational thoughts that he'll redress himself in a few minutes time and leave plagued your mind.

"You're looking at me like you expect me to disappear," he murmured, lightly tracing along the lines of your face with his fingertips. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

Come on, you stupid little scaredy cat just tell him. Three words. Three monosyllabic words so simple a kid can say them. Just say it.

"You're still here," you blurted out, immediately wanting to swallow your tongue when his face dropped.

Wrong three words, you fucking idiot.

"Do you want me to leave?" His words came out strained, as if it physically hurt him to say them.

"No, I don't. It's just…I expect it. And if I can be honest I'm still kind of…waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

You pursed your lips, a part of you already feeling silly for the words about to come out your mouth. "Post-coital clarity?"

He let out a slow sigh, his hold tightening around you while he cupped your face with his free hand, stroking along your cheekbone with his thumb. "And what in the world is that?"

"It's this--Honestly it's silly, really--"

"It doesn't seem silly to you." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you closer when you melted against him at the gesture. "So it's not silly to me. Tell me what it is."

You took a deep breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along the lines on his abdomen while you explained. "It's this phenomena that…once you've slept with someone, the attraction goes away. Your mind's more clear, you're no longer overpowered by this attraction and you realize that the person you just had sex with isn't as appealing as they were before you got together."

It took him a few seconds before he spoke again, maneuvering you so that you were now on top of him, straddling his stomach, his hands skimming up and down your sides.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?"

The question seemed so ridiculous to you. "Because nobody ever has. Nobody does--"

"You're wrong," he cut you off, pulling you close until your chests were pressed together. "I know it might not happen often but it's happening now. You're wrong, and I'm living proof of it. Because I'm here. I'm here and I love you. The only clarity that came to me is that I want more than anything for us to become more. For what we shared tonight be more than a one-time thing."

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you into a tender kiss that had your heart fluttering when he licked into your mouth, his tongue gliding against yours. "I'm no good with words," you said breathlessly when he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against yours. "I've never been able to say how I feel, I can't--"

"Shh it's alright, sweetheart," he breathed, holding you by the back of your neck to rest your forehead against his. "You don't need those fancy words you use in your report. It's just us here. Whatever you wish to tell me, in the plainest words--"

"I love you, too."

A/N: I've finally finished this mega chonker of a piece! And I've given 'you deserve better' Conrad his happy ending with his precious bb 🥹🥹

Next up is the final story in the Kinktober 2023 initial goal: Fingering with President Loki 😳👀 And lemme just tell y'all now…it's gonna be at least 2k words long because I haven't even gotten to the smutting yet 🥴

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

[underoossss]

Let me help - Miguel O’Hara – 2

pairing: miguel ohara x f!reader

warnings: none

an: I wanted to continue their story so here’s a part two! these two get close and realize some things 🗣️

part 1 | masterlist

★★★★★★

“And then he shows up in his spider suit and a tutu around his waist!” You exclaim, arms going up in the air in an animated gesture.

You’re retelling your day to Miguel. He’s sitting on your couch –in your new apartment– lounging back and listening to you with an amused look on his face. He’s traded his suit for sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, looking relaxed and at home at your place; like he belongs there more than your carefully selected plants. You steer clear from that line of thought, there’s no point in believing he can like you more than a friend. You’re his friend, that’s why he’s so caring. Why he helped you find, furnish and paint the apartment. Why he always lets you hang out with him even if it’s just to scroll on your phone next to him while he works.

You’d finished your patrolling earlier today –there were no villains to catch– and had your ballet class with seven other variants of Spider Gwen before coming home and showering. Miguel arrived an hour ago, bribed by the idea of fresh double chocolate cookies you were going to make. He’d worked for them though, being your sous chef as you prepared the dough and warmed up the oven. Now you’re sitting sideways on your cream-colored couch, clutching a pink throw pillow to your chest as you laugh at today’s surprise.

‘How was your day?’ Miguel had asked and it somehow led to you telling him about Scarlet Spider showing up to ballet class to learn how to dance. He’d claimed you had an unfair advantage in battles, and he wanted to improve his fighting too. You had no idea what he meant, but who are you to keep him from learning something new? The anecdote he gave you to tell Miguel is a bonus.

“And did Ben, do it?” He asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s done from the moment he opened a portal to your living room. You’re not sure what he’s looking for when he does that, all you know is that you’ve noticed him doing it more frequently and that he must stop. Your heart stalls in a wonderful sort of panic every time he does. “Finish the entire class?”

“Yes he did but–” Your words are cut off by the sound of your timer going off. “Hold on handsome, I gotta get the cookies out of the oven.”

Leaving the throw pillow on the couch you stand and walk to the kitchen, Miguel’s stare a warm feeling as you pass him by. The sage colored walls you painted are washed in golden light as you turn on the light and proceed to turn off the oven. The decadent smell of chocolate fills the air the moment you take the cookies out and set them on the counter; a closer look confirms it’s going to be a delicious batch. You don’t know when Miguel left his place on the couch to follow you, but he’s leaning on the doorway when you turn around.

“You can’t eat them yet babe, they’re too hot.” You shake your head, an inevitable smile on your face as you meet his eyes. How is it that one person can make you feel so much joy? It’s been two months since you moved away from home with Miguel’s help, and though you’ve worked hard on yourself to be yourself more freely, you can’t deny his encouragement and support has made the process even more joyful. His presence alone brings you a sort of calmness you’ve never felt before.

“You should see how happy you look.” Miguel says as softly as his eyes gaze at you, again. With a fond shake of his head, he moves closer to stand in front of you, your back to the kitchen counter. “It’s good to see you happy.”

You look up at him, your smile turning sheepish as you meet his soft stare with an unsure one. “Happy in my home world, you mean. I’m always happy when…” I’m with you, you want to say but bite your tongue. “I’m in the society. Which brings me back to the story.”

Moving away from him and perching on the opposite countertop you pick up where you left off. You also purposely ignore Miguel’s searching gaze; it’s like he knows you’re changing the topic –you kind of are. Instead, you crisscross your legs and continue your story. “So Ben  goes through the class and leaves a changed man. Poor guy couldn’t feel his toes. 889 Gwen was teaching the class and she’s all business. She had him do pointe shoes on his first day can you believe that? He nailed the jumps though, gotta give him credit for that.”

“He kind of signed up for an advanced class pulguita, what was he expecting?” Miguel chuckles, motioning with his hand for you to go on as he moves to stand in front of you again.

Everywhere you move, he follows. As if the universe knows you’re trying to keep your distance to conceal your feelings, yet it pushes him closer to you to see if you’ll break. You honestly might.

“You’re right.” You laugh softly, accepting his hand when he reaches out. It makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think he’s ever coming back to class.”

“Probably not.” Your friend concedes, pretending to think about it.

“But then as all of us left the studio –you so kindly let us use, thank you again– three variants of me were walking the opposite way. They were repulsed by the idea of me doing ballet! Can you believe that?” You shake your head in amusement, eyes focusing on the cooling cookies. “What’s their deal?”

“All variants are different; you know their backstory is different than yours.” Miguel shrugs, his voice shifts into something almost sad when he notices the liveliness in your tone disappear. “I know you wanted them to be like all the Gwens.”

You frown, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. He’s right, you were disappointed when they didn’t get along with you. You were different, a little more playful, had a little more fun; you didn’t see being Spiderman like a chore, it was something you were chosen for. There’s no use in saying it didn’t hurt when they acted this way because it did. Not finding a friend in yourself kind of messes you up.

“You’re right.” You mumble, lost in your thoughts. “They don’t care if they have friends or not, where I hate loneliness; they’re stoic but I cry if I get mad; they hate you and I love you and…”

You sense a skip to a heartbeat that you assume is yours as you sigh and look at Miguel. “And they hate ballet. Ugh, I got sidetracked, where was I? In the story?”

Miguel grins, a warm thing that flusters you right away. “You saw your variants as you left ballet.” His voice’s gotten low and soft, like a sweet caress to your ears. You love it when it does that, however rare it may be.

“Right! You should’ve seen their faces, the Gwens thought it was funny.” You chuckle, then furrow your brows. “Is it right to say their face when it’s also my face? I mean they’re technically me? You’re the multiverse expert here.”

Miguel takes a step closer, his height casting a shadow over both of you. You look up at him –you’d curse how tall he is if it wasn’t so attractive to you. “It’s their face.” Miguel says, briefly squeezing the hand that’s holding yours. “There’s only one you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, at his proximity, at the look in his eyes. The air around you changes, charged with something new but still familiar. It makes your heartbeat louder in your chest and even though you want to shy away from Miguel’s gaze –the one that’s not left you the entire evening– you can’t. Instead, you take your time and look; if he does it, so can you. You’re not expecting it to leave you so breathless.

It's not only his handsome features. It’s the openness and vulnerability shining in them as they all but adore you that makes your mouth run dry. You backtrack to all your previous interactions: his guidance when you joined the team, him helping you move in, the way he holds you close when you’re overwhelmed, the silent way you communicate when you’re both working in his lab.

“Have you always looked at me like this?” You ask, a breathy whisper between the two of you. Both of your hands holding one of his tighter, grounding yourself in the present moment.

Miguel’s free hand moves to cup your cheek, and you lean into his palm with the overwhelming need to be close to him. He nods. “Probably as long as you’ve loved me.”

His words make your eyes widen and Miguel smiles as your mind races to figure out when he could’ve found out. “Oh.” You squeeze your eyes shut.

They hate you and I love you.

Miguel’s hand on your cheek shifts to hold your chin gently, prompting you to open your eyes again. “It’s true, you know? I’m in love with you.” You confess again, knowing he values honesty. Knowing you can tell him everything, yet never realizing it could be this easy.

“I should’ve noticed sooner.” Miguel shakes his head, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You’re sure he catches the shaky breath that escapes you, and the thrumming of you heart but you don’t care.

“I should’ve too.” You beam up at him, your blood buzzing under your skin with joy. “But I was too busy not letting it show that I didn’t notice how obsessed you are with me, babe.”

You begin to laugh at Miguel’s eyeroll, but he promptly shuts you up with his lips on yours.

It should be embarrassing, really, the way you melt in his hold and sigh at the feeling of finally kissing him. His soft bottom lip and gorgeous cupids bow you’ve wanted to touch for so long. Miguel’s arms go around you and press you close to his body, his shoulders hunching as he bends down to kiss you better. And it’s not embarrassing, not when the way he’s kissing you shows you he’s wanted you just as much. The subtle graze of his teeth soothed by his lips, and the way he opens you up to him.

 It’s passionate and slow, intoxicating in the best way. The two of you savoring of the feeling of intimacy you’ve been craving. His hands begin to wander, like he doesn’t know how to pull you any closer, while yours get to finally touch his hair and relish in his answering hum. It’s crystal clear to you, now. The pull between you and Miguel was always meant to be –that’s why your variants hate him and you adore him. That’s why you were close from day one.

“There’s only one you.” Miguel repeats his words from earlier, they’re whispered over your lips as you pull away. The tip of his nose rests next to yours, and you peck his top lip self-indulgently one more time.

“You might be biased.” You tell him, beaming up at him and rejoicing in the way his eyes soften. They look and look and look, and now you know what it means. “Or you want a cookie.”

“Both.” Miguel’s breathy chuckle is music to your ears as he takes a step back to let you hop off the counter.

“We could eat these watching a movie?” You smile over your shoulder, moving the cookies from the baking pan to a plate. “Hm?”

Miguel takes the plate of cookies and moves back to the living room instead of answering. “Come on, pulguita.” He says over his shoulder, relaxed and at home in your apartment.

“I should be offended when you call me that, you know.” You grin, grabbing napkins and joining him in the living room. “It’s not my fault you’re tall.”

“It’s not mine that you’re short…” Miguel smirks, then his features soften. “Pulguita.”

Hiding your joy and all the love that’s been locked away for so long seems impossible, so you don’t. Instead, you climb on Miguel’s lap where he’s settled on the couch and kiss him again, a barely-there brush of lips. His hands find your hips, fitting there perfectly like they were made to be there.

“You’re lucky I like it when you call me that.” You’re still delighted at the evening’s turn of events, and it must show on your face because Miguel leans in to kiss you again. Like he can’t help not to.

“I meant what I said earlier.” He whispers, looking into your eyes; serious but loving, Miguel in a nutshell. “I love seeing you happy.”

“I’m so happy.” You nod, happy tears gathering in your waterline as you compare the terrible thoughts and feelings of the previous months with your current life. How you thought everyone would be better off without you, but now notice the impact your love and care have on others. The man in front of you being an example. “It seemed impossible back then, but I am now.”

With a gentle touch, Miguel wipes a happy tear with a grin on his face. “That’s good, mi amor.”

“That one’s new.” You murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth before leaning back. “Miguel….”

“Hm?”

“It’s thanks to you, you know?” You say softly, focusing on your finger tracing his cheekbone. “I’ve done my part but… thank you, for everything you did to help me.”

Miguel begins to shake his head but your hands on his cheeks stop him. When his eyes scan your face, they find the sincerity that lies there because he looks away briefly in vulnerability. “You don’t have–” He starts then stops himself, grinning at your shining smile. “You can count on me for anything.”

“I know, but enough feelings or else I’ll cry again.” You whisper with a head shake, shifting on the couch so you’re sitting sideways again –your side to his front. “Pick a movie, handsome.”

Miguel takes the cookies from the coffee table, offering them to you as he turns on the TV. You never would’ve thought this could happen; that choosing your happiness would look like this. With the man you love, in your own place and doing the things you bring you joy. It feels like a dream, even more so when Miguel brings your body closer to yours as whatever movie he chose starts.

★★★★★★

reblogs are always appreciated 🥹

[kkcauseway]

Caring Hand

Summary: You're going on a trip with Joel, which means driving to the destination and it’s hours away… to make matters worse your morning sickness is at its worst. So Joel does his best to look after you. Content and warnings: TW: vomiting -morning sickness. So much fluff. Talks of pregnancy, protective!Joel, caring!Joel. No use of y/n. Word count: 1.8k

Caring husband Joel Miller x F!reader

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You and Joel are travelling to a lodge you have booked for the next week. Your first proper time away in months. Joel booked it as a surprise after your promotion, he’s so thoughtful and compassionate like that.

However, you’ve not been feeling good all morning, morning sickness is at its worst again, this pregnancy so far really hasn’t been kind to you. You’ve been throwing up throughout the day for the past week straight, and the temperature outside reaching record highs means there’s no helping you to feel even slightly better. The heat makes you sicker.

This trip has been planned for months, obviously not with pregnancy in mind. (Not that you’d change it for the world.) But even with you feeling so ill, hardly able to keep food down, you’re not about to let that ruin your trip. It’s very much needed, and you do think it will help to make you feel better. The air’s cleaner where you’re going. It will be nice to breathe in really fresh air, and there’s a lake, god you could just about strip naked and jump in there right this second. You’ve been on the road about an hour when you begin to feel really sick and hot, you’re feeling the heat a lot more than usual today. Having already stripped down as much as is possible there’s not much else you can do. Wearing the bare minimum before it would be classed as ‘indecent exposure’ or more to the point where Joel would get too excited by the sight that he would absolutely ‘need’ to have his way with you. Although he knows better than to joke with you right now.

Keeping your eyes closed and trying to keep your breathing calm is about all you can do to try to relax; Joel can tell you really don’t feel well though. He’s got to learn when you get bad because you aren’t always vocal about it, not wanting to worry him, although he begs you to ‘worry him’, so he can share the burden and try his best to make it better.

“You want some more water baby?” he asks sincerely.

“Please” you say wiping your forehead, not even thinking about the fact Joel’s driving and it means he’s reaching into the back to get it for you whilst he’s supposed to be watching the road.

With thanks you take the bottle from him. Taking a large, heavenly swig. The water isn’t warm yet thankfully, but you know it won’t be long till it is, so you savour every second of the ice-cold water as it makes its way down. That definitely helps. You opt to roll the bottle on either side of your neck before doing the same to your cheeks. It feels amazing and you can’t help the little satisfied moan that falls from your lips.

Joel smirks as he shakes his head at you. You lightly laugh back at him through the discomfort beginning to feel better then. Finding it easier to enjoy the trip, even finding the energy to sing along to certain songs.

But then it suddenly hits you again and you go quiet. As expected, the heat has turned the water almost hot, and it’s not at all satisfying to drink. But you grin and bear it to keep yourself hydrated, breathing through the sick feeling. Not allowing anything to put a dampener on the start of your trip.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

You need air, proper air not just the air-con blowing in your face and soon, you need out of the car to fully breathe. “Babe, can we stop at the next services please? I really need to get out for a bit.”

Joel looks to you briefly “Sure, we can, you really not feeling good still?”

“No, I’m not. This baby’s really playing me up” you sink into your seat, rubbing a palm over your stomach, hoping to alleviate the feeling.

“Okay baby” he sighs deeply, hating seeing you in this much discomfort without being able to do anything to help. “The next services aren’t too far out we can stop have something to eat too if you’re up for it?”

“Let’s see how we go” you let out a heavy breath. The thought of eating food physically repulsing you.

Joel has the aircon blasting in your face, and it’s by far the best thing ever, but it’s not enough. You try your best to focus on the cool air coming at you and for a short time it does the job, but then you hit traffic. And you go from speeding away to 10mph if you’re lucky.

“Fuck Joel, you need to pull over as soon as you can, I can’t wait till we get to the services. Fuck, I need to get out. Feel like I can’t breathe” you huff.

“Okay darlin’ I promise soon as I can I’ll pull over, so you can get some air okay. Promise baby, don’t panic okay?” Joel’s worried, it takes a lot for you to moan about feeling unwell.

“I feel so sick” you whimper sounding so small.

“I know baby m’sorry, hopefully won’t be long and you’ll start feelin’ better. I know y’hate feelin’ like this.”

“I do, I hate it so much” you utter sounding so deflated.

As the car begins slowly moving once more, you feel heat rise from your feet to your face and you’re overcome with this nasty unbearably hot feeling. And then before you can say or do anything you throw up all over yourself, a choke like cough following afterwards. It genuinely came from nowhere you didn’t feel it rise; it just came out. There was no way to prevent it from getting all over you and the car seat.

Joel looks over at you and uses his hand closest to you to hold your hair out of your face “you’re okay baby just breathe” his other hand quickly grabs a plastic bag from his car door storage.

As you breathe incredibly heavy you take the bag from him, “just in case” he whispers before he puts that hand back on the wheel. You’re so uncomfortable as vomit slowly seeps into your shorts and a smell of stomach acid fills the air.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry Joel, it just, just came out” you pant, eyes stinging, and heart racing.

He’s indicating now to a point on the road he can pull over in. “Honey don’t be sorry y’couldn’t help it” he’s still holding the hair out of your face, but you thankfully haven’t been sick since.

When he parks safely, he quickly jumps out of the car, goes into the boot to retrieve some tissues and wipes before he comes around to your side opening your car door.

“I’m so sorry you feel this shit baby” he utters beginning to clean away the sick from your lap, using the currently unsoiled bag he gave you to discard the tissues in.

As much as you feel like shit, you still can’t believe how much he’s helping you, especially considering you’ve just thrown up in his car, all over his seat. He didn’t even think about it before jumping into action, not showing any signs of repulsion.

When it’s okay for you to get out of the car, you slowly jump down using Joel’s hand to steady you. He quickly cleans the seat as you take a wipe and start to clean your hands and arms. Once finished Joel doesn’t even hesitate to get onto his knees to clean off your shorts and legs properly. He can see your breathing is still very uneven and you look on the verge of tears. “Shhh, you’re okay baby” he reassures softly as he uses delicate strokes with the wipe.

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it.” You try to hold the tears back, but to no avail.

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry baby, s’okay” he reassures whilst continuing to clean your shorts.

“I’m so embarrassed. I'm so disgusting.”

He stands up then, finally done with cleaning your lower half and you’ve finished cleaning your top half. Joel looks into your eyes “baby you’re living through all of this so you can bring our baby into the world, trust me, watching you embrace all the shit this pregnancy is throwing at you. S’sexy regardless of what happens okay? Not disgusting”. You stay silent, hanging your head low in shame. “Hey” he grabs your chin gently, so you have no choice but to look up at him. “I mean it; would I ever say anything I didn’t mean?”

“No” you whisper before sniffling.

“No, I wouldn’t, so stop feeling embarrassed, I’ll always adore you no matter what”. He strokes your cheek, and you lean into his palm as he does so.

“I love you Joel, I really do” you say through your slowing whimpers.

“I love you too baby. How y’feelin’ now?”

“Sick again, which is just perfect.”

“Well, there’s no rush for us to get back onto the road Baby we can stay here as long as y’need us to.”

He puts his arm around you then, stroking at your back.

“You’re so good to me Miller, I do honestly love you so much.” You turn into his side placing an arm either side of his body before squeezing him to prove your affection. He continues his stroking whilst leaning so his lips rest on the top of your head speaking loud into your hair as he replies, “I love you so much too, and this lil baby of ours, even if they’re just a teeny tiny dot right now.” He kisses the top of your head, and you stay stood in that embrace for a little while.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

“Not to ruin the moment, but I’m definitely gonna be sick again.”

You bring a hand to your mouth, and you move away from him slightly then, but he runs after you to hold your hair back. Rubbing your back as you throw up once more.

“Fuck baby m’so sorry you feel like this” he says to you between your bouts of retching. “S’it you get it all out”.

Eventually you spit for one final time and stand up straight again then, Joel pulls out a tissue from his pocket and you wipe your mouth “ugh I hate this”, Joel looks at you sympathetically before passing you some gum, which you’re eternally grateful for. “I hate it so fucking much” you say between chews “but, it’s all worth it for her” you rest a hand on your still flat stomach.

“Her?” he questions.

“Just a feeling that’s all.”

He smiles at you then and you smile back. “My girls” he utters softly through a wide grin placing his palm above yours.

How does he manage to make you feel so good even in your worst moments?

With the sickness feeling finally completely gone (at least for today- you hope) you can get back on the road. A week away full of fun, food, sex, and sun. God you’ve been longing for this for months. Just you and Joel. Though it means even more now than it did before. You’re soaking up all the time you have left before you lives are forever changed.

Changed for the better…

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[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 15: Cider

Words: 483 | Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

After a long first day at the Ministry, you sit curled up on the old brown sofa in Ron’s apartment. He stands in the adjoining kitchen brewing up hot cider for the two of you like you did every night.

“How was it?” He inquires while meeting you at the edge of the couch with two steaming mugs in hand. “Your first day? Who’d you get to work for?”

You carefully grab the cup and he settles next to you with a grin. You swallow hard, knowing the smile will be wiped clean once you out who you’ve been assigned to. You take in a deep breath before spilling.

“I got assigned to Lucius Malfoy,” you groan, taking a long, burning swig of your fresh cider immediately after.

Peeking over the steam of your cup, you can see the grin disappear as you had anticipated.

“Lucius Malfoy!?” He spat. “Bloody hell! They couldn’t assign you to anyone else? They had to give my girlfriend the worst boss in existence?”

“Ron,” you breathe and gently rub his shoulder. “Today was fine. He wasn’t as bad as I expected him to be.”

He raises a brow.

“What do you mean?”

You fall silent for a moment, knowing to pick your words wisely. The Malfoys and The Weasleys had long unspoken family drama amongst themselves for years. Lucius had been so egotistic and prideful and Arthur was too kind and mature to drabble in the unnecessary drama of the upper class, but somehow it still brewed between them.

“He explained everything to me and let me work in peace. If I asked something, he didn’t grumble or complain. And we all know he loves to complain…”

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I guess you got lucky without the Weasley surname and looks. Good for you.”

“Ronald…”

He lets out an exaggerated scoff before taking a sip of his own cider, then placing the mug on the table.

“Let’s talk about something else? Maybe watch something?”

You hadn’t even had a chance to ask about his day, but you only nod and place your own mug on the table in front of you as he had. Ron pulls you closer so you know that it’s not you he’s upset with, but the Ministry’s poor choice in judgment.

You grab the homemade quilt his mother weaved months ago and toss it over the both of you until you’re nice and cozy. His shirt smells of the fresh apples and cinnamon he used to make the cider. And Merlin, does it smell amazing.

He’d turns something on and starts watching mindlessly as you watch the steam curl from the mugs and disappear in the air. Your mind is full of thoughts and words unspoken, but all you can think of is how you shouldn’t have mentioned Lucius at all, and how over tomorrow’s cider, you’ll ask about Ron’s day instead.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 17

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Hey! It feels like forever since I last posted, probably because I was kinda handling a crisis at home 😅 the crisis is very much still on, but I’m ~excluding myself from the narrative~ for mental health reasons, which hopefully means I’ll stop skipping classes and write more lol. Anyway. Have fun!

Warnings: language

Words: 2,7k

Rowan failed her.

He was reminiscing, reflecting on a rocking chair, under the faint light of the beach house’s side porch. Alone. The hammering sound of the rain against the roof was loud, but not as much as Rowan’s thoughts.

His doom was a lot easier to deal with when Aelin was just someone who broke his heart because she didn’t care enough about him.

He rocked his chair a bit harder, his muscles strained. He was too angry at himself to stay still, but too gloomy to have an eruptive reaction.

Rowan got up, pacing around the porch. He couldn’t stop thinking what would’ve happened if he’d done his job right. Maybe they would be together now. Maybe their co-parenting arrangement would’ve stayed friendly. Either way would be better than what it became.

The purely physical affair he had with Aelin was brutally interrupted by his incarceration and the discovery of her pregnancy. After that, they bonded in a way that made him feel like their souls were melting to be forged as one, but it was just another way of not having her.

Aelin was never fully his, and she would never be after what he’d done.

And even if she wanted to take a risk and have him, what if Rowan broke his family all over again?

Three knocks against the doorframe snapped Rowan out of his thoughts, and was all warning his mother gave him before sitting on a rocking chair.

“I brought some hot tea for you to tell me what happened. Come on.”

He complied, knowing he didn’t have the energy to defy Rory Whitethorn right now. Rowan could trust his mom to read his moods like a manual. He sat on the other rocking chair next to hers. “Did I ever tell you you’re too nosy?”

“I’m your mother. If I didn’t pry, I wouldn’t know anything that happened in your life ever since you left for college.”

He let out a quiet chuckle and sipped the chamomile tea she brought. Breathing the rain’s fresh air in, he let it fill his hollow chest. Rowan couldn’t even begin to explain his situation without uttering the words he dreaded the most, something he’d never dared say out loud before.

“I’m in love with Aelin.”

He stilled, bracing himself for the I’ve been telling you that forever or You’re six years too late, but all he got was an unreadable motherly look.

Rory reached for his upper arm, stroked it with her thumb before she said, “That’s a good thing, honey.”

“We were growing closer lately, and I… well, I didn’t have a plan, but—“ Rowan ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes and let out a pained breath. “She explained today why she asked me to move out of her house. It’s bad, mom.”

“I see…” Rory trailed, his chest caving as she did. This was a bad indicator. The situation was so serious his mother was actually thinking before she opened her mouth. She continued, “I’m assuming you won’t tell me what happened?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

Even if Aelin allowed him to tell Rory about her mental illness, everything that happened between them back then still felt too raw, too intimate.

“That’s okay.” His mother gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Did she forgive you?”

“I—“ Rowan’s mouth hung open for a moment, then he closed it. He was about to say ‘no’, but even though Aelin didn’t say the words, she didn’t look mad or wounded either. “I’m not sure.”

“It was a long time ago, and she doesn’t look upset about it anymore.” His mom’s voice was soft, her touch on his forearm gentle. “This looks a lot like forgiveness to me.”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point.” His mouth was ajar as he flailed his arms in front of him, struggling to explain that weight in his chest. “I shouldn’t be looking for cues and forgiveness. I shouldn’t have done anything that—“ Rowan rubbed both hands against his face, coming to terms with the fact that it’d take a while until he found the right words. “I don’t even feel like I deserve her forgiveness, to begin with.”

Rory recoiled. “But that’s not your decision.”

The sudden change in his mother’s tone, from soft to firm, snapped Rowan out of his spiral of self-loathing. “What?”

“Honey,” she pursed her lips, that trademark Whitethorn frown on. “Only Aelin can decide whether you deserve her or not. If she thinks you do and wants to try again…” Rory shrugged. “Just take that chance and don’t make the same mistake twice.”

Rowan’s mouth and shoulders went slack. “Am I supposed to forget I deeply wounded the mother of my child?”

Because that’s exactly what happened. Rowan was so scared to hurt Maisie it made him blind to some of Aelin’s needs, and he hurt his family anyway. His throat closed, and he felt as heavy as Aelin’s words on the night that crushed his dreams. That’s what happens, right? It’s impossible for a man to wound the mother exclusively. As if this isn’t bad enough, it leaves a trail of hurt that affects the entire family.

This one was on him.

��That was included in the ‘don’t fuck up again’ part.” Something about his expression made his mother soften. “It’s normal to wallow, but you can’t let that stop your life, Rowan. It’s always the same thing.” Rory sighed, and Rowan felt she was gazing right into his soul with the same green eyes she gave him. “Honey, you’re so full of what-ifs, it’s putting your entire life on hold. Sometimes you gotta be a little bold to get the things you want in life.”

Rowan stared at his mother, dizziness taking over him as his insides sank to the pit of his stomach. The rain was dying down, the gentle wind rustling his hair, but he couldn’t move.

At that moment, Rowan wanted to defend himself. He didn’t have the energy to, but he wanted to say that his mother was wrong, that she didn’t understand. He wanted to get up and scream.

He doesn’t like the way things are now, he never liked the co-parenting arrangement.

He didn’t choose this.

He never chose to wait for things to settle until six years passed by, it just happened.

Rowan is a careful person, that’s part of him. Always weighing his next step, always waiting for the right time.

And while he waited for the timing to be perfect, Aelin got pregnant, moved in with him, birthed his baby, kicked him out, grew to hate him, stopped hating him, and now their daughter is five years old.

He was still gravitating around her, waiting for the right time to do something. Anything. Rowan wasn’t even sure what exactly he was supposed to do, he just knew it involved bringing Aelin back into his life.

Sensing his struggle, Rory sat back and decided to not press on the subject. “This reminds me of your dad, you know?” Her gaze grew distant, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “It’s easier for him when I mess up than when he does. The guilt is always the worst part for him.”

“Sounds like Dad,” Rowan said around a faint chuckle.

Rory wiggled her eyebrows. ”You know what helped him a lot?”

“Huh.”

“Therapy.”

Rowan tensed, and he narrowed his eyes at his mother, trying to decide if he should believe her. “You’re lying.”

“I am! But it got into your stubborn head, didn’t it?”

Rowan chuckled, his gloomy state not strong enough to survive his mother’s antics. “Not now that I know it’s a lie!”

She gave him a small grin, then reached for her son’s hand. “Honey, your father’s mental well-being is called retirement, a grown child, and leaving the big city to a beach house. You can’t have any of that now, so you should consider therapy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rowan waved her off. “I’ll think about it.”

“Also, you should really talk to Aelin. You’re not good at reading cues, honey, you got this from your dad as well.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, noticing that she was off her handling-my-son-in-crisis mode, back to her usual self. “Is that so?”

Rory adjusted herself in chair, picking back the long-forgotten mug of tea. “Did I ever tell you your father hired a band when he proposed to me? You have no idea the amount of unsubtle hints I gave him.”

“Mom.” Rowan interrupted, giving her a pointed, knowing look. “I don’t remember saying anything about proposing.”

He had no idea if Aelin would let him get anywhere close to that.

“I know.” Rory’s elbow on his side was as faint as her subtlety. “But keep that in mind.”

He chuckled. “The band or the hints?”

“Both. Especially hints about bands.”

~~

“And what if you want to swim?” He asked, crouched on the floor and eye-to-eye with Maisie, his face as serious as it could be.

“I can’t swim without a grown-up.”

“Any grown-up?”

“No strangers!” She dramatically shook her head. “Just Mommy, Auntie Sellene and Aidan.”

“Maisie.” Rowan’s voice was firm. “Your cousin Aidan isn’t a grown-up.”

“But he’s nine!”

“No, he’s still a kid. And…” He bowed his head, running his palm against his forehead. “I’m forgetting something.”

“Daddy.” She gave him a pointed look. “You’re being a buzzard.”

Rowan bit back a smile. The weight in his chest almost crushed him to pieces the first time Maisie called him that, about a month ago, but he was growing to love hearing the nickname Aelin gave him come from his daughter’s mouth.

“Oh.” He looked back up to her. “And what do we do about the beach animals?”

Maisie crossed her arms. “Leave them alone because it’s their home.”

“Perfect.” He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Time for sunscreen.”

“You done, Buzzard?”

Rowan startled, snapping his eyes to the doorway and finding Aelin there. If he wasn’t on his knees already, he would be now.

Her pink bikini made his eyes linger, but was enough to make him train his eyes back to her face, and Rowan thanked Mala she was at least wearing denim shorts. He plastered on a smile, looking at her face. Not her pink bikini and exposed curves. Blonde hair—not the ends hugging her breasts—and blue eyes. He focused on her face.

It was a regular beach attire, but Aelin didn’t need much to take his breath away.

She smiled at her daughter, pointing at the lotion in Rowan’s hand. “Auntie Sellene can’t find Bree’s sunscreen, can you hand yours to them?”

Maisie got the tube from her dad and ran downstairs, a girl on a mission. After a quick peek in the hallway, Aelin closed the door and took a step closer to Rowan, her arms crossed.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

Rowan shook his head. “I got a thing.”

“You got a thing… in a city where you have no work, and half the people you know are going to the beach?”

His lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “I’m staying home with the other half.”

“Rowan, are you—“ Aelin took a step closer and lowered her voice before asking, “Are we alright?”

“Yeah.” His voice came higher than intended, then he corrected, “No. Um.” Rowan grimaced. “Actually, can we—“

“Come on, Aelin!” Sellene shouted from downstairs.

He gave her a close-lipped smile. “You should go.”

“Sure.”

She took a step back, eyeing him carefully before fully turning around. Rowan’s shoulders dropped in relief when she left. They needed to talk, yes, but Rowan needed to organize his thoughts before they did.

He waited in his room until the rental car drove off the garage, and headed towards his dad’s office. Rowan flinched every time the wooden floor creaked—he didn’t know why, since he wasn’t sneaking, but something about that moment made him want to go unnoticed. It wasn’t his childhood home, but it still had the same smell of baked goods and the same pictures on the wall. Except that now the pictures of Rowan as a kid were side-by-side with Maisie’s.

In one of the frames, he was wearing his daily camouflage uniform, while Aelin wore the hospital staff’s maternity uniform—white pants and a white wrap blouse she absolutely hated, but her blinding smile suggested she wasn’t worried about it at the moment. Rowan remembered it was taken on the day they moved into her house, but he never understood why his mother kept it there. She wasn’t even with them that day, Aelin texted her that one, but maybe she noticed how Aelin’s silly smiles and enormous bump broke his usual serious stance in pictures.

Rowan didn’t miss how she ignored his love confession yesterday.

He glanced at the watch at the end of the hall. It was almost time. He wanted a better way to look at things, but it was a difficult task. What was Rowan supposed to tell her? Hi. Remember when you made me realize the biggest mistake of my life, I confessed my love to you, and you stayed silent? I already have my rejection, I just need the complete humiliation to have some closure.

It could be a dramatic depiction of what he was going to say, but he couldn’t find a better way to put it right now.

Depending on how the conversation went, Rowan could even grovel enough to confess that he didn’t need Aelin to love him back, that was not his issue. If she chose to share her life with him, that’d be more than he could ever ask for.

But would that be what he deserves?

Deserving of her or not, Aelin is the mother of his child, the love of his life. He didn’t expect her forgiveness, but he couldn’t let go of her either.

He opened his dad’s computer and logged into his email to get the link. He opened Zoom two minutes early, but the meeting’s host was already there.

“Hey there!” Yrene cheered from his screen. “I wasn’t expecting your text, but it’s good to see you.”

This session had been canceled for a very long time, since he and Aelin decided to not do therapy during their vacation. However, it came in very handy that Rowan’s mental turmoil started a day before their weekly session was supposed to happen, so he texted Yrene asking if they could meet online.

Rowan tried to smile, but his expression was strained. “Did I crash your plans?”

“Not at all! I was going to lie on the couch and play Subway Surfers for an hour. It’s a good thing you called, since I’m always encouraging people to fight their vices.” Yrene leaned closer to her screen, as if it’d help her see Rowan’s better. “Where’s Aelin?”

He scratched the back of his head, fighting the unease in the bottom of his stomach. “It’s just me today.”

She straightened her posture, squaring her shoulders. “An individual session, then?”

Rowan nodded.

“Good!” Yrene cleared her throat and continued in a serious tone, “I mean, good. What made you take that decision?”

Rowan swallowed, fiddling with his fingers and steeling himself for what he was about to say. For the second time.

“I’m in love with Aelin.”

“Go on.”

He frowned. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I’m really not.” Yrene’s own blunt answer made her grimace. “What I mean is, I’ve been working with families for a long time. It gets easy to tell.”

“Sure.”

He looked at Yrene. She looked at him. He was the first one to break, darting a glance at the wall, feigning interest there to ignore the awkwardness of this situation. Rowan wasn’t used to leading conversations, Aelin and Yrene usually did that.

“Okay.” His therapist cleared her throat. “I’ll give you two options, and you’ll choose how we start: you can tell me what happened in your vacation, or we can talk about how you only choose therapy because of your family, never yourself.”

Rowan was halfway into a flinch when he schooled his expression. This wasn’t a difficult choice at all.

“We arrived here last Saturday…”

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Favor

➻ Pairings: Minho-centric, implied minchan, implied minsung

➻ Genre: humor, fantasy au, magic au

➻ Additional: 

➻ Word Count: 6.2k

➻ Warnings: Attempted character death, minor character death

 ➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

“Gil is still on the loose.”

Minho had to hold back the audible sigh that threatened to escape him, eyes rolling unintentionally. He just couldn’t help it! It was the same old story he heard in all the classes he has taken about magic. Granted they are all stories about magic users, but it didn’t make it any less redundant. Humans and magic usually didn’t mix well, or so history has shown. Minho wasn’t sure of the accuracy of these historical accounts but it’s not like he could refute any of them. All he knew was that white magic was good, black/dark magic was bad and humans generally hated magic users for a plethora of reasons.

Okay, so maybe hate was a strong word. Distrust was probably more accurate and Minho could understand - to a point - their reasoning. Hell, he hated magic too! Magic being ‘bad’ was the general consensus that was being drilled into their heads, which was fine. What Minho didn’t understand was why every course on magic - most required - had to repeat the same material, nearly word for word from each other. He thought that at least one course would touch on the subject of how to defend against magic, or how to protect against curses and hexes. 

But no. Every course simply taught about all the horrible and tyrannical magic users of olden days and the reasons why the enforcers were created, as well as how to overall avoid any magic user at all cost.

It was monotonous and boring and Minho couldn’t believe he was wasting his hard earned money on this bullshit.

‘Two more semesters and you can start fresh. Just two more semesters.’

It was a mantra he had to keep repeating to himself. He could do this!

“Tomorrow we’ll cover the Great Siege.”

Minho absolutely couldn’t stop the long groan of exasperation that escaped him. Thankfully, it was covered up by the sounds of chair legs scraping across linoleum floors as students started packing up and leaving. It took Minho a hot second before he started to follow, taking his time packing in order to let the room empty out. It wasn’t like he had anywhere important to be anyway. Tuesdays were his slow days. One class - which he absolutely despised - in the morning and the rest of the day was void of any socialization. 

Usually.

There are some days where Minho is feeling particularly masochistic and would visit the Maxident Cafe across the street from the campus. It was a bustling little homely establishment that always brought a sense of warmth and familiarity to him, but Minho could never figure out as to why. However, Minho had long since learned that questioning things were futile and to just accept things as they were. It caused less of a headache that way.

Today, Minho was feeling masochistic.

The fairy shaped wind chimes sounded as he pushed open the door to the cafe - face hit with the most delicious smells Minho ever had the pleasure of sniffing. ‘Felix must be working today.’

“Welcome in!”

Speaking of the devil, Minho smiled, a soft greeting falling from his lips as he stared at Felix. The brunette was carefully stocking their display shelves with freshly baked goods. “Hey Felix.”

“Hyung!” Felix shot up, nearly dropping his tray in the process. He fumbled with and luckily caught it before it could fall to the floor. He was so adorable. “You didn’t see that.” Felix shot him a pointed glare and Minho laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, I saw all of it.” he teased with a wink, approaching the counter. The flirtatious teasing had Felix flushing a pretty pink that accentuated the freckles that littered his round cheeks - adding to his beauty. Minho could honestly get lost staring at him.

“Dang it.” Felix pouted, setting his tray down on. He wiped his hands on his apron before turning his full attention to Minho. “Oh well.” he shrugged. “What can I get for you today?”

“A date.”

Felix blinked rapidly a few times, mimicking Minho’s own stare, as he processed the words that left the older male’s mouth. “Hyung!” he whined, another pout gracing his features. “Hyunjin isn’t here today.” he muttered almost sadly. Minho scoffed at the rebuttal. Not that he had anything against the male. Hyunjin was tall, gorgeous and a delight to be around - most of the time - but Felix was definitely more of Minho’s style. Small, cute and easily flustered. Felix also had this uncanny ability to just radiate sunshine and happiness and it was that pure goodness that attracted Minho to him. While the darkness inside him loved to hiss and writhe - like a dramatic diva - for being in the vicinity as Felix, the goodness in him scrambled to cling to the light - to draw from the energy he needed to keep going; to stay good.

He really was masochistic.

“You say that as if I care.” Minho smirked as he leaned against the counter, eyes locked with Felix’s pretty brown orbs - watching as they shook, unable to hold his gaze. “In which, I do not.” Felix cocked his head, batting his lashes in confusion and Minho just wanted to coo at him. A ridiculous notion. He reserved that type of behavior for his cats. Though, Felix could probably pass for a cat if he tried. “If I wanted to date Hyunjin, I would.” And he left it at that. He wasn't sure if Felix understood what he meant by that, but it didn’t matter really. Eventually he would, or least Minho hoped he would. “I’ll take my usual.”

Eyes brightening, Felix rang Minho up and after paying, the younger ran to get started on his drink, the two falling into the familiar pattern of barista/patron. AS he waited, Minho let his eyes wander over the crowded floors of the cafe, students happily chatting away or focused on their laptop screens, showing more dedication to their coursework than Minho had in his pinkie finger. It was a life Minho couldn’t get behind. Of course, it’s not like would purposefully fall behind on coursework or just fail his classes.

Absolutely not!

He had spent way too much money on his education to waste it. But that didn’t mean the thought of working didn’t disgust him. And perhaps he would have more motivation if the subject matter was more interesting. He took these magic courses because he wanted to learn more about magic. He wanted to learn about the history of it - where it came from,  or how it was passed down through the generations. He didn’t want to be put through the hell of hearing the same iterations of stories with only minor changes.

“Here you go hyung!” Minho stared at Felix, refusing to acknowledge how the other startled him. Felix stared at him expectantly and Minho glanced down at the cup between them - so innocuous. Taking the cup, he took a quick sip - face schooled but inside he was screaming as he burnt his tongue. A stupid mistake to make. Of course the drink would be hot, what else had he been expecting?  “Good?” Felix asked.

“Delicious.” Minho forced out, hoping his words weren’t as slurred as he thought they were as his tongue was numb. “Thanks for the drink, Lixie. I’ll see you later.” Making a not-so-grand exit, Minho headed back to his apartment, intent to spend the rest of his day curled up on the couch with his cats, watching whatever drama he could feasibly binge watch in an afternoon. It sounded like heaven and was probably the main reason the normally 10 minute commute only toko 5 minutes.

Upon entering his apartment, he was greeted to a chorus of meows as three furry bodies rubbed against his legs. “Hello babies. Did you miss me?” he asked, smiling as he received more meows in response. Minho was sure they weren’t actually talking to him, but it was fun to think that. Though if they could talk, he was sure he would hear nothing but complaints about how they wanted more food, even though he fed them before he left for class that morning. Shaking his head, he shuffled further inside, careful to not lift his feet fully off the floor in fear of stepping on one of his babies.

“You know.” he started, sending the three cats a frustrated glare. “This would go faster if you weren’t trying to trip me.” he huffed. Though he knew they weren’t trying to actually trip him, he did find it ironically hilarious that as soon as he made that comment, the three cats wandered off. Such a convenient coincidence. “Thank you.”

Unobstructed, Minho headed into the kitchen and against his better judgment, he fixed three bowls of cat food, setting them down in their normal spots by the fridge. “Soonie, Doongie, Dori!” It took a moment, but eventually two orange cats emerged, followed by a gray tabby that trotted over to their dishes and eagerly devoured their food. “So spoiled.” 

Cat dad duties finished, Minho headed back into the living room and plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure why he still felt so frustrated. He knew the feeling stemmed from the story covered in class but usually seeing Felix and getting his favorite coffee always made him feel better. Today it just didn’t seem to be working. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed once again. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels until he landed on a drama that barely caught his interest, mind still a jumbled mess.

Lost in his thoughts, Minho jumped when his phone started ringing, eyes wide as he stared at the offending device. Quickly, his eyes scanned the room, landing on Doongie as the orange cat sat in the corner, watching him with an interested gaze. “You saw nothing.” he warned, the feline yawning in response before curling up and laying down. Talking to the cats was an odd habit surely, but it did help to keep Minho from feeling lonely. With a grunt, Minho grabbed his phone, which had started ringing for a second time. “Hello?”

“Minnie~” Minho cringed at the sickenly sweet coo, mentally kicking himself for taking the call. “What are you doing?”

“Watching TV.”

“So nothing then?” Jungkook.

“No, I’m watching TV.” he corrected with a scoff.

“Perfect! We’re having a gathering tonight and we would love it if you came.”

Minho mulled over the offering carefully. He really didn’t feel like going out and socializing, but he knew gatherings like these were usually fun and filled with people that Minho could tolerate for the most part. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Oh, you know…”

No, he in fact, didn’t know and Minho hated how vague Jungkook was being, but that was to be expected from the socialite. No information given, but he could surprisingly convince anyone to go anywhere and do just about anything. “I’ll be there, Seonghwa -” He started listing off names, but truth be told Minho tuned him out, not at all interested. At least, not until a specific name was listed. “Irene, Chan -”

“Chan’s going?” Minho straightened on the couch and if he were a cat, his ears would have twitched with interest. Jungkook laughed at that and a spike of embarrassment coursed through Minho. However, his curiosity was too great to let him dwell on that for very long.

“Of course that’s the only name you would care about.”

“Arguably the only one to care about.” Minho retorted with a shrug. He pointedly ignored teh scoff on the other end. “What time?”

“7pm.”

“Ugh, really?”

“What? Past your bedtime grandpa?” Minho snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Some of us have class in the morning, slacker.”

“Yeah, but Chan will be there.” And that was such a tempting offer, and Jungkook knew it. The self made Soundcloud producer was such eye candy and a sweetheart to boot. Even with the minimal interaction Minho had with Chan was enough to have him swooning and falling head over heels for the man. Hell, Minho practically tripped over himself once to try and get a moment alone with Chan. Could he really pass up another opportunity to see him?

No way in hell.

“I’ll come.”

“Great! So we’ll-” Minho ended the call mid sentence, knowing full well Jungkook would text him the info later. Dropping the phone on the couch, he let his head fall back, feeling so mentally drained from the call. There was something off about the day. His mood just didn’t feel right and it upset him as much as it concerned him. He normally had a steady plateau of emotion, fluctuating only occasionally and in short bursts. To ping pong between emotions and have none of his normal soothing items help calm him down, it was strange. Hopefully, seeing chan and being around others would fix whatever was broken.

-----------

The one thing Minho hated most about Jungkook and his “gatherings” was the fact they always included magic of some sort. Usually Jungkook or someone close to him would perform some childish magic trick that still enraptured everyone. And while all the magic users usually invited were white magic users, that never stopped Enforcers from showing up. The magic cops loved to show off their status at any given point - the white starburst badges pinned to their right shoulder sleeve. At least it made it easy for Minho to identify and steer clear of them. He had never had an actual encounter with an enforcer, other than a passing glance. Yet he had an instinctual fear of them and he did his best to avoid them like the plague. Parties were no different. 

After grabbing a drink from the kitchen, Minho made his way back into the living room and made himself comfy on one of the couches. He scanned the crowded room, watching bodies as they grinded together on the makeshift dance floor. Normally Minho would join in, letting the music take over his body - releasing all his worries and stress as he lost himself to the rhythm of the beat. But not today. Not when he knew Chan was going to be there. He would have ample enough time to dance, but the chance to talk with Chan was few and far between. Besides, if he was lucky, maybe he could convince Chan to have a dance… or five. It was a solid plan and all Minho had to do was be patient. 

But he was far from being a patient man.

As the night wore on, he was becoming extremely antsy for Chan’s arrival. His spot on the couch had the perfect view of the front door and anyone who walked in. At least a dozen or so people came and went, and with each new arrival, Minho’s hopes were crushed a little more.

Four drinks and two hours later, Minho wandered back into the kitchen, intent to get another drink. His mind was already feeling fuzzy, but thankfully the ground wasn’t moving yet. He could handle one or two more drinks before he needed to go home. The kitchen was a mess. Empty beer cans and soda bottles littered the floor. Half empty liquor bottles were scattered across various counters and the center island. The room itself was empty except for one person by the fridge. Minho had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue but it disappeared as he spotted the starburst patch on the right shirt sleeve. Every instinct in his body kicked in and his brain was screaming at him to turn tail and run away - which he did. But just as he was leaving, he heard an all too familiar voice.

“Minho, hey!”

Minho paused and against his better judgment, he turned around. His eyes landed on Chan’s beautiful face, a smile so wide and pure that this entire scenario seemed surreal. 

“Chan,” he breathed. “When did you get here?”

It was a stupid question. Or rather, the question wasn’t stupid, just the fact that Minho insisted on holding a conversation was stupid. It didn’t matter when Chan arrived, but when did he become an enforcer? Last he checked, enforcers had to have some sort of white magic in them and Chan was human! There was not an ounce of  white magic residing in him. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of that humans could be enforcers, but the humans tended to be part of archiving and trials. Their badges - according to historians - were different. The starbursts were only for enforcers who actively patrolled and enforced the laws. So why did Chan - pure, loving, kind hearted Chan - have the starburst?

“A bit ago. Jungkook had me held hostage out front.” he chuckled as if that explained everything.

It explained absolutely nothing!

In fact, it only added to Minho’s confusion. Had Jungkook known all along about Chan’s new position in life? It’s not like the older man wasn’t aware of Minho’s dislike for the enforcers.

“O-Oh.” How lame, but what else could he say? There were plenty of things Minho wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure he could ask them without risk of giving away his secret. And he couldn’t do that, not now that he knew Chan was one of them. The silence between them felt weighted and awkward.

“Yeah.” Chan nodded and smiled. “As you can see, I was appointed as an enforcer today.” Chan turned to show off the badge, smiling so widely like he was ecstatic, and he probably was. Minho couldn’t blame him for that. 

“I didn’t know you could use magic.” It was the first thing to pop into his mind and honestly a question he wanted an answer to.

Chan frowned, cocking his head. “You didn’t? I thought for sure you knew. My dad is the current general.”

Minho’s eyes widened at the news, chest tightening with an indescribable feeling. He couldn’t believe this. Chan came from a long line of enforcers. He used magic. He was everything Minho had wanted in a partner and in a matter of seconds the perfect fantasy world he had created came crashing down around him.

Minho swallowed thickly, fighting back the urge to cry. “I didn’t know.” 

“Oh. Well now you do, I guess.” Chan shrugged. “Cool right? Also, thanks for coming to my celebration.”

“Y-Your celebration?!” As if this couldn’t get any worse. This entire party was to celebrate Chan becoming an enforcer. This was devastating. 

“Yeah! When I told Jungkook, he insisted on throwing-” Chan paused, eyeing Minho carefully. “Are you okay, Min?”

Minho felt like the world was spinning and he was going to pass out at any given moment. There was just too much information to process and it felt like the universe was out to get him. “I have to go.” Dropping his cup on the counter, Minho turned and made a hasty exit out of the kitchen and the house, ignoring Chan’s call for him to come back. There was no way Minho could go back and face him. He was nothing but a bundle of emotions now - a swirling mass of negativity the likes he had never felt before.

It was horrible. There was an icky heavy feeling washing over him - his limbs feeling heavy with each step he took. It almost felt like a pressure building and looking for a way to escape, and Minho would be more than happy to release it from his body. Glancing down at his hands - where were feeling a bit tingly - he stopped dead in his tracks, shocked at what he saw. The tips of his fingers were oozing an inky blackness that he had only seen happen  once before.

“Shit. Not now.” he whined, trying to wipe his hands clean, but of course that did nothing. He couldn’t just wipe away magic so easily. Worried, Minho looked around, taking in his surroundings. While it wasn’t busy out, the sidewalk was still occupied by a good number of passersby, all of which posed a threat to Minho. His heart raced as he tried to figure out what his next move should be, because there was no way he could stay out in the open with black magic oozing from his fingers.

Doing a once over again, Minho spotted and alley opening and quickly ducked inside. He needed to figure out a way to get home without being seen because he was absolutely sure he wouldn't be able to wrangle in his magic - not with the whirlwind of emotions currently coursing through him. The side of town he was currently on was one he was familiar with - thankfully - but he had never traversed the back alleys before. He had no idea which alley connected to the next or if any of them could lead him back to his apartment. But he had to try and figure it out. The longer he remained outside, the higher the risk of being caught became.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Minho started down the alleyway, vigilant of his surroundings. The further he moved in, the darker it became. It unnerved him how the light from the streets on either end couldn’t seem to penetrate the darkness of the place. It was quite eerie and if Minho wasn’t so worried about his life, he probably would have turned tail and ran.

“Get away from me! Stop!” Minho froze at the cry, blood running cold. It came from right in front of him and Minho was terrified to take another step forward. Yet something inside him was telling him that he needed to go investigate - to help whoever was in trouble. It was an absurd idea and yet his feet carried him onward as if on autopilot and the horrific scene he came across was sickening to bear witness to. There were two men, one on the ground - probably the man that had begged for his life. The other man hovered over the fallen man, a dark aura surrounding him. It had Minho shivering and he could feel the dark energy within him reaching out, trying to merge with it. 

Another dark magic user. 

A companion…

Minho shook his head, focusing on pulling his magic back. He couldn’t let them combine. He wasn’t like that - didn’t want to use his magic to hurt innocent people. That wasn’t the type of person he was! But he also wasn’t the type of person to stick his nose in situations that didn’t involve him. However, could he really turn the other cheek and just pretend that he hadn’t seen this? If this man died, mentally and emotionally his blood would be on Minho’s hands. And despite how strong he believed he was, Minho wasn’t sure he could live with that knowledge. In a split second decision Minoh thrust his hand forward, expelling the black magic that, up until now, had been dying to be set free. The force of the expulsion sent the attacker flying back - knocking him into the concrete wall a few feet away. A heavy tension filled the air as he waited for the man to get back up.

He didn’t. 

In fact, he didn’t move at all and Minho feared maybe he had somehow killed the guy. “Oh shit.” he whispered, already taking a few steps closer.

“Don’t!” The warning gave Minho pause and he turned his attention to the man he had just saved. In the dim lighting of the alleyway Minho couldn’t really make out any features, though he sounded young - probably around Minho’s  age or younger. The survivor’s attention was still focused on his attacker, however, and Minho turned back towards the fallen man, ready to go help despite the warning he had been given. But the man’s body was gone.

“What the hell?”

“Black magic.” Well yeah. Clearly the man had been a black magic user. But that honestly wasn’t a great excuse for the disappearance. Minho was pretty sure that all magic users had the ability to disappear - teleport in a way. It seemed a little stereotypical to just group that magical action with black magic users, even if he was correct about this particular situation. Minho wanted to be upset- outraged even, but as the anger was bubbling up inside him, the other man finally got up and walked over to him. “Thank you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut while simultaneously all the energy had been zapped out of his body. Now up close, Minho could out the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever had the pleasure of staring at. Adorable chubby cheeks also adorned his equally adorable looking face. Minho was sure he had been correct in his assumption that this guy was young. He was young and beautiful and Minho had the passing thought of wondering if he was single. 

“My name’s Jisung.” The handsome man - Jisung - introduced himself and Minho became extremely aware of the awkward staring he was doing. Blinking rapidly a few times, Minho cleared his throat, the tips of his ears heating up slightly. 

“Minho.” 

Jisung smiled. “Well Minho, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Wish it was under different circumstances.” 

“Likewise.” Minho looked Jisung over again, trying to get a better sense of the person standing before him, but could hardly make out anything in the dark alleyway. “So what exactly did I stumble upon?”

“Upset patron.” Jisung laughed as if he hadn’t just been moments away from dying. 

“That sucks. Guess he’ll be leaving a bad yelp review.” Minho joked and Jisung laughed once more. “Are you okay, though?” It was probably something that he should have asked earlier.

“Me?” Jisung asked and Minho wanted to roll his eyes. That was such a stupid question, but he held his tongue. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he confirmed with a shrug.

“Oh, good.” A blanket of awkwardness fell over them and Minho wasn’t sure what to do to fix it. It was a new situation that he never thought he would be in, so he was a little socially inapt with how to deal with it. It’s not like this was a movie and now that he saved someone’s life, they’re going to fall madly in love and live happily ever after. In fact, it was probably better that they parted ways and never see each other again. There was less of a risk of being found out that way. Minho was just thankful that Jisung hadn’t seemed to notice the type of magic he used.

“Well, this is awkward.”

Was this guy inside his head?! As far as Minho knew, there weren’t any minder readers. That wasn’t a power that even existed. Maybe it was just a coincidence? 

“Yeah.” Another lame answer, but words were failing him at the moment.

“Well, I hate to cut this short, but I should get going.” Jisung flashed him a smile. “Thank you again for saving me, Minho. Maybe one day I’ll be able to return the favor.”

“Yeah, hopefully not, but maybe.” Minho agreed. Taking a few steps back, Minho gave a slight bow and Jisung returned it. “Bye Jisung.”

“See ya.”

Minho took his heave first, exiting the alleyway only to realize how late it was. The streetlights were on and the road barren save for a random car passing every now and again. And despite the darkness, the air outside was hot and humid. 

Disgusting.

And the black magic still swirling inside him only added to that disgusted feeling. It was way too wound up and excited after coming across another black magic user. He hated how sick it made him feel and once more Minho was cursing his birth givers. He couldn’t even call them his parents because they gave him up at birth and cursed him with the life he had now. He hated it - hated them. Everything wrong in his life was their fault. He couldn’t only hope they were already dead, otherwise if he ever met them -

He paused, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. That was a dark train he went on and definitely not who he was. The influence of the black magic was starting to get to him. He needed to get home as soon as possible so he could safely expel it before he did something he’d regret. Minho had spent far too long concealing himself to let it all go to waste because of a heroic good deed.

-----

3 months, 15 days and 5 hours. That’s how long it’s been since the incident in the alleyway and since then, Minho has been constantly running into Jisung. It was strange, because he had never seen the squirely boy before and Minho liked to think that he was decently social. Sure he didn’t have many close friends - none really - but he knew a lot of people and got invited to a lot of events and parties and Jisung had never been someone he’d crossed paths with before. It was almost comical how frequently Minho saw the other, so it was only inevitable they started to hang out. Jisung was a decent guy and very easy to get along with. Dare he even think that Jisung was his “person”.

And maybe it was this blossoming friendship that distracted Minho. Kept him focused on a future he wanted and not the life he was living. Maybe he would have noticed sooner, the issue bubbling just under the surface. Maybe he could have prevented it from happening.

Maybe…

Stupid! He was so stupid! Minho should have known better than to stay out when he was feeling so bad. It wasn’t like this was the first time his powers got out of control, though maybe it would be his last. The thought terrified him, but not as much as the enforcers that were chasing him.

“Stop Minho!” Chan shouted from behind and Minho probably would have stopped if it weren’t for the beam of magic that went flying past him, just barely missing him. “Don’t make this harder for yourself!”

“Oh yea. Because giving up would be so much easier!” Minho sassed. He yelped as another beam was shot at him, nicking his calf and causing him to stumble. His legs gave out from under him, body collapsing as he tried to catch his breath. Everything hurt - his eyes were crossing and his ears were ringing as the world spun. A shadow loomed over him and panic coursed through his body. He tried to scramble to his feet, but pain shot up his leg, stopping him.

“I told you to just stop.” Chan’s once sweet voice was hardened, sharp. Minho held back the whimper that tried to crawl out of his throat. A foot pressed against his side and with a hard nudge he was unceremoniously kicked onto his back. “Tears won’t help an abomination like you.” Minho wasn’t even aware he had been crying. His heart shattered into pieces as the hurtful words washed over him. This wasn’t Chan. Chan was sweet and kind and wouldn’t hurt a fly. However, Chan was also an enforcer and as painful as it was to admit, Minho knew that there had to be a small piece of malice in him. It was the only reasoning he could come up with as to why Chan could be this mean and hateful to someone who was different.

“Please.” he whispered, almost begging, but all he was greeted with was a hateful stare and Chan’s glowing hand.

“You know how this has to end. I’m sorry.”

Minho didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. Chan wasn’t sorry because if he was, he would do this. Or at least that’s what Minho told himself. “Chan please!” he begged once more, the tears falling faster. And for a brief moment there was a sense of hesitation. And Mino seized the opportunity. Black smoke like tendrils crept forth from his fingers and he grabbed Chan’s ankle. His magic shot up through Chan’s leg, wrapping around his limbs and constricting. Chan shouted in pain and Minho watched as black veins began to spread over the pale skin, slowly taking over. The sight pained Minho, but nonetheless he climbed to his feet, calf throbbing in pain.

“M-Minho.”

“I’m sorry Chan. I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled as he fought back his sobs. He knew the magic wouldn’t kill Chan - he could never go that far - but it would keep him at bay for now. He turned and started running, though slowed down by his wounded leg. Every stretch of the muscle felt like searing hot iron was being pressed into his skin. It was horrible. But still he pressed on, knowing that if he stopped he would die. Sirens began to blare across the city, shivers rushing down his spine. Minho had only ever heard stories of those sirens being sounded. 

He knew what they meant.

Minho made a beeline for the nearest dense foliage. He wasn’t sure if it would lead out of the city or just provide a place to lay low for a while, but it didn’t matter. The longer he was out in the open, the more danger he was in. He got about half way there when he heard the shouts and the ball of magic began whizzing by him.

“Fuck, fuck.” he cursed, looking around for any sort of safety. He wasn’t sure what caught his attention, but for some reason he happened to look over at a store front and there, peeking out of the door was Jisung, waving to him. If this had been any other situation, maybe Minho would have second guessed the other’s appearance. As it was, this was a life or death situation and Minho preferred to live.

Changing course, Minho ran to Jisung, slipping through the open door and coming to a crashing halt against the front counter. Bent over, Minho panted as he watched with weary eyes as Jisung locked and secured the door. When he turned around, Minho’s entire world came crashing to the ground as his eyes landed on the starburst patch on his right shoulder sleeve. “No, no…God please no!” he begged, stumbling backwards as he tried to put more distance between himself and Jisung.

“Min, wait.” Jisung held up his hands in surrender, taking a step or two closer. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Minho wanted to believe him, he really did, but there was just too much hurt and betrayal in his heart. He had thought he was friends enough with Chan that the other wouldn’t attack him like had. But he had been so clearly wrong. Their relationship had clearly meant nothing to the older man. And now he had discovered the one person he considered his best friend was also an enforcer, he just couldn’t take it. Everything was falling apart and Minho was powerless to stop it.

“Please, Jisung,” he whispered. “I can’t do this. Not with you. I trusted you.”

“And you can still trust me!” The sincere earnestness in his voice called to Minho and all he wanted to do was hug Jisung. He needed Jisung. Biting his bottom lip, Minho caved and walked closer. If this was a trick and he died, then so be it, but he just needed one last moment of happiness. Jisung smiled and closed the gap between, taking Minho into a tight hug. Minho broke down and buried his face into Jisung’s shoulder as he sobbed. “It’s gonna be alright, hyung.”

“How?” Minho pulled back and stared at Jisung - cheeks red and splotchy, stained with his tears. “They’re trying to kill me, Sungie! All because…because…” he trailed off, eyes going blank and unfocused as he stared off behind Jisung.

“You use black magic.” Jisung finished and Minho nodded numbly. “I never would have guessed.”

“I never wanted you or anyone else to know.” Minho whispered. “I hate this, curse to be hunted. I tried so hard to just use my white magic, but sometimes,” he sniffled and reached up to wipe away his tears. “Sometimes I just can’t control it.”

“You use both?” Jisung asked incredulously. Once again, Minho nodded solemnly. Jisung was silent for a moment, looking Minho over. It seemed whatever debate he was having internally, he came to a decision as he pulled back completely from Minho. He reached into his pocket and pulled his keys. “Here.” he said as he pressed them to Minho’s chest.

“What?” Minho frowned.

“My care is out back. Take it and leave this place.”

“Jisung? I can’t. They’ll see me and m-my cats!”

“I’ll distract them.” Jisung grabbed Minho’s arm and guided him to the back door. “And don’t worry about your cats, I’ll take care of them. Just go.”

Minho pulled his arm free and glared at the other. “Why are you doing this?”

Jisung could only smile as he opened the back door. “Returning the favor.” With that, he shoved Minho out the door and closed it, leaving him standing there stupefied. Only a few moments later he could hear Jisung out front, gathering the enforcers and leading them in the opposite direction. This was his chance and despite the craziness that just happened, he wasn’t going to lose it. Turning, Minho ran to the car and got in. Starting it, he carefully made his way out of the alley and to the back roads that would lead out of the city - his heart still racing and now full of hope.

Until we meet again. Thank you, Jisung.

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @yayaistime @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @3rachasninja @haileybugulug @luvyev

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[klainepolls]

unexpected- day 1 of 7

by: @kurtsascot

POLL AT THE END DECIDES ROMANCE TROPE

———

The coffee shop is short staffed. Blaine’s favorite barista isn’t there. They are training someone new who can’t seem to get the hang of things, and one of the espresso machines is down.

Blaine can’t be late to class. He just can’t.

It’s not that his professors care if he’s late, truthfully- NYU is massive, and most don’t bother learning names, let alone take attendance- but, well, it’s still early in the semester, and Blaine wants to leave a good impression.

He’s a good student. He likes school. He likes going to class and he likes New York, even if last semester had some… relationship challenges.

It’s a new year.

It’s a fresh start.

Anything can happen.

And, things are looking up. Blaine’s name is called, and his coffee, his saving grace, is gingerly placed on the counter.

Eager, Blaine smiles, pushes through the disgruntled crowd of customers, slaps on the vent lid, and turns on his heel to leave.

If he’s quick, he can make it to his lecture on time.

Blaine maneuvers his way out of the shop. It’s the second week of January and the temperature is well below freezing. But it’s not too bad. He got mittens for Christmas and they buffer the chill. His coffee is also radiating heat through the wool- another benefit of his patience. Today, he’ll stay warm, and once the coffee is cold enough to drink, everything will be perfect. It should be cold enough by the time he gets on the subway.

Blaine struggles to keep his school bag on his shoulder and hold his cup when he closes the glass door on his exit.

As he turns the corner, lost in thought, planning the quickest way to get to campus, he walks right into someone.

Like- right into them.

On reflex, Blaine squeezes the coffee cup to prevent it from flying out of his hands.

His mittens limit his dexterity.

The lid pops off.

Scalding liquid rises,

breeching the lip of Blaine’s to-go cup,

and coffee splatters all over the man in front of him.

…

Shit.

“Shit!” The man’s light blue down jacket is stained with Blaine’s dark-roast, and, unfortunately, the puffer wasn’t fully zipped- his button down underneath is also soaked, completely ruined.

Blaine gapes at the cup in his hand. It’s entirely empty. His gloves are sopping wet and his hands are on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he tries, shaking his head and hating how whiny he sounds. Are these gloves machine-washable? He’s sticky, in pain, and,

and he’s going to be late.

Shit. No way he’s not going to be late. “I was-That’s my fault.”

Blaine takes a second to collect himself and then musters the courage to meet the guy’s eyes.

And, when he does,

He freezes.

[kirimoochi]

Hi, kiri! First time interacting with you here ajshjaks. Anyway— if your request still open, I want to request kazuha taking care of reader that has cold!

I got cold yesterday, my nose was stuffed and it was runny. As someone who rarely got sick it was uncomfortable. But I got better today so don't worry! ^^

Oh, I also ate ice cream yesterday, so I want to see kazuha finding out reader eats ice cream while having a cold lol.

₊˚ ᗢ kazuha x sick!reader, modern au.

⤷ him taking care of you when you're sick.

When you’re sick, the first thing he declares is that he’ll stay by your side. He will do everything he can to make sure you’re back to health. And such comments make you feel as if he’s a little too enthusiastic about the task. However, it makes you feel better knowing that you won’t be alone in your room, coughing up a storm and falling deeper than you already have.

He would come back from class, finish his work at your desk and then spend the rest of his time checking your temperature. He would shake his head whenever you try to move from your bed, his hands would reach out to push you down gently by your shoulders. How could you get sick like this? He asks, sighing under his breath. You would cough into your elbow, trying to roll your eyes which he dismissed. He doesn’t want you to get up, even if it's for water. He can do it for you.

He reads a book or writes poetry while resting his head at the foot of the bed. He is careful enough not to get too close to you, especially when you cough or sneeze, but he is quick to fetch you a tissue or two. He’s a diligent man, Beidou once told you, and right now, you understand where she was coming from. He leaves a small bowl of water beside your bed and a towel that he rinses every once in a while. He also places a few tablets on the table and gives you water. 

He even goes as far as completing your notes for you. You protest at this but he only waves you off with his hand. What kind of person would he be if he let you complete your studies like this? You want to argue with him. Though, it was quickly shut down. So you admit defeat to the man, sighing as you flop down on the bed. 

With that level of dedication, he hopes that when you feel better, you might press a kiss against his cheek as thanks. He could feel his ears grow slightly hot at the thought. At his flushed expression, you giggle and cough, still sick. 

He is a decent cook. Good enough to grill fish but not the best when it comes to meats. The first thing he would make for you is fish porridge. It’s warm and comforting, and it fills you up quickly. He learned it from Beidou when she had a hangover, and thought that it might work well even when you were sick. 

To his horror, when he comes back with a fresh bowl, he sees you snacking on a small pint of ice cream on your bed. His jaw nearly drops to the floor when you stare at him, your eyes widening in surprise. There is a moment of silence between the two of you before it was cut off with you continuing to eat. When did you get that? And how come he didn’t hear you in the kitchen? He is quick to take the container from your hands, replacing it with his food instead. 

“How could you be eating ice cream when you’re sick?” He asks, a deep frown forming on his face. You give him a small pout in response. “You have a cold, darling, you shouldn’t be eating this.

Please eat my food instead, you can have this once you’re no longer sick. Hey! Don’t look at me like that! I promise you can finish it when you’re not sick.” 

[spideystevie]

strike-outs

summary: rust colored dirt, old jerseys & game winning strike-outs

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this has been brewing in the depths of my drafts for a hot minute. college!au because i said so. this is my take on baseball!steve who lives and breathes in my head constantly and if you don’t agree then cry about it. just kidding. 

MARCH 1987 - GRAND RAPIDS, MI.

It’s an unusually warm day for Michigan in March. The sky’s a vibrant blue with picturesque cottony clouds scattered across. Sun rays warm your cheeks, a welcoming kiss after last week’s frigid cold. You roll up the sleeves of your university crewnecks to feel the sun on your arms. 

Music flows through the orange padding of your headphones, walkman clipped to the waist of your jeans. You walk past the baseball field, eyes focusing in on the lone figure standing on the pitcher’s mound. It’d be almost embarrassing to admit that you recognize it to be Steve Harrington almost immediately. 

Your feet stall, rooting you in place near the third base dugout as you watch him wind up and throw. The ball hits the ground and ricochets against the fence behind home plate. There’s a ringing of metal as the chain link fence reverberates. The ball rolls back towards home plate, stopping just a foot away from a worn pair of cleats, covered in a rust colored dust. 

Davenport might not have been Steve’s first choice but it was the one that put the most distance between him and his father and that was good enough for him. It was also the only school that took a chance on a small town kid with shit grades so Steve really couldn’t complain. 

Steve bends to pick the ball up and when he turns to walk back to the mound, he notices you. Your eyes meet just as Let’s Hear It For The Boy starts to play. A heat not induced by the sun creeps across your cheeks. It only worsens when a charming grin lifts his cheeks. 

The two of you stare for a beat too long before someone breaks the silence. 

“Hey,” he calls, walking towards the fence that separates the two of you. You step closer, pulling your headphones to rest around your neck. Steve catches a few notes of the song before you pause it. The toes of his cleats bump the bottom of the fence, the metal shaking briefly. 

Steve pulls his glove off, shoving the ball inside and tucking it under his left arm. His fingers curl around the holes in the fence. You take a step forward, one more and you’d hit the fence too. His smile softens around the edges this close up. 

“Hey,” he exhales. His gaze makes you feel warmer than the sun. Your smile is the slightest bit reserved, tucked away just slightly towards your chest. 

“Hi,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest. You wonder if you hold yourself tight enough if it’ll suffocate the butterflies swarming your heart. 

Things with Steve are new and covered in the sweetness of the early days. Everything is fresh and new, like a springtime blossom. The shock that sparks both your nerves when you’re around each other is not. 

You’d been partnered for a project together in sociology in the fall and when the semester ended, you didn’t think you’d see him again aside from passing occasionally on your commutes to class. 

And then you walked into your history course this spring and thought you were hallucinating when you spotted him. You thought you’d collapse when he waved you over to sit in the empty seat next to him. You nearly did when he asked you out a week later. 

It’d been a couple months of dating exclusively, not even a week since he asked you to be his. And yet, he still hadn’t kissed you. It’s not that he hasn’t tried, it’s that every time his lips brush against yours something has to interrupt the moment. Steve’s determined to change that today.

“Thought you didn’t have practice today,” you muse, blinking at Steve through the fence. 

“Coach wants to try me out as pitcher this season. Thought I’d start practicing now,” he shrugs and lets go of the fence, dropping his shoulder to lean against it. The fence bulges towards you. The sunlight catches on a curl of hair sneaking out of his hat. You have to grip your arm to resist reaching out to tuck it behind his ear. 

“Look at you, all star,” you tease. Steve’s cheeks flush a soft shade of pink, hardly discernible in the shade that covers his face from the brim of his hat. You shuffle forward until the toes of your converse bump the fence separating you. “You ever pitched before?”

“Little league,” he laughs. The way it bubbles out of him makes you giggle along, the shoulder opposite to his leaning against the fence. He shakes his head. “Once or twice in high school, too.”

You hum, smile still present but eyes rounding into something more serious. “You’ll do great.”

It’s a reassuring hug around Steve’s heart, one that constricts itself around the muscle until it skips a beat. He softens like butter in the sun and he lifts a hand to clutch the fence near your head.

There’s a tenderness in the way he looks at you, in the way his fingers try their best to wrap around yours when you lift your own hand to clutch the fence. You don’t think about all the logistics behind kissing between a hole in a chain link fence, the only things running through your head being finally and a mantra of SteveSteveSteve. 

Your chin juts out, tilted up for him to reach and Steve wishes he were on the other side of the fence so he could hold your face in the palm of his hand. He gets a hair's width away from your lips when the sprinkler system kicks on making you jolt back. He really wishes he were on the other side of the fence now.  

You try not to look too disappointed as you step back from the fence, though you’re sure you’re not alone in your emotions. Steve looks almost apologetic, his smile sheepish. 

“I’ll catch you later?” he offers, stepping back from the fence himself. You nod, reaching up to pull your headphones back over your ears. 

“You better, Harrington,” you say, clicking play again on your walkman as you turn on your heel and leave back to your dorm. Steve’s eyes follow you until you disappear from view. 

APRIL 1987 - HOME.

The glimpse of warmth you’d felt in March seems to have vanished into a haze. The weather had backpedaled to an early spring cold. If you focused hard enough, you could see wisps of your breath in front of your face when you’d exhale. First home game. Steve’s first game this season as a pitcher. 

The cold metal of the bleachers seeps through the denim of your jeans, your knee bouncing anxiously. It’d been a little over a week since your last almost kiss with Steve. With the flurry of late midterms and the opening of baseball season, you hadn’t seen much of Steve outside of your shared morning history class. 

He made sure he caught you yesterday. He waited outside the door of your Thursday literature class, already dressed for practice and cutting it close to being late, all just to ask you if you wanted to wear his jersey to the first game of the season. It was worth it when he saw your eyes light up, hands clutching the old jersey to your chest. He’d kissed your cheek before running off. 

Sitting in the stands, wearing his last name on your back, you think you can still feel the lingering warmth of his lips against your cheek while you watch him warm up. The slight wind is icy, biting at your nose and leaving it with a burning numbness. You tug the sleeves of your thick long sleeve you’d layered beneath the jersey over your fists. 

It’s easy to forget about the near frigid cold when you watch Steve play. It doesn’t hurt that his uniform pants hug him in the best way as he winds up his pitches and runs the bases. You’re not sure how much prouder you can get of Steve, watching him throw strike after strike. 

Your team sits at a tie with the visiting team as the ninth inning rolls around. With two outs and bases loaded, the nerves start to eat at you and you can’t begin to imagine the pressure on Steve. You clasp your hands in front of you, thumbs pressed to your lips. 

Steve closes his eyes and takes a breath before starting his wind up. He hauls a pitch down the line, exhales when it sinks into the catcher’s mitt and the umpire calls it a strike. He steps forward, glove extended to catch the ball when the catcher tosses it back. 

You squeeze your hands together, whispering encouragement under your breath as though he can hear it from your spot in the stands. He winds up and throws, sinking another strike in the catcher’s mitt. You exhale, watching Steve shake out his shoulders as he walks back towards the mound. 

“One more, baby, one more,” you mutter under your breath, not caring if the people sitting around you can hear you. Steve pauses at the top and looks towards the stands to find you. When your eyes meet you nod, releasing your clasped hands momentarily to give him a thumbs up. He bites back a smile, dipping his head down towards the ground as he gets ready to pitch. 

You feel like everything moves in slow motion the moment he starts his wind up. The ball leaves his fingertips and seems to float down the line. This time, the batter swings and you watch with bated breath as it swings just above the ball and misses it completely. Everything syncs back to normal with the final smack of the ball meeting the glove and the umpire calling the final strike. 

Steve’s shoulders visibly droop in relief, his teammates clapping him on the back and cheering as they head towards the dugout to prep for their final turn at bat. His eyes find you, standing in the stands with a grin on your face before he’s ushered into the dugout. 

It’s Steve who bats first at the bottom of the ninth, blowing a kiss to you before stepping up to bat. He swings at the first pitch, a satisfying crack sounding when his bat makes contact with the ball, sending it out into far left field. He slides safe into second, bouncing up onto his feet with a smile. 

Steve steals third after the first out, daring a glance at you in the stands to send a smile your way and crosses home plate with a grin, securing the first home game win of the season. He can’t even seem to care about the rest of the inning, his main thought being you standing in the crowd wearing his jersey and the proudest smile he’d ever seen. 

You wait outside the dugout when the game ends, a giddiness coursing through you. As the team starts to file off the field, you stretch on your toes to find Steve. He comes out last and his eyes immediately find you. He barely has time to drop his bag to the ground before you’re hurling yourself at him. 

His arms catch you around your waist while yours wrap around his neck. You press your nose against his neck, only minutely aware of how sweaty he is despite the chill in the air. 

“You were amazing out there, all star,” you grin as you settle onto your feet. Your hands rest against the front of his jersey but his hold around your waist stays tight. Steve’s smile is blinding. 

“You think so?” his voice is teasing and you roll your eyes but the smile hasn’t left your face. You push against his chest playfully and a laugh bubbles out of Steve.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, sincerity dripping off each word. Something inside Steve’s chest melts down into a thick honey, warming him from the inside out. He doesn’t even think twice before he’s cupping your face in his hands and slotting his lips against yours. 

Your eyes close with a muffled sigh, hands sliding up to rest against the sides of Steve’s neck. Your mind is racing with thoughts of  finally and SteveSteveSteve. He kisses you soft and tender, like he has all the time in the world. For once there’s no sprinklers, no pesky roommates or annoying teammates. There’s nothing else except the small bubble surrounding the two of you in the frigid cold of early spring. 

Steve pulls back for a breath and his lips part to say something. You don’t let him get the chance. 

“Shh, one more, I’ve been waiting to do this for weeks,” you pull him back into you, lips molding with his like they were carved from the same stone, missing puzzle pieces fitting back into place. His hands fall to your waist and pull you closer against him. You kiss him with a fervor until it’s more smile than kiss and you have to pull back. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. A slight gust of wind pushes past but you can’t feel the cold, not after the searing heat that’s covered your skin from the minute his lips touched yours. Steve kisses you once more, sweet and chaste before squeezing your waist and stepping away to grab his bag. 

“Celebratory dinner?” he offers, slinging his baseball bag over his shoulder and wrapping his free arm around your shoulders. He pulls his hat off his head and runs a hand through his hair as you walk. 

“Maybe after you shower, you’re all gross,” you scrunch your nose at him, mirth twinkles in your eyes. Steve shakes his head and shoves his hat onto yours. You grin, leaning into him as he squeezes your shoulders.

He wonders if it’s too early to be thinking he might be in love with you. 

[magnoliabutters]

• GOODS AND BADS •

pairing: eddie munson x reader (she/her, 18+)

request: from @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx​; reader has been testing eddie’s patience all day, and then she acts out during hellfire club and after everyone leaves. he punishes her. he rolls a 20 sided die to decide how many times she’ll be edged before he takes her home.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; angst, dom eddie + sub reader, pet names, choking, kinky kinky, cum denial, edging, rough play, biting, “master” dynamics, (f receiving) oral, public sex, etc.

word count: ~2.1k

note: oh my gerd. yes. 1 million times yes. let’s annoy the fuck out of eddie until he fucks us. let’s go! first request ever so i hope i interpreted your thoughts right or i wrote okay 👌🏼 my anxiety poppin off today!

Eddie has always driven you to school. He enjoys seeing your sweet face fresh and early in the morning. He loves the cinnamon smell that follows you as you carry your hot chocolate. He loves how passionate you are. How you make him feel like he is the only person in the universe. How your body fits perfectly against his. How he never thought of soulmates before he met you. He loves that you were each other’s firsts and that you will be each other’s last. He loves how much of a freak you are. How you both share the same love for music. How you look in just his Hellfire shirt the morning after. How open minded you are and willing to talk about the craziest of things. He loves how your eyes scan over his body. How he will never have to doubt how you feel about him. How you happily will be missus Munson before you know it. He loves you with every fiber of his being, through all your goods and all your bads. He will love you forever.

One of the things he loves about you is the way you somehow always forget things. He likes to be your knight and shining armor, finding a solution to all your simple problems. Most days, he enjoys being the person in your life to remind you of the mundane things. Like, “Don’t you need your backpack?” or “Did you bring your lunch?” But today? No. Today, he fucking hated being that person. 

Today began with an ask for a pencil. You needed a number 2 pencil for your English exam. Eddie happily shared his. However, he also remembered how many times he reminded you about bringing in a pencil for the exam.

Before lunch, you asked to borrow his jacket between classes. He didn’t mind sharing his jacket. He loves seeing you in it. You wear it so well. He did mind the part where he reminded you to bring a jacket and you said you wouldn’t be cold and not to worry. He did mind that it was winter in Hawkins, Indiana and all he had underneath was his hellfire shirt.

During lunch, you managed to return the pencil - snapped in half. He had no clue how that could have happened and he had no intention of finding out. Any reason given would just piss him off more.

Despite your absolute natural ability to annoy him, Eddie would drop everything to be there for you. To be that knight. Your protector. Your lover. And sometimes, even your master. Your forgetfulness is just a fault he is more than willing to accept and love if that means he has forever with you.

All members of the Hellfire club meet after school on Fridays. You rest in one of the auditorium chairs as you watch Eddie’s latest campaign develop in front of your eyes. You always enjoyed how the Hellfire boys would react to Eddie’s crazy plot lines. As the entire group settles at the table, Eddie converses with his sheep and discusses the next steps of the night’s DND session.

All of a sudden, he calls on you. “Y/n, can you bring up the handbook?” he asks as he gestures for you to join them on stage. You immediately sink into your seat, realizing you left Eddie’s DND player handbook on your bed after trying to learn more about the different character classes.

With the hesitance of your movement, Eddie tightens his lips once again and slams his palms against the table. You shudder at the loud sound, knowing that whatever follows will not be good. Now, Eddie is an incredibly gentle, loving man. But he most definitely has his own way of punishing you, and fuck are you going to get it.

“We’re ending early today,” Eddie struggles to say calmly. The entire Hellfire club watches with wide eyes. They slowly begin to pack their things and leave the auditorium, careful not to do anything to further piss their dungeon master off. You gulp as you watch him pace back and forth on the stage. “Eddie?” you whisper. He gestures for you to be quiet as he continues to ponder how he can express exactly how much you’ve tested his patience today.

Several minutes go by but they feel like forever. You keep your head down, only flicking your eyes up every so often to try and interpret Eddie’s facial expressions. “Y/n, come on up here, please,” he instructs with a monotone. You take a deep breath before standing and accepting your fate.

As you reach the stage, Eddie pulls out his 20-sided die. He rolls it across the table towards you with a quick flick of his wrist. “What does it say?” he asks without making eye contact. You reach for it, holding it up to read the number. “Seven?” you respond, confused. “You’re lucky,” he mumbles under his breath.

Eddie nods very slowly as he places his hand to his chin. Although it feels like he is deciding your fate, you cannot help but to smile at the sight of him. His curly brown hair, gliding over his shoulders. His hellfire shirt, rolled up to his elbows. “Come here,” he demands as he points to his end of the table. You walk over solemnly, unsure of what is to come.

“Pull down your pants,” Eddie says as he places some distance between you two. You shoot him a wide eyed expression, gesturing for him to look at your surroundings. “We’re in the auditorium,” you mutter. “Pull down your pants,” he repeats. You roll your eyes as you unbutton your jeans and slide them down to your ankles. With one of your legs, you reluctantly flick your pants over towards him. Knowing full well if he repeats himself for a third time that he will make you pay for it three times over.

Eddie slowly walks up to you. His hands quickly grasp onto your ass cheeks. He grips on so tightly that the muscle pours from his ringed fingers. A gasp escapes your lips as you watch him lean firmly against your body. “You have tried my patience too many times today, my darling,” he mumbles. His hand slowly raising up your stomach, between your breasts, and lightly onto your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you pout as you watch him with those doe eyes he loves so much. “It’s too late for that,” he hisses through his teeth. With a quick movement, he picks you up and places you atop the table. His other hand provides firm pressure onto your neck. He holds you down, pressed firmly against the table. You peer back at him, a devilish smirk paired with those innocent chocolate eyes.

“Stay,” Eddie demands. When he gets like this, you know it’s your place to just button up and stay quiet. You are no longer a being. You do not get a say. You are his play thing, and for him to enjoy in any way he pleases. Exactly where and who you want to be in this moment. He shimmies your panties down to your knees. You rest, exposed for him. Vulnerable to him.

Eddie abruptly grabs your dangling legs and props your ankles onto the table. Your legs wide for him, just for him. You rest your head against the table, looking up to the dimmed stage lights. All your senses focus simply on touch. Where will he start? Where will he touch you? What will he do to you?

Without saying a word, Eddie bites into your inner thigh. Another gasp escapes your lips as you instinctually raise to grip his soft curls. Your legs clench together, which Eddie must not have liked. He harshly places his cold hands against your inner thighs and pushes down until you are spread wide open for him again.

“Do not do that again,” Eddie instructs sternly against your inner thigh. You feel his breath as he speaks lowly against your sensitive skin. It leaves you shaking, feeling completely overstimulated with the smallest touch. You nod, as you firmly place your head against the table. He trails his tongue up your thigh, leaving shivers and electricity throughout your body. “I didn’t hear you,” he mumbles. With a gulp, you respond, “Yes, master.”

Eddie slowly brings his tongue to the delicate space where your leg meets your groin. He places a light kiss before indulging in another monstrous bite. The pain of his teeth digging across your skin leaves you heaving for breath, but it also makes your entire body hot and excited for more. The air intensifying the pain of the bite once he’s left behind that reddened, bruised spot. Your nipples harden as he sloppily licks closer to your lips.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles as he drags his tongue across your folds. You desperately try not to clench your legs as the sensation almost pulls you over the edge. You whimper as he laps his tongue lightly against your clit. “Hmm, you taste so good,” he moans against you. The vibrations of his low toned words feel incredible on your most sensitive bits.

Another wince lets out as his finger makes its appearance. Your waist jolts at the unexpected feeling, but you quickly try to keep yourself planted to the cold wooden table. Eddie smirks as he rubs a thumb against your thigh. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back into you.

With each tensed lick, you find yourself struggling to hold on. Struggling to keep your legs down, your hips, your head. You want to see Eddie. To see those beautiful eyes peer over you as he laps up your wet pussy. But this isn’t about you. This about him, taking whatever he wants from you. You are still trying to understand where your punishment will come into play.

Your body tenses as Eddie circles his tongue around your hole. “You going to cum for me, dirty girl?” he asks as he grips tightly against your thighs. He feverishly pulls you closer onto his mouth with a huge gesture of his muscles. “Yes, m-master,” you say as you whimper from his touch. He gradually dips his tongue within you. You suck in as much breath as you possibly can. So close you can barely stand it. But how can you communicate? When you’re only allotted the words “Yes, master” without consequence.

Eddie dives himself deep within you. His hardened tongue dragging in and out of you. His thumb softly flicking your bean as he extends deeper within. “I can feel how close you are, baby,” he mumbles against your folds. “You want to cum, don’t you?” he mutters as he lathers his two fingers with your slick. He slowly pushes himself within you. He curls the tips of his fingers to brush against those familiar bumps. “You’re so tight for me, baby. I can feel you tightening around my fingers,” he mumbles as he breathes in heavily.

Eddie’s eyes close as he shifts his focus towards the feeling of his fingers. Your eyes close as you hone into that frivolous pit in your stomach. The way your toes desperately want to curl. How your thighs want to collapse around him, squeezing him against you forever. How you have to split your attention in two by remaining still and enjoying this oncoming mind numbing orgasm. With just one more thrust of his fingers within you, you whimper, “Please can I cum, master?”

“No.”

Your eyes quickly shoot open. Your body so close to the edge, yet told you cannot jump into the pleasure below. Almost leaving you without a choice, Eddie quickly shifts his speed by slowing his thrusts. Slowing his rubbing of your clit. Almost as though he was starting all over again. His lips gently kiss upon your thigh. “That’s one,” he mumbles against your skin.

“No, fucking way,” you loudly express. Finally, you understand where his punishment begins. You are swiftly met with a light slap of your inner thigh. You gasp once again to the burning sensation on your leg, met with the hotness of the air meeting your new love mark.

Eddie places a sweet kiss upon the top of your knee as he leans between your legs. He rests on his hands beside your waist. His hips tight against yours. A sweet feeling of his denim against your groin. “Six more to go,” he whispers. That beautiful smile returns to his face. He gnaws on your knee, finally showing some kind of empathy for your pained pussy. As your clit throbs and your body aches, you slowly lift your head to make eye contact with Eddie Munson. With a huff, you lightly rest your head back and widen your thighs once more.

“Did I really annoy you that bad today?” you ask.

“Yes,” Eddie answers.

  note: hope i made you proud, bestie <3  feedback puhlease

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