#he is idiotic and clumsy . *shoots you*

[000marie198]

Every single fanfic I read which isn't centered on Sonic or isn't made by someone whose fav is Sonic charactersizes him to be either stupid or lazy or idiotic or 'sucks at [insert thing]

I fucking hate this fandom sometimes

[yuzuocha]

KITH? KITH. [PT. I]

kissing hcs for xavier and zayne, let's go. rafayel and sylus will be in pt. 2.

warnings ‣ there might be a little steam, but thats it

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ.

— when one usually shoots a glance towards the sleepy, cryptic, book-and-meat-loving hunter, they would see him as a reticent, passive lover who doesn't show much affection – especially physical ones – towards his partner.

— well, it isn't as if they were completely wrong, per se. however, the impression they had of Xavier when it came to romantic endeavors couldn't have been more wrong – especially when it came to kissing.

— in most cases, his kisses are sweet and gentle, just like his demeanor. he loves planting them all over you. your cheek, your temple, your ear, your shoulder, your palm – you name it, he most definitely enjoys it. hell, even if it's the bridge of your foot, your thigh or the back of your neck.

— he definitely has a preference to give than to receive, though he's more than happy to be gifted with a smooch. his mouth-to-mouth, on the other hand, couldn't be more different.

— it's as if a switch turns on whenever he touches your lips with his.

— xavier didn't actually have any experience in kissing beforehand – or so he says – but his trained instincts, senses and perception swiftly kicked in and turned his clumsy kisses into (literal) breathtaking ones.

— his direct kisses never fail in threatening your knees to buckle underneath his touch, and he knows what drives you insane – nipping your bottom lip and swiping his tongue to soothe the small bite, cupping your neck into a more favorable angle with one hand while the other tipping your chin upwards to make the kiss deeper and your breaths shorter.

— and then xavier sweetly pecks your lips as if he didn't just ravish you in your entirety.

— it's also important to mention that he's hardly shy, contrary to his sloth-like nature. he is bold and open in his ways of affection and would care less for pressing lips together in public regardless if there was no audience or a stadium filled with them.

— still, he'd prefer more private spaces simply because the sight of you is something that is for his eyes only – nobody should ever see that dazed expression of yours other than him. possessive? yeah. but do i love it? yeah??

"very pretty." xavier whispered, breaking the string of saliva that connected him to you. all you could do was weakly nod back like an idiot. you couldn't tell whether the droplets on your face were sweat or tears.

or perhaps it's both.

xavier leaned down once more and gave a final kiss so gentle that your knees threatened to give out. your lips didn't have time to feel cold after xavier pulled away — he had one hand cup your jaw and cheek and had the other hand's thumb brush your swollen lips.

as the corners of his lips curled upwards,

the clumsy xavier had long been buried six feet under — and that's assuming that inexperienced side existed in the first place.

ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ.

— he's a surgeon. he has incredible dexterity and control. just in what world would you ever think he's awkward at kissing of all things? it's kinda ironic that zayne likes kissing despite knowing the amount of germs spread between the two are numbers that'd make any doctor froth at their mouth, though.

— despite his fondness for this activity, you're usually the one who gives small pecks and not the other way around. though, it isn't necessarily his fault – he's a doctor. a chief cardiac surgeon, at that.

— he doesn't sleep as much as he should to begin with, it's difficult to see you outside of check-ups and your occasional crashing at his place, and even at home he has to continue reading papers and study to not lose his edge.

— don't worry, however. he's largely upset about his quantity of kissing you. he just doesn't show it that much – so he uses those feelings to make the scarce kisses count.

— his kisses are slow but steady, allowing half-second pauses for you to breathe and his hand gently around your neck for support – indeed, a true gentleman. at the end of each kiss, it always leaves you feeling oh-so warm and soft, as if he swaddled you up in the coziest blanket in the world.

— during certain moments nightly activities ehehehehe, he still retains that loving finesse and control. he's someone who cherishes every single moment of contact, a perfectionist even in romantic endeavors.

— god bless zayne.

you could feel his hand twisting the door's lock.

clack. chief cardiac surgeon zayne really doesn't want to be interrupted at this moment.

but you couldn't afford to divert your attention to something like that; with one of zayne's hands gently combing through your hair and the other returning to your jaw, his gentle yet deep kisses only grew in intensity. the taste of sweet mint lingered, but it didn't do much in cooling you down.

he pulled away for half a second, letting you exhale and take in another breath.

"it's astounding how you dropped by just when i was missing you most."

you were about to respond, yet zayne returned to kissing – they were mellow and delicate yet meltingly profound, very much attuned to his inner nature.

it was a long moment before zayne opened his eyes and released your mouth with a soft 'pop'. he locked gazes with your dazed, nearly lovesick expression, his eyes somehow growing softer than his kisses at the sight. he trailed his hand towards yours while looping his fingers around your own.

"is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

you were too busy melting in your feelings for him to construct a response.

tysm for reading! comment down below or message me if you'd like to be a part of the taglist, and if you can, please do consider reblogging! it helps out a lot ;; w ;; and and!! my inbox is open for requests! PLEASE SEND SOME ASDJQVEJWHE I NEED THEM

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yuzuocha © 2024 — all rights reserved.

[pucksandpower]

Something Sweet

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the story of your relationship … as told through gelato (in honor of Charles opening an ice cream shop)

The warm spring sun beats down on your face as you stroll along the winding streets of Monaco, gelato in hand. You savor each sweet bite, the rich hazelnutty flavor melting across your tongue.

This is bliss.

You just moved here to attend university and every day feels like a dream come true exploring your new home principality.

The picturesque buildings with their sun-baked stucco walls and colorful tiled roofs line the narrow alleyways. Locals bustle about, chatting rapidly in French as scooters whiz by. The air carries a tang of salt from the glittering Mediterranean just beyond the palace ramparts.

You could get used to this.

Suddenly, a body careens around the corner, slamming right into you. You stumble backward as the gelato goes flying, splattering across the quaint cobblestones in a sticky mess.

“Oh mon dieu, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” A frantic voice rings out as a pair of strong hands steady you before you can topple over completely.

You look up, slightly dazed, into a pair of warm green eyes filled with concern. The man is clad in athletic shorts and a snug t-shirt, damp with sweat from an obvious run. Tousled chestnut hair flops across his forehead in an effortlessly tousled way.

He’s … incredibly handsome.

Like, stupid levels of handsome.

“I’m fine, really,” you stammer out, feeling your cheeks flush as his hands linger almost ... protectively on your arms. “Just clumsy me dropping my gelato.”

He grimaces, following your gaze to the melting puddle. “I’m such an idiot, let me replace that for you.” His face is the picture of remorse as he gently releases his grip.

You wave him off with an awkward chuckle. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal ...”

But he’s already shaking his head adamantly. “No, no I insist. That looked delicious and it’s entirely my fault.” He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know this amazing little place that makes the best gelato in Monaco. My treat to make up for barreling into you like that.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his earnestness as you nod slowly in acceptance. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

“Perfect!” He beams at you, that bright smile crinkling the corners of his eyes in the most delightful way. “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as well as Charles begins leading you deeper into the winding backstreets, clearly knowing exactly where he’s going. You can’t help stealing sidelong glances at him as you walk, admiring the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders visible through his fitted shirt.

Finally, he ducks into a tiny alleyway, stopping before an unassuming doorway you surely would have just passed right by. A faded sign hangs above reading Gelatomania in curling script.

“This place is my favorite,” Charles confides in a conspiratorial murmur as he holds the door for you. “Family-run for generations and miles better than any of the touristy places.”

You step inside and are immediately enveloped in a thick, sugary aroma that makes your mouth water. A few little metal tables with rickety chairs are squeezed into the compact space, but it’s the immaculate glass cases lining the walls that draw your eye.

Filled with every flavor imaginable, the gelato looks utterly divine — from naturally green pistachio to decadent chocolate hazelnut to tangy lemon. An older woman with a grandmotherly face greets Charles like an old friend in rapid Italian from behind the counter.

He responds easily in kind before turning back to you. “What’ll it be? I recommend the hazelnut again if you liked your first one.”

You nod and watch, utterly charmed, as Charles places your order for a fresh hazelnut gelato with a deferential “per favore” and that knee-weakening smile of his. He gets a simple vanilla for himself before paying and leading you over to a little iron table outside in a sliver of sunshine.

You take your first bite and … oh my god. This is gelato from the heavens themselves. You can’t contain the downright blissful moan that escapes your lips as the divinely creamy, rich concoction melts across your tongue.

“Good, right?” Charles looks incredibly pleased at your rapturous reaction as he digs into his own treat with gusto.

“This might be the single most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” you admit fervently between increasingly enthusiastic licks and bites. “How have I survived this long without knowing this place existed?”

Charles throws his head back with a full-bellied laugh at your passionate proclamation. God, even his laugh is unfairly attractive ...

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he grins around a mouthful of velvety vanilla. “I’ve been coming here since before I could walk. Quickly became my favorite gelato spot.”

“You’ve lived here a while then?” You ask between savoring bites of the impossibly luscious confection. “I only just moved for university.”

Charles nods as he licks a stray drip from his thumb. “Yeah, born and raised a few streets over actually.”

There’s a slight lull as you both focus on thoroughly demolishing your gelato for a few contented minutes, exchanging occasional muffled hums of sheer delight. The warm sun filtering through the awning casts a soft golden glow over the little alleyway, lending everything a dreamlike haze of perfection.

“So beyond being from here, do you have any exciting hobbies or interests?” You ask eventually, dragging the conversation back into the open.

“Well ...” Charles’ expression morphs into one of almost sheepish amusement as he leans back in his rickety chair. “You could say my hobby is also kind of my job. I’m actually a Formula 1 driver, believe it or not.”

You damn near choke on your next bite as his words register. “You’re what? As in ... a race car driver? In Formula 1? Seriously?”

There’s no way this stunning man is being truthful. Sure, he looks like he could be some kind of athlete with that perfectly toned physique. But a literal professional race car driver? The thought is almost too crazy to be believed.

Charles just laughs again at your dumbfounded reaction, clearly used to this response as he nods. “Seriously! I compete for Ferrari if you follow the races at all?”

You think you might pass out from shock as everything clicks into place — the athletic build, the way people seemed to stare as he passed them on the street, the laid-back confidence and easy smile of someone incredibly comfortable in their own skin ...

“Oh my god, you’re ... you’re Charles freaking Leclerc, aren’t you?” You gape at him in abject disbelief. “As in, the guy literally plastered on the huge billboard across from my apartment? Leading the championship? Incredibly talented and famous?”

He lets out an almost bashful chuckle at your rapid-fire incredulous questioning, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Well, I don’t know about incredibly talented or famous. But yes, that’s me — just your average local race car driver currently making an absolute mess while eating gelato.”

Here you sit, having just shared an utterly divine dessert while shamelessly ogling one of the most popular and well-known athletes in the damn world … and he’s acting like it’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Like you’re just two regular people enjoying a sweet treat together on a sunny day.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now,” you murmur, shaking your head slowly. “Do you have any idea how many people would kill to literally just ... sit across from you like this while you eat mediocre gas station ice cream, much less the world’s best gelato? I’m … stunned you’re so nonchalant about this whole thing.”

Charles merely flashes you a self-deprecating grin as he pops the last bite of cone into his mouth. “Well, to me you’re not some screaming fangirl, but just a lovely new friend I enjoy gelato with. Though my ego certainly appreciates the compliments.”

He winks at you impishly and you feel an unwitting smile tugging at the corners of your own lips despite your lingering disbelief. You suppose being surrounded by such incredible wealth and luxury every day in Monaco, Charles likely doesn’t register it anymore. Not to mention the clearly down-to-earth personality he seems to possess given that genuine humility.

The hours just seem to slip effortlessly by then as the two of you continue to chat and laugh and bask in the perfect afternoon contentment of the moment. Charles regales you with ridiculous behind-the-scenes stories about increasingly crazy bets with his friends and crew during the season. You share equally hilarious tales of your own coming-of-age mishaps as an overeager teenager.

At some point, you both reach for your long-empty dishes simultaneously, fingers brushing in a spark of contact that sends your pulse stuttering. Charles doesn’t pull back, letting his hand linger outrageously close to yours as his warm gaze stays locked intensely on your face.

You try to swallow past a suddenly dry throat as the atmosphere shifts abruptly, suddenly heavy with the hot crackle of unmistakable chemistry and unspoken tension. But then, just like that, the moment passes as quickly as it came.

Your phone buzzes loudly in your pocket with a text, the notification startling you both back to reality. Charles sits back, clearing his throat slightly as you pull your hand away to quickly check the message.

It’s from your roommate asking when you’ll be home for dinner and if you need her to start cooking.

You glance up at Charles with an apologetic grimace. “I should probably head back. I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.”

He blinks rapidly before seeming to visibly shake himself. “Right, of course! Time really got away from us, didn’t it?”

You stand as Charles rises smoothly to his feet as well, shoving both hands casually in his pockets. “So ... I had a really great time with you today,” he says carefully, something almost hesitant flickering across his face. “And I’d love a chance to take you out again sometime soon, if you’re interested? Maybe grab dinner when I’m back in town?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the unmistakable request for an actual date. With Charles freaking Leclerc no less ...

Tamping down your sudden nerves, you nod slowly as a shy smile blossoms on your lips. “I’d really like that,” you admit truthfully. “Let’s definitely do dinner whenever you’re free.”

His whole expression brightens immediately at your affirmation, lips stretching in a wide grin of pure delight. “Perfect! I’ll be back from my next race in just over a week then. How about exchanging numbers so I can let you know as soon as I’ve returned?”

You quickly rattle off your number as Charles punches it into his phone before doing the same for you. As if sealing some unspoken deal, he sticks out his hand to shake yours, that warm roughened grip lingering perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary.

“I’ll text you soon then,” Charles murmurs intently, that spark of heat flickering in his eyes again. “Promise me you’ll say yes this time.”

You can only nod mutely, mouth gone bone-dry at the pointed words and heated look washing over you. Charles maintains that blistering eye contact and heart-stalling grip on your palm for another loaded handful of seconds, leaving you dizzy with giddy anticipation.

Then, just like that, he releases your hand with one final squeeze before taking a step back, seemingly satisfied by your stunned agreement. Charles shoots you one last lingering look and crooked grin before turning to stride easily back the way you came.

You remain rooted in place for a long moment, utterly dazed by the entire surreal scenario as you watch his broad shoulders and narrow waist disappear down the narrow alleyway.

Today started out as any other nothing-out-of-the-ordinary spring day in your new home. But now … now you have an actual date scheduled with an unbelievably charming and disarmingly down-to-earth racing superstar.

A giddy giggle bubbles up from deep in your chest as reality finally settles in. Who could have ever predicted that bumping into your new acquaintance — quite literally — would lead to not only discovering the most heavenly gelato on the planet, but lining up a date with an internationally famous athlete?

Suddenly, your bright future studying in Monaco just got about ten thousand times more interesting …

***

The week passes by in a blur of anticipation after your initial meeting with Charles. You can barely focus during lectures, your mind constantly wandering to that charming grin and those warm eyes crinkling at the corners whenever he laughed.

Finally, the evening you’ve been eagerly awaiting arrives. You’ve just finished getting ready — pulling on a flowy sundress and brushing out your hair one last time — when your phone buzzes with a new text.

I’m outside whenever you’re ready for our date night. Looking forward to seeing you again 😘

You can’t bite back your giddy smile as you quickly reply that you’re heading out before taking one last steadying breath.

It’s just Charles … the internationally famous and absurdly handsome Formula 1 driver you’ve somehow managed to snag a date with.

No big deal at all.

The evening air carries a pleasantly cool breeze as you exit your apartment building, scanning the idling line of vehicles for Charles’ car. You spot him immediately, leaning against the gleaming metallic side of what you now recognize as an eye-wateringly expensive Ferrari.

Charles looks … unfairly gorgeous. He’s shed his athletic wear in favor of a simple white linen shirt and tailored slacks that somehow make him appear even more effortlessly suave. His hair is artfully tousled and damn if those clothes don’t accentuate every hard plane and corded muscle of his built frame.

You must be staring because suddenly Charles is pushing off from the car and straightening to his full height, those intense eyes crinkling warmly as soon as they land on you.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs appreciatively once you’ve drawn closer, making a show of trailing his gaze slowly up and down your figure. You’re abruptly grateful for the dusky twilight hiding your furious blush at the blatant admiration in his tone.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out without your voice shaking too noticeably. “You don’t look half bad yourself, race car man.”

Charles throws back his head with one of those deep-bellied laughs you’re quickly becoming addicted to. “Why thank you, gelato girl.” He shoots you a wink before surprising you by gallantly offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You take it without hesitation, reveling in the solid warmth of his bicep pressed against your side as Charles leads you to the waiting glossy black sports car. He opens the door for you like an old-fashioned gentleman, closing it carefully once you’re tucked inside the buttery leather interior.

The engine roars to life with a powerful rumble and you can’t resist shooting Charles an impressed look as he deftly maneuvers out onto the street.

“You know, I’m starting to think this little hobby of yours might not be too bad of a gig,” you tease lightly, waving a hand at the sleek interior compartment.

“I can’t complain,” Charles volleys back with a crooked grin, seamlessly navigating the tight turns of the old city. “Sometimes they even let me drive in circles really fast just for fun.”

You roll your eyes at his retort, but can’t quite wipe the smile off your face as Charles guns the engine, the car surging forward in a burst of speed and power. Clearly the man knows how to leverage any opportunity to show off those expert driving skills … not that you mind one bit.

Eventually, Charles pulls up in front of an unassuming doorway you never would have noticed tucked down a quiet side street. The understated sign above simply reads Trattoria Giovanni.

“This place has been run by the same Italian family for over fifty years,” Charles explains as he holds the door for you. “Best authentic cuisine in the city, but you would never find it unless you knew where to look.”

The interior appears to have been plucked directly from a rustic Tuscan villa — burnished wooden beams criss-crossing the curved ceilings and terracotta tiles underfoot. You breathe in deeply, savoring the mouthwatering aromas of garlic, tomato sauce, and fresh bread wafting from the open kitchen.

An older man with a thick mustache and crisp white apron greets Charles immediately in fluent Italian, ushering you both back to a cozy alcove table secluded in the very rear. He pours you both generous glasses of deep red wine before disappearing again with a conspiratorial wink in your direction.

“So, how was your race?” You ask between sips once you and Charles are alone, genuinely curious about the difficult career he’s managed to carve out.

He shrugs one broad shoulder almost dismissively. “Decent enough, I suppose. Grabbed another podium finish, but didn’t quite have the pace for the win.” There’s no disappointment or frustration in his tone as he speaks, just a simple statement of fact.

“I’m endlessly in awe that you treat accomplishments like that so casually,” you admit with a shake of your head. “Finishing in the top three in Formula 1 seems like the kind of thing most people would be over the moon about.”

Charles lets out a low chuckle at that, leaning towards you over the small table with eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well maybe I need to find a new way to impress someone like you then.”

You open your mouth to respond with a playful retort of your own, but Charles’ gaze has already strayed to somewhere past your shoulder.

“Ah, perfect timing then. Here’s Giovanni himself with our orders.”

Sure enough, the older man you spotted earlier bustles up with a tray overflowing with piping hot plates of food. He doles out the dishes methodically while rattling off a stream of explanations about preparations and ingredients that have clearly been passed down for many generations.

Everything looks and smells utterly divine — from the heaping bowl of glistening spaghetti blanketed in a simmering tomato sauce to the golden-baked chicken drenched in rosemary and olive oil. The endlessly affable Giovanni even sets down a small ceramic dish full of creamy pale cheese, patting Charles on the shoulder.

“The burrata for you and your lady friend. Freshly made this morning by my wife,” he declares proudly before whisking himself away again.

For the next blissful hour or two, you and Charles completely lose yourselves in this veritable feast for the senses. You savor each and every decadent bite — moaning around the pillowy strands of spaghetti and tearing off chunks of the crusty, herb-brushed breads to soak up the savory juices.

Charles, for his part, dives into the meal with just as much enthusiasm, occasionally reaching over to snag a bite off of your plate until you resort to smacking his wandering fork away between fits of laughter.

Stuffed and utterly content, you both eventually push away your long-cleared dishes to nurse the final sips of your wine as the evening stretches languorously on. You fall into these simple moments like an old habit by now — trading comfortable silences and contented looks between impassioned recounts of childhood anecdotes or musings about life.

Finally, as the candles on the small wooden tables begin to gutter and wane, Charles summons over your waiter to settle the check with a few murmured words and one of those knee-weakening smiles. Rising smoothly, he extends his hand in a wordless invitation for you to join him back out into the balmy evening.

This time, instead of heading for the car, Charles tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow before choosing a new direction — down a maze of narrow streets until you finally emerge along the harbor’s edge. Strings of twinkling lights reflect off the lapping waves while the soft strains of background music filter out from somewhere nearby.

“Feel like grabbing a little dessert to walk off that incredible meal?” Charles asks in a low murmur, bumping your shoulder conspiratorially.

You shoot him an incredulous look even as you nod. “You mean in addition to the literal feast we both just had?”

Charles tugs you closer to his side until your hips graze together as you match strides. “There’s always room for gelato,” he counters with an arched brow. “Besides, when in Monaco ...”

Any further protests die on your lips as Charles guides you around another tight corner to reveal that familiar cheerful gelato shop from your initial meeting. The old woman behind the counter greets you both like regulars already, no doubt thanks to Charles’ frequent patronage.

You maneuver through the small line until it’s your turn to order. “I think I’ll go with the tiramisu flavor this time,” you decide, mouth already watering at the prospect of that rich coffee and creamy goodness. “What about you? Mixing it up or still sticking with the basics?”

Charles shakes his head resolutely as he hands over a few crisp bills to pay for your treats. “Trust me, a heaping helping of simple vanilla is just as gratifying as all those overly complicated flavor combinations.”

You balk at his slander, bumping his shoulder with your own without any real heat. “How dare you insult my incredible palette like that?” You glare at him in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have some of the most refined gelato taste in all of Monaco now.”

“Oh yeah?” Charles tips his chin down with a challenging smirk twisting his full lips. “Well what if I told you that vanilla is scientifically proven to be the most popular and beloved flavor in existence?”

“By who? Basic boring people?” You volley back mercilessly, eagerly leaning into the playful banter now. “If anything, those findings just demonstrated how sadly uncreative society at large is.”

Charles barks out a booming laugh as he grabs your hand and tugs you back out of the shop, gelato in the other. “You heathen! We’re clearly going to need to educate you on the finer points of flavor appreciation.”

Your eyes narrow dangerously even as you let yourself be lead to a nearby bench overlooking the gently lapping waves. “Oh, you’re on, Leclerc. Let’s see if your vanilla snobbery holds up after a taste of tiramisu heaven.”

You scoop up an exaggeratedly generous spoonful of the divinely rich, creamy gelato and make a show of savoring it with overstated moans of delight. “Oh my god, this is so good. Here, you have to try this! It’s life-changing.”

Charles wrinkles his nose even as you wave the spoonful enticingly in front of him. “Nice try but I would never cheat on vanilla!”

The two of you devolve into helpless laughter at that point, dissolving into breathless giggles over the ridiculous debate getting more outrageous by the minute. Finally, you relent in the battle, settling back into the cool metal of the bench and turning your face up to the inky sea of stars glittering overhead.

“You’re right though — sometimes simple really is best,” you admit finally in a softer tone, slowly licking another sweet bite off your spoon.

Charles hums in agreement next to you, shuffling closer until your arms brush together with body heat and contact. “The classics never go out of style.”

The next comfortable silence stretches out between you as you take your time savoring your treats while simultaneously drinking in the breathtaking view laid out before you. The water laps almost hypnotically at the shoreline, twinkling reflection of docked yachts bobbing gently on the calm surface.

A breeze skates across your bare arms, raising a faint ripple of goosebumps along your skin. Charles notices immediately, shifting even nearer until he can shrug out of the lightweight jacket he had been wearing.

Without a word, he swings the soft fabric around your shoulders, tucking it securely around your front. You burrow instinctively into the material, the lingering body heat and remnants of his cologne wrapping you up in an cocoon of soothing warmth and intoxicating comfort.

With your free hand, you toy idly with the collar until Charles’ arm comes up to curl around your shoulders, effectively enveloping you into his solid frame. You let your cheek tip onto the firm muscle of his arm as Charles squeezes you closer with a contented exhale.

Time becomes meaningless suspended in that perfect sea-side bubble, waves flowing rhythmically while you enjoy every last savored bite of your melting treats. You let the quiet inevitability of dropping your head onto Charles’ shoulder wash over you, his familiar cologne invading your senses until your entire world narrows to just him.

When Charles polishes off the final bite of his cone and you go to shift away, another cool gust skitters across the harbor. He tightens the arm curved around you, making no move to let you up or leave the cozy haven you’ve made.

“I could get used to evenings like this, you know,” he murmurs eventually, lips brushing the top of your head. “Just taking it slow and savoring each other’s company without a single worry or care beyond where to find the best gelato.”

You hum in sleepy agreement, luxuriating in the casual intimacy of having Charles wrapped so protectively around you. Part of you can scarcely believe how instantaneous and natural this connection has blossomed between you already. But another part feels like you’ve finally found your soul’s missing piece slotting seamlessly into place after stumbling around lost and incomplete for so long without ever realizing it.

The two of you remain suspended in that perfect, tranquil bubble for what could be minutes or hours more. You’ve completely lost track of any sense of time beyond the lullaby of the gentle waves and occasional murmur of Charles’ breathing ruffling your hair.

Eventually though, his stirring signals a slow return to the real world as Charles regretfully extricates himself from your entwined position with clear reluctance.

“I should probably get you back before your roommate starts to worry,” he says remorsefully as he slides off the bench to offer you a steadying hand up.

You accept it without hesitation, but can’t resist clinging to his jacket still cocooned around your shoulders, unwilling to shrug off that lingering cocoon of comfort and safety just yet. Charles notices, allowing a tiny grin to quirk one side of his mouth upwards as he takes in your refusal to part with it.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs with unmistakable heat in those hypnotizing eyes. “I may have to let you hang on to that one for a while.”

Your mouth goes abruptly dry at the blatant implications in his tone, but you manage a coy smile in return as you turn to make your way back towards wherever Charles has his car crookedly parked.

The streets are all but abandoned by the time you arrive at the discreet entrance of your apartment building. Charles hesitates a split second before rounding the front of the gleaming Ferrari to face you properly on the quiet sidewalk.

“Thank you for an incredible evening,” you say honestly, gazing up at his silhouette in the dim glow of the streetlamps. “I don’t think I can even put into words how special you’ve managed to make me feel these past couple weeks.”

His expression softens instantly. One calloused palm comes up to tenderly cup your jaw, tilting your face up towards his with feather-light reverence.

“The pleasure has been all mine, I assure you,” Charles rumbles in a low tone that steals your breath away. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize just how remarkable you are, ma belle.”

Your eyes flutter shut without conscious thought as his nose brushes yours. Charles’ lips glide torturously against your cheek leaving a blazing trail to the very corner of your mouth.

The softest, most infinitely gentle press of satin flesh on flesh and then he’s pulling back — his ragged exhale warm and intoxicating against your tingling lips. You chase his retreat on instinct, but Charles is already withdrawing further with clear reluctance.

“I’m afraid I don’t trust myself to take things slow quite yet if I stay,” he murmurs in a strained rasp, pupils blown wide and dark. “But I do hope you’ll allow me to make this our new gelato tradition from now on ...”

It takes you several faltering attempts to find your voice again, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of that lightning bolt of affection. Finally, you manage a jerky nod, sliding one trembling hand over his where it still cups your cheek.

“I want that more than anything,” you confess in a hushed tone. “Just ... promise me we’ll see each other soon.”

He releases a shuddering breath of unbridled relief, dipping his forehead to rest against yours. “Soon,” Charles vows lowly. “I promise.”

You stare up into his earnest eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Charles’ lips quirk in that lopsided grin you already adore so much. “I’m counting on it.”

With obvious reluctance, he finally steps away, snagging your hand to press one last searing kiss to your knuckles that has your heart stuttering all over again. Charles holds your gaze as you carefully back away towards the entrance, unwilling or unable to fully turn your back until the very last moment.

You chance a glance over your shoulder as you reach the front doors. Charles is still there, unmoving in a pool of streetlight beside his idling Ferrari, hands shoved in his pockets as he tracks your every step until you’ve slipped safely inside.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you lean back against the cool stone wall, fingers coming up to ghost across your still-tingling lips almost disbelievingly.

When you finally muster the courage to peek through the glass once more, Charles has moved to lean against the side of his car, head tilted back as he stares into the lobby with an unmistakable softness etched across those chiseled features.

You can’t resist pressing your palm to the pane in a gesture you know he’ll recognize. Sure enough, Charles’ intense gaze instantly snaps to lock on you from across the quiet street, expression melting into pure adoration and wonder. His lips shape the same promise he uttered just moments ago — soon — as your own quirk in a delighted smile.

One last impulsive spark of inspiration has you playfully blowing him a single kiss through the barrier between you. Charles catches the invisible token easily, hand flying up to press over that broad chest as he throws back his head with a laugh that you can’t hear but imagine with vivid clarity.

You stand there transfixed, drinking in every last detail of him — the effortless elegance he carries himself with, the striking planes of his handsome face, and those beautiful eyes glittering with a thousand unspoken promises under the streetlamps.

Finally, with your own vow to reunite pulsing between you, Charles slides behind the wheel of his car. The powerful engine roars to life, twin beams from the headlights sweeping up to briefly wash through the windows of the lobby in a silent farewell before he’s peeling away into the night back towards the glittering city center.

You remain at the entrance for several long minutes basking in the memory of Charles’ phantom embrace still clinging to your skin. Only once his Ferrari has faded into the distance do you finally turn towards the elevator up to your apartment — every footstep lighter than air in the wake of an evening that lived up to even your wildest dreams of romantic splendor.

The simple joy and humble pleasure of a perfect scoop of creamy gelato will always hold untold meaning now as the spark marking the start of something beautiful blossoming between you and Charles.

And, as you finally drift off that night with a permanent smile etched across your face, you know without a shadow of a doubt that no flavor in the world could ever compare to the sweet indulgence of a life together just waiting to be savored and explored.

***

The warm spring breeze carries the sweet floral scents of the Brera Botanical Garden through the air as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles. His fingers are laced through yours, his thumb gently stroking over your knuckles. You can’t help stealing glances at his handsome profile — the defined jawline, those soft kiss-curled lips, those kind green eyes that always seem to be smiling even when the rest of his face isn’t.

“What are you looking at?” Charles says with an amused grin, catching you staring again. You just shake your head and squeeze his hand tighter.

“Nothing. Just admiring the view,” you tease. Charles laughs that bright, infectious laugh of his that never fails to make your heart flutter.

You come to a stop beneath a blossoming cherry tree, pale pink petals floating down around you. Charles turns to face you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/N … there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he begins, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. You tilt your head curiously. “You know how passionate I am about racing, about Formula 1. It’s been my dream since I was a little boy.”

“Of course,” you nod, unable to stop a small smile. Charles’ love for motorsports is one of the many things you have come to adore about him.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Charles continues, taking both your hands in his. “And I’ve realized that I want to have something else in my life too. A … passion project, you could say. Something that’s away from all the spotlight and pressure.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you try to imagine what he could mean. Charles has spoken before about potentially getting more involved in charity work or environmentalism on top of his racing career. But the almost childlike excitement dancing in his eyes tells you this is something different.

“I’m going to open a gelato shop,” he blurts out finally. You blink dumbly.

“A … gelato shop?” You repeat slowly. Out of all the possibilities, that was definitely not what you were expecting.

“Yes!” Charles grins broadly, clearly delighted by your surprise. “Think about it,Y/N. What’s more perfect than gelato made right here in the heart of Milano? And I’ve already found the ideal location — a little shop just across the street from here. Can’t you just picture it?”

He starts gesturing animatedly, that bright smile never leaving his face as he outlines his grand vision. You can’t help getting caught up in his infectious enthusiasm, even if the idea still seems a bit random.

“I’m going to call it Lec,” Charles says with a proud smile. You let out an undignified snort of laughter.

“Lec? Like your last name?” You shake your head in amusement. He looks almost offended by your reaction.

“No, no, not just my last name,” he corrects you seriously. “Lec as in … our last name. Yours and mine.”

The words hang in the air as realization slowly starts to dawn on you. You open and close your mouth dumbly as Charles takes a deep breath, sliding off the path onto one knee on the ground before you. With shaking hands, he pulls out a small black box from his pocket and flips it open to reveal the most stunning diamond ring you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N Y/L/N … you are my world, my everything,” Charles’ voice is thick with emotion as he gazes up at you. “I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else by my side. I want to wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with you beside me forever.”

Tears are already welling in your eyes, one hand pressed to your trembling lips as you listen to the beautiful words.

“Will you ...” Charles’ voice catches in his throat and he has to clear it before continuing. “Will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife? Will you marry me?”

The last few words come out in a rush of breath. You’re vaguely aware of several other people in the gardens who’ve stopped to watch, but all you can see is Charles’ face — hopeful and vulnerable and so full of pure adoration for you.

“Yes!” You finally manage to choke out through your joyful tears. “Oh my god, yes! Yes of course I’ll marry you!”

Pure relief and blissful ecstasy bursts across Charles’ face at your answer. With hands trembling just as badly as yours, he eases the glittering ring out of the box and onto your finger where it nestles perfectly, the diamond catching the dappled sunlight.

Before you can even look at it properly, Charles is on his feet again, pulling you into his embrace and spinning you around in a deliriously happy circle. You cling to him, laughing and crying at the same time as he peppers every inch of your face with kisses — your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose.

Finally, inevitably, his mouth finds yours in a long, deep, loving kiss that has your knees feeling weak. You get lost in the warmth of his arms around you, the gentleness of his hands cradling your face, the tenderness of his soft lips moving reverently against yours.

When you finally part, you’re both smiling so much it almost hurts, foreheads pressed together as you share the same breath. Charles brushes away a few stray tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you so much, mon cœur,” he murmurs softly. You mouth the words back to him before stealing another lingering kiss.

Hand-in-hand once more, Charles leads you out of the botanical gardens and across the street. You come to a stop in front of a quaint yet sizable storefront, the windows covered in brown paper and a faded For Lease sign still hanging crookedly in the door.

“Here it is,” Charles says, gesturing up at the building with undisguised pride. “What do you think?”

You take it in slowly, trying to envision what the space might look like once renovated and filled with cozy seating and the alluring scents of freshly-made gelato.

You picture the two of you working side-by-side behind the counter when Charles doesn’t have a race, laughing and bantering as you serve up delicious treats for smiling customers.

It’s such an endearingly normal, domestic dream compared to the fast-paced frenzy of the Formula 1 lifestyle. But standing here with your new fiancé, it feels absolutely perfect.

“I think … I think it’s going to be incredible,” you lean into Charles’ side and wrap your arms around his trim waist. He responds by kissing your temple and pulling you closer.

“Just think,” he says happily, his warm breath ruffling your hair. “We’ll be the owners of the best little gelateria in all of Milano.

“Sounds like heaven,” you smile. “Just be sure to make plenty of hazelnut and tiramisu for me.”

“Done and done,” he promises solemnly. “Though you know vanilla will always be number one in my book.”

“Oh really?” You arch an eyebrow challengingly. “Is that so?”

Without warning, you loop your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a long, lingering kiss. You can feel him melting into your embrace, his arms snaking securely around your waist.

When you finally manage to pull apart again, you’re both slightly flushed and out of breath. Charles’ usually perfectly tousled hair is charmingly mussed from running your fingers through it. He looks at you with such naked affection and desire that your heart flutters.

“You know what?” He murmurs huskily, resting his forehead against yours. “I take it back. You’re definitely my favorite flavor. And I can’t wait to start this next chapter with you, mon amour.”

And with that promise lingering sweetly between you, Charles takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply once more, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the embrace.

You can taste forever on his lips.

When you finally part, grinning giddily at each other, Charles takes your hand and leads you back towards your next adventure. Whatever lies ahead, you know you’ll take it on fearlessly and joyously, side-by-side with the man you love more than anything in this world.

***

The reception hall is a whirlwind of joy and celebration as you take in the scene, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. The elegant decorations, the twinkling lights, and the smiling faces of your loved ones surrounding you all blur together in a beautiful haze.

You can scarcely believe this day has finally arrived — the day you’ve dreamed of for so long.

You turn to Charles, his warm green eyes sparkling with so much love, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his million-watt smile making your knees go weak.

This incredible man is now your husband.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, taking your hand and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “Having fun, mon amour?”

A joyful laugh escapes your lips as you nod enthusiastically. “More than I ever thought possible. I’m just … I’m so happy, Charles. I can’t believe we’re actually married!”

He chuckles, that rich laugh that never fails to make you melt. “Believe it, Mrs. Leclerc. You’re stuck with me forever now.” His expression softens as he cups your cheek tenderly. “I love you so much. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You lean into his touch, savoring the moment. “I love you too, Mr. Leclerc. More than anything.”

A throat clears behind you, and you whirl around to see Arthur, your new brother-in-law, grinning mischievously.

“If you two lovebirds are done making everyone else nauseous, it’s time to cut the cake!” He teases, jerking his head towards the lavish gelato cake that sits on the dessert table.

Charles throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have someone as amazing as my wife to make gooey eyes at.”

Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever. Get your butts over there before I eat the whole thing myself.”

With a wink at you, Charles takes your hand and leads you towards the dessert table, the crowd of guests parting like the Red Sea to let you through. Your heart does a little flip as the magnificent gelato cake comes into view — a towering masterpiece of creamy gelato in vanilla, hazelnut, and tiramisu, all artfully swirled together and decorated with fresh fruit and chocolate shavings.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper in awe, giving Charles’ hand a squeeze.

He pulls you into his side with a content smile. “Not as perfect as you.”

The crowd applauds as you approach the cake, and a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles rises up. Straightening your shoulders with a grin, you pick up the gleaming cake knife and lock eyes with Charles, suddenly feeling bold.

“Ready to do this, husband?” You ask with a teasing lilt.

His eyes blaze with undisguised desire. “More than ready, wife.”

Together, you slice into the towering gelato cake, the creamy filling oozing out and already making your mouth water. Once you have a generous slice on a plate, you scoop up a spoonful and lock eyes with Charles again, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

His pupils dilate as he catches your meaning, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, mon cœur.”

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You take a step closer, holding the spoonful of gelato up temptingly.

Charles tips his head back with a groan. “You’re killing me here.”

“Good thing you have me to bring you back to life then,” you quip, pressing the spoon to his lips.

He opens obediently, letting you slide the gelato into his mouth with agonizing slowness. His eyelids flutter shut as the flavors explode over his tongue, and he actually moans — deep and guttural and utterly sinful.

A choked sound comes from somewhere in the crowd. “Oh please, get a room!” Joris, Charles’ best friend and best man, calls out with a mixture of amusement and mortification.

Charles doesn’t even open his eyes, simply raising one middle finger in Joris’ direction as he savors the last of the gelato. When his tongue finally darts out to catch a stray bit on his lips, you feel an unexpected flare of heat low in your belly.

Okay, two can play at this game.

Deliberately holding Charles’ heated gaze, you dip your finger into the gelato drippings on the plate and slowly, so slowly, bring it up to your lips. You let the very tip of your tongue dart out to catch the sticky sweetness, swirling it around luxuriously. His Adam’s apple bobs as he watches you, jaw tense.

That’s it.

You slip your finger into your mouth fully, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck the gelato off with an utterly obscene sound. Charles’ knees actually buckle, and he grips the table behind him for support, pupils blown wide.

“You are so dead,” he growls under his breath, low and dangerous.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a breathy giggle, drunk with a dizzying cocktail of desire and sheer bliss. Charles takes a half step closer, his eyes burning into yours. You quickly scoop up another fingerful of gelato, desperate to keep pushing those buttons and draw out that delicious intensity.

But before you can bring it to your lips, quick as a flash, Charles is on you. He drags you flush against his solid form, his free hand cupping the back of your neck to angle your mouth up to his. The scorching kiss steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to his lapels for purchase.

When he finally breaks away, his eyes are blazing with unconcealed want.

“You missed a spot,” he rasps.

Then he’s ducking his head, and with one torturously slow lick, he clears the stray bit of gelato from the tip of your nose. The heat of his tongue on your overly sensitive skin makes you whimper.

The catcalls and whistles from your guests fade into white noise as you melt against your husband, lost in the endless depths of his hungry gaze. Screw being appropriate — you’ll give them all a show to remember if you have to.

“Fuck, I love you,” Charles rumbles, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire.

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again — deep and thorough and all-consuming. You sigh into his mouth, bunching the fine material of his tuxedo jacket in your fists to pull him even closer. His hand slides from your neck into your hair, cradling your head reverently as he pours every ounce of his love and passion into the kiss.

An eternity later, he breaks away with a ragged breath, resting his forehead against yours. “I think it’s time to get out of here, don’t you?”

You can only nod breathlessly, already imagining the deliciously wicked things he has in store. As if in a trance, you allow him to take your hand and lead you towards the exit, shouting and wolf whistles following in your wake.

Just before you slip out of the hall, you hear Pierre Gasly’s teasing voice behind you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two!”

Charles pauses only long enough to call over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“But there’s nothing you wouldn’t do!”

Then he’s sweeping you into his arms with a playful growl, carrying you into your new life together as man and wife. Peals of laughter and cheers chase you down the hall, but you only have eyes for each other in this perfect moment.

You’re married to the love of your life. You have forever with this incredible man. And if the wedding is anything to go by, forever is going to be deliciously amazing.

Literally.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl was surprised to see you standing on the other side of his door. He'd limped himself over from the couch, expecting Carol to be dropping off yet another strange casserole concoction, and he'd debated about answering at all, unsure if he could stomach another baked tray of decade expired sardines and random foraged ingredients. "Oh—hey," he said, his stomach jumping into his chest at the mere sight of you.

"Aren't you supposed to be horizontal?" you asked him, glancing at the swelling and deep bruising on his ankle. It was so swollen he couldn't even get a sock or shoe on it comfortably.

"Uhh—yer the one who knocked on my door," he retorted.

"Yeah, well, I tried to let myself in—" you brushed past him and his eyes followed you, "—but it was locked."

"Expecting someone you don't want to see?" you asked, turning to glance at him with an eyebrow cocked up.

"Mostly Carol's idea of apocalypse cookin'," he said, shutting the door and hobbling a few steps toward you. Your brow creased as you watched his careful steps.

You sighed, frowning softly. "Get back on the couch and off that ankle," you demanded.

"Did ya need somethin'?" he asked, curious why you were even there in the first place. "From you? In that condition? Absolutely not. Now go get off that damn ankle!"

Daryl obeyed this time. There were sharp pains shooting up his shin.

"Well, why didya come? Just to boss me around?"

You smiled at him, just a little one, but it touched the corners of your eyes and Daryl's heart started to race, as it always did.

"Well, despite what the others think, I happen to know your secret, Daryl," you said.

His heart, which had just been rushing, now seemed to still for a moment. "W—what?" You knew? How did you know? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. You'd figured out that he was completely, 100%, head-over-heels for you. He didn't know how you'd put it together, what little thing he'd done, but you knew. And you were here to—what? Confront him? You set your bag down and brushed your hair out of your eyes, preoccupied while he stood completely still like an idiot, gaping at you. Wait—what had you said? 'Despite what the others think...' "My secret?" he somehow managed thickly, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth, as if he'd downed half a bottle of whiskey. "Yeah," you said, your smile growing into a wide grin. "Your secret. Everyone else says you want to be left alone, but I'm pretty sure you secretly enjoy being taken care of. And that's why I'm here."

He heaved a sigh of... relief? "Oh," he drawled, throwing in a low laugh, though it sounded somewhat unnatural to his ears. He ran a hand back through his wavy hair nervously, ruffling it.

"You need to stay off your feet. You can't be walking on that ankle or it will never heal. And anything you need, I'll be here."

"Anythin'?" he drawled, his face flushing subconsciously. "Might be a bit too generous."

You grinned back at him. "I don't think so."

Prompt: "Despite what the others think, I happen to know your secret." A/N: Having a great time in Switzerland! It's such a stunning country <3 Hope you appreciate this awkward Daryl as much as I do!

[justaz]

the staff in the castle keep a running scoreboard over every argument the king and queen has. the staff is split pretty 50/50 on who they’re rooting for. when merthur get in an argument, literally everybody in the castle starts watching them like it’s a tournament. the staff are biased in their actions and then once either merlin or arthur cave the servants turn and shout out “another point for the king/queen!!” and a cacophony of cheers and groans sound out around the castle.

once arthur got so sucked into work that merlin got annoyed at having to go to sleep and wake up in a cold bed that he stopped visiting/talking with arthur and arthur noticed bc ofc he did and sent gifts to merlin thru the servants and merlin accepted it bc ofc he did but tells the servants to tell arthur that he threw it away bc like hell is he gonna let arthur apologize thru others. he wants arthur to face him like a man and apologize. groveling on his knees is also acceptable. the servants who are on merlin’s side tell the king that merlin does not accept the gifts and seems even more irate with each one, the guards that are on arthur’s side tell him that the servants are lying and that merlin appreciates each gift. arthur gets told that merlin is tearing up his clothes which means arthur has to pay for new ones and he shoots up from his desk and charges towards merlin to get him to stop and that means merlin won their argument. the moment their chamber doors slam shut the servants shout out the queen won

once merlin had to travel to a foreign kingdom and was told to take knights and guards and servants and he was very put out bc he doesn’t need protection nor help, he IS the protection and he can care for himself as he always had. arthur was very insistent he took them. he was very stubborn and said no. with our resident emotionally constipated dollophead, a fight ensued and they spent a couple of nights in separate chambers. lancelot went to merlin and was like “i know you are powerful enough to protect yourself, you know you are powerful enough to protect yourself, and arthur knows you’re powerful enough to protect yourself, but he still wants you to be protected” and merlin is like “if he knows i’m powerful enough to protect myself, he should just let me go on my own. he’s so overbearing and doesn’t really believe i’m capable of anything other than being a clumsy idiot” and lancelot cuts him off and is like “no. remember that one time you took an arrow for him and almost died?” and merlin flushes and is like “that was one time” and lancelot waves him off before continuing “arthur just about died with you. he loves and adores you with his entire being. if you died, so would he. maybe not physically but emotionally and mentally he wouldn’t be arthur anymore. he can’t stand you being injured so he’s sending knights to protect you. if you won’t accept the knights for yourself, at least accept them for arthur” and merlin grumbles but complies and a point gets added to the king’s side of the board

[plus-size-reader]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3628 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is closer to Aegon, which is unacceptable to Aemond, who is in love with her and always has been

(Disclaimer: I despise the brutality against women used as a plot device for 'entertainment' so any SA or ickiness regarding Aegon doesn't exist in my universe. He's still a burden on the realm and uber pathetic tho)

—————————————————————————————————

You had always cared for Aegon.

He could be challenging sometimes, you knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that he was important to you. As children, he would share his toys with you and tell you stories of worlds far beyond this one.

Things changed as you got older, of course, but he was still Aegon. It didn’t matter how crass, cruel, or drunk he got.

He was your truest friend, and that meant that you were willing to put up with certain things for his sake.

At this moment, for example, you were listening to him drunkenly ramble about battle strategy and knights he figured he could best in combat over dinner. Did you particularly care about either of those things? Of course not.

…but Aegon did, so you listened all the same.

Just as the rest of his family did, because like it or not, he was the firstborn son and this kingdom was his to inherit.

One member of his family, in particular, was less than thrilled with this arrangement. At the other end of the table sat Aemond, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen, drinking from his own goblet to keep the bile from rising in his throat.

You had to be kidding.

Did you truly find his brother that interesting? It wasn’t possible that you actually believed him capable of besting Sir Harwin Strong in hand-to-hand combat. Aegon could hardly stand on his own most of the time.

He would die in a fight like that, and Aemond knew you were clever enough to know that. Still, you said nothing as he continued his rant.

You just kept listening, with a soft smile playing at your lips, as if his idiot brother wasn’t an embarrassment to his bloodline.

“I know for certain that I could have been a knight, the best knight there ever was” Aegon spouted, slurring his words lightly toward their end and earning a soft giggle from you as you imagined what that would look like.

It was a lie.

Aegon didn’t have what it took to be a knight by any stretch of the imagination but your laughter wasn’t so much about what he said. More than anything, it was about Aegon. He was drunk, as he so often was, but in moments like these, it didn’t matter.

This was how he’d been as a boy too, and that was the part that amused you. The slight glimpses of the dreamer he’d been before the world had robbed him of his right to dream.

Before he’d turned into nothing more than a man, seeking out his own pleasures, even at the expense of every other.

“I think I would quite like to see that” you mused, sipping from your own cup, though you weren’t anywhere near as under the influence as he was. You had been nursing the same goblet all night, one cup for Aegon’s seven.

It wasn’t really a challenge, but like he so often did, Aegon took it as one anyway.

“I would venture I could even beat Aemond, if he’d be brave enough to face me,” he added, shooting his brother a look that did sort of alarm you. It was beyond harmless musings about the knights of the realm and famed warriors.

This was a bit more personal, and you didn’t like where it was heading. “I could even cover an eye, make it fair for him”

Naturally, in his drunken state, Aegon’s movements were clumsy and rash but the implications when his left hand came up to cover his eye were just as impactful as they would have been if they’d been delivered sober.

You were silent for a moment, your gaze shifting between the future King’s lopsided grin and the sharp glare of his younger brother.

He knew that he’d been insulted, and you didn’t expect him to forgive it, but shot him a look anyway. It was small, but the message was clear.

You were asking him to ignore his brother’s ill conceived attempt at humor.

“Alright, perhaps you should slow down, Aegon” you suggested finally, resting your hand gingerly on his wrist, all but forcing the cup in his hand back to the table’s surface the moment he once again attempted to lift it to his mouth.

He had already been drinking most of the day and as the sun slowly retreated from the sky, it was certainly time to stop. Your fear for what he’d do if he didn’t was only furthering your insistence.

Not that you could make that clear outright.

“Y/N’s right, it’s about time for everyone to turn in” Alicent agreed, shooting you a thankful glance as she stood from the table, glad that she didn’t have to step in. The King had already gone back to his chambers, and with her leaving, everyone else was sure to follow suit.

Alicent had always been glad for the bond you shared with Aegon, though she didn’t understand it, especially in moments like this.

You were probably the only person who could have ever gotten him to do as you asked without the tantrum that normally followed. “Goodnight, your Grace” you called, watching as she and Helena retreated from the room, leaving you, Aegon and his brother alone in the room.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that Aemond was still watching you, his blue eye unwavering as he studied you, but you didn’t have time to figure out why.

Not before his brother once again pulled your attention to him instead.

“I’m not finished” Aegon tried, bringing the chalice back to his lips only for Aemond to scoff over your shoulder.

He would truly never understand how his brother had managed to survive this long, much less maintain his place in line for the throne. He had no real business being there, and he wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for his birthright.

Though that would just be among the list of things Aemond didn’t understand, like why you were so determined to take such good care of his pathetic brother, when you got nothing back in return.

Aegon would never show you the same courtesy, not in the way he would, had he been in his place.

“Yes you are, it’s time for bed” you spoke softly to your oldest friend, but your eyes had found their way across the table to Aemond and his now sour attitude.

It was no secret that he and his brother didn’t exactly get along, but you didn’t understand what had happened tonight that was any more irksome to him than any other night. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d insulted him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Every night with Aegon was essentially the same, and no one was more used to that than Aemond was. Not even you.

“Will you take me?” the firstborn asked, that twisted smirk finding its way onto his face once more as he grinned, never ceasing his drinking even as he spoke about being done drinking.

Normally, one of the servant girls would be tasked with trying to get the future King to his chambers, but between his cheery mood this evening and the silent appreciation you’d gotten from the Queen, you figured you were up to the task tonight.

“If you promise to behave, I will take you” you agreed, finally reaching over to snag his cup from him completely, the stem held delicately between your fingers.

Again, Aemond found himself swallowing back more than just wine as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.

Did the two of you really have to do this every night? Aegon was married after all, and if his mother had anything to say about it, you would be too, soon enough.

It was so far beneath you.

In Aemond’s opinion, his ridiculous brother could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve a moment of your time, but clearly, his believing that wasn’t enough to convince you. At this point, he feared nothing would.

“Are you serious?” he finally called out, not even bothering to hide the ugly tone in his voice. It was practically dripping with emotions, but whether that was jealousy or disgust, he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was some mix of both.

“About what?” you hummed, your focus not leaving his brother even as you spoke to Aemond, ignoring the clear upset in his voice in favor of getting the future King to his feet.

Because even when he was speaking directly to you, Aegon was all you could ever give your attention to.

Aegon was basically dead weight when he drank like this, and it was going to be quite the task for you to get him into bed without accident. Not that the servant girls complained, each and every night when they took the job.

They simply did what needed to be done, and you weren’t about to be any different. Those girls deserved a break from his drunken antics for once.

“I could get someone to do that for you. It isn’t your job to make sure he gets to bed” This time, Aemond was sure to monitor the venom in his voice, fully aware that it wasn’t getting him anywhere anyway.

If Aegon had spoken to you like that, you would have stopped everything to assess its origin, but from Aemond, it was almost as if he hadn’t opened his mouth at all.

Why he even bothered at all at this point, he wasn’t sure.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured, draping the blonde’s arm over your shoulders and heading toward the door without a second look at his brother. The second son, the man who dreamed of taking care of you instead of forcing you to care for his every need.

The man who had been hopelessly pining over you for all the years you’d known him, but who you’d never once actually seen.

Left all alone at the table.

~

You were able to move quietly through the halls, finding Aegon much less drunk than you’d originally assumed once he got to his feet. His steps were clunky, and he’d been whisper-yelling in Valyrian at you the entire time, but he wasn’t totally helpless.

He’d had enough to fully give up on the pretense of his birthright, but not enough to be slobbering on your shoulder, which you had enough cause to be thankful for. In the past, he’d not been so gracious.

“Alright, go to sleep now Aegon,” you cooed, pulling the covers up over him and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “In the morning, we can take a walk around the garden”

The only answer to your suggestion came in the form of gentle snoring, which made you smile in spite of yourself as you left the room.

It seemed to you that the only time the prince got any peace was when he slept. He hadn’t always been that way, but as the days passed, you found it harder and harder to ignore the way the world was changing him.

You weren’t blind to the truth.

It was just as obvious to you that Aegon was a disaster as it was to everyone else. You knew that he was a coward and a fool and that the care you had for him was the only thing keeping you from sharing the ire for him that so many others felt.

You knew that, but the truth remained that he was your oldest friend and you loved him for that, despite his many flaws.

You were many things, and loyal seemed to be chief among them, even if sometimes you wondered if your faith in him was misplaced. Would Aegon be a good King? You weren’t sure, but you knew that you would be by his side until the day he proved undeserving.

The Lord’s chamber door closed softly behind you and gave way to a long dark hallway, which you maneuvered expertly. You had taken the walk between your chambers and Aegon’s a thousand times and you knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, you couldn’t account for everything.

For example, you never could have expected to be grabbed from your path until it happened, and you found yourself standing in an adjacent room instead of the long expanse of the hallway. You couldn’t see it that well, with only the moonlight streaming in through the window available to help orient yourself.

It wasn’t an altogether distinctive space at first glance, but it didn’t take you long to place it anyway.

The grasp your kidnapper had on your arms remained, even as the moments ticked by, and while it wasn’t tight or uncomfortable, it gave away the perpetrator in an instant.

Aemond.

No one else was capable of so much selfish aggression while also maintaining such a tight composure. No one else would have cause to take you from the hall, and certainly no one else would have the gull to do so.

Still, for whatever reason, apparently the blonde had decided to snatch you from your normal path and was now just holding you here, a foul look on his usually handsome face.

“Care to explain yourself, my Lord?” you scoffed, removing your arms from his grip as gently as you could, and trying to figure out what could have possibly gotten into him.

It didn’t make any sense.

Never had he attempted something like this before, and you couldn’t work out what was going on, no matter how hard you tried.

“My problem? My problem is that you couldn’t possibly be more of a fool” he started, essentially ignoring your justified response in favor of his own feelings.

He couldn’t watch it anymore.

It was bad enough that his brother was a bumbling idiot without any care for history or culture, or any actual skill. He couldn’t have the throne, the realm, and the affections of you.

That would simply be too much.

Especially when he deserved it so much more. .

“What are you talking about? How much did you have to drink tonight?” you wondered. You were used to Aemond being moody, and he could be unpredictable sometimes but never had he put his hands on you like this. Never had he spoken to you in such a way.

It didn’t make sense, and if you were being honest, you didn’t like it. This was something you wouldn’t have given a second thought coming from Aegon, but here, with Aemond in front of you, it confused you.

Aemond scoffed, clearly not finding your care for his well-being as endearing now that it was aimed at him. Even an hour earlier, he would have been thrilled to have even an ounce of your affection, but not now.

Now, it was almost an insult.

He was so tired of being the second son, and the second in line for everything. Just once, he wanted someone to pick him over his idiot brother.

“Not nearly enough. Perhaps if I drank more, you’d actually look me in the eye”

That got your attention.

You were silent for a moment as you considered his words, and what they could possibly mean in regards to this conversation.

It was an obvious jab at his brother, but it still didn’t help you understand what all this was about and you were torn. You didn’t know how long you were supposed to let this go on or how you were supposed to react.

On one hand, you never would have wanted Aemond to be upset but on the other, you couldn’t exactly explain being alone together in the dark, in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t technically allowed considering that you were both unmarried, and while the Queen was fond of you, you were certain she wouldn’t like this.

You sighed, taking in the distance, or lack therefore, of space between the two of you before you finally broke your silence. “Aemond, enough of this, what has you so upset?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke, hoping to get him to calm down enough to actually speak to you. He had always been the more rational of the brothers and he was certainly better at communicating.

It was one of your favorite things about him, but right now, he sounded like Aegon and you didn’t like that one bit either.

You put up with Aegon out of care for him and hope for the kind young boy you had once known him to be, but Aemond was better than that. You enjoyed his company, and the time you spent together was time you treasured.

You didn’t understand why he was so angry with you tonight.

“I don’t understand why you love him when he treats you so poorly. What has he ever done to deserve your affections?” he wondered, his tone matching yours almost instantly.

It hadn’t been his intention to yell at you, and it certainly wasn’t something he wanted to do, but one man could only take so much. At some point, he had to make it so that you saw who he was, and what he had to offer you.

Of course, Aemond would have preferred a heartfelt declaration of his feelings, in a room where he could actually see the sparkling of your eyes instead of this, but it was no matter.

Even if it had to be like this, little more than a hushed whisper under the cover of darkness, all that mattered was that you heard him.

…and what choice did you have after something like that? What had Aegon done to deserve your affections? You weren’t sure.

Granted, if you’d had time to think about it, you may have had a reason. You may have been able to explain the many reasons you’d chosen him as your closest friend but right now, you couldn’t think of a single thing.

All you could focus on was the way Aemond was peering down at you with so much intensity and the way his right hand had slowly snuck back up to your wrist at your side, fiddling with the fabric trim of your sleeve.

All you could see, and feel, was him in a way you’d never experienced before.

“I don’t know,'' you muttered finally, feeling a bit pathetic as you willed your brain to work properly. You had never once been stunned into silence by the presence of another person before, and it didn’t make any sense.

What had changed? You didn’t know. Apparently, in this moment, you didn’t know much of anything but instead of mocking you as Aegon would have, Aemond simply nodded.

That was what he thought.

You were so used to being devoted to his brother, and had been for so many years, that you didn’t even know why that was. You were so busy constantly doting on him, and dealing with his every thought and feeling that you didn’t realize it was meaningless.

“I could be so much more for you, if you’d only let me” Aemond’s words surrounded you the moment he spoke them, and like the crashing of waves, you realized what this was.

He wasn’t angry at all.

Aemond was hurt.

All this time, he was under the impression that the reason you remained by Aegon’s side was because of a longing, forever to be unfulfilled, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

You did not love Aegon, and it was not Aegon who made you feel as if you could breathe for the first time in all your life.

That title belonged to another, though he had clearly been just as blind to the truth as you had before now.

“I do care much for Aegon. He’s one of my oldest friends, but I have no desire to be with him,” you clarified, feeling the need to get that out in the open first and foremost. Getting a bit braver, you took his wandering hand in your own, giving it a testing squeeze.

It was so strange, knowing someone so well and not at all, all in the same moment.

Aemond tensed slightly at the touch, almost as if you’d struck him, largely because this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. In truth, he hadn’t had much time to consider anything at all regarding this conversation, but he never would have predicted this, not with all the time in the world.

“What do you desire?” he asked, his tone barely audible and inconceivably small as he tried to wrap his mind around how he’d gotten to this point.

You, the one he’d always dreamed of, were so close and yet still so far away. He felt as if he were to breathe, he may ruin it all, and that just wasn’t worth the risk.

Gingerly, you collected your thoughts, for once deciding to let your own desires out way those of everyone else.

Aegon didn’t matter, the opinions of the nobility didn’t matter, and really, Aemond didn’t either. In this moment, all that mattered was you and what you truly desired, stripped bare of all other things.

“I quite think I’d like to be cared for, for a while” you hummed, your voice equal parts certain and wavering as you tried to take a role you’d never known a day in your life.

If Aemond meant as he said, he would take care of you and that was something you desperately wanted. You just weren’t used to asking for the things you wanted, or even, needed. It wasn’t something someone of your standing had ever known.

…But, perhaps it was time to change all that.

[joels-shitty-puns]

I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type. 

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel. 

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend. 

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet. 

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?” 

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.  

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away. 

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up. 

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea. 

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes. 

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.” 

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival. 

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you. 

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling. 

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest. 

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know. 

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy. 

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel. 

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?” 

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched. 

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle. 

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong. 

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?” 

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin. 

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass. 

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss. 

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily. 

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

[recreationalfanfics]

Twisted Wonderland x Lab Rats Crossover HCs

The world's first bionic superhumans.

They're stronger than us. Faster. Smarter.

The next generation of the human race is-

STUCK IN TWISTED WONDERLAND?!

Because I'm hyperfixtaited and love making crossovers, I've decided to make a crossover where YOU can choose which Davenport sibling you want to be and what dorm you'd be sorted in and what your life would be like as a bionic human in Twisted Wonderland. The reader will be using gender neutral pronouns but if I overlooked some please let me know!

Feel free to send in asks or questions about this AU!

Before We Get Started:

- Ace and Deuce are still your very first besties and are the ones who meet you first.

- Grim is your precious kitty and still calls you his bionic henchuman and definetly uses you to get out of situations he got himself stuck in.

- I'm sorry but Crowley is so Donald Davenport coded so you're not as surprised or annoyed by his narcissistic tendencies.

- You've been here at NRC for a while, as a result, Ignihyde managed to build you a bionic recharge chamber in Ramshackle.

- I haven't finished book 7 yet so pls keep that in mind.

- I'm rewatching the show currently but I'm not following any specific timeline.

Adam Davenport! Reader:

- The thembo of your siblings and now, of NRC.

- Okay, but imagine that you see your little brother, Leo, in Ace and Deuce. Ace obviously reminding you of Leo's more mischievous and clever side and Deuce reminding you of his more well-natured and clumsy side. As for Grim, HE'S LIKE THE PET YOU NEVER GOT TO HAVE.

- The fact that you're living at a school is your worst nightmare though. Trien and Crewel have you absolutely stressed😭 During studying sessions, Ace and Deuce get somewhat annoyed with you but they do know it doesn't come easy so they help you study by explaining it to you the same way they would to a five year old.

- But, thanks to your awesome durability that you keep hidden from teachers, if you guys ever feel unprepared for a test then you just casually fall down the stairs and Ace and Deuce act all worried for your safety and BRAVELY volunteer to skip class. However, you kept using it as an excuse a bit too often much to Ace and Deuce's dismay so they eventually caught on.

- You are the BANE of Riddle's existence, you have no regard for the rules AND you aren't able to be collared. Much like how it is with Floyd, Riddle openly despises you but unlike Floyd, YOU DON'T CATCH ON THAT HE DISLIKES YOU. Which makes him feel guilty and puts him at an impasse.

- Since Riddle's collars only work on people with magic, imagine that you can just rip it off with your bionic strength. When Riddle first used his unique magic on you, Ace and Deuce were in ramshackle when you walked in with one of the collars on.

Ace: "OH NO, RIDDLE PUT A COLLAR ON Y/N!"

You: "Haha, guys, check out this dope friendship necklace Riddle gave me! I'm gonna take it off and put it somewhere safe! AW, MAN, I BROKE IT....I'm gonna ask me to make another one!" and then they have to stop you.

- LOWKEY, SAVANNACLAW IS THE PERFECT PLACE FOR YOU. The other guys love having you there but also, they will be nicer to other students because you are still a hero after all. When you see them messing with other people, you lift them up and put them in air jail.

- You're like Leona's little court jester ngl. While you're not a complete idiot, you're pretty foolish and it can get entertaining for a while but when you get a bit too destructive, he will have Ruggie escort you out. He likes to take naps on you, though, especially because if someone disturbs him then you shoot a warning shot with your laser vision and are all: "SHHH! The kitty is sleeping!" But if Grim chooses to kick Leona out of your lap, you 100% obey your favorite kitty.

- Jack is your one-sided rival. He wants to be just as strong as you and demands to train with you. He even tries to copy your work out regimen and kinda stalks you to try and learn how you're so strong but then he sees you casually lifting up the sports shack for Vargas.

- BRO, AZUL WOULD 100% TRY TO PUT YOU IN A CONTRACT. A strong bionic superhuman with laser vision AND the ability to breathe underwater whose incredibly stupid and naive? It's like you were sent to him by the Seven themselves. So Ace, Deuce, and Grim and your other friends have to steer you away from him.

- Azul: "Y/N?~ Would you be interested in a deal!"

- You: "Yeah, sure! Just let me finish my applesauce."

- Ace: "Y/N, NO! You're not allowed to make deals with Azul, he's a shady businessman, remember?"

- You: "Ooooh, okay. Sorry then, but I can't."

- Floyd: "Silly Tiger Shrimp, it's opposite day!~"

- You: "Okay! Sorry guys, I have to make a deal with Azul- Wait, I mean NOT make a deal with Azul! Hehe~"

- KALIM IS IN AWE OF YOUR STRENGTH, Jamil thinks that you're a clumsy and reckless fool and he doesn't trust you around Kalim. Like, Kalim was talking about how Jamil is so awesome at basketball and in awe of how high he jumps so you're all: "Haha, wanna see what it's like?" and Jamil walked in on you THROWING THE HEIR OF THE AL-ASIM FAMILY AT A HOOP.

- Jamil: "KALIM, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?"

- Kalim, on the ground: "THAT WAS AWESOME!"

- You're not allowed in Scarabia without supervision, nevermind that you have to be a certain distance away from Kalim because JAMIL REFUSES TO LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN.

- YOU ARE EPEL'S HERO, HE TOTALLY LOVES HEARING YOUR STORIES ABOUT SAVING YOUR WORLD AND THINKS YOU'RE AMAZING. Like, Vil is forcing you to sit down for a makeover and you're all: "Oh, this is like the time I had to sit still to get ready for my interview after stopping an asteroid from hitting the planet." and Epel is all: "AWESOME!" and Rook is next to you and is all: "Tell us more about this enchanting tale, mon cœur brave!~" and Vil is trying to stop you from eating make up.

- I'm sorry but Epel would so try to convince you to throw Plasma Grenades at Vil when he's overblotted😭 and he's all: "What!? I'm sure it won't hurt him that bad!"

- During book 6, YOU ACTUALLY DON'T THINK IDIA'S FAMILY HQ IS THAT CREEPY and you feel so nostalgic. Like, they go through the sanitation station and you're all: "Aw, this reminds me of my capsule back at my dad's lab in his basement...I miss my dad...and Bree and Leo and Tasha...and beating up Chase...AND CHASE!"

- But when you're fighting the other overblot monsters, that's when you show how much of a competent hero you are. You're protecting everyone and keeping them safe, as well as doing your best to keep the monsters away as your fellow classmates try to recharge the thunder spears.

- Idia would totally want to uncover your bionic biology to see if he could improve upon Ortho and you're just there like: "WOAH. At least take a bionic person out to dinner first before you ask to dissect them, man-" and Idia just being all flustered.

- YOU AND ORTHO being technogically advanced buddies, obviously there's huge differences between you guys but YOU AND HIM JUST HAVING SLEEPOVERS AND IT'S JUST YOUR CHARGING PODS BEING IN THE SAME ROOM. Anyways, he totally brings out the older sibling instincts with you and Idia kinda tolerates you and your thembo ways.

- MALLEUS THINKS YOU'RE SO FUNNY and he just laughs when you say something foolish but Sebek is all: "STAY AWAY FROM LORD MALLEUS, your ignorance is an insult to his majesty!" and you just kinda wanna bully him a little bit because he reminds you of Chase but in a bad way. When Silver falls asleep, you just carrying him around and stuff because he's your friend! Lillia also finds you amusing as well ngl, you're such a spirit young individual.

Chase Davenport! Reader:

- OKAY, BUT YOU LOWKEY PANICKED AT THE REALIZATION OF NOT BEING IN YOUR WORLD. Not only because you're in a strange and totally unfamiliar world but BECAUSE YOU'RE NO LONGER THE SMARTEST PERSON.

- Ace and Deuce during the detention thing were just staring at you weirdly as you read and try to get as much information on the world of Twisted Wonderland as much as possible. Grim literally having to sit on all of your books or swat them out of your hands.

- Even though you respect and like rules, you think that the ones in Heartslabyul are kind of excessive but YOU STUDY THEM REGARDLESS because you will not be caught lacking. So when Ace and Deuce come to you and they're collared, you're all: "Ha, let me guess, you forgot to take your shoes and wear them around your neck today, huh? Amateurs." and they just glare at you or roll your eyes.

- Despite that, as an experienced team leader, you can somewhat influence the Adeuce doubt and Grim to listen to you and they do respect you to some degree when you're not being a know it all. GRIM WILL BRAG ABOUT HOW SMART YOU ARE and try to convince you to let him copy your work and you're all: "Grim, when you cheat, you're only cheating yourself." and he just hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

- Tbh, I love the idea that when Riddle went through his Overblot, you were using your bionic supervision to analyze the threat but then Ace punched Riddle and you're all: "Oh, okay, that works too, I guess."

- While Adam! (Y/n) would fight the Overblots, your concern would lie in protecting your fellow students so you tell Adeuce and Grim and any other students to come close to you and you activate your force field to protect you and them.

- During the whole Savannaclaw thing, you were the first to figure out about Leona's whole plan but you were quickly humbled when he Overblotted. When he's done, you and him bond about being younger brothers with older brothers. TO BE FAIR, Leona admits that you have it worse because Falena doesn't constantly throw him around.

- Also, if you have a sensory overload because of your enhanced senses; I can totally see Savannaclaw kind of having a room to calm down because, like, they're Beatmen. You don't necessarily like Savannaclaw but they do think your martial arts skills are cool.

- DURING THE EVENTS OF BOOK 3 IS WHEN YOU ACTIVATE YOUR COMMANDO MODE and everyone meets your alter ego, Spike. Like, Floyd is threatening you and your commando app takes over and you and him duke it out. When you finally take control, Floyd is all: "WE HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN, DWARF SHRIMPY! THAT WAS SO FUN!" and you're confused while Jade is all: "Huh, who knew Bionic Humans can be so interesting and complex!"

- But yeah, while Azul took you as a fool, you do a very good job at finding loopholes and mistakes in his contracts to help people out of them. Which he would find respectable but sadly, that's bad for business. So much like he does with Jamil, HE WOULD SO WANT YOU TO JOIN OCTAVINELLE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. IMAGINE THE PROFITS.

- During Schemer of the Scalding Sands, you totally agree with Jamil and sympathize with the fact that he never got to have a normal childhood. HOWEVER, he is still doing bad things and as a hero, you can't excuse that behavior. I can see you guys being good friends and bonding with each other.

- ALSO, Chase was always awkward girls so imagine that you're awkward around pretty people in general. Like, you meet Vil and your brain short circuits and you're all: "H-Hi!" or you'll be explaining things and Vil is all: "Davenport, I need you to help me with something!" and you just turn around to face him and you're all: "...Y-Yeah, sure! Okay! Wow, your eyes are so pretty-" You also totally agree with his perfectionism and not just because he's the most jaw dropping person you've ever seen but also because you're a perfectionist yourself.

- YOU'D BE IN THE SCIENCE CLUB WITH ROOK AND TREY. Mostly to learn about the amazing science of this new world but also, you show off a bit of science of your own. Trey is super impressed by your knowledge of chemistry and Rook is their like: "Oh, how does one become as smart and charming as you?" and then you just giggle and blush and you're all: "Haha. You don't mean that~...Do you?"

- LIKE THE REGULAR CHASE, YOU'RE ALSO A HUGE CUTIE. You would totally love to watch cartoons and play pranks on people except they're completely harmless pranks. Jade will do something to annoy you and you'll be all:

Y/n: "Jade might think he got the best of me but little does he know, I'll get the last laugh!"

Ace: "I've never seen this side of you before, Y/n. What'd you do?"

Y/n: "I switched his No. 2 pencil with a number 1 pencil. LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE SMUDGED NOTES, LEECH. CAN I GET A HIGH FIVE!?"

- And all of the first years just look at you and leave you hanging and you frown and you're all: "See, its perfect because No.1 pencils are higher in graphite and much softer, so they're more prone to smudging-" and they're all: "No, (Y/n), we get it. It's still stupid."

- I can see you hanging out in the Ignihyde dorm, mostly because they have all the resources needed to try and figure out how to get back home but also, I can imagine that after a few months of coaxing and bonding with Idia, you guys would become friends due to your love for your siblings and your awkward ways.

- I CAN TOTALLY IMAGINE YOU AND HIM GAMING WITH LILIA, aka, Muscle Red. I can also see that Ortho would adore seeing you and his brother getting along, until you both sneak out of gym together to go and play your video games.

- I love the idea that you would love to listen to Malleus talk about gargoyles and you'd look up things with your supercomputer brain. You also would love your guys' walks because he can talk to you and inform you more about the magic in your world and you can talk to him about the science in yours. Your mind is still getting used to the idea of magic but Malleus would totally love to see your views on everything.

- SEBEK THINKS YOU'RE AN INSOLENT HUMAN, how dare you think your stupid human brain can match to that of the Great Malleus!? But he does admire your dedication to knowledge. SILVER SOMETIMES DOZES OFF WHEN YOU TALK but you're used to it and sigh but Silver tries to assure you it wasn't because he was bored.

Bree Davenport! Reader:

- Much like the ICON that is Bree Davenport, you will 100% sass back Crowley. He has to ask advice from Mozus on how to approach you since he's handled sassy teenagers before but that knowledge is sadly limited when it comes to BIONIC sassy teenagers.

- Not to mention that you're very maliciously compliant with him. When he asks you to run an errand and tries to imply he'll turn off Ramshackle's electricity if you don't, you just roll your eyes and go do it. But NOT BEFORE YOU TRASH HIS OFFICE WITH YOUR SPEED.

- When it comes to Grim, you totally decorate him with cute little bows and pamper him but you guys also exchange witty comebacks and retorts once in a while.

- ACE WOULD LOVE TO PIGGY BACK RIDE YOU SO HE'S NOT LATE TO CLASSES. At first, you did it out of the kindness of your heart but when he kept trying to trick you or guilt trip you, you ended up just dropping him off on the opposite side of campus from his classes. He was made but Deuce defended you.

- You're a little bit of a romantic as well, sometimes bordering on delulu but to be fair; you were raised in a basement and occasionally allowed to watch high school musical dramas. And being sent to a magical all-boys college is a dream come true!

- Until you have to deal with overblots and the very real possibility of innocent people dying, then you're just reminded that this world isn't SUPER different from your other world but being a hero is a never-ending job.

- You don't really get along with Riddle but you and Cater would be such good friends, you carry him to take him to places he said would be so "magicamable" and you turn invisible and listen in on all of the juicy gossip so you can report back to him and you two can giggle about it.

- You would 100% be able to tame the rowdy Savnnaclaw students because size doesn't scare you. You would be a little bit of a simp for Leona because he fits your type and he gets kind of annoyed by it but when you go back to your usual sassy and fiery self, he does kind of think twice.

- As for Jack, he admires your speed and likes joining you on runs. You happily let him know whether he's getting faster than you or not, even if he knows it's not achievable to be as fast as you, you do a good job of helping him monitor his progress. He reminds you of a smarter more competent version of Adam!

- You and Ruggie would team up to sometimes do small jobs, only if he handles the gross stuff just because you personally can't, but delivery jobs are up your alley because of your speed and you guys split the profits.

- Speaking of profits, AZUL WOULD LOVE TO TRAP YOU IN A CONTRACT TO WORK AT THE MONSTRO LOUNGE. When you briefly took Ace and Deuce's place to work, you were a one person serving machine. Getting impatient when dishes weren't done fast enough, you ran in the kitchen and took care of everything yourself.

- However, he now tries to make it not so obvious because the last time he did, you created an tornado with your super speed and shot him and his creepy twins from it. Floyd thought it was the coolest thing ever and begs you to do it again, while Jade pretended to sniffle as he mourned about how, "rude bionic humans are to poor eels like them."

- As for Scarabia, after Jamil sends you guys into the dessert and they have to make an oasis, you're just there like, "So...I'm going to just speed my way back to the dorm. Meet you guys there!" and then you're off.

- I DO THINK YOU'D BE IN THE POP MUSIC CLUB WITH KALIM, CATER, AND LILLIA. So after the events of book 4, you do kinda make sure Kalim doesn't put so much on Jamil. Such as throwing a party and you help him with the decorations instead so Jamil can have a break or, at the very least, you handle the clean up yourself.

- Also, you're not as surprised as everyone else is when Kalim decides to forgive him, purely because your uncle/father was forgiven from killing you and your family multiple times.

- OKAY BUT YOU WOULD SO BE IN POMEFIORE, after all, you've longed to be an ideal sophisticated and classy version of yourself. However, it simply isn't possibly when you're around your brothers who love to mess with you and tease you. So Vil is your go-to when it comes to makeovers and bonding. I'M SORRY BUT BOTH OF YOU BONDING OVER BEING NEPO BABIES *but well deserving nepo-babies* and it's nice to finally have make up without someone EATING IT OR DOING SOME WEIRD SCIENCE THING WITH IT.

- Rook, per usual, will be a freak as always and try to hunt and stalk you like he does with Leona and the other non humans. According to him, you are "the most elegant of prey. With the eyes of a soulful bird and the speed of a gazelle." and you'll use your speed to run away from him but he would totally have a list of places that you would run too and meet you there.

- Like Bree, you always wanted to have a friend that was a girl so you totally mistook Epel as one and that did not bode well for the both of you. Still, you make it up to him and tell him about how being strong and manly isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

- When it comes to Idia, he gets so nervous and flustered around you because you're so...peppy. Whenever you speed into his lab, he gets all nervous and flustered. Sometimes you tease him about being a nerd but you mean it in a loving way. YOU ADORE ORTHO THOUGH. He's such a cute little guy♡

- When fighting overblots, I can imagine you use your super speed to evacuate everyone and use your invisibility to jump out and surprise them at the last second.

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (7) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one part two part three part four part five part six

another flashback, and some fluffy little firsts for our star crossed lovers childhood sweethearts (7) II a.russo x reader

eleven years old; the (sort of) first kiss

"did you see charlie and lily today at lunch?" you asked your best friend scrunching your nose in disgust, her head resting beside yours as the two of you lay on her bed, currently overcoming food comas after gorging yourselves on movie snacks all night.

"they looked like they were trying to eat others faces." alessia agreed before making a weird noise and attacking you, pretending to be some sort of monster as you shoved her off you with a grin.

"is that how you're supposed to kiss someone?" you asked curiously, the two of you looking up at her ceiling as the girl beside you shrugged. "i've never kissed anyone, how would i know?" alessia sighed, a brief pause of silence falling between the two of you.

"have you?" "what? kissed someone?" "yeah."

"lessi do you think maybe i'd have told you if i kissed someone, idiot." you laughed, shoving her head to the side as she rolled her eyes and sat up. "everyone makes a big deal out of it. seems gross!" you pulled a face, not loving the idea of swapping spit with anyone.

"super gross. charlie looked like he was trying to do laundry in lilys mouth." alessia joked as you gave her a look of confusion. "you know, cause his tongue was like a washing machine-" she sat up and demonstrated, aggressively swirling her tongue around and licking the air like a dog making you let out a loud pelt of laughter.

"rory said the other day apparently people practice on their hands." you remembered the words of another one of yours and alessia's mutual school friends. "their hands?" alessia frowned deeply and you nodded.

"yeah they do this-" you made a fist. "-and then they like pretend this bits the mouth-" you pointed to the small hole on the side of your hand where your fingers didn't quite meet. "-and then they practice kissing with it." you shrugged.

"have you been doing that?" alessia grinned as your face blushed bright red, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "no!" you pushed her over so she fell onto her back beside you again. "rory just showed me." you rolled your eyes as alessia hummed, still grinning.

"i haven't!" you protested, smacking her shoulder and now being the one to sit up. "you're the worst." you grumbled, flicking her ear as she whined and swatted your hand away. "then why are you with me all the time." alessia mocked.

"don't have any better options yet, i'm on the market for a new best friend." you shrugged, now the one to grin as the girl let out an offended scoff and launched at you, the two of you rolling around wrestling.

"girls!" you both paused, you teetering on top of alessia with your knees pressed into her stomach as she tightly held your balled fists in her hands, both your heads turning toward the door where an amused looking mario stood. "its nearly nine, go to bed or keep it down." he warned with a smile as you both nodded and he left with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

"first to get ready for bed wins, go!" alessia challenged, shooting up from her bed as you hastily followed, diving onto the floor and rummaging through your overnight bag, with a glance over your shoulder you saw you were losing and internally groaned.

however as alessia tried to jump into her pyjama shorts her clumsy nature betrayed her and she tripped over her own feet, crashing down onto the ground as you yelled time, having just finished.

"i win! loser." you stuck your tongue out at the blonde who huffed, pulling her shorts on properly and sitting beside you on the bed. "go on." alessia groaned, holding her arm out expectantly for the usual punishment from your bets.

"how do you do it again?" you frowned, attempting to give her a chinese burn but really only twisting her arm around without any success. "like this." alessia grabbed your arm and you yelled loudly in pain as she successfully gave you one, the blonde smacking a hand over your mouth as you both looked to the door, silent for a moment but breathing out once neither of her parents appeared.

"i didn't mean give me one!" you scowled, rubbing your arm with a huff. "don't be such a baby." alessia rolled her eyes, kissing your arm apologetically before getting up to turn the lights off.

"hey! you're supposed to get one, you lost." you protested, alessia only shrugging as she grabbed the remote for her tv. "you tried and failed, you're the loser now." the girl teased, ruffling your hair as she jumped into bed, both of you settling under the covers.

"i repeat; you're the worst." you sighed with a shake of your head, alessia only shooting you a grin and grabbing a half eaten block of chocolate off her side table, taking a piece before handing it over to you.

the two of you sat in silence as you finished the movie you'd paused earlier, the princess diaries. to your surprise alessia didn't fall asleep, her eyes normally slipping shut as soon as the lights were off after she'd played a full ninety minute game earlier today, but the blonde seemed just as awake as you were for once as the end credits rolled and she flicked off the tv.

"do you ever think about kissing someone?" alessia asked, the two of you laying in the dark, the only sound filling the room the faint gunshots from the other end of the hallway where her brothers were playing xbox in their own room.

"not a lot but sometimes i guess." you shrugged, not really sure how to answer. "would you kiss someone?" the girl asked again, uncertainty present in her voice. "i think i'd be scared i'd be really bad at it." you confessed honestly with a small sigh, your best friend agreeing.

"we could kiss, tell each other if we're bad or not." alessia suggested as you both sat up, backs resting against the headboard. "that's weird. don't you save your first kiss for a boyfriend?" you replied hesitantly as alessia again shrugged.

"it's not like it will mean anything. just to test it out for when we do it for real!" alessia added on as you thought it over. "okay. but no washing machines!" you stated firmly as alessia grinned. "no washing machines." the blonde held out her pinky, the two of you linking them with a nod.

"ready?" alessia asked as the two of you shifted to face each other and you nodded, leaning in a little. "go." you ordered, the two of you quickly pecking lips. "how was it?" you asked with a frown. "fine i guess?" alessia also frowned, both of you unsure what a kiss was actually supposed to feel like.

you stared at one another for a minute before bursting into laughter, sliding down into the bed and grabbing onto one another, bodys heaving as your eyes squeezed closed and you were both gasping for air, clutching your stomachs which began to hurt.

"girls!" the door suddenly flew open and light flooded the room, your hand moving over alessias mouth as you gave carol a guilty smile. "it's eleven thirty. go to bed, now!" the woman warned as you apologized, elbowing a still laughing alessia as carol gave you both a stern look and closed the door.

you both settled for a minute, laughs turning into quiet giggles. "well at least we aren't washing machines." alessia commented into the darkness, setting the both of you off again as you covered one anothers mouths, desperately trying to muffle the sounds of your amusement.

"girls!"

thirteen years old; the first boyfriend

"hey! how did it go?" you quickly shot to your feet, raising an eyebrow as your best friend wandered over, playing with the straps of her book bag.

"they said yes, but i just have to keep up with the work while i'm away and if i'm struggling to stay up to date i have to get a tutor. if my grades drop more then i'll have to miss out, they've agreed to a couple of months trial." alessia explained as you squealed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"this is amazing! my best friend, future lioness." you smiled proudly as alessias arm slung over your shoulder, the two of you making your way out of the office and back onto the school grounds to enjoy what was left of your lunch.

"i wish you played football! then you could come with me." alessia huffed in annoyance as the two of you sat down in your normal spot with twenty minutes left until the bell.

"you've seen me play football lessi." you shook your head as you grabbed out your lunch, rolling your eyes and giving half to alessia who'd eaten most of hers already at your morning break.

"yeah, maybe i could have them trade you to another team? like a really really bad woman on the inside, i'll even get them to make you goal keeper!" alessia teased as she bit down on her half of your sandwich.

"pass on that one. but your first national camp, it'll be so fun! you'll probably meet a load more girls who actually like football." you spoke a little quieter, moving your eyes to stare off into the distance which alessia didn't miss.

"hey, you're my best friend. no one can ever replace that! who else lets me kick footballs at their head and shares their lunch, i'd starve if we weren't friends." alessia grinned, shoving your head to the side playfully.

"so you keep me around for target practice and free food? great. thanks a lot less!" you rolled your eyes moodily. "that's not all you're good for. with your stimulating conversation, good looks and your enormous brain!" alessia knocked teasingly on your forehead as you smacked her hand away.

"speaking of. did you study for our math test?" you questioned sternly, having been on her back all week about it much to her disdain. "yes! sort of." alessia smiled sheepishly as you sighed deeply, used to this kind of response from the blonde.

"sort of?" "yeah, see."

with that the girl lifted up the edge of her uniform skirt, your eyes widening seeing several equations scribbled on her leg in marker. "alessia! cheating?" you hissed as the girl dropped her skirt with a shrug.

"it's not cheating, i'm just giving myself a little helping hand." alessia justified with a grin. "hey! isn't that oliver?" her smile dropped as she nodded over your shoulder with a frown. "uh yeah, why?" you glanced at the boy and back to her.

"isn't he your boyfriend? and he's over there snogging grace!" alessia scoffed in disbelief. "not anymore. he had mason come and give me a note breaking up with me this morning." you announced with a shrug, not seeming all that phased as your best friend looked at you with wide eyes.

"he did what? i'm gonna go break his arm, i told you not to go out with him!" alessia fumed standing to her feet as you hurried to tug her back down with a shake of your head.

"no you won't. we only went out for like two weeks less and we only spoke about five times, he's actually really awkward." you laughed, rubbing her shoulder in appreciation of her protectiveness.

"plus, he was not a good kisser." "washing machine?" "washing machine on a rinse cycle!"

fifteen years old; the first confession

"so there's a party tonight." alessia announced with a suggestive smile, flopping down on your bed as you hummed, head buried in your textbook. "i said, there's a party tonight." alessia repeated, yanking your book out of your hands and tossing it on the floor, her head instead coming to rest in your lap.

"and?" you huffed, smacking her forehead lightly for the mistreatment of your textbook. "and, we should go!" alessia grinned up at you, wiggling her eyebrows. "don't you have an early game tomorrow?" you sighed, playing with her hair like you knew she liked as she shrugged.

"so? we don't have to stay late but it would be fun. come on book worm, your textbooks will be okay left alone for one night!" alessia pinched at your cheeks with a mocking pout, squishing them together.

"are you asking me, or telling me?" "both? i told rory and emily to meet us here at seven." "alessia!"

it was a several hours later and you had to admit you actually weren't having a terrible time. well, you weren't at first. "no way you cheated!" you shoved rory who doubled your score at pinball, the two of you taking turns.

given that the host of this party was easily the richest boy in your grade there were all sorts of fun things to play around with. you'd not seen alessia in about an hour but you weren't too worried, the girl much more so the social butterly than you, you had no doubt she would be around mingling. you however were content so long as you had at least one of your friends by your side throughout the night.

oh how wrong you'd been to leave her on her own.

"hey y/n!" you looked up with a smile as you beat rory again, the girl punching you in the arm as another one of your friends amelia appeared. "um, it's alessia." the girl played nervously with her hands as you raised an eyebrow.

"what's alessia?" you questioned, gesturing for her to continue. "she's sort of...well, just come with me!" the girl grabbed your hand and dragged you off as you grabbed rorys, the redhead trailing after you as amelia lead the two of you upstairs.

"some of the boys brought vodka and they offered us some and well..." amelia winced, opening the bathroom door to reveal your best friend slumped over in the bath tub, emily crouched down by her side.

"she's drunk?" you asked in disbelief, the three of you shuffling into the bathroom and closing the door. "oh my best friend is here! hello you." alessia slurred, perking up happily at the sight of you as her head lolled to one side.

"how much did she drink? lessi how much did you drink?" you squatted down beside emily, grabbing the blondes hand who shrugged as her head thumped back down into the bath tub.

"dunno, few sips." the older girl shrugged as she closed her eyes. "why would you let her drink! why would you drink?" you shoved emily who looked down guiltily, rory sending you a pointed look and rubbing the brunettes back.

"sorry em. can she walk?" you apologized softly. "kind of?" emily winced as you stood, grabbing alessia's hands and trying to pull her up, the girl instead pulling you down as you landed half on top of her in the empty bath, head smacking back into the tiled wall.

"oh fuck!" you hissed sharply, clutching your throbbing head and squeezing your eyes closed. "oh god i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." alessias eyes widened as she slurred through multiple apologies and your head began to pound.

"shit are you okay? how many fingers am i holding up? can you see one of me or two? do you feel tired? sleepy? you can't sleep if you have a concussion, wake up!" rory shoved her hand in your face. "three fingers rory, and i'm not concussed jesus!" you pushed her digits away from you with a huff.

"my mum is supposed to pick us up in an hour and if she finds her like this we're both dead." you groaned, smacking away alessia's hands which tried to cradle your sore head, still slurring apologies. "your sister, brother?" emily suggested as you shook your head, the girl in question having just lost her license for a few months for speeding, your brother still on his learners permit.

"what about alessia's brothers? god they're fit." rory suggested with a lovesick sigh, emily smacking her on the leg with a warning glare. "worth a try." you sighed, your friends helping you to your feet as rory stepped out, returning with a bottle of water as they coaxed alessia up into a sitting position, having her take small sips as you called gio first.

"short stack. to what do i owe this phone call interrupting my friday night?" the boy sighed as if annoyed but you knew he was only messing about with you, hurriedly rambling out what had happened.

"hey hey slow down. she's conscious right? she can breathe? speak?" the boy tried to calm you as you confirmed the above. "then it'll be okay. just make sure she's drinking some water and isn't left on her back in case she throws up, she could choke. text me where you are and i'll be there soon." the boy promised as you let out a sigh of relief.

"thank you."

"oh wow." the middle russo's eyes widened as it took all three of you to balance the tall blonde between you, who was really not able to walk. "come on less." gio grunted, taking her into his own arms and helping her into the car, buckling her in as she mumbled all sorts of gibberish.

"do you two need a lift home?" gio asked rory and emily who shook their heads, explaining rorys mum was already on her way to get them. you hugged them both goodbye and thanked them for their help before getting into the back next to alessia who'd already passed out.

you winced as her head slumped down onto your shoulder, the girls breath reaking of vodka and vomit as no sooner had the three of you helped her up had she released the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

"did you drink too?" gio asked somewhat firmly, giving you a stern look through the rear view mirror as you shook your head. "no i promise. i didn't even know there'd be alcohol there, and if i had i wouldn't have let less drink. i shouldn't have left her by herself!" you sighed, sparing a glance to the drunken girl beside her.

"hey what she does isn't your responsibility, you can't fix everything for her for the rest of her life. but she's lucky she's got you, even if she is a bit of an asshole to you sometimes." gio cracked a smile which you returned.

"i think the gentle bullying is just her way of showing love. you've seen how she gets when anyone else tries." you chuckled as alessia stirred, crossing her arms and sighing, still continuing to sleep on your shoulder. "mm it's very much so she can pick on you but no one else can." gio laughed quietly as he pulled into their driveway.

"are your parents still up?" you bit your lip nervously as the boy sent you a smile which said it all. "wait here a second." he slipped out of the car and headed inside. "hey lessi." nudging your shoulder up and down as the blonde let out a quiet groan.

"time to wake up, we're at your house." you encouraged softly, shaking her lightly as her bright blue eyes fluttered open. "how'd we get here?" she slurred tiredly, eyes slipping closed again as you sighed.

gio returned with luca in tow as you unbuckled her, again shaking her and helping her to sit up as she rubbed her eyes with an incoherent mumble. "oh lessi." luca sighed with a disappointed shake of his head as he and gio helped the girl out of the car, slinging her arms over their shoulders as she stumbled.

you shrunk as carol awaited your arrival in the doorway, tapping her foot and sighing as the four of you arrived. "hi mum!" the blonde slurred with a lopsided grin, head slumping back onto gio's chest. "take her to bed. i'll deal with her tomorrow!" the woman sighed tiredly, the boys nodding and doing as asked.

"you, come here." the woman beckoned as you hung back, nervously playing with your fingers. you followed her inside and to the kitchen, sitting down at the bench as she instructed, bouncing your knee nervously.

"tell me what happened, the truth." carol handed you a mug of tea as you sent her a small smile and took a sip. you sighed before filling her in on the whole night as best as you knew, unable to fill in the gaps where only alessia was present and responsible for her own actions.

"so you didn't drink?" carol asked firmly as you shook your head quickly. "nothing. i really didn't know anyone would have alcohol, i don't even know how they got it or how much she had." you admitted with a sigh, wishing you could rewind time and have kept a better eye out.

"come here." the woman opened her arms with a sigh as you hugged her, appreciating the warmth that always accompanied an embrace from any of the russo's. "you did the right thing calling someone but next time just call me or your mum, or even mario! i know he's lessi's favourite." the woman rolled her eyes as you cracked a small smile full well knowing your best friend was indeed the epitome of a daddys girl.

"are you gonna call my mum and dad?" you asked nervously, hands twisting around the now empty mug as carol nodded. "tomorrow yes. not tonight, go and get some sleep love." the woman nodded for you to head upstairs as she took your empty mug.

"are you angry with less?" you questioned, hovering in the doorway as carol sighed. "i'm more disappointed in both of you than angry. but she'll get her own talking to tomorrow, don't you worry about that! off you go." and with that you sighed, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach at the woman you considered a second mum being disappointed in you.

"hey, thank you for tonight." you hovered in gio's door once you'd headed upstairs, the boy giving you a hug and ruffling your hair before you headed across to alessia's room.

you had to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the darkness, closing her door again and stumbling over toward her cupboard, huffing as you waded through the piles of clothes which littered her messy floor.

grabbing out some of her clothes you slipped into her bathroom, changing and brushing your teeth before flicking off the light and padding over to the bed. alessia was also changed and sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly ajar and blonde hair sprawled messily all over the pillows.

"move over less." you sighed, slipping into bed beside her and rolling her over with a grunt. the sudden change of her body had her stirring though as she groggily lifted her head, rubbing her eyes.

"where are we?" "your room lessi." "how the hell did we get here?" the girl slurred though it was much less now some time had passed since her last drink. "you're welcome. goodnight!" you turned onto your side facing away from her.

"go to sleep!" you kicked her as you felt her cold fingers tracing shapes on your back over your top. "no. i need to tell you something, turn over!" alessia demanded as you gave in with a sigh, rolling to face her and raising an eyebrow.

"you're gonna laugh at this, trust me." alessia giggled, clearly still a little drunk as she struggled to keep her head up and her eyes open. "go on then." you gestured for her to continue.

"well...i have a cruush." alessia sang out, poking your nose with a smile. "who?" you perked up, now much more interested in what she had to say. "you might know them." alessia smiled cryptically.

"who?" "you!" alessia revealed with a giggle, head slumping back onto her pillow as she sent you a drunken grin and poked your nose again.

"i think you're the best. you're also really fit and cute and ugh when i look at you sometimes i just wanna-" alessia made a grabbing motion with her hands, laying on her back now as you stayed perfectly still beside her, eyes wide and unable to move as your body tensed.

"-grab you and kiss you properly. take your breath away and make you love me like i love you. but you're my best friend and you like boys, so doesn't matter!" alessia gave you a lopsided smile, staring at you through half lidded eyes, the alcohol pumping through her blood stream like a truth serum.

"goodnight." she sighed suddenly, eyes closing properly as she settled, her breathing evening out within seconds as you remained frozen in spot, unsure how to even process what was just said.

it was safe to say you hardly slept a wink that night.

though if you were tired it was nothing compared to the disgustingly new feeling of alessia's first hangover.

you'd shot up awake as you heard her violently throwing up in the bathroom. a quick tap of your phone showed it wasn't even seven in the morning yet, barely twenty past six.

feet hitting the floor you left her room, padding quietly downstairs. grabbing some water and paracetamol and heading back to her, knowing where everything was as if you lived here.

you gave her a sympathetic smile as you entered the bathroom to see her slumped in the corner, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth and fingers massaging her temples. "here." you offered her the water and pain killers which she took with an almost inaudible thank you.

last nights confession was fresh in your mind as you helped the taller girl to her feet and back to bed. "what the fuck happened last night?" alessia croaked out, burying her head in her pillows as you lay back down beside her and filled her in, conveniently leaving out her little eleven pm confession.

"jesus christ i thought it would just be a few sips, i'm such an idiot. my parents are going to kill me!" alessia moaned into the pillow. "your mum said last night she wasn't angry, just disappointed." you revealed as she rolled onto her back. "really? thank god." alessia sighed in relief now causing you to frown.

"you're happy about that?" "well yeah? she isn't angry, that's a relief." "she's dissapointed alessia that's worse!" "lower the volume please, and don't call me alessia you never call me by my full name it's weird."

fast forward and you never brought up her confession, unsure how to go about it at all, or how you felt about any of it. alessia however also clearly didn't remember it, not mentioning it much as you'd provided opportunities.

instead the blonde chose to focus on the pounding pain in her head as her parents forced her to still play her match that day, and it was safe to assume she more than learned her lesson about pairing football and a hangover.

you'd just assumed it had been a moment of drunken stupidity, her words holding no truth or meaning, deciding to push her confession deep deep down and do your best to move on as if you'd never heard it.

four months later; the first move

"are you nervous?" you asked, fingers expertly working their way through alessia's freshly dyed blonde locks, tugging and pulling with soft apologies as you braided her hair.

"no. i don't really get nervous about football, it's just another game. the girls are all lovely and training's been going well, i think we can win." alessia answered confidently, sat on the floor between your legs as you finished the braids, tapping her shoulders.

"these look wicked!" alessia grinned as she hurried to the bathroom, checking herself out in the mirror. "wicked?" you laughed, moving to cross your legs on the hotel bed with a raised eyebrow. "i think i've been hanging around tooney and stanway too much, they say it heaps." alessia rolled her eyes playfully.

"you should get back to your room, you'll be called down to warm up soon." you reminded as you checked the time. "shit i didn't realize it was after nine! thank you, saving my ass as always." alessia sighed, opening her arms as you stood to hug her.

"thank you for coming." the blonde whispered, you having accompanied her parents and brother to her first qualifying game with the under 17's lionesses team for the junior world cup, something you'd have not missed for the world.

"i won't have a clue whats happening but i'll be cheering for you." you grinned as she pulled away, rolling her eyes and kissing your cheek as she grabbed her stuff and slipped out of the room.

the kiss was nothing unusual, you'd both always been affectionate with one another, however ever since the drunken confession each little intimacy lead you down a windy and steep path of overthinking every little thing.

"-so why is she getting to just kick it?" you asked mario with a confused frown as one of alessia's team mates had earned a free kick.

"well you saw how number four was pushed to the ground?" the man moved closer as you nodded. "well she was tackled dangerously, something called studs up." he continued as you hummed.

"know how lessi's boots have all the little bumps on the bottom? those are studs, and when you tackle someone studs up it's illegal because it can lead to serious injuries. which is why she got a yellow card after, which is like a form of penalty. if you get two yellow cards that means you get a red card and you have to leave the pitch right away." mario explained as you let out a small ohh and nodded again.

"i just love our little football chats." the man chuckled, pulling you into his side in a warm hug. "sorry! less has been trying to teach me forever but it just goes in one ear and out the other." you apologized as he waved you off, gio and luca returning and handing you a hot chocolate as you smiled gratefully.

the girls came away with a 3-2 win and you couldn't be prouder of your best friend who bagged an assist and a goal of her own, being sure to point up at you and her family as she did before celebrating with her own team.

"hey a few of us are gonna have a big team sleepover in ellie and anna's room. you're gonna come right?" georgia asked alessia hopefully as she packed up her kit bag in the locker room. "she probably wants to spend some time with her girlfriend stanway leave her be!" ellie grinned as alessia frowned.

"she's not my girlfriend. she's my best friend, we've known each other since we were like five we're just really close." alessia corrected quickly, the smile dropping from her team mates faces.

"sorry! we just, well we assumed. sorry." ellie apologised as alessia nodded, sending them all a smile and promising to join them for a team breakfast tomorrow, leaving the change rooms with a weird feeling in her stomach.

"here she is, the next top striker of england!" gio cupped his hands over his mouth and announced loudly as alessia finally joined you all, having been kept busy with her team and the debrief and celebrations for around an hour or so.

she made her way around, hugging her family before stopping in front of you. "i am so proud of you! that goal was something else." you beamed, trying to hug her as she side stepped you, sending you a grateful smile and nodding for the two of you to catch up with her parents who were going to drive you all back to the hotel.

you brushed it off to her being tired, the car ride home filled with a lot of football talk you only pretended to understand, humming every now and then as your attention remained on the view outside, watching the world zip by quickly in blurs of green, grey, brown and blue.

though you were so fixated on the world outside that you entirely missed the pining looks constantly sent your way by your best friend beside you, who couldn't help but admire your side profile.

a soft smile settling on her lips as she watched your dimples appear and your nose scrunch every time you'd smile at something, the blonde finding both things absolutely adorable.

it was safe to say by the time you'd gotten back to the hotel and changed, then sat through a long dinner with her parents, then gone out for ice cream, alessia was shattered.

having been sharing a hotel room with her brothers you now had the room to yourself as they'd headed back a night early having plans with friends back home. so alessia opted out of her sleepover invite, ditching her team mates in favour of spending the night with you.

"god i think i'm gonna be ill." alessia moaned as she clutched her stomach, sinking into the soft mattress of one of the beds as you laughed. "i told you that second ice cream was a terrible idea and you'd make yourself sick. plus you ate your dinner, the starter and half of mine!" you shook your head, hands on your hips as you smiled down at her.

"i ran off a lot of energy today okay i was hungry! and you should know by now that i don't ever listen to a word you say so you should have found another way to stop me!" alessia groaned, her stomach gurgling.

"if you stink up the room as that all comes out the other end i'm sleeping in the hallway!" you warned, kicking her playfully and laying down beside her on the bed, both your legs dangling off the edge.

"please you love the smell of my farts, you've copped enough of them on your head over the years." alessia looked at you with a teasing grin as you gagged, shoving her away from you.

"urgh you're so gross sometimes. i can see why your mum says she basically had three boys!" you rolled your eyes mockingly. "please we're best friends we're supposed to share everything together, no matter what end it comes out of." alessia winked as you shook your head, gagging at her again.

"so i'll be sure to let your new team mates know you wet the bed till you were nine?" you grinned, knowing where to hit her to make it hurt as her jaw dropped. "that is such a lie! it was one time after we watched a scary film." alessia grumbled, sitting up and glaring down at you unappreciatively.

"but will they believe that? i don't think so, golden girl." you mocked as alessia's jaw dropped further and you barely had a second to roll away before she grabbed a pillow and tried to smack you with it.

"aren't footballers supposed to be coordinated?" you grabbed the other one, standing up on the bed with a challenging grin. "oh just you wait." alessia laughed as she stood up across from you, the two of you staring the other down, waiting someone to make the first move.

when she didn't make a move you lunged first, swinging the pillow with a war cry, collecting her right in the face as the two of you bounced around the bed like children half your age, smacking one another as your laughter filled the room.

you squealed as alessia suddenly tripped, grabbing onto you and practically tackling you down on the bed as she landed on top of you. the two of you couldn't contain your laughter as alessia laid her taller form down atop you, both your chests heaving and lungs burning with laughter until you eventually both began to settle.

as alessia sat up slightly she found her gaze pulled down to admire your flushed features. the way the corners of your mouth curled into a soft smile, the mischievous twinkle in your bright and alluring eyes, the curvature of your jaw and the way your ears stuck out a little from your head, something she constantly teased you for but actually found rather adorable.

now she was thinking about it there was a lot more about you alessia found so charmingly alluring it began to make her head spin. your eyes meeting hers as they shamelessly roamed your face, drinking in every single little detail, burning it into her mind so that if she never saw you again she would always be able to see you in her head.

catching the look in alessia's own face you pulled your head up slowly, the two of you staring each other down for a moment.

the older girls eyes couldn't help though to be drawn to your soft cherry pink lips, feeling the most overwhelming urge of curiosity wash over her at thinking of what they might feel like pressed to hers.

suddenly, but slowly, you both began to lean in as if compelled by some unknown force you were unable to stop.

then a pause, your faces so close that if alessia even just slightly turned her head, her nose would brush yours.

the blonde's eyes seemed to search your face as if silently asking permission of the younger girl beneath her, another pause passed before you nodded, both your hearts hammering so hard in your chests it felt like they could burst at any moment.

and just like that alessia leant in that little bit more, closing the final gap between the two of you as she finally captured your lips in her own.

butterflies exploded in their stomachs as the kiss grew longer and sweeter with every fleeting second that passed. alessia's breathe hitched slightly as she felt a warm hand slide into her own, you intertwining your fingers with hers as your other arm wrapped around her neck.

and in that very moment, everything felt right.

both of you eventually needed to pull away for air, alessia rolling off of you as you both lay in silence, hands still tightly intertwined in the small space that sat between you.

"go on a date with me?" alessia asked suddenly, cheeks bright red as she nervously awaited your answer, unable to hold back her true feelings toward you any longer.

"i'd love to lessi."

sixteen years old; the first date

alessia nervously drummed her fingers on her thighs as she spared a glance at you across the table from her, your eyes drawn down to the menu in front of you as the striker shakily exhaled.

"you alright?" you asked softly, sending her a smile as she quickly nodded, picking up the menu and covering her face which she was certain was bright red.

the action made you smile to yourself, this nervous, awkward and very clearly flustered side of alessia not one you'd really gotten much insight into over the years. instead you'd always been stuck with the cocky charmingly over confident blonde who seemed to all but disappear tonight.

the two of you were out for dinner, for your first official date since the kiss just a week and a half ago. since then you'd celebrated your sixteenth birthday, finally again the same age as your best friend, the two of you celebrating with your families.

things had been a little different since the kiss, you both danced around your feelings and interactions as if they were all suddenly new again, trying your best to navigate the obvious shift in your relationship with one another.

though aware that it was her who asked you on a date alessia had spent far too long overthinking what to do, eventually deciding the two of you should just get dinner at paradiso's.

the restaurant was frequented by your families often enough that it wouldn't raise any alarm bells the two of you going together, you both establishing on that same night as the kiss that you wanted to keep this between the two of you for the time being.

"are we ready to order girls?" john, the server who'd known you both since you were kids came over with a kind smile, alessia looking at you who nodded. the two of you made your orders and john disappeared to get them started.

"so, how was training?" you asked with a polite smile, having been trying all night to get the conversation flowing but each time something seemed to halter it, things fizzling out as soon as they started.

"yeah good, fine. the usual." alessia nodded, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants which didn't go unnoticed, none of her out of character behaviours did.

"lessi, hey." you called out softly, gaining her attention as you grabbed her hand under the table, squeezing it gently and interlocking your fingers. "why are you so nervous? it's just me." you whispered, the blonde nodding.

"i know, this just feels...so different." alessia sighed as you had to hum in agreement, things did feel a bit forced and awkward and you weren't really sure how to address it. a few moments of silence passed as you held on tightly to the strikers hand.

and then, everything suddenly clicked.

"can i say something?" you blurted out, gaining alessia's attention which had wandered to counting how many red tiles there were on the mosaic wall in the corner. "of course." alessia assured with a nod.

"i don't think this is going to work." you admitted quietly, alessia frowning and snatching back her hand. "no no sorry! gosh i could have worded that better." you blushed realising how it was coming across to her.

"not this-" you gestured between the two of you. "-this!" you instead gestured around the restaurant. "i think we know each other too well to do the whole conventional first date thing." you smiled as alessia visibly de-tensed, nodding firmly in agreement.

"do you want to just get the food to go? go back to mine and watch a movie?" you offered as alessia agreed, turning in her seat to gesture toward john.

within half an hour you were back at your family home, your dad having picked you both up, stealing a piece of pizza as his payment for the ride before leaving you both to it, your mum and siblings out for the evening.

once the two of you had eaten and decided on a movie you excused yourself to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes to change into and encouraging alessia do the same.

when you returned she'd donned one of your hoodie and a pair of her football shorts she'd found laying around which she'd left here before. "wondered where that went." the blonde laughed seeing you exit the bathroom in her shirt, which hung down just above your knees.

"you left it here, it becomes partially mine." you shrugged with a smile, causing the blonde to roll her eyes. "i'll keep that in mind." she teased as you sat back down next to her, clicking play.

it only took a few minutes before alessia's hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with a shy smile as you kissed her cheek. another twenty or so minutes passed then alessia started to move around a bit, seemingly restless.

"you alright?" you asked, glancing to her as she stopped. "would you maybe want to..." she gestured between her legs as now you smiled shyly, nodding. the two of you moving around a little you found your back resting against her front, caged in by her long tanned legs either side of your body.

"is this okay?" alessia asked quietly, snaking her arms around your stomach and resting her chin on your shoulder. "it's perfect." you promised with a soft smile, settling into her hold, your hands coming to rest on top of hers.

"you know..." you spoke up around a half hour later, growing quite bored of the movie you'd both picked. "mm?" alessia hummed as you turned to look up at her. "if this is like a date, we could maybe kiss a little." you suggested hesitantly, unsure if you were going a little too fast.

"yeah?" alessia asked, features filling with surprise as you nodded. "if you wanted to." you corrected, cheeks blushing slightly making the taller girl smile. "i do." she promised, squeezing your hands and leaning down a little.

"may i kiss you please?" she asked gently, breath ghosting your lips as her eyes roamed your face for any signs of discomfort, coming up empty as you nodded.

"yes you may."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part eight

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hand tight around the handle of his sword. Shadows pulled close, close, closer; cloak, hood, shroud. Still as a stone, hardly moving, barely breathing, waiting, waiting, tensing.

The whispers outside his cabin door grow louder.

He shot awake half an hour ago. A shift, under the cracked-open window, rustling, turning. Fabric, maybe, or fur brushing across the polished stone of the wall. Not a hellhound — he’d feel the bent shadows of its presence — nor any other creature from the Underworld, but clearly something dark, foreboding. Some heavy, stifling presence. And many of them, too, or perhaps one thing that is growing. It shouldn’t be possible within camp borders, but he can — feel it. A sense of ambush, of impending attack.

Every few minutes there’s a shake at his door handle. A wiggling of the Stygian iron metal, a whisper of sound as it’s jiggled, fruitlessly, a hiss as something draws away. The sound of quiet, throaty murmurs, muffled through the obsidian door. Escalating. Louder, louder; angrier, frantic.

Something is waiting for him.

It’s some comfort that it can’t get in. The handle was his design — not that most monsters would try to use it, but the burn as it touched their flesh, the threat of the Pit, would certainly would deter them. The obsidian doorway he insisted upon, regardless of skeletal complaints, was for practicality as much as pageantry. He has spent enough time in the well-run Land of the Dead to take notes from his father, paranoid he may be.

The noises, though, still grow stronger. Whatever is waiting for him has not been deterred by his fortifications, nor frightened by his aura of death. The handle jiggles again, and this time, the intruder is smarter — the lock turns, clicking as it is overcome, handle turning to follow it slowly, slowly. Nico holds his breath, gliding along the shadow, hovering in the doorway.

The door swings silently open. A clumsy lump of something steps hesitantly forward, huge and cumbersome; bulbous. At the front of it is a single long, glowing talon. The intruder pauses, contemplating, in the flood of low light, the cabin’s twisting shadows, turning slowly, carefully around. Nico glides along the floor, guessing at its blindspot, holding close to himself, waiting, waiting.

One.

The creature pauses.

Two.

The talon twitches to the left, following the creak of the settling bed springs.

Three.

Nico surges forward, bringing down his sword. It clangs against the talon, reverberating outwards, echoing the screams of the monster and tear of fabric —

“Nico! Nico! It’s us! Cool it! Watch the sword! Watch the sword!”

A burst of fire shoots upward, enveloping the cabin in a burst of white light. Nico hisses, nearly dropping his sword in his hassle to clamp his hand on top of his eyes, hunching protectively forward.

“Leo! Fucksake, you tryna blind us?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! He freaked me out, I flamed too hard!”

“Just fuckin’ — scream, next time! Jesus! I’ve gone blind!”

“What the fuck,” hisses Nico, blinking the spots out of his eyes, “are you idiots doing?”

In front of him stands not a monster but five infuriatingly familiar faces, each holding — for some reason — a mattress. Percy’s sword is still held loosely in front of him, and Jason’s jacket has been singed. Piper and Annabeth blink spots out of their eyes. Leo stands, in the charred ruins of his mattress, wringing his hands.

He glances up at the ceiling. Nico follows his gaze, noting where the black rock has been re-vulcanized into glass from the heat of the flames. He looks back down.

“From the bottom of my heart,” Leo says, solemnly, “my bad.”

Nico sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

His friends, for some reason, take this as a cue. The heavy door is pushed back closed, cutting off the last of the low light from the Greek fire torches outside and the whistling of light wind. Someone feels around for a light switch, and, upon finding none, shrugs and pokes Leo until his nose catches fire, guiding him around until all the lamps and fairy lights have been located and turned on. Someone else — Annabeth, he guesses — begins instructing mattress placement, directing a crew to dig through his closet for linens. A comment about how spacious it is now that he’s not in it pops into his mind and he shoved it back down. He will not make light of the situation. He won’t.

“What the fuck,” he reiterates, louder this time.

Nobody answers. A faucet starts running in his background, and he hears the flip of a drachma.

“If nobody answers me in the next ten seconds I’m going to reanimate Andre the Giant and have him bodily throw y’all out. He will not be gentle. He will —”

“Y’all count,” they all say at once. Percy, gleefully from the bathroom’s running faucet, calls, “I’ll keep track! Remember if it goes over twelve I win!”

Nico snaps his mouth shut, ears burning.

Why has he remained at camp, again? He trained with Achilles and Patroclus. He learned how to read with Literal Shakespeare. Alan Turing taught him math. Not successfully, or anything, but still. He has no bearing here. He could be anywhere he wants to be, and for some reason he is putting up with unrepentant disrespect.

Nico four months ago would smite them. Nico five months ago would turn them to shadows for their insolence. Nico a few weeks ago, even, would have at least sulked off into the forest to cool of for several days.

Here he stands, Nico of tonight.

Unmoving in the centre of his sieged cabin.

No Andre the Giant raised.

No terrors inflicted.

Hardly even a threat.

What the shit.

“What love does to a young lad, eh?” Piper says, patting him condescendingly on the head. He aims a kick for her knees, which she unfortunately dodges, cackling and scampering away. He surges after her.

“I am several decades older than you, you little snot, what are you even talking about —”

“Older and uglier, you wrinkly ass bitch —”

“Guess who’s gonna be ugly when I remove the flesh from her body —”

“Ha! Catch me first, shrimp arms —”

“It’s working! I got it!” Walking very carefully, not unlike a toddler holding a too-full open cup for the first time, Percy steps out of the bathroom, faucet finally off. In his cupped hands is a quickly spinning vortex of sink water, letting off a fine mist. A prism taped to the side of his forehead refracts a rainbow into it. “Say hi, Hazel!”

“Hi,” says Hazel, waving from her surprisingly solid connection. She meets Nico’s eyes, grinning. He matches it immediately, dropping Piper out of the headlock he had her in.

“Hey,” he says, ignoring Piper’s dark muttering and promises for revenge. “You look eager.”

“I am eager. I heard we’re having a sleepover and talking about boys!”

“…You heard what.”

Percy shucks off his shoes, stepping gingerly over Jason and plopping right in the middle of the mattress pile, legs crossed. Nico realises for the first time that he is wearing pattered Superman pajamas, which is frustratingly endearing. He shifts the water vortex so that Hazel’s projection faces him.

“I’m so pumped,” he says earnestly. “I’ve never done this before. I’m so intrigued. Do we talk shit? Is that how it’s done? Is there swooning? I have a plan if there’s swooning.”

“We’ll get there, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth brushes a hand through Percy’s hair as she walks by — somehow dignified, which is impressive, Nico has never seen anyone wobble over a mattress elegantly before — and presses a kiss to his forehead. He leans into it. “Ease into it.”

“Yeah,” Hazel snickers. She sticks her tongue out at Nico’s glare. “Don’t spook him.”

Nico throws his hands up. “Don’t spook me, she says. Heaven forbid anyone tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, you’re trying to court that boy, right? The cute one with the motormouth?”

Crazy how two sentences can reach down your throat, grip onto your beating heart, squeeze out your soul, drag it from your body, still pulsing, and leave it to actively shrivel on the floor next to your withered, fetal-positioned body to the audience of your cackling friends. Genuinely wild.

There’s a woman who wanders around the poplar fields of his father’s kingdom and has for tens of thousands of years — longer than even his father. Legend says she is the first user of language as it is understood in modernity. Nico may have to beat her up the next time he sees her. Or, well, try, ‘cause she’s jacked, but her crime cannot go unpunished. How dare she introduce the curse of language upon the human race.

“Which one of you,” he croaks, voice cracking more than Jason’s old man joints when he sneezes, “you — fuckers, told my sister about — about.”

If he says his name he’ll die. Like Voldemort except not stupid.

When he looks up, all five of them hold their hands proudly in the air.

“It was more of a conference call,” Jason explains. “And it was less ‘us telling’ and more us calling to say hey, Hazel, Nico keeps shutting down every time this particular person smiles at him, and then Hazel went oh, is it the medic boy he keeps rambling about when he calls me, and we went yeah, totally, can you elaborate on the rambling —”

“Cool.” Nico scrambles to his feet, brushing off his sweatpants, tucking his sword under his arm. “I’m going to go drown myself, if y’all will excuse me.”

He barely makes it one quarter step away from the stupid fucking mattress pile.

“Initiate part two of the plan!” Annabeth hollers.

“Y’all count!” Percy yells.

Without waiting to be chased, Nico sprints for the door. Immediately a fireball is launched at the handle before he can reach, melting it. He veers for the window, but a gust of air slams it shut, and a shining dagger pins the lock in place. In his final desperate dive for the nearest shadow, Piper sprints over — curse her long legs — and tackles him to the ground, rolling them both towards the nearest light source.

“Every single one of you —”

“Ow! Teeth away! Teeth away! Don’t make me muzzle you!”

“—except you, Hazel, never you —”

“Jason! He’s fuckin’ — his nails are clawed into the doorframe, help me!”

“—will be facing me in judgement day! And I shall not be lenient!”

“Quit trying to bite me or I’ll beat you up again!”

“No! Suffer!”

Conveniently, a spot on the uncomfortable floor has been left free of mattresses and pillows and beddings so that Nico and Piper can claw the shit out of each other properly. He lands a good hit on his collarbone, but she jams her heel into his ribs when he foolishly leaves his left side open. He manages to pin her arms to her sides with his legs, but she mirrors the move and squeezes her thighs around his neck.

“Do you usually just let them kill each other?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it. They didn’t get to spar yesterday so they’re a bit pent up, they’ll be fine soon.”

“…Must be a Greek thing.”

“Don’t you guys have Violence Fridays?”

“Uh, not quite.”

“We have war games,” Jason explains, “but there are generally repercussions for aiming for one’s jugular.”

Annabeth frowns. “Well, that seems flawed. How do you children ever learn to defend themselves?”

“If I recall correctly, by surviving to adulthood.”

“Touché.”

Knowing the scolding he’s about to get is going to be fierce, Nico rolls them both towards his (thankfully untouched) bed, sinking them into the shadows under it and popping up on top of Jason’s reclining body. As he planned, the combined chaos of Jason’s screech and Piper’s nausea gives him just enough leeway to kick himself free and scramble away behind Annabeth. Not that she’ll usually protect him, but he has a feeling that she has an itinerary and is therefore invested in keeping them on task.

“Okay,” she says, holding Piper back by the forehead — success. “Piper, put the nails away. Nico, quit making faces at her or I’m gonna let her claw you. Go sit on opposite ends of the mattress pile.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” they both say, immediately cowering and Annabeth’s glare and scampering to do as asked.

“Thank you. Alright, everybody grab a blanket and gather around. Nico, is there a — thermostat in here, or something?” She tightens the skull-patterned blanket (that she stole from his closet like the thief that she is) around her shoulders. “It’s freezing.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “I prefer to have my external environment the internal temperature of my soul.”

He smiles smugly to himself at the chorus of boos that echo around him. That was a good one. He feels no shame.

“You should,” Percy tells him seriously.

“Stick your finger in a socket.”

Annabeth tosses an overflowing binder into the centre of the mattress pile before they can really start to go at it.

“Be quiet and behold,” she says grandly, “the plan.”

Nico stares at it dubiously. “The plan.”

“Yes, the plan.”

“Say plan one more time and I’m chewing the floor.”

“You’re such an odd person.”

“Having your fucked up ghost mentor put you in a labyrinth to be hunted for sport by his monster friends for ‘training’ will do that to you.”

Will once told him that he reverts to making people uncomfortable via depressing personal anecdotes when he is nervous. Startlingly perceptive for someone who, in the same breath, asked Nico if he could bring his siblings to the picnic Nico had planned in the strawberry fields for them, alone, at sunset.

“Just — open the binder, oh my gods.”

Huffing, Nico does.

It’s less intimidating than it looks. The heavily doodled title page reads OPERATION: WOOING WILL, which is embarrassing, but the rest of it is as cleanly professional. Several sub chapters including plans A-L, gathered information, outside input, sources, and hand-drawn diagrams are neatly organized and typed out. It’s even in dyslexia-friendly font. Truly a work of art. Too bad Nico is considering incinerating it.

“It’s not even gonna work,” he mumbles, pointedly avoiding the six pairs of eyes watching him. Well, five, Leo walked in the cabin and immediately got distracted by something else. He’s been poking at a pile of bronze for the past forty minutes at least. “He’s — unplannable.”

“Nothing’s unplannable.”

“He is. He doesn’t — think about things. In the same way.” Nico traces his fingers over a page titled Dropping Hints — How Begging Someone To Go Out With You Has Changed In Seventy Years. “You and me’ll see someone go out of their way to make life easier on somebody and know they’re — crushing, or whatever. But Will goes out of his way for everybody, all the time. It’s not odd for him.”

“Can’t you just tell him? Outright?” Hazel asks. “I mean, he told you, didn’t he?”

“That’s different.”

It isn’t, really. Nico could tell him. He could walk up to breakfast tomorrow and just blurt it out. Same words, even. I think you’re gorgeous.

He wants to. He wants Will to know, wants his bright eyes to go wide and his nose to go red and his voice to go quiet as he says, really? And Nico wants to feel the goosebumps that cover his arms when he rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist and says, yes. Wants to watch him shiver as he says, you make me feel safe, you know. Watch his golden eyelashes flutter as he adds, wanted. Safe and wanted.

“It has to feel right.”

———

next

[sunflowerwinds]

all in a day’s work [h.c]

summary: being spider-woman is going pretty well for hazel. that is until you notice these cuts and bruises appearing on her skin. she’s just a little clumsy, though, right?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, shower sex (very little detail), spider!hazel, mentions of hazel’s transformation since becoming spider-woman, slight violence, cannabis mention, mentions of the avengers events, josie is hazel’s guy in the chair.

word count: 4.4K

a/n: it’s here. i’m beyond excited for you guys to read this short series. it’s going to be a four parter, uploading each part every week for the month of october. thank you and enjoy <3

one | two | three | four

Hazel hated criminals.

The ones who stole purses from innocent old ladies who were just trying to buy groceries. The ones who harass and assault women for rejecting them. Or in this special Brooklyn norm, a guy who had hotwired a BMW who was now involved in a high speed chase with four cop cars and a special hero following him.

Normally, she would be more than pleased to arrive at the scene. On any other day, she wouldn’t have promised to meet her girlfriend — sweet and patient you — at the bodega that your uncle owned. But some dumbass just had to hotwire a car when she had to meet you in an hour.

Hazel swung in between buildings, following the sirens of the police cars and the map inside of her mask, her eyes darting from car to car to find the one that was described. A dark purple BMW speeding down Tillary Street, turning down Gold Street. Once she had spotted the vehicle, she launched herself faster in the vicinity before landing on a U-Haul truck that was a few cars behind the BMW.

This guy was swerving and weaving through cars like a maniac as Brooklyn’s finest were hot on his trail. Hazel shook her hands out as a nerve-releaser, her gloved hands stretching in and out. She then sprinted across the top of the truck before launching a web at a tall building to maneuver her way onto the back of the BMW.

The breeze felt nice, though, after swinging around for so long. Her hands were gripping onto the sides of the vehicle to keep her balance.

“Excuse me, sir!” She tapped on the back window, waving a hand to get his attention.

The man’s eyes flickered to his rear-view mirror, eyes visibly widening at the sight of Spider-Woman hanging from the back of the stolen car. His response was to step on the gas. Hazel groaned as her lower stomach thumped onto the trunk, but quickly regained her posture as she hoisted herself onto her feet.

“Incoming text from honey with the white heart emoji and bee emoji,” Karen told Hazel, her Siri-like voice echoing in her ears. “Are we still on for sandwiches, babe? Semi-colon. Parenthesis.”

Hazel smiled at the message from you as she crawled to the top of the vehicle, mentally pumping her fist at the sight of the sunroof. The man had left it wide open. So he was an idiot in many ways. Hazel slipped in quickly, her bottom landing in the backseat. She’d tell Karen to reply as soon as she finishes with this nuisance.

“C’mon, dude, high-speed chase? What? Was stealing an old lady’s purse too cliche?” Hazel quipped with a cheeky attitude.

The man didn’t say a word but instead attempted to throw a punch in the backseat, letting out grunts of annoyance. Hazel blocked every swing with a sigh, wondering why the hell he was even trying.

“You know, you’d punch way better if you weren’t driving, sir.”

As the man continued to speed between cars, Hazel stares up ahead to see an empty alleyway in an upcoming street. She needed to get him off of the street so that innocent people wouldn’t be in the way of danger.

Hazel shoots a web at the man's eyes. He grunts at the sticky feeling and temporary blindness, releasing the wheel entirely. Hazel reaches over from the backseat, hands gripping onto the wheel to turn sharply into the deserted alley. She mutters a string of curses as the side of the car scrapes against the brick building.

She’ll tell Mr. Stark about billing that to the owner later.

Cars honked and came to a sudden halt at her illegal moves but the car was now in the alley, away from the public. She releases the wheel to quickly crawl out of the open sun-roof. Mid-way out, she feels the glass begin to close on her torso.

Hazel groans out at the squeezing pressure and looks down into the car to see that the man had hit the sunroof button on the roof of the interior. One of his hands gripped onto her spandex covered calf, trying to tug her back down.

“I have a girlfriend, dude. Let go,” Hazel grunted, wriggling in his grasp.

Hazel threw her foot back into his chest and jaw before jumping up and out of the car. She landed on a metal fire escape balcony. From that distance, she shot multiple webs at the end of the alleyway, creating a makeshift trap for the car to run into. Her wrists were beginning to ache but she kept her movements flowing, releasing the web as he was reaching the end. The car hit the large web with a loud thump but had stopped, which is what Hazel was aiming for.

The thief had stepped out of the car and began to book it.

“Karen, send a text back to honey reading,” Hazel stood on the fire escape and walked on the side of the building as she aimed a web at the man. The substance wrapped around his legs causing him to trip and hit the ground. “Of course. See you soon. With two x’s and o’s.”

“I am sending the text to honey.” Karen alerted Hazel to her mask.

Hazel swung over to land right next to the criminal's head, tilting her body to the side to grin at his scraped up face. She knew he couldn’t see her shit-eating grin but it brought her some sort of badass feeling. Like an ‘I-just-did-that-shit’ feeling.

“The cops will take care of you so if you’ll excuse me,” she shot her web around his wrist to keep him down and held them behind his back. “I have to see my girl.”

The man grunted loudly to which Hazel responded with a: “Bye, Mr. Criminal!” as she launches herself out of the alley and around the corner of the building.

You were browsing the shelf of snacks and candies in your uncle’s bodega. You had just gotten off your shift at the Build-A-Bear in the mall and you were absolutely starving. The array of chips and gummies made your stomach grumble, sighing as you were waiting patiently for Hazel to arrive.

Her Stark internship had consumed a lot of her time lately. Of course, you were incredibly happy and proud of her to be working under Tony Stark: a billionaire industrialist, inventor, and the Iron-Man.

You didn’t mean to seem clingy, but you missed her when she was gone.

“Bee, here you go.” You hear a voice coming from behind the counter.

There stood your uncle with your turkey club sandwich wrapped — no tomatoes. You let out a groan of relief as you walked up to the counter to take it from him. You reach into your tote to grab a five dollar bill.

“Bee, you’re not paying.” He began to walk around to avoid you giving him cash.

“Uncle Karter, take it now. I’ll hop over this counter and shove into the register,” your threat was playful, but you meant every word.

“You’re hungry so I’m giving you food. It’s just like having lunch at home.” Your uncle insisted as he pointed at you, resting his arms on the glass display of the different kinds of sandwiches and deli meat he had to offer.

You sigh, giving him a wary look. Yes, he was your uncle, but you felt guilty just being handed sandwiches that you could easily pay for. You have a job. Your uncle wouldn’t let you pay, though, so you reluctantly slip the dollar bill into your bag.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile before taking a bite of the fresh sandwich.

“It’s nothing, kiddo.” The man shakes his head as his eyes flicker behind him at the front door. The bell rings and he jerks his head to whoever was walking in. “Your little girlfriend is here.”

You whip your head around mid-bite to see Hazel panting as if she had run here with a wide, charming smile. Her hands were holding something behind her back as she approached you happily with her brown broken-in leather backpack over one shoulder, her keys that were clasped onto a loop of her jeans jangling loudly.

“Hey,” she breathes out, her gaze flickering between both of your eyes. Hazel raises her hand to wave at your uncle. “Hi, sir.”

“Hazel, I told you to call me Karter. None of that ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m 36, not 50.” Your uncle replied teasingly, causing you to chuckle. Hazel nodded, muttering a ‘right’. Her eyes locked with yours as your uncle began to attend to the other customers.

“How was it today?” You tilt your head as you take another bite of your sandwich.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, scoffing out. “Boring science shit but it was good. New scientist named Dr. Connors that Mr. Stark introduced me to.”

You deadpan at her, nodding your head. Sure, the subject wasn’t your favorite but you always wanted to hear about Hazel’s day. You brushed off the short response as you swallow that bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, well, that’s good. What are you hiding?” You try to peer over her shoulder but she only leans to the same side as you.

“Grabbed something for you on the way here.” Hazel beams as she pulls out the present from behind her back.

It was a small bouquet of an array of flowers for this time of the year. It was fall in New York, so the array of white roses and yellow sunflowers brightened up your mood. Forest Hills blossomed during the chilly season; a beautiful orange hue washed over the neighborhood in Queens as the decaying leaves fell from the tree branches.

Your eyes softened at the simple yet sweet gesture. Hazel grinned awkwardly, hoping you loved them.

Ever since you two had started dating half a year ago, Hazel has always felt like she had to be the best girlfriend she could. You were her first girlfriend and she was absolutely crazy about you, as you were about her.

Other people haven’t been the kindest to you and she knew that. Lying and cheating were a main factor as you’ve told her.

The guilt ached in her chest everyday having to lie to you about being Spider-Woman. You were her entire world. Tony insisted it was for the best if she didn’t want anything to happen to you.

“You are too sweet, I swear. Thank you, baby,” you lean in close to kiss her lips quickly and take the bouquet in your free hand.

Hazel flushed so easily, making your smile widen. It was a good feeling to see after so many months that she still got flustered when you kissed her.

“It’s nothing. You deserve it.” Hazel replied as if it was something you should know.

You don’t respond to that, only blushing like Hazel was moments ago. You sniff the soft flowery scent for a moment before taking another bite of your sandwich.

“You wanna head to mine?” You offer with a flirty smile.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Hazel nodded, eyes warily darting to your uncle who was occupied with his line of customers that appeared out of the blue.

“He’ll be here for hours. C’mon,” you loop your arm around hers. “Bye, Uncle Karter. See you later.”

Your uncle simply waves his hand mid-conversation with the middle aged woman in front of him. Hazel leaned into your touch for a second before letting herself get dragged out of the bodega by you.

A fresh autumn breeze brushed against her, hitting her pale skin. You leaned your head on her shoulder as you talked about all the adorable children that had come into the Build-A-Bear.

Hazel loved these small moments with you. Well, she loved every moment but little things like this clouded her brain when she wasn’t focused on keeping her identity a secret. Watching your eyes light up when you spoke about how happy these children looked when you handed them their bear made her heart grow tenfold.

When the two of you had arrived at you and your uncle's apartment, you reached into your bag to grab the house keys.

“You hungry?” You ask as your sliding the key into the slot.

Hazel shook her head, placing a hand over her stomach. “I’m okay. Thank you, though, honey.”

You place a gentle kiss at her cheek as if to tell her that you asked her questions like that to show that you cared. You frowned, though, as you noticed a bruise and cut on her top lip that you hadn’t really seen before.

Hazel noticed you paused and furrowed her brows.

“What is it?” She whipped her head around to see if there were any potential threats. She was tempted to check her watch that Tony had given her to get Karen to scan the area.

“Babe, did you hit your lip?” You raised a hand to graze over the reddening area.

Hazel’s eyes widened once she realized what you were talking about. Earlier this morning, Hazel had a guy hit the butt of his gun at her face when she had dealt with a smoke shop robbery. She actually got free weed from the guy working the register which she plans to give to PJ.

“Oh, yeah. May was opening a cabinet up top and it hit me straight in the lip. I kind of forgot about it.” Hazel easily lied through her teeth, letting you caress the outline of her lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” You ask her softly, eyes flickering up to her freckled under eyes.

Hazel shook her head with a hum, her smile growing as she admired your worried features. You looked away with a flushed grin as you pushed open the front door. The faint aroma of pumpkin and cinnamon filled Hazel’s nose, warmth filling her chest.

It wasn’t the largest apartment but it was home to you. You and uncle didn’t need much more than this.

“How is May?” You asked as you hung your keys on one of the Smurfs wall mounted key hooks that you had found at a thrift store.

“She’s good. Working at the hospital right now so she’s hoping that‘ll pay well.” Hazel explains as she traces the knick knacks on the shelf’s in the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Hazel’s Aunt May. She really was one of the kindest women you’ve ever met. May had a tendency to call you her ‘future daughter in law’ in front of Hazel just to tease the girl, watching her cheeks and tips of her ears flush a deep red.

“That’s good. I don’t want her overworking herself, though.” You sigh as you set your bag down next to the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, me neither.” Hazel sighed. “So, what did you wanna do?”

You hum in thought, bringing your single braid from behind your head to over your shoulder. You began to untangle the twisted hair as you thought about what activities you and Hazel could do now that she was free.

A certain idea came to mind.

“Well, I do need to shower so,” you say nonchalantly, hoping Hazel would get the hint.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I can wait out here. Take your time, honey.” Hazel nodded and went over to take a seat on the couch.

You stared at her grabbing the remote for the TV, turning it on and flicking through the channels. You release your hair to allow it to sit on your shoulders, waiting patiently for Hazel to realize.

“Oh, do you wanna watch Foot Loose when you get out of the shower?” Hazel’s gaze floated back to you.

Her excitement to watch the movie dropped when she noticed you tilting your head and looking at her like that. You had only given her that look when you were insinuating something sensual. Your body was swaying back and forth as your smile grew when she set down the remote.

“Sorry. I didn’t— I thought you meant by yourself.” Hazel rushed out as she turned off the TV, chuckling nervously.

“At first, yeah. But, hey, we’re conserving water if we shower together and you know I’m all about keeping the Earth green.”

Hazel couldn’t help but nod, standing up to walk up to you. “That— yeah. That’s true. Conserving water conserves energy that reduces greenhouse gas pollution.”

Her brain shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

“Yeah? What else does it do?” Your fingers hook onto her belt loops, tugging her closer into your body.

Hazel allowed you to manhandle her as she would truthfully let you do anything to her. She knew how much her ability to retain and cite facts turned you on. It was obvious by how you were drinking her in like you could devour her.

“It can… oh, protect aquatic life and extend water supply to areas that lack and ensure agricultural production to thrive.” Hazel rambled out, her flush growing as your thumbs brushed past her hip bone.

“Oh, those poor sea creatures.” You frown, smacking your lips.

“Don’t you need to shower?” Hazel asked, suddenly overwhelmed with impatience.

Your smile only grew, a giggle falling from your lips. You intertwine your hands with Hazel’s as you hurriedly walk over to your small bathroom. Hazel made sure to remove her watch and set it down on the porcelain sink, not wanting any sort of message from Tony to interrupt her time with you.

You turn to shut the door and turn the lock with a ‘click’. Hazel is caught off guard by you removing your work shirt, blushing at the sight of you in your bra. She felt like such a virgin. She’s seen you naked at this point and still was a flustered mess around you.

“Can’t take a shower with clothes, Haze.” You raised your brows as you were unbuttoning your pants.

“Maybe I can. I can do laundry that way.” Hazel quipped back with a chuckle.

Nonetheless, she began to slip off her sweater. You walk over to her, hooking your fingers underneath the thick fabric to help her. Her sports bra came into view as you tugged the sweater up and off, tossing it onto the blue and white tiled ground.

You both messily kissed, clanking teeth from how rushed your movements were. Soft laughter released from you as you removed the rest of your clothing and underwear, Hazel following by copying your actions.

Hazel hoisted you up with ease by your plush thighs, causing you to let out a yelp at the sudden movement. You lazily kissed her jaw as you held onto her neck, listening to her soft hums as she stepped into the shower. You never understood how all of a sudden, Hazel had this strength and toned body. You’d never seen her hit the gym once since you’ve been together.

Not that you were complaining. Just confused.

“Alright, let me down,” you hum against her skin, “I really do have to shower.”

“I’ll, uh, help.” Hazel offered as she released her grasp from your thighs, carefully watching you step onto the tiled ground.

You simply give her a soft kiss, whispering a ‘thank you’ onto her lips. Hazel hums back before grabbing the hydrating shampoo from the shelf. You turned on the shower, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ at the cold water. You hurriedly turn the knob to the red ‘H’ symbol, leaning back into Hazel’s body.

Once the stream of water began to heat up, Hazel squirted out the correct amount of shampoo into her palms. She massaged the product to your scalp as you tilt your head back with a sigh. Her fingers work into your scalp, sending you into a domestic bliss.

“That feels so good.” You practically moan as Hazel continues with the shampooing.

Hazel chuckles with a blush, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your naked shoulder. Your mind practically turns to mush but you force yourself to continue the rest of your routine.

You and Hazel bathed each other after a few heated kisses. That’s all. (You had gone down on her and she fingered you until you came twice.) She had told you how much you resembled a beautiful Renaissance painting with every curve and dip of your body. The words squeezed at your heart, feeling yourself fall more and more in love with her — if that was even possible.

Now freshly bathed and spent from the day, you and Hazel settle down, remaining in just underwear with an oversized tee. The sun had been long gone — the only light source being the city lights from outside of your bedroom window. You were cuddled up in your bed on your sides Hazel was running one hand up and down the fresh and lotion-covered skin of your arm as you twirled her wet hair around your fingers.

“I wanna stay here forever.” You yawn and rub at your bare face.

“Yeah?” Hazel hummed.

You nod with a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. If I didn’t have to work or worry about stuff like the apocalypse and aliens taking over, I would stay here forever.”

“Aliens?” Hazel’s brows arched at your words, chuckling along with you.

“Well, I mean, you saw what happened with Avengers in the city a few years ago. That was terrifying, you know?” You mutter, zoning out as the memory flooded back into your mind.

You had been just a few streets down when Loki had sent an army of aliens down onto the city. Who knows what could’ve happened if you had been just one more street closer to the destruction.

Hazel only nodded because how can you forget an event like that? Lives were lost and changed forever. Hazel, at the time, was just like you; a normal girl in the city just trying to live day by day. She wasn’t able to save people as she could now.

“Let’s just… lay here a-and not think about that, honey. Okay?” Hazel whispered as she tried to reassure you while reassuring her own scattered mind.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You whispered back with a self-deprecating chuckle as you felt that you had ruined the mood.

Hazel shook her head as she moved her hand from caressing your arm to cupping your bare cheek.

“No, no, no, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry about all that stuff that hasn’t happened.”

Hypocrite, Hazel’s mind echoed after she had continued to utter soft and kind words to you. That’s all she ever did. Worrying about the unknown or stuff she couldn't control.

You ultimately felt your worries fade for the time being. Hazel caresses the length of your back until your heavy eyes shut, allowing sleep to take over. Not too long after Hazel knew that you were sound asleep, she did the same.

Hazel was awakened by the sound of a loud alarm echoing throughout the space of the room. She had shot up quickly from the bed, looking down at her watch to see it was a call from Josie — her only friend from Stark Industries.

Hazel checked the time to see it was 7:04 in the morning; way too early to be calling her. She glanced at you tangled up in your bed sheets next to her, mouth slightly hung open as you were knocked out. She carefully got up from the mattress, trodding over to the bathroom to get some privacy.

Hazel groaned at her reflection, her hair a tousled mess and her shirt half-way off of her shoulders. She reluctantly answered the call on the watch, squinting her eyes as Josie came into view.

“Hi Hazel!” Her cheery voice threw her off guard.

“It’s seven in the morning, Josie.” Hazel grumbled, trying to fix her hair.

“That didn't sound like a ‘oh, good morning, Josie’ so I’ll pretend you said that.” Josie quipped back, adjusting herself in her cubicle. “Anyways, Mr. Stark told me to call you because he needs you here, like, immediately.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open. “Wait really?”

Josie hums as she types something on her laptop that was lighting up her screen. “He said in his email, and i quote: ‘call Underoos and get her here immediately. No’ and this is in all caps ‘questions’.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at the nickname. Within the first few days of working under Tony, the nickname came to mind and never left. As much as she wanted to stay in bed with you, she knew she had to see whatever Tony needed her there for. She scrunched up her nose and yawned, nodding and scratching the back of her head.

“I’ll be there soon. Probably 10-20 minutes.” Hazel stretches her free arm, releasing some tension in her biceps and upper back.

“Alright, cool. Oh, wait,” Josie muttered as she stopped typing on her keyboard, leaning back into her roller chair. “Ah, shit. Son of a bitch, dude.”

“What?” Hazel responded as she was about to leave the bathroom so she could hang up.

“No, nothing. I lost at Solitaire against Happy.” Josie shook her head, groaning before typing again on the laptop.

Hazel furrowed her brows before hanging up with a: ‘See you soon’. The last thing she heard was Josie angrily typing as she whispered: ‘Filthy cheater’.

Josie took Solitaire extremely personally.

Hazel slowly crept out of the bathroom as she had forgotten that your Uncle Karter was now home, if not, awake. She tiptoed back into your room, grabbing her bag from the small carpet strawberry right next to your bed. You had adjusted once again in your sleep, snuggling into the plush of your pillow.

You were a fidgety sleeper but she found it adorable. Watching over you right now almost made her stay but she couldn't risk Tony being angry with her. She quickly changed into her suit, walking over to your window to unlock it and crack it open.

Taking one more glance at your unconscious body, Hazel tugged her mask over her face before she shot a web out of the window at a building across the street. She threw her bag over her shoulder as she swung to the apartment building next door all the way to the Stark Tower.

Mid-way there, she suddenly remembered that she didn’t leave a note for you like she usually would when she left so suddenly. She brushed it off and told herself she’d send you a text as soon as she left.

Nothing to worry about.

Right?

taglist: @imjustapearl @seethesin @matchamilkislover @beabeebrie @curiousshifter101 @uraesthete @fictionalcharacterspecialist @c4llahansgirl @maggiecc @fruitysnackysmain @crvptidgf <33

[autisticlancemcclain]

secret santa for @leenfiend

“And you two…”

Shiro turns to look at them both, eyes narrowed, hand on his hip. Even being half-held up by Allura, Keith wants to straighten up on reflex, dust off his armour, stand at attention. He breaks away from the heavy stare, glancing over at Lance, only to find him already looking. He sneers when Keith makes eye contact, and in seconds they’re turning away from each other, scowling.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, looking down at his comm. “Yeah, I gotta do something about you two.”

———

The something, it turned out, was busywork.

Keith thinks he might strangle his brother. Keith knows he and Lance have been…difficult, the past few weeks — although for the life of him he could not tell you why — but sending them on some stupid mission that was so clearly just meant to waste time was just insulting.

Keith huffs, looking at the mission file again.

MISSION FILE: 24-62-XC

OBJECTIVE: find bananas. or something i dunno

PERSONEL: idiot a and idiot b. shiro said to erase that and write your names but your bickering has been driving me insane so no. suffer

LOCATION: Kunedg-12-2

DANGER LEVEL: none unless you kill each other lol

He reminds himself to mess around on Pidge’s laptop the next time she leaves it unsupervised. This whole stupid file is embarrassing, but the disrespect of the mission objective has to be the worst part. She couldn’t even bother pretending to come up with one.

“Could you maybe go brood somewhere else?” Lance snarks, startling him out of his thoughts. He lifts a delicate hand off the joystick to pinch his nose like something reeks. “Your emo-ness is throwing off my vibe and your angsty sweaty hormones are stinking up the place. Maybe go sit near the garbage shoot, or something.”

Keith bites back a growl, fists clenching at his side. “I smell fine.”

“Like finely chopped onions, maybe. Yuck.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Discreetly, Keith lifts up his arm and takes a whiff. He scowls harder — he smells like the same space brand deodorant they all use. Lance is just being a dick for no reason, like he always is, like what got them into this stupid mess in the first place.

“Just — land the damn Lion, Lance. Try not to kill us.”

Even though he was trying to be insulting, Keith regrets it as soon as he says it. Lance’s back goes ramrod straight, like he was zapped with Pidge’s bayard, and the temp in the cockpit drops thirty degrees.

“Lance —”

“Do not even attempt to finish that sentence,” he hisses. His hands wrapping around the controls are slow and deliberate. His shoulders are straight as a ruler.

Keith sighs, tipping his head back and letting it thunk on the back of the chair. He should’ve — goddamn it. He’s not sure what he should have done, but they might as well turn around now and go back to everyone else. They could stay on this planet for days, now, and Lance won’t so much as look at him. Keith is sure of it.

“Better hold tight. Might slip on the control and oops! Mercy me. I’m so clumsy and careless, I might just kill us.”

The Blue-turned -Red Paladin accompanies every biting remark with a sharp jerk of the thrusters, shaking the whole lion around. Red must be happy to help, because the smoothness that Keith knows should usually accompany her movements is nowhere to be found — she’s letting Lance yank them around to his heart’s content. Keith doesn’t have much of a connection to her anymore, but he can almost feel the impression of her snapping her tail in indignation.

He grits his teeth, determined not to give Lance the satisfaction of reacting. Even as they do nauseating barrel roll after barrel roll, even after Lance dives and dips like a crazy person, even after he lifts his hands off the controls and lets them drop, totally free falling — Keith says nothing.

At least, not until he hears a soft, “Oh, shoot.”

“‘Oh shoot’ what?” he asks cautiously, knowing this might be a trap. If Lance bites back with oh, so you really don’t trust me to pilot!, Keith is genuinely going to stomp over there and strangle him.

“Um. So. Buckle up,” Lance says, and Keith has to bite back a scream of frustration.

Lance is no longer pulling wildly at the controls, intentionally driving like it’s the first time he’s seen an aircraft. His posture is careful and relaxed, shoulders loose and easily moveable. But his jaw is clenched, like he does when he’s stressed, and Keith begins to notice a flashing light in the corner of the stats display.

“Lance.”

“Everything is under control,” he says quickly.

“…Lance.”

“We’re not going to crash or anything,” he amends. “I didn’t — screw it up.”

He glances backwards, quickly meeting Keith’s eye, and Keith notices that his expression is pleading. Keith swallows the comment he wants to make and nods.

“But. Uh, the comm line to the team is cut off. Not sure why. Maybe the planet has bad signal? It was fine coming in. I’ll land and then we can investigate?”

It takes Keith a minute to realize that Lance is asking him. That Lance is looking at him to lead, as if Keith has ever ordered Lance around. As if it hasn’t been two ye — months. At least.

Keith clears his throat, looking away. “Yeah, dude. You’re piloting, your mission. Whatever you think is best.”

For once, Keith has said the right thing. The confirmation of control runs through Lance like a shiver, and a mix of confusion and relief and precious, precious hope flits through his dark eyes almost faster than Keith can register, then he’s turning back to face the control board.

“Cool. Hold on, there’s not much to land on here so it’ll be bumpy.”

It is bumpy. Honestly, Keith is surprised at how deftly Lance and Red land, for all he has to clench his hands around the armrests — this planet is truly just a thick nest of towering trees and curling vines. Lance has to slink Red between two trees and have her land curled around the base of one, because there just isn’t any space for her to touch down regularly.

“You managed not to kill us,” Keith tries, smiling.

Lance stares at him critically for a moment. Then, wonderfully, beautifully, miraculously, his expression clears, and he decides Keith is being genuine. The tiniest of smiles turn up his own lips, and he shrugs.

“Well, duh. I’m the best pilot out of the two of us, after all. Let’s go.”

He’s out the door before Keith can retort — maybe something along the lines of you literally ruin every single bonding moment we have ever had you actual twerp-brained fucker — and Keith is quick to follow. Any attempt at dialogue dies on his tongue the second he’s exposed to the outside air — and the wall of wet heat that slams into him like a bull stampeding in the wrong direction.

“Jesus H Christ on a one wheeled motorbike,” he wheezes. Every inch of his skin is immediately drenched in sweat. He’s never regretted his gloves more, and wishes with every fibre of his being that he’d actually listened to Shiro for once and worn his (temperature- controlled) paladin armour.

Lance ignores him, beam lighting up his face. “Oh, it’s beautiful here!”

Keith can actually feel his shirt cling to his back like a second skin. It’s disgusting.

“Huh?”

Because yeah, the planet might be pretty. It’s almost greener than Keith can comprehend – trees so tall Keith can’t even see the canopy; trunks covered in moss and vines; wide-leafed, curling bushes and plants; tropical flowers making the air smell sweet and fragrant. Keith watches as a gecko patters down a branch to rest in a patch of dappled sunlight. Pretty, sure.

But Keith is pretty sure he’s actually breathing in water. The air is so goddamn humid he’s not sure there’s actually any air in it, and he is sticky. Beautiful places are not sticky. 

Lance is already frolicking around like a goddamn nature fairy. He tugs off his jacket, tying it around his waist, but other than that he seems to revel in the humidity, breathing in deeply like he’s used to inhaling what is essentially gasified mist instead of air. He grins at the greenery like it’s familiar, despite the fact that they’ve never even glanced at this entire quadrant the entire time they’ve been in space, let alone this planet.

“You live to thrive wherever I do not,” Keith mutters, irrationally angry at Lance’s lack of suffering. He scowls at his back and says, louder, “We have a mission.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance dismisses, still in the trance-like glee. He twirls around to face a huge, fern like plant, reaching up to caress the leaves and pet the back of a beetle. “You and I both know it’s busywork.“

“Yeah, well, it’s an official mission and we’re Paladins of Voltron, so. Personally I take that pretty seriously.”

It’s a low blow, as bad or worse as his piloting comment earlier. He winces as soon as he says it – Jesus, when did he start trying to piss Lance off – but luckily Lance doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, already twenty feet down some random path. Keith groans quietly and stomps after him.

Ten minutes ago, Lance could have suggested they turn around and leave and Keith would’ve been on-board. Now, as stupid as it is, Lance’s delight in this planet annoys him. It’s not fair that he’s amusing himself, and Keith is miserable. They’re supposed to both be miserable.

Somehow, though, he manages to keep his commentary to himself. Part of it is watching as Lance seems to…glow, on this planet, as strange as that is to notice. The giant smile has not left his face, and the yellow sunlight trickling through the leaves looks good on him. He hums as he walks, dancing under bent branches, even refraining from holding them back so Keith can get through and waiting until Keith is just barely past before snapping the branch back so Keith gets smacked in the face. And that’s one of his favourite hobbies.

He must be in a really good mood, if he’s not finding an excuse to smack Keith.

“Can we find some stupid fruit or something and get out of here,” Keith complains, finally having had enough. Have they actually been hiking for hours? Keith feels like he’s been hiking for hours. He feels like he’s seen the same eight plants nine hundred times. Everything has coalesced into a sea of green and he’s hot, goddamnit, and he’s never regretted an all-black ensemble more in his life. Maybe he listens to Shiro next time. Well, unlikely, but –

Something smacks him in the face, and he yelps. 

He bends down to grab the weapon, seething as he hears Lance’s snickering, and comes up with some kind of round, firm…thing.

“Fruit,” Lance supplies. “Feel free to head back to Red. You go back to the others and they’ll send your ass right back, catboy. You know as well as I do.”

Keith knows this. Of course he does. But it pisses him off that Lance is so blase about it, like Keith doesn’t know, that he clenches the fruit-thing in his fists and actually does stomp back to Red, leaving Lance to take a hike. 

“God he is so annoying,” he mutters to no one, aggressively biting the fruit. It’s delicious, which only serves to make him angrier. He puts on a high, mocking voice. “You go back to the others and they’ll send you back, blah blah blah. As if I don’t know that. As if I’m dumb.”

It’s relieving to get back into Red’s interior. It’s not exactly AC, but it certainly isn’t humid central, and any break from that heat is a welcome one. He sits heavily in the pilot’s chair, relishing in the familiarity of it, and sulks.

Or, well, he tries to.

The thing about sulking is that it gets very boring very quickly. That’s why he usually expresses his sulking through incredible violence, and why he misses the castle’s training room so much. That place was great. All Keith had to do was press a button and boom, he was being attacked. The literal dream.

Bored, he swings his legs over the armrest, opening his bayard and examining it. It’s weird to have such a contentious thing. Knowing all the blood it spilled in Zarkon’s name…it’s no wonder that his brother was so quick to get rid of it. But still, it’s a tool. A tool cannot be blamed for its master’s action, that much Keith had learned in the Blades.

He lets the blade glow and shrink in his hold until its back in its dormant position. He can’t very well train in here, as much as he would like to. Both Red and Lance would kill him, probably. 

Red makes a keening noise in his head. It’s the loudest he’s heard from her in…too long, and it startles him.

“What?”

Her presence in his head gets stronger, more insistent.

“What?” he repeats, sitting straight up. “What, girl, what’s going on?”

He yelps as the floor shifts under him – Red stands up, unwinding herself from around the tree. A growl reverberates through the entire ship, making the control board vibrate. A bad feeling begins to take root somewhere in his stomach.

“Red?! Red, what’s –”

Before he can finish, she opens her great maw, and literally spits him out. She doesn’t leave him time to get offended, nudging him forward the second he gets to his feet. She growls again when he looks back at her, tilting her head at the path Lance disappeared down.

All at once, Keith gets it.

He sprints. Bayard elongating in his hand, he runs as fast as he can, hacking away branches and vines with ease – when he chances a look down, he sees that it’s taken the form of a machete. His first bayard change.

He does not have time to celebrate it. 

He can barely hear it over the sound of his own pounding feet, but there’s a rumbling, somewhere in the distance. Keith has been hearing it for a while – he thought it was Red, or maybe just jungle noises.

Now, he hears the human voice responding to it.

Something is wrong.

“Please don’t be doing something stupid,” he prays, pushing himself faster. It’s not easy. Keith is in good shape, but the humidity is knocking the hell out of him – every breath feels like it’s getting half the oxygen it should. He’s tiring fast. But the noises are getting louder, closer, and yep, that’s definitely Lance’s voice. Keith isn’t exactly sure what he’s saying, but he knows the voice, of course he knows the voice, it’s the only one that never left his head once in two years. In a last burst of strength, he sprints toward the sound, slashing a near-solid block of vines. 

He slashes the last layer of vines back, thrusting forward, and very heroically lands on his face.

“Lance!” he shouts, jumping back to his feet. He whirls around, sure this is where he heard the growls interspersed with Lance’s murmuring. But he can’t see him anywhere.

“Here,” sighs a voice.

Keith looks up and barely chokes back a scream. 

Swinging from a vine, wrapped up to his neck in a cocoon of them, is Lance – but it isn’t a vine. It’s thick like one, and smooth, but bright white. And…gloopy, almost, because Lance is not wrapped in a bunch of vines but in strands and strands of silk, and perched on – or maybe clinging to – his swinging body is the biggest spider Keith has ever seen. 

“Get off him!” Keith yells, proud of himself for how little his voice shakes.

“Oh, great plan, Keith. Order the animal around. I’m sure it’ll heed your demands and cut me free.”

Keith flushes. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Victims of Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Gone Wrong don’t get to snark!”

Lance shrugs. “You’re welcome to climb on up here and get me to shut up.”

As if in understanding, the spider hisses, scuttling down Lance’s body and lunging towards Keith, snapping its fangs. Keith shrieks and jumps back. Luckily, the spider doesn’t go past Lance’s head.

“She’s outta webs,” Lance explains. He doesn’t even flinch as the spider’s massive butt – spinnerets and all – rest on his forehead. Keith gags. “She won’t get too close to you, you’re too threatening –”

“I’m threatening?!”

“– so you’re in no danger. You can put the weapon away.”

“Put the weapon away – Lance, did it already suck out your brains?”

Lance glares hard at him. The effect is significantly lessened as the string of webbing he’s hanging from slowly turns, forcing his eyes away from Keith, and then also, well. The massive fuckin’ bug sitting on his forehead. So.

“No, she didn’t suck out my brains. She’s an animal, Keith, not dumb. Eating me would be stupid and a massive waste. I’m too big. I just freaked her out, is all. I should’ve been more careful in approaching her web.”

Keith places his face in his hands and yells. Just – screams, for a minute. He can’t believe he ever missed this asshole. He lived two blissful, blissful years without having to deal with any of this shit. 

And now, massive spiders. 

Great.

“I hate you,” Keith says. 

Lance nods, shrugging again. “Fair. Can’t leave without me, though.”

“I think I might. I’ll tell Allura you died tragically. Moment of silence, blah blah. Then I go home and have a lovely, quiet flight the whole time.”

“Hm, that won’t work. Hunk will be desolate. Inconsolable, I would even say.”

Keith sighs. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, matching Lance’s grin. He cannot believe his own brain’s betrayal, allowing itself to be amused by Lance’s stupid jokes. 

“What am I gonna do about the spider, Lance.”

At its – hers, whatever – name, it hisses again. Lance remains unphased. He wriggles a little, even, as if the sharp fangs aren’t inches away from his eyeballs.

“I’m working on it, gimme a sec.”

Keith aquieses. He wants to slash through the stupid binds and be done with everything, but he’s worried that the spider might be faster than he is and hurt Lance before he can get the chance. If he can just find a way to smack the spider off…

“Hm. I got an idea. Keith, grab my comm.”

Keith bites back a comment about who should be ordering whom around, edging gingerly around the hissing spider to scoop up Lance’s dropped comm. He clicks it on, tapping in Lance’s password – 3425, spelling D-I-C-K – and holding it loosely in his freehand.

“Got it.”

“Great. Okay, open my spider translator app.”

“Your – what.”

“Spider translator app,” Lance explains patiently. “Been working on it with Coran. Spiders communicate mostly via pheromones, but a lot of ‘em use clicks, especially threateningly. I remember how to say ‘hi’ and ‘no harm’, and I think I remember the sound for ‘food’? But I’m not sure and I don’t want to say ‘no harm food’ but accident, or something dumb like that, ‘cause then she might get the wrong idea. I’m hoping for something closer to ‘no food’ or ‘bad food’. I think she kind of gets it, but she’s still spooked. If I click at her she might think I’m another spider, let me go. If all else fails we’ll use the pheromones Coran and I have stored in Red’s shipping dock, but that stuff really reeks and doesn’t really wash out so I’d rather not.”

Keith’s head starts to hurt. Vaguely, he starts to wonder if he hit his head somewhere and is now dreaming, but unfortunately this brand of weird is pretty regular Lance. It’s just been a while since Keith has been in full force of it. 

Plus, Coran has clearly been enabling. 

“I have Seen Things,” Keith says, stabbing at the stupid comm. The app is front and centre. It is used more than the actual communication app, Keith knows that because he finds the stupid spider app in seconds and literally cannot find the communication app. He is going to kill this boy, the second he makes sure he’s safe. “So many things in space, Lance. So many of them horrible. So many of them strange. You remember the blob people that talked by pissing? I remember the blob people that talked by pissing. That is less weird than this, Lance.”

The translation app is pretty intuitive. Keith will give him that. He finds a translation for ‘bad food’ pretty quickly, but can’t read what it says for the life of him. He glances up, taking in the spider and the sheer fucking size of it, and slowly extends his hand so Lance can see the comm screen. His fingers tremble ever so slightly. 

Lance has to strain his neck slightly to see the screen. Keith resists the urge to yell. But he quickly makes a series of clicks and tongue-sounds, attracting even more of the spider’s attention. It stares at him with all eight of its eyes for several minutes.

Then it turns, scuttling slightly away from Lance’s face. Keith lets out a huge sigh of relief – too soon – as the spider sinks its fangs in Lance’s chest.

Keith screams.

“Will you chill out!” Lance scolds. Keith’s screams only get louder, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “She is eating the silk, Keith, Jesus, stop yelling! I’m fine!”

“I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you –”

In minutes there’s a thunk, and a muffled “Ow.” When Keith looks up, Lance is sprawled on the ground, rubbing his wrist, and the spider is nowhere to be found.

“Are you physically fucking capable,” he says slowly, “of just – not doing stupid shit? Like at all? Maybe once.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance retorts. He has a startling amount of dignity for someone with spider silk in his hair, still sat on the hard ground. “Your ass got stuck on the back of some whale for two years. Embarrassing.”

It is embarrassing, so Keith can’t retort. He makes a face and hopes it’s sufficient, but then Lance makes one right back, and he looks so fucking stupid in the fucking jungle and also kind of good for some reason and Keith’s heart is just barely slowing down, now, and his hands still shake and Lance just spoke fucking spider and Keith just.

He loses it, a little. 

He starts laughing and he can’t stop, and its so stupid, and he’s so fucking hot. His knees get weak and he’s landing on his ass, gasping for breath, Lance wheezing as he leans against Keith for support that he can’t even give. Who knows what other horrors lay in this stupid jungle – he and Lance are so loud they’re practically inviting them over – but Keith can’t stop for the life of him. His brain feels disconnected from his body. His stomach hurts so freaking badly. Every time he looks at Lance he loses it again. 

“Please take the fucking silk out of your hair,” he tries to say. Every word is interrupted by a wheezy giggle, so it doesn’t do much, but luckily Lance runs his hands through his hair anyways and it clings to his fingers instead. 

He calms, finally, keeping his attention on the strand of white silk, watching Lance’s thin fingers fiddle with it. He finally manages to calm down, too, taking huge breaths and trying to steady himself. 

“So,” Lance says when they can breathe again, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, asshole. I thought you were gonna get eaten.”

“Oh, I’m not sorry about the spider. That was an honest misunderstanding.”

Keith sighs. For his own peace of mind, he convinces himself that Lance is joking. “What are you sorry for, then?”

Lance fiddles with the edge of his jacket. Keith notices, for the first time, that the tightly woven silk left red, raised welts around his skin. It must have been tight.

“I’ve been. A little. Standoff-ish. Perhaps.”

Keith snorts. “A little?”

“A lot,” Lance amends, smiling. He punches Keith’s shoulder. It is not gentle. “I missed you, Dropout. I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t like that I did. Misplaced aggression, all that.”

“You’ve matured remarkably in my absence,” Keith observes. He dodges Lance’s kick, but only barely. His smile hurts his face. “You’re almost, like…a real, functioning person now.”

“I take it back. You’re annoying. I didn’t miss you, all the letters I wrote you are a lie, in fact you can actually fuck right back off –”

Keith stills. “Letters.”

“– to the space whale, actually. See if I care.” Lance clears his throat. His face is getting steadily more flushed, and oh God it has nothing to do with the heat does it. “I don’t, in case that’s unclear –”

“Lance,” Keith says, a little more forcefully. Because – because oh God, this means. This means. “What do you mean, letters?”

“A new alphabet I came up with in my spare time,” Lance snaps, shoving Keith back and getting to his feet. “What do you think, you idiot.”

He tries to walk off, but Keith doesn’t let him. He wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him back – too forcefully, accidentally, and Lance yelps as he stumbles right into Keith’s lap. Keith doesn’t stop him from moving frantically back, a little warm himself.

“Lance.” His tone is urgent. “Lance, I wrote you letters too.”

Finally, he stops squirming. “You did?”

“Yes. I don’t know if I can – I mean, I don’t have any here, but they’re stashed in Black, I couldn’t leave – oh.”

Lance’s lips are pressed to his.

Lance’s lips. 

Are pressed.

To his.

Lance is kissing him.

“Oh – oh.”

“Man, you really are an idiot.” 

His harsh words are significantly softened because they’re, y’know, mumbled into his mouth. Keith can’t quite bring himself to complain about that one, really, since Lance is warm but not suffocatingly slow and his mouth keeps curving into a smile and his lips are soft and. And. For once he’s too preoccupied to pick a real fight. 

Keith can live with him like this, he thinks.

“My letters.” Keith pulls away slightly, clearing his throat. “You can’t. Read them.”

Lance tilts his head. “Why?”

Embarrassed, Keith gestures between the two of them. “This didn’t – occur to me, Lance. So.”

A shit-eating grin curls across the Red Paladin’s face. “What didn’t occur to you, hot stuff?”

“You know,” Keith warns, glaring. His ears feel like they’re burning, and not just because of the stupid nickname. 

“I don’t!”

“You do, asshole, because you’re smirking like you do.” “No need to get presumptuous, Keithy. I simply do not understand. What didn’t occur to you –” he leans in again, breath tickling Keith’s neck and making him shudder – “me? Like…this? Close to you?” He presses a small kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw. “...Liking you, maybe?” Keith’s breathing is embarrassingly heavy for what’s barely a little kissing. He tries desperately to get himself under control, but with Lance so, so close… “Or was it yourself you didn’t understand, hm? Wax a lot of poetic about me in those letters?”

Keith did. It’s true. He remembers one humiliating instance where he, in frustration of forgetting the details, tried to map out Lance’s face – the freckles that dot his nose, the shine of his brown eyes when he makes a perfect shot, the curve of his wide grin. He’s pretty sure ‘sparkling’ was used in description at least twice, which is…bad. 

In a last ditch effort, Keith gets his hands on Lance’s chest, lays his palms back, and shoves. When he’s flat on his back against the jungle floor, eyes wide and head tilted back to watch Keith’s face, Keith kisses him quiet. 

It works.

It works very well.

“Okay, we gotta – we gotta – not that this isn’t great, it is, but we gotta –”

Finally, Lance is the flustered one, the wordless one. Keith relishes in the feeling.

“Keith, get off, we –”

Finally, Lance succeeds in pushing Keith back. He rests on his heels, pouting (and subsequently ignoring the fact that he’s pouting, because, what kind of witchcraft).

“We have to go,” Lance says sternly. “Okay? We can – do this later. We gotta get back.”

Keith huffs. “They’re the ones who sent us away. They can deal for a few hours.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Lance reminds him. “Let’s just go, okay? Lots of excitement for one day.” He tilts his head back, smirking. “If we leave now I’ll set Red on autopilot and we can make out on the way back.”

Cold air in Red’s cockpit? Backdrop of stars and space? Somewhere to be that isn’t a jungle floor?

“Sold,” Keith says, hastily getting to his feet. The walk back to the Lion is the least complaining Keith has ever done about anything, even in his own head. 

Right before they walk into Red’s waiting and open mouth, Lance plucks a yellow, curved fruit from a tree. He tosses it to Keith, grinning widely.

“Mission accomplished.”

–––

happy holidays colleen :DD

[its-time-to-write]

I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie. 

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years. 

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

[meguwumibear]

yakuza!shouto x reader writing warm up

you fucked up.

badly.

broke into the wrong place at the worst time.

in your defense, you've been casing the joint for hours. it was supposed to be empty. how the hell were you supposed to know it was anything but?

the scene before you is gruesome. the body on the floor still warm. and the killers? yeah, they're staring straight at your dumb fucking ass.

you just had to choose this fucking house to break into. didn't you? what shitty fucking luck—not that you've ever been on particularly good terms with the lady. besides, you're really a horrible thief. too loud. too clumsy. probably should've gone into construction instead.

you're fast at least. from all these years of running. you're good at creating space, at keeping a distance between yourself and others. thank fuck for that because if your speed fails you now you are most certainly going to eat a bullet for dinner.

maybe a bullet wouldn't be so bad actually. you've had worse things to eat. what kind of metals are in bullets anyway? your anemic ass could certainly use some iron.

focus.

there's a car running in the driveway. likely an escape vehicle which means it would be an absolutely stupid thing to steal. the assholes are probably tracking it somehow. hitmen do shit like that, right? they keep close watch on their property?

the footsteps behind you are close. way too close for comfort.

fuck it. whatever. gambling's never been your vice, but it's probably worth the risk. you'll just hightail it out of here and ditch the car the moment you get the chance.

the driver's side door swings open when you pull at the handle.

idiots. who forgets to lock their fucking getaway car?

no matter. you're not one to look gift stupidity in the mouth. those morons can eat your fucking dust.

you throw the car in reverse and slam your foot on the pedal just as two hulking forms come into view. they have their weapons raised, poised to shoot.

tires screech on gravel as you tear down the driveway. you keep your head low in case your pursuers decide to empty their entire magazine into the back seat in a last ditch effort to kill you.

the rain of bullets never comes.

odd.

they probably could've hit you. is the car you're in worth so much they wouldn't risk dinging it?

the moment you hit the city you pull the car into a narrow alleyway and shift gears into park.

the night is too quiet and still. it does nothing to keep your mind off of your rabbiting heart. the stupid fucking thing is beating so fast you're certain you're setting some sort of world record.

you take a long deep breath in to steady yourself, relaxing your grip on the wheel.

"i'd torch the thing if i were you," comes a voice from the backseat. "you're dead if they find even a trace of something that could lead them to you."

that rabbiting heart of yours? yeah, it near about stops. you can barely find the courage to turn to meet the eyes of whoever the fuck you just took for a joyride.

the man is beautiful in a way that cuts like a knife. lean build. smooth skin...well mostly smooth anyway. there's what looks like a long since healed burn around his left eye.

the man also has a gun in his hand. he's not pointing it at you. he's not even fucking looking at you. he has his elbow propped on the window and his head resting in his hand.

yeah, you are so totally screwed.

"arson's not really my thing, but thanks for the tip," you reply, throwing open the door. it hits the brick wall of the alley with a dull thud.

you wince at the impact, wondering how much it costs to buff that kind of dent out of a car like this.

you chance a glance behind you, and the man is looking at you now, red eyebrows raised in amusement.

fuck.

motherfucker's toying with you.

there isn't a large enough gap for you to wriggle out of the car, and you don't have the strength to yank the door closed again now that you've so dimwittedly sandwiched it into the wall.

the asshole in the back's just watching you. he seems curious what you'll do next.

psh, as if the solution isn't obvious.

you start the car, moving the gear stick into drive, and slowly scrape your way down the alleyway, aiming for the entrance.

"bit conspicuous, don't you think?"

"shut up," you spit, stopping the car nonetheless. "like you could come up with anything better."

a lazy smile touches the corner of his lips.

"i'd never get myself into such a predicament. i would have-" the man is cut off by a buzzing in his pocket.

holy shit he has a phone on him?!

"do you mind?" he asks, answering the call anyway. "i kind of need to take this."

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Blood (Discord Drabble) tw: blood (obvi) - aka, Steve cuts himself shaving and Twilight-inspired vampire!Eddie is not chill about it. I'm gearing myself up to write total nonsense for the microfic I've had sloshing around in my mush brain

Steve hadn't realised just how clumsy he really was until he found himself dating a vampire.

Okay... Maybe just about everyone around him told him so. Aka, mostly Dustin and Mike... sometimes Robin, too – but she is just as bad!.

And he isn't so much as dating Eddie, either. At least they haven't exactly clarified that one yet despite... ahem... doing everything dating people do... and then some as he harbours a still presumed-dead fugitive at his house until further notice.

Despite everyone (aka, mostly Dustin, Mike and sometimes Robin) thinking he's a clutz and an even bigger idiot, Steve knows it is his blood that's the problem.

A scraped knee while shooting hoops? Eddie comes to linger just inside the door with a blanket draped over himself like a dying king, standing there all panicked when he is supposed to be sleeping. A paper cut at work – half of Hawkins away? Eddie calls Family Video, yelling down the phone to Robin like it's a world-ending emergency.

He'd had a nosebleed a few weeks back, the first non-punch-up-induced one since he was in middle school and it had Eddie launching himself at him from halfway across the room during movie night.

He blushes every time too, thinking about how riled up it makes Eddie, even though he has more than willingly offered up his blood to him on... ahem... other occasions.

Steve tries to be careful the rest of the time.

But accidents happen.

"Shit!"

He drops his razor in the sink and runs his finger over a fresh shaving cut. He grumbles at his own reflection as he applies pressure. He was almost finished shaving too!

"You a-okay in here, Stevie-Bear?"

Even though he knew it was coming, Steve jumps at the sight of Eddie in his periphery.

"Just cut myself shaving," he chuckles nervously, moving his hand now to find a streak of blood smeared on the pad of his index finger.

And just as quick as he appeared, Eddie is taking his finger and sucking it into his mouth, smiling like a greedy kid with a goddamn ice cream.

[chukys-mouthguard]

18 and 22 fluff for Matt Rempe

Prompts: “I don’t care about anything but you.” + “For you, I’ll take on any challenge.”

Note: I don’t actually think Matt is that bad of a cook, but like he’d definitely be clumsy in the kitchen, especially if it’s something a little more complicated

“Matt, please, I don’t care what was said, he’s just being an idiot.”

Pulling Matt from the bar, you tried your best to cool him off. A drunken guy making some smartass comments had pushed Matt to his breaking point, luckily you’d stepped in before a fight broke out.

“Y/n, if you heard him I guarantee you’d care. Fucking asshole, I should’ve punched him square in the jaw.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as the two of you climbed into your car, deciding it was time to call it a night. Though you loved that Matt stood up for you and protected you, a bar fight was not something he needed to add to his resume. Plenty of fights taking place for him on the ice so far this season.

“I don’t care about anything but you, and the last thing you need is getting called into Laviolette’s office tomorrow to plead your case of why they shouldn’t sit you for getting into a bar fight.”

The two of you chuckling, knowing it definitely wouldn’t have been a good phone call to receive had Matt done anything reckless at the bar. Especially with how he had finally earned the opportunity for more ice time. Getting on Laviolette’s good side wasn’t easy, and Matt definitely didn’t need to do anything to fuck it up.

“Okay but, I’m sure he would appreciate me sticking up for my girlfriend.”

“Oh I’m sure, anyone would say you did your job. I’m so very appreciative of you babe. But, you know what a challenge it was to even get to where you are now. And I’m so fucking proud of you. So let’s not worry about little drunken fools at a bar, you’ve got bigger things in your sights!”

You flashed him a smile as you took his hand in yours, locking your fingers with his as he smiled himself.

“For you, I’ll take on any challenge. And if that involves pleading my case for a littleeee punch to a drunken guys jaw, I’d do it.”

“Matthew Rempe no! That is what we are not doing!” Throwing your hands in the air as you laughed, Matt shrugged with a goofy grin.

“How about this challenge….when we get home, try not to take a twenty minute shower and use up all the hot water. And, let me fall asleep before you so your snoring doesn’t keep me awake all night. Can you take on that challenge for me?”

Matt flashed you a grumpy look, “but y/n…I’m a giant, I’ve got a lot of body to wash.”

“Matthew Rempe I hear you half the time singing in that shower, you’re not fooling me! I know you could easily be in and out in like ten minutes, maybe even less.”

“Okay fine, ten minute limit. And if I can’t do it, then I’ll cook breakfast in the morning.”

Your eyes widening as you thought back to the last time he’d cooked breakfast, and you use the term cook loosely. This boy could possibly be the only human being to screw up cereal. His scrambled eggs were practically still raw, his bacon burnt to a crisp, and his pancakes were still liquid in the middles.

“Babe, I love you to death, but eating your breakfast is not a challenge I’m willing to take on.”

“Okay well coffee, I can make the coffee.”

Shooting him a nervous look he cackled out loud, a bit offended at your lack of faith in his abilities to use a keurig.

“Okay fine! I’ll have coffee delivered, no way I can screw that up!”