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roosterforme · 7 months

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The Younger Kind Part 37 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realized on the way to the lake house that he hadn't taken a vacation in years, but he already knew he was going to want to go on so many more with you and Noah. And you weren't going to let Bradley get away with an omission of precious information. In fact, you had several things to surprise him with as a result.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, pregnancy talk, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

The next morning while you made breakfast for yourself and your boys, you could hear Bradley on the phone in the living room. You stopped mixing up the bowl of pancake batter just in time to hear him say, "Hey Tracy, can you go ahead and finalize that updated copy of my will?" There was a short pause, and then he said, "Right, but if any assets need to be combined later, we can discuss it then. We can both come in and meet with you."

You wondered if he was talking about you, but then his voice got a little quieter at the same time Noah bounded into the kitchen. "Mommy, I don't want to go to the lake," he said, face practically crumbling into tears.

"Why not?" you asked, setting everything aside to kneel and pull him in for a hug. "What's wrong? I thought you were so excited."

Then he started crying as he asked, "Are there big bears at Big Bear Lake? I don't want to see any big bears."

"Oh, sweet Noah," you whispered as you hugged him and tried not to laugh. Then it dawned on you that you actually weren't sure if there were any bears there or not. You knew it was a good three hour drive from San Diego up into the mountains, but you hadn't even considered that.

When Bradley walked into the kitchen to see you and Noah on the floor and his son in tears, he asked, "What's going on?"

You covered Noah's ears and whispered, "Are there big bears at Big Bear Lake?"

Bradley laughed for a few seconds, and then his expression turned contemplative. "I... actually have no idea. I'm going to go ahead and call Maverick." Then he was gone again, and you were left to try to coax Noah over to the kitchen table with the promise of some pancakes covered in melted butter.

You were wiping his tears while the batter sizzled on the griddle. "It's okay. Daddy won't let anything bad happen to us."

"I know," he muttered, sniffling.

Bradley poked his head back into the kitchen. "It's very unlikely, especially this time of year," he said with a shrug.

"What does that mean?" Noah asked, and you were afraid the tears would be back as you flipped the pancakes.

If they wanted you to be the mom, then you were going to go ahead and be the mom here. "It means you have absolutely nothing to worry about, okay? Now do you want to eat your breakfast on the red plate or the orange plate?" you asked, holding up both options. Noah pointed at the red plate, and Bradley walked in and kissed your forehead.

"Good save," he whispered. "You're a natural." He ran his hand along your tummy with a wink, and you felt yourself flush with heat.

"You get the orange plate that nobody else wants," you told him with a breathy giggle. "Now go sit."

He did as he was told, and when you handed him his plate and a larger one with a stack of pancakes on it, he started to get one ready for Noah. "After this, I'll pack up the car and we can head out."

"Sounds good," you replied, adding a pancake to your own plate. You had discreetly packed some snacks for Noah on top of the box of items you didn't want Bradley to see, so you thought it was fine for him to pack the car. Once you were done eating, you took Noah into the living room and watched Bradley cart bag after bag and box after box out to the driveway.

He was looking a little sweaty when he came back inside one last time. He took you by the hand and scooped Noah up as he said, "Can't forget to pack these two." He led you outside and kissed Noah all over his face while he laughed hysterically. After Noah was buckled in and reassured that you had packed him ants on logs to eat during the drive, Bradley was pulling away from the house.

Once he was on the highway and you had started up the kid friendly playlist, he sighed. "I'm so happy you made a playlist for Noah so I don't have to listen to the Sesame Street soundtrack or something equally egregious."

"Isn't Sesame Street from the '70s? Just like you?" It was so hard not to laugh as you asked him that.

"Funny," he deadpanned. "I was born in 1984. You know how old I am."

"Do I?" you asked, your voice taking on an accusatory edge as Noah asked you to hand him more snacks.

"Mmm," Bradley hummed as he drove. You and he held hands, and you offered to drive if he got tired. "I'll be fine," he promised softly. "Why don't you just relax? It looks like Noah is about to doze off."

"Okay, Daddy." You squirmed down in your seat until your cheek was resting on his hand, and then you fell asleep, too.

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

Bradley tried his best to drive one handed up the rough trail toward the house, but he really needed two hands at this point. His right hand also happened to be asleep from the way you'd cuddled up with your head on him. "Princess," said, wiggling his fingers beneath you. "I need my hand back."

You moaned as you sat up, but when you looked out the window, you gasped. "It's beautiful here!" The early afternoon sunlight was reflecting off the lake and the mountains beyond. It was stunning, and Bradley realized it had been years since he'd taken any proper time off from work that didn't involve a day at home with Noah while he was too sick for daycare.

"If you enjoy this weekend together, you're going to have to make sure I take some vacation time. Because I actually never do."

"Is this some sort of joke? Of course, I'm going to love this weekend! I get to spend it with my boys! And wait... are you telling me you've never taken Noah to Disneyland?"

"Never."

"Daddy!" you complained loudly. "I thought you were a good parent!"

Bradley laughed as he looked for the correct driveway. "Clearly we needed you, Baby. You make us better."

He could practically feel you preening next to him as he put on his turn signal and pulled up the long driveway. "You need to take that sweet child to Disneyland. And you need to get him a dog," you said, kissing his cheek as Bradley pulled up next to Penny's car.

"So this has nothing to do with you wanting to go to Disneyland and you wanting to get a dog?"

"Not at all," you said, but you were smiling. "This is about what's best for the child."

"Right," he said once the engine was turned off. Then he kissed you, wrapping his hand around your neck before letting his fingers dip down into your shirt to toy with your bra strap. "Hey," he murmured against your lips.

"Hmm," you hummed, pulling his lip between yours and nibbling softly. God he just wanted to take you inside for some uninterrupted sex, but he knew he'd have to get through the afternoon and evening first.

"I love you," he whispered, running his fingers down to cup you through your bra.

"Daddy?" Noah called from the backseat, and you broke the kiss immediately.

"Yeah, Bub?" Bradley asked, his eyes still on you as you smiled at him. He couldn't seem to help himself; thoughts of diamond rings and the perfect proposal were always near the surface now. He kissed your nose and then turned to look at Noah.

"Don't let the bears come out, okay?" he asked softly, a smudge of peanut butter on his cheek.

"I won't," he promised, and you were already climbing out of the Bronco and walking around to get Noah. Bradley was just so impressed with the way you pulled a wet wipe out of your purse to wipe Noah's hands and face before you got him out of the car. You always had everything under control in a way that he just never seemed to be able to do alone.

"We'll be inside saying hi to everyone," you called over your shoulder, and Bradley was left to unload everything. Every time he carried bags inside the house, he could hear everyone talking and laughing. When he finally made his way into the sprawling kitchen where everyone else had congregated, Penny rushed over to give him a hug.

"Pete and I are so happy the three of you could come!" she said, giving him a tight squeeze. Amelia was chasing Noah around the room while you talked to Maverick. The house was beautiful, and he finally felt relaxed.

"Thanks for inviting us," he replied as Maverick kissed your cheek and headed toward Bradley.

"Grab your sunglasses. It's time to test out the boat."

"Boat?" Bradley asked. And about five minutes later, he was holding on tight to the side of a speedboat as Maverick drove it around the lake.

"This thing is fast!" Bradley shouted over the engine. The man was addicted to pushing things to the limit, and Bradley would have to make sure he was driving the boat if Noah came with them next time.

Maverick finally eased off the throttle once they were out in the middle of the lake, and Bradley was able to let go of his death grip on the boat. "Grab a beer," Maverick said, gesturing to the small cooler he brought along. "So, tell me, Bradley, you going to make that girl a permanent fixture?"

Bradley laughed as he opened a can and took a sip. "The thing is, she's pretty much been a permanent fixture since the beginning, at least as far as Noah is concerned."

Maverick nodded and opened his own beer. "I heard him calling her his mom."

"Yeah," Bradley replied, pushing his sunglasses up his nose as his brow creased. "I encouraged that. Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Like ever. But that felt right."

"Well, if you're keeping her around, and you plan on marrying her, then she really is his mom."

Bradley thought better than to mention his updated will, but he nodded. "Been thinking about it a lot, actually. I'm going to propose soon. In a few more weeks, we will have known each other for six months. Noah and I are sure about her, and that seems like a good amount of time to wait before buying a ring."

"That sounds like a very solid plan."

Bradley smiled at his dad's best friend. "Don't you dare tell Penny. She talks too much," Bradley warned.

"I won't."

"I want to surprise her and make everything perfect." He already had some ideas, but in his mind, you deserved perfection. You'd put up with just being his babysitter for way too long while he tried to convince himself you weren't the one for him. And you'd dealt with Meredith like you would have protected Noah with your life. You'd be the best mom, and Bradley wanted you to be his wife. He was thirty seven now. He knew you were the one. It was time.

Luckily, he was able to convince Maverick to let him drive the boat back to the dock, and he took things at a much slower pace. He passed a few other people out boating on the way back and decided he'd bring you and Noah out with him tomorrow or on Sunday when it was supposed to be even warmer.

On the walk back up to the house, Bradley's steps slowed as he asked, "Were those lights hanging up like that before?"

Maverick looked at the strings of sloppily hung twinkle lights all over the porch and scratched his chin. "I don't think so?"

"This was definitely not here earlier," Bradley remarked when he opened the front door to reveal an eight foot tall Christmas tree in the middle of the living room. It looked like someone had thrown strands of lights at it from across the room, and there was Christmas music playing. "What the hell?"

"Happy birthday!"

Bradley and Maverick both turned toward the kitchen where Noah was sitting on the island and the three women were standing. You looked absolutely delighted with everything that was going on as you waved them in.

"What's going on, Baby?" he asked as you walked over and took him by the hand.

"It's your birthday party! Mav's too!"

"Why is everything decorated for Christmas?" he asked with a laugh, because you, Penny and Amelia clearly thought this was normal. And Noah was giggling as he colored in a Christmas coloring book.

"It's Christmas in July!" you explained, still leaving so many unanswered questions.

"Apparently the house is a popular holiday rental," Penny added as Mav hugged her. "And all of the Christmas decorations were already here, so we just rolled with it."

Bradley pulled you tight to him, careful to keep his hands on only the most appropriate of body parts. "My birthday was a month ago. When I was deployed."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me know," you said sarcastically, lightly smacking his cheek before kissing it and pushing your fingers into his hair. "I had no idea until I saw your driver's license out last week. You deprived yourself of a proper party, so now you get Christmas in July."

"And Maverick's birthday is in August," Bradley added with a huge smile.

"We don't play by the rules," Amelia said. "We have Christmas cookies to decorate and a movie to watch."

So Bradley spent the evening of what actually wasn't his thirty seventh birthday licking frosting off your cheek while you laughed and then holding Noah during the movie Elf. It seemed absolutely ridiculous as the oversize French doors were open to let in the summer air and the sounds of crickets chirping. It was also somehow exactly perfect, and it reminded him that he was allowed to have all these things in his life now that you were there. You'd probably want to do things like celebrate his birthday every year and decorate the house. And Noah would get to benefit from all of it.

"I want another birthday movie," Noah said as he yawned uncontrollably.

"Not tonight," Bradley told him as he carried him to the small bedroom where you'd already unpacked his things for the weekend. He changed Noah into pajamas and read the dinosaur book you'd left out on the dresser, and pretty soon his son was sound asleep.

It wasn't too late yet; Bradley could still hear the others out in the main living space, but he decided to see if you'd gone to the bedroom already. "Princess?" he called as he walked into the pretty wood paneled room that had a view of the lake and the last bits of purple sky as it got darker. Then you came strolling out of the en suite bathroom in nothing but a tiny lace bra and matching panties.

"Are you ready for your birthday present?" you asked sweetly, draping your arms around his neck and kissing his lips.

"Oh, I like my birthday present," he murmured as he ran his hands down your back to cup your ass.

You kissed along his neck and whispered, "You could have had some special treatment sooner if you told me when your birthday was, Daddy."

He grunted, both from the feel of your lips on his skin and because he knew you'd find out when it was eventually. "I just feel a little self-conscious sometimes about my age."

Your mouth paused, and then you were looking up at him like you were embarrassed. "But I tease you all the time."

"I know," he replied right away. "I know, and I love it when you do. It's not that." You combed your fingers through his hair and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm just more than twelve years older than you. Sometimes it seems like a lot."

"That doesn't matter at all," you replied, holding eye contact with him. "In fact, I think I like it more this way. It's so much better being with someone who is serious about me and has his life together." One hand trailed down to his chest as you added, "It's almost flattering, the fact that you love me."

"I do," he said, watching your hand slip lower down his body. "I love you."

You smiled softly as your hand rested on the fly of his pants. "Happy birthday." You undid the front of his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs along with his underwear. He was semi hard and getting harder by the second as you bit your lip and sank down to your knees. And then you opened your mouth so Bradley could set his cock right there on your glossy bottom lip.

"That looks pretty," he muttered, already breathing harder as you ran your tongue along his tip. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked gently, eyes bright and cheeks hollow. His cock was throbbing for you now, but he was enjoying the way you weren't taking him deep yet.

He kept his hands soft on your face, stroking his thumb along your chin and jaw. And then you reached up with both hands and wrapped them around his base as you withdrew him and kissed along his shaft. "I love you, Daddy." Then you took him deep in one go until you were gagging and he was seeing stars. His hands were rougher now at the back of your head, holding you in place while he grunted and groaned.

When you moaned around him, he released his grip on your head, and you popped him out of your mouth with a little gasp, and some strings of saliva dripped down to your chest. "More?" you asked, and he just nodded as you took him deep over and over again. Every time you gagged, you let him push a little harder, and you had tears in your eyes as you pulled him free and abruptly stood to kiss him.

Your tongue was in his mouth, and Bradley's hands gripped your ass as you ground against him. "Mmm, Bradley," you whined. "Ready for your present?"

He tucked his fingers inside your lace underwear and teased at your holes as your eyes went a little wider. "Is this not my present right here?" he grunted, trying to decide how he wanted to get off.

You shook your head in a jerky motion and whispered, "Not exactly..." Your voice was breathless and broken as you said, "If you think we can financially support a baby, and it's what you really want, then I'll let you flush my birth control down the toilet."

Bradley was gaping at you. A baby. With you. No more birth control. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes," you replied. "I'm ovulating and I skipped my pill yesterday, and I want you to fuck a baby into me."

Bradley tipped his head back and moaned at how perfect that sounded coming from you. "Where are the pills?" he asked.

"Bathroom counter," you replied, and he kissed you so hard you were clinging to him.

Bradley hauled you into the bathroom with him where he popped each remaining pill out of the packaging with unsteady fingers and his erection hanging out of his jeans. You were squeezing your thighs together and whining softly as he swept them into the toilet and flushed it before he rounded on you.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you?" he asked, voice dark and rough.

"Yes."

"Then I'll fuck a baby into you." He picked you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, and Bradley carried you to the bed. He set you down gently on your back and marveled at how perfect you looked for him. You were playing with your tits and already getting a little loud as you watched him get undressed.

And then he was on top of you, his cock aching to be inside you. He just kept thinking about you all pregnant and swollen as he pushed the lace covering your perfect pussy to the side and thrust into you hard and sure.

"Bradley!" you nearly screamed, scrambling beneath him and clawing at his shoulders. But he didn't stop the steady powerful thrusts that pushed you down into the mattress. He had to bring one big hand up to cover your mouth as he grunted.

"Keep quiet, Baby. Unless you want everyone to know how good it feels when I try to knock you up."

You nodded and moaned against his palm, but he just fucked you harder. Your legs were shaking as you spread them wider for him, and your fingers were tangled in the bedding. When your tits bounced free from that tiny bra, Bradley put his mouth on you, pulling your nipples gently one at a time.

Soft squeaking noises and moans escaped you as he pressed his lips to your ear. "I'm gonna cum. You always make me cum. You always give me everything, don't you? Don't you, Princess? I'm gonna give you a ring, and you'll give us a baby. I'll give you anything."

You were shaking all over as he rammed deep and spilled himself inside you. He was panting hard when he slipped his hand away from your mouth, and then your lips were on his in the sweetest kisses.

"I'm sorry I was rough," he whispered, running his fingers along your skin. "You okay?"

"I'm so good, Daddy. That was hot. I hope you liked your birthday present."

Bradley eased his body away from yours a few inches and gazed down to where you and he were still so perfectly connected. "Not sure if you or the unprotected sex was the actual gift, but either way, I liked my birthday present a lot."

You giggled as he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, keeping you close. "You said something about a ring."

"Did I?" he mumbled. He knew he was rambling while he fucked you, but he wasn't sure exactly what he'd been saying. Apparently it was a lot.

"Mmhmm," you hummed as he ran his fingers along your lace bra, but you didn't push for more. "So what's on the agenda for the rest of the weekend? And when are you going to get us a dog? And when are we taking Noah to Disneyland?"

Bradley narrowed his eyes at you playfully. "Boating and barbecues for the rest of the weekend. And as for the dog and Disneyland? Just let me enjoy my fake Christmas-birthday in peace. Because I'm sure it will be my last one without a dog who is constantly bugging me to let it outside or to play with it."

You settled down on top of him, placing a kiss to his pecs with a smirk. "That's absolutely correct. You just enjoy yourself while you still can."

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

When Bradley kissed you the next morning and whispered, "I'll be back. Going out to buy fishing bait with Noah and Mav," you just grunted in response. The sun was barely up, and as you rolled over, you could feel the delicious aftermath of the way Bradley had fucked you so hard. You were tired and a little sore in all the right places. Very carefully, you extracted yourself from the bed and padded along the floor to the bathroom.

He had flushed your birth control instantly, and you giggled just thinking about it. There was no turning back now, and you were so excited. You already had a family, and like Bradley, the idea of adding to it was enough to make you melt inside.

Since you didn't have to rush to get Noah ready, you took your time with your hair and makeup even though you were just going out on the lake for the day. You changed into your purple bikini and slipped your purple sundress over it, both of which you had purchased using your credit card.

When you made your way out to the kitchen, Penny was assembling sandwiches, and you could tell she was wearing her bathing suit, too. "Where's Amelia?" you asked, washing your hands so you could help her.

"She's a teenager," Penny replied with a laugh. "She sleeps until noon. You'll see one day when Noah is older."

You pressed your lips together, because you weren't so far removed from those years yourself. But you also felt butterflies in your tummy as you thought about the fact that Penny stated so confidently that you'd be there when Noah was older. And now you were hoping you'd be there with Bradley for more than one teenage kid.

"He's so sweet," you said as you cut the crust off one of the sandwiches for Noah. "Don't remind me that he'll be a surly teenager one day."

Penny eyed you carefully. "You'll handle it well. You already do. I still can't believe you started out as the babysitter, while Bradley was delusionally going on dates with other women. And I can't believe I didn't notice the way he looked at you at first."

You ducked your head. "I didn't notice for a few weeks myself. I just knew I was already attached to the two of them."

"We're back!" Bradley called out, carrying Noah into the kitchen. And he was immediately looking at you just like he always did, and you couldn't help but smile.

"And we have worms!" Noah said, holding onto a little styrofoam container.

"And more beer," Maverick added as he set two six packs down on the counter.

"Well we have sandwiches and ants on logs and lemonade and kisses," you said, taking the worm container from Noah and kissing his cheek and then Bradley's.

Amelia finally emerged from her bedroom as Noah started whining that he wanted to go on the boat and go fishing. "I'll take him down to the marina now so he can look at the water," Bradley said, but you shook your head.

"I'll take him. You help carry the coolers," you said, taking Noah by the hand and leading him past the Christmas tree. "We'll meet you all down there."

You grabbed your tote bag which was filled with coloring books and other activities for Noah, and then you and he walked down toward the boats while you sang his favorite dinosaur song together. And then you realized you didn't actually know which boat was yours for the weekend, so you led Noah out onto the long dock to wait for the others.

"Make sure you hold my hand. The water is really deep here," you reminded him as he peeked over the side to look into the water.

"Where are the fish?" he asked as he looked up at you. At least he was no longer asking about the bears.

"I think the fish are out in the middle of the lake," you told him.

"Well, how do we catch them? With our hands?"

"Oh, sweet Noah, I love you so much. The boat has fishing rods."

"What does that mean?" he asked, still looking down into the water.

You looked around at the boats docked in the slips and pointed to one behind you. "Fishing rods are those long things sticking up into the air on that boat. Come look." You led Noah down the narrower wooden dock between two large boats so he could see what you were talking about, and that's when you saw a man about Bradley's age looking down at you and Noah.

"Hi there," he said with a wink as he looked you up and down. And now you felt like your cute little dress was nonexistent as you awkwardly stood there looking up at him.

"We were just checking out your fishing rod," you told him, but he wasn't looking at Noah at all as he grinned. And you realized that it sounded like you were talking about his penis, and you wished you could just disappear.

He jumped down onto the dock with a laugh. "Oh yeah? I'll let you touch it if you want."

"No thanks," you replied with a grimace. You turned to leave, your hand still gripping Noah's, but the man headed you off. And now you were looking around for the others, because he was blocking the narrow path with his body.

"Now just hang on a minute," he said, pulling his sunglasses off, presumably so he could see you better. "You look beautiful. What do they call you?"

Noah looked up at him and said, "She's my Daddy's Princess."

The man was finally looking down at Noah, and you didn't like that either. So you mumbled something as your heart pounded, and you shoved past him, making sure Noah didn't walk too close to the edge of the dock. He kept calling out to you as you walked along a different part of the pier, but a moment later you could see Bradley walking down in the distance holding one end of a long cooler and sipping a beer.

"There's Daddy and Mav," Noah said, and you picked him up to rush in that direction.

"Let's go get him." They were setting the cooler down next to a boat that was smaller than the other one with the huge fishing rods, and thankfully it was in the other direction as well.

"Hey, Bub!" Bradley called out, and when you got closer, he took his son from your arms as you were slightly out of breath.

"We didn't know which boat to go to," you told him.

"It's this little white one," he said, kissing your cheek. "You look beautiful."

"That's what the other man said," Noah told him.

Bradley's brow creased instantly. "What other man?" he asked, looking around everywhere.

"It was nothing," you said, but Noah pointed toward the other boat immediately.

"In the big, blue boat. Mommy was looking at his fishing rod, and he told her she was beautiful, and I said she's my Daddy's Princess."

Bradley kissed his cheek, and said, "Good job, Noah. She's your Mommy and my Princess." He set Noah down inside the boat where Maverick immediately started getting his life jacket buckled before he helped Penny and Amelia onboard as well.

But Bradley had one of his big hands on your hip as he slid his aviators down on his nose and smirked. "You were looking at a man's fishing rod?" he asked softly, an edge of annoyed humor in his tone.

"Oh, come on," you said, rolling your eyes and laughing. "I wanted Noah to see what a fishing rod looks like, and there were a bunch lined up on that boat."

Bradley nodded and kissed your forehead. "We've got some fishing rods on this boat, and I have a special one just for you."

You bit your lip and tried not to laugh. When Bradley said it, you absolutely wanted to learn more. When that other guy said it, you wanted to jump in the water and try to swim back to San Diego. "Really, Daddy?" you asked in your most eager voice. "When can I try it out?"

He groaned softly and cupped your face, kissing you softly as he said, "Try to behave for a couple of hours, and it's all yours."

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

Welcome! We are in our baby making era now! Even more lake house goodness coming soon! Also, if Noah sees a bear, he will never forgive Bradley and Princess. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 38

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tsimvkas · 9 months

Text

best friends, uh? — mason mount.

A/N: hello 👋🏻 here we are againnnn. please remember that english is my second language so i apologise for any mistake. and thanks to Sid for all the support on this one 🥺 ily bestie!! hope you guys enjoy it xx

word count: 15.5k (lol im sorry for this) | masterlist

content: friends to lovers, unprotected sex, fluff and mild angst.

“Bro, Manchester? That’s so far” your best friend Benjamin brought up the transfer subject, which made your other best friend, Mason, sigh deeply.

The three of you were hanging out since it’s their first day of summer vacation, and your best friends would travel somewhere else soon. It would be only for a few days, but once the league returns everything will be different.

You, Mason and Ben were best friends for a long time now. You met when both of them went to the national team for the first time and you were a journalism intern working

For some reason, they both liked you. And it was easy to like them too, with all the jokes and good energy. When Ben joined Chelsea their bond got even stronger. At that time your career had taken another direction and you were working as a band’s press officer, which allowed you to live in London.

For the last three years your trio has seen each other every week and weekend. You were always attending Chelsea home games, and your boys always came up with something on their days off.

At this point, the three of you felt like family.

Until now, with Mason’s transfer. Ben tried to talk jokingly about it, but you knew he meant it.

Otherwise, you could understand Mason’s decision since the entire last season was a hell of a nightmare to him, and now they both were discussing his last move: signing with Manchester United.

“It’s not like I had a lot of options” Mason shrugged. “I mean, Liverpool didn’t make it to the Champions League and I quite like United, Ben”

“Even Kai will be closer to us” he snorted, clearly upset.

“You’re saying this is a bad thing?” You smirked, taking a sip of your wine. Chilly and Mase were still deciding what they wanted for dinner and the only thing they were capable of ordering was your favourite white wine.

“Don’t tell him I talked about him like that” Ben grinned, finally deciding what to eat. He called the waitress, and Mason ordered both his and yours meal, knowing what you like to eat.

When she wrote everything down and left, Mount spoke again. “Well, actually you’re the only one left behind. Maybe joining City next season and we can be reunited”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the three of us, in the same city”

“Well if you want this to happen then you’ll have to come back to London” Ben frowned, realisation passing through his face seconds later. “No-“

“I haven’t made the decision yet” you cut him. “But the offer has been made, yes”

“You called her to move with you? This is unfair” he snorted.

Mason raised an eyebrow, reaching your thigh under the table and giving a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t do it without my best friend, could I?”

“And what about me, you prick? You want me to carry that shitty team on my backs on my own? I deserve to have the presence of my best friend as well”

“Why are you so afraid, Ben?” Mason smirked. “Oh, cause you know I’m the favourite and she’s going to say yes”

You tried not to laugh. They’re definitely the most funny people you know, and to you it has always been a pleasure that they both chose you as their best friend.

“We are still talking about moving to Manny?” Ben teased his friend. “I’m the favourite, tho”

“Stop” you playfully rolled your eyes, interrupting Mason before they started an argument in the middle of the restaurant. “I don’t have a favourite. And if the pair of you don’t behave like grown men, I’ll move to… I don’t know, Merseyside”

“You would still be living closer to me than to him” Mason giggled, whispering. “Just admit I’m your favourite”

“Shut up, Mason” Chilly stuck his tongue out at his friend, just like a child.

“Why are you two even discussing? You’re already losing your best friend, no matter if I go or if I stay” you pointed, instantly realising that the reason for the little fight about you was to pretend their separation wasn’t a real thing. “Oh, I’m sorry”

“That’s ok, Y/N. We’ll have to deal with it one way or another” Ben smiled.

“But not tonight, alright? I'm already sick of this subject. Let’s have dinner and talk about nonsense stuff and you can laugh at our terrible jokes and things will stay the same. Just for tonight” Mason smiled at you. “When the announcement happens, we’ll face the truth”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. “Just the three of us tonight, then. Me and my Chelsea boys” you smiled, raising your glass of wine.

When Mason and Ben raised theirs to toast with you, you could swear their eyes were watering.

You forced yourself not to cry.

—

When he came back from Spain after a week with Ben, he invited you to spend a couple of days at his house. It was something natural in your friendship, but this time seemed different.

Mason opened the door wearing a white shorts and a hoodie you’ve never seen before, and instantly smiled at you.

“You’re late” he kissed your forehead, picking your backpack from you and giving you space to enter his house. “But I forgive you”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t find my favourite pyjamas” you snorted. It feels like Mason’s house it's yours too, so you feel comfortable enough to go directly to his living room.

“You left them here” he laughed at you, closing the door and following you inside.

“Right, this explains a lot”

His living room was occupied with a lot of suitcases, and you instantly remembered that this was a goodbye weekend.

“You already packed everything?” you asked, feeling your eyes watering.

“Only my favourite clothes. I’ll leave everything else, can’t take all of my stuff to a hotel room” he shrugged.

You nodded. He texted you during his vacation and told you how difficult finding a house in Manchester turned out to be. You were just wishing he could find a place soon, somewhere he could turn into a home.

“Benji is also coming?”

“I spent a lot of time with Ben last week, it’s just me and you” he smiled, but his face turned serious way too fast. “I’ll drive to Manchester Sunday night. It’s our last days together so Ben agreed to stay out”

You never told him you were staying, but you didn’t have to. Mason knew you.

“I’m so sorry, Mase” you felt that familiar lump on your throat, showing up every time you think about it.

You didn’t like the idea of being away from him, but your whole life was in London. For the past couple of weeks you’ve been thinking about it, and your only wish was that you could divide yourself in two. Or that he could stay.

Dividing yourself in two sounded more easy, to be honest.

Mason put your backpack on the couch, quickly embracing your body in his arms.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. You have a life here, Y/N. Family, friends, everything you love. I’m the one leaving” he sighed. “I just hope you understand I’m not leaving you”

You held him tightly, tucking your head in his neck and letting your cry reach you while your best friend stroked your back. After a few minutes like this, Mason pushed you away just enough to look into your eyes.

“We’re not supposed to spend this weekend crying” he smiled, wiping your tears. “Let’s make it unforgettable, okay?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling back at him when you noticed that he swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to cry.

“Everything with you is unforgettable” you pouted, resting your chin on his chest, and Mason ran his thumb across your lower lip, staring at you. “I don’t want you to leave”

“I’ll be back soon” he smirked. You wish it was true.

“Liar” you rolled your eyes, and he laughed. “Your contract says 2028. Five fucking years”

“Language, Y/N. Manchester isn’t that far, and you’ll always be welcome at Old Trafford. At least I’m still playing in the Prem”

“Don’t you dare. Suggest something like this.” you punched his chest, staring at him in disbelief. Watching your favourite person moving to Manchester has been painful enough and the thought of Mason living in another country made your eyes burn again.

“You know I’m never leaving England, Y/N. Not as long as you’re here” he reassured you, but the smirk on his face made you roll your eyes again.

The truth is that Mason felt happiness spreading throughout his body when he realised the way you fear being away from him.

And then instantly guilt almost ate him alive. He wasn’t moving to another country, but with his agenda and how much you work, there’ll be months between one visit and another.

Trying to make these thoughts disappear, Mason grabbed both of your tights until your legs were wrapped around his torso. “Alright, this is way too sad” he whispered, taking you upstairs. “Let’s put on our pj’s, it’s movie time”

“You’ll let me choose?” you held onto his neck, just like a child.

“No” he put you down once he got in his room. “It’ll be the last Avengers. Don’t look at me like that, I know you love it just as much as I do”

“I thought the night was being sad enough? You know I’ll cry with this one”

“I can deal with that” he winked. “I know you really like your favourite pyjamas but would you mind wearing one of my t-shirts tonight? Its’s just- I want to take something with you scent ya know? But you don’t need to- I’ll order our food” he closed his bedroom door before you could answer, his rose cheeks making you giggle.

You quickly changed into one of his black t-shirts and your pyjama shorts, texting him to join you.

Mason opened the door, tucking his head inside his room. “Hey”

You went to him, picking your backpack and tipping his nose. He grinned at the sight of you in his favourite t-shirt.

“Let’s clean this pretty face while we wait the food”

“Pretty face, uh?” he followed you into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He always loved when you called him pretty, because it was important to him that you thought he was pretty.

“What you ordered?”

“Five Guys” he smirked. To be honest, you already knew the answer, once your boy is addicted to it.

“Favourite food and favourite movie” you turned to face him. “It feels like we’re saying goodbye for months”

“Don’t think like that. I’m just trying to have a cosy weekend with you, yeah? But we’ll see each other often. I promise”

You nodded, turning around and grabbing your skin products out of the bag and putting them in the sink. Mason realised you didn’t believe what he said, so he hugged you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

Your friendship with Mason and Ben has always been like that. They constantly cuddle with you, carry you up and get clingy really easily.

Mason is the touchy one, while Ben is more verbal, and you try your best to love them both in their love language so they can feel loved.

“Help me up” you asked him once you got all of your skincare products in front of you. Mason grabbed your waist when you turned to him, sitting you on the sink counter.

You spread your legs so he could get between them, which he did immediately. He always enjoyed these moments with you, and he knows he’s about to miss this a lot.

“I don’t like the scratchy one” Mason complained, identifying it on the counter and remembering the last time you used it on his face.

“Exfoliating our face sometimes is necessary, Mase. We need to remove dead skin”

“Right, cause there will be no dead skin left if you go faceless. No” he shook his head. “It’s awful”

“You’re being dramatic” you chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose. “I swear I’ll be gentle, big boy”

“You’re always gentle but…” he pouted, but your stare silenced him. “Fine. A smooth face could be useful”

You bit your lower lip, feeling your stomach churn.

“I’m sure girls in Manchester loves smooth faces”

“I was talking about rubbing my face in your neck tonight” he closed his eyes, waiting patiently while you massaged your Vichy soap. “But yeah, I bet they do”

“You’ll need someone to make skincare with you” you tried again, For some reason, you felt like testing him.

“I can FaceTime you, simply”

“But you’ll probably find a friend to do it with you, anyways. You’re really good at making friends”

You didn’t know why you were saying that. You just wanted him to reassure you that he won’t need any other friend, that he’d prefer to do skincare alone than with someone that isn’t you.

“You’re trying to get rid of me?” he said playful, tickling your waist.

“No! Stop- no, never. I’m just thinking about it” you pouted, feeling a bit sad.

“You are my best friend, Y/N. Manchester won’t change that. And absence makes the heart grow fonder” he smiled, holding your serum in front of you so you could use it on him.

“Uhm, we’re forgetting something, don’t you think?”

“I have no idea, what are you talking about?” Mason smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him, looking for your facial scrub and pouring some into your hand and despite his complaints, he let you finish.

The pair of you interspersed so he’d also cleaned, exfoliated and moisturised your face, and once you’ve both done he carried you to his living room.

“Oh you’ll make me stare at these bad girls?” you joked, pointing to his suitcases. Mason laughed, waiting for you to lay on the couch and instantly laying between your legs.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll make you come with me” Mason shrugged. He wouldn’t let you know, so you wouldn’t feel guilty, but knowing you weren't coming to his new home with him was eating him alive.

“Ugh, don’t do this. I’m almost changing my mind” you sighed. If he could ask for something, then it would be this. For you to change your mind.

Realising that you only have two days left with Mason made your stomach burn. Your best friend was always there for you, and alongside Ben you did everything together.

He is the one you call when you’re sad, and when you’re happy. Even when you’re angry or pissed off.

Mason and Ben are the ones you search for in every scenario, your boys. The only men you trust with your life.

And now you feel like you’re losing one of them. Because it’s exactly what’s happening.

“No no no, we’re not crying any more tonight” Mason looked up and caught the exact moment a tear fell from your eyes. Facing you and squeezing your tight, he gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re only allowed to cry in Tony’s scene”

You nodded, wiping your own tears and waiting for the movie to start. Mason got up when the bell rang, coming back a few minutes later with the food he ordered.

You two ate together, always touching each other with some part of your bodies. When the food ran out there was still an hour of movie left, and Mason clung to your body after cleaning the mess both of you made.

“You’re going to leave bruises on me, Mase” you pretended to complain about how tightly he was holding you, and he laughed, only tightening more.

“It’s a good idea to keep other boys away” he said.

“What are you talking about”

“Once I’m left there will be a lot of predators around you, I need to find a way to prevent it”

There it was. Your friendship with Mason was always comfortable, and sometimes the pair of you used to flirt and joke around.

But sometimes you keep yourself wanting those little flirts to mean something, and you weren’t sure about how to deal with that. Especially now that he’s about to move to another city.

Besides, Mason is a fucking footballer, and a pretty one. The kind of man who can have anyone in the world.

And you are his best friend, someone he probably sees as a sister. And you couldn’t say anything before understanding what you feel, because it would be so unfair to him.

Mason smiled, leaning to you and brushing his lips against your neck. He kissed the spot before starting sucking your skin.

“What are you doing?” you tensioned your body. Someone who sees you as a sister wouldn’t give you a hickey, right?

“Shhh, stay quiet” his wet lips brushed your neck, and you could feel his breath hitting you.

You ran out of actions, staying still until he was done.

“There it is” he faced it proudly. “Now I have about two weeks of good sleep before it fades and I need to do it again”

You didn’t know what to say, so you kept quiet. Best friends don’t mark each other like that, right? But you can’t think about it now. Mason is leaving London. And you are staying.

—

It was a sad, sad Sunday. You couldn’t believe your best friend was moving to another side of the country.

After spending the Saturday with him, eating snacks all day and cuddling in bed, you weren’t ready to say goodbye.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to cry”

“Sorry I can’t stop” you groaned, stressed. It was such a great weekend with him and now you were forced to watch him leave.

Ben showed up when Mason was closing the house, and he helped his best friend to fill the car with all his things before hugging you.

“I’ll take you to him as often as we can, Y/N” he smiled at you.

Ben was such a sweet soul. You pouted, resting your face on his shoulder while Mase locked the last door.

“Can you please take your hands off of my best friend?” Mason rolled his eyes, standing in front of you.

Ben laughed when his mate opened his arms and you went straight to him. He knows your relationship with him is more intimate, and to Ben it's obvious what’s going on.

Mason stroked your back, smiling when you tucked your face in his neck.

“I’m gonna miss your hugs”

“This sounds like a you problem to me” Chilly smirked, knowing he’s still receiving those.

“He’s a prick, isn’t he?” Mason whispered in your ear, making you laugh between sobs.

You raised your face, trying to stare at him through your tears, and he stroked your chin patiently.

“Don’t find another best friend” you sobbed loudly. “I’ll drive to Manchester whenever I can to watch your games so we can make skincare together and we can FaceTime when you miss me but please Mount, don’t find another girl”

He smiled, feeling warmth in his chest. He wishes he could tell you not to find another boy too, but Ben would be pissed at him.

“You’re my only girl, Y/N. Don’t need to worry about that” Mason thought it was cute the way your lower lip was quivering while you pouted. “C’mon baby, I hate to see you cry. You’ll be fine? I can stay till tomorrow”

“No, I’m ok. You don’t need to change your plans” you sighed. “I’m acting like a child”

“It’s cute” he smirked, stroking your chin. “Here, I have something for you” he pulled away so we could take out the hoodie he wore all weekend. “I bought to leave it with you but I thought it would be better if I use it for some days so it would have my scent”

“I love you” you pouted, wearing it instantly before hugging him again.

“I love you more” he smiled and you closed your eyes, tightening your grip on his t-shirt when he kissed the tip of your nose.

“No, I do” you smirked, giggling when he pinched your nose.

“That’s impossible” he kissed you again, on your forehead this time, holding you against him for a few minutes. “See you soon, uhm? I swear”

You nodded, letting him go to Chilly. They both said goodbye, hugging each other with watery eyes before Mason came back to you, kissing your head and entering his car.

Ben came to hug you, and the two of you watched while Mason left the front porch line.

“Take your hands off her” Mason screamed, making you giggle. “Love you two, take care of my girl Benjamin”

“She’s my girl too, you know”

“Only in your dreams” Mason chuckled. “She knows she’s mine”

And drove off the car. You felt your heart pounding at the sight of his car disappearing at the end of his old road.

“His girl, uh?” Ben teased you as soon as you couldn’t see Mason’s car anymore.

“Shut up, Benjamin” you rolled your eyes, and he chuckled at you. “I miss him already” you started to sob again.

“Oh, fuck off” he laughed, but hugged you tightly, trying to bring you some comfort.

Later that night, Mason checked on you through Ben before reaching you out so he could try to comfort you. You felt even sadder knowing that the only day he can take care of you know is through a screen.

—

You tried to stay happy while living in London, for Ben. You really tried. But the dark hole in your chest wouldn’t let you.

Ben was the best of friends, staying at your house every time he can, taking you to different places and trying to distract you. You both spent a lot of quality time together and he knows how much you love him, but he also knows the truth.

You missed Mason so much it hurts.

You wished you could’ve gone to his debut for United, but you weren’t able to drop your work on a Monday so you went to Ben’s house to watch it with him.

It was a great game and the Red Devils happily won. You cried at the end, when the camera showed Mason, and Ben mocked you for the rest of the night.

“He is glowing” you pouted.

“I would be too, if I had a serious team” Chilly gave a choked laugh, making you chuckle.

You waved him goodnight and went to his guest room, deciding not to drive back home late at night since you lost track of time talking with Ben. He kissed your forehead and murmured goodnight too, giving you your space.

As soon as you entered the room, you changed into a pyjama you forgot there the last time you spent the night, and got under the heavy blanket, reaching out for your phone so you could send a message to your boy.

You didn’t knew but, in Ben’s room, your boys were having a conversation.

Five minutes after your last message, Mason didn’t resist and FaceTimed you.

“Goodnight Mase” you smiled at your phone. He was tucked in his sheets, cheeks smashed against his pillow. He looked so adorable, you wanted to scream.

“Oh, I miss your voice so much” Mason grinned, his voice a little bit hoarse. “Goodnight babe. Hope you enjoyed the game. Ben told me you cried, I got a bit worried”

Your blood ran to your cheeks, and you made a mental note to kick Ben’s ass later. What a traitor!

“Nothing to worry about, they focused on you at the end and I just miss you alot” you admitted shyly, even though he knows how badly you miss him. Mason smiled at your rose cheeks, feeling his heart ache with love.

“I’ll try to visit soon” he yawned, making you smile. “Ugh, I don’t want to say goodbye yet. Can we spend the night on call?”

“Yes big boy, sure we can. Want me to tell you a story?” you smiled, laughing when his cheeks turned red.

“I do, actually”

“Hmmm, alright. The story begins with a boy, a tall one, and a tiny girl. They met one day, when the tall boy hit the girl with a ball straight in her head…”

It was the best night of sleep both of you had in two weeks.

—

“I want to go to this weekend’s game” you said to Ben, after explaining to him how your best friend has been acting lately.. “At Old Trafford”

Two weeks passed since you and Mason slept on a call together, and you were feeling like something was off. He’d still answer your texts and send you good morning or good night with cute emojis, but he was avoiding your phone calls and you didn’t spend the day texting.

You felt childish at first, rationalising that he has a new job and is probably really busy, but on the third day off that he found an excuse to not call you at night, you decided you had enough.

“Alright, we’re playing on different days this weekend so I can take you. Don’t want you driving alone, we never know what might happen”

“I’m a good driver”

“I know that, bug” he smiled. “But I mean, like… we don’t know what you’re facing there. I don’t want you driving back after some misunderstandment or something like that”

You nodded, suddenly afraid that your little trip might end with you and Mason fighting.

“Only a month away and he’s acting weird” you dropped your head on the sofa. “And to think I really believed we could survive the season… or worse, the five fucking years”

“Language, bug. Don’t need to overreact, you don’t know what happened yet. Just… prepare yourself for anything, alright?”

“What do you mean? You think, like… he could be dating someone?” you shrugged.

“I wouldn’t say dating, but maybe seeing someone? He hasn't said anything like that to me” Ben tried to tranquillise you. “But it was my first thought, since one of the first things a man does when he starts dating is to push their female friends away a little bit, you know… so their girl don’t feel insecure or something like this”

“Yeah, I got it Benji, And I feel happy that my friends are this kind of man, but it would be nice if he could tell me instead of ignoring me” you snorted, pretending that the idea of Mason dating someone didn’t bother you at all. “At the same time, I can’t be sure that this is the reason, and he could be struggling with something. I just need to confirm he is okay”

“Fine, bug. I’ll take you. But if something went wrong then we’ll be back in the same minute, alright?” he brushed your hair out of your face. “I know you. It’s not like you’d be happy with him dating someone, don’t have to pretend in front of me. I just hopes he gives you sincerity at least”

—

The game was crazy. Ben tried to hide himself in a big hoodie, a cap and glasses, so both of you enjoyed it together. It was a fantastic result for United, winning three down zero at home, and you could see Mason was really happy.

Chilwell bought you an ice cream and distracted you with different subjects, giving time for Mason to get changed and go home, once he knows how crazy the locker room can get after a win like that.

An hour later, he drove you to the hotel he knows Masons at and asked the receptionist to call his buddy and say his name.

“Call me if you need anything” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “And call me if you decide to spend the night, please”

You nodded, squeezing his hand before entering the elevator.

A half naked Mason opened the door, and you could tell he was really surprised.

“Y/N? What? What are you doing here?”

“Happy to see you too, Mase” you tried to smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m just- I didn’t expect to see you anytime soon, and she told me Ben was here so I thought it was him-”

You stared at him and the silence that came after was awkward. You turned your eyes to the floor and that’s when you saw the ring.

“Oh” you nodded, remembering Ben’s words. “Makes sense”

Mason followed your gaze, quickly taking the ring off. “It’s not what you think it is”

“Right. The same way your weird excuses for not calling me aren’t what I think they are and the fact that you didn’t even hugged me isn’t what I think it is” you grinned sarcastically

You turned around hating the way your voice crackled, and pressed the elevator button, ready to leave.

Mason ran to you, holding your arms to keep you in place. “Why haven’t you told me you were coming? You watched the game?”

“Yes”

“I’m sorry” he kissed your forehead, hugging your waist. “It was a hell of a week and I missed you so much that I thought- that maybe if we didn’t talk that much It could get easier. Sounds dumb when I say it out loud”

“Cause it’s dumb” you tried to be sharp, but Mason always gives you the best hugs in the world and you were instantly melting against him. The elevator door opened, but you both ignored it until it closed again.

“It’s Cartier” he said after a few seconds of silence, pushing you away to cup your face. “It’s just a ring”

You could see that he was trying to hide a smile and you felt so pathetic. Of course your best friend would’ve told you if he was dating someone.

“Sorry” you felt the blood rushing into your cheeks.

“What for?” Mason frowned, stroking your chin. In his opinion, you look so cute being jealous of him.

“For being a jealousy bitch” you sighed, confused. What the hell were you thinking? He’s tired after a rough game and you thought it was a great idea to show up and snap over a ring.

“You were jealous?” he raised an eyebrow at your nod. “You don’t have to. Everybody around me knows I’m yours”

Your body shivered, and Mason smiled at the sign of your red cheeks again. Kissing the tip of your nose, he held your hand and guided you inside his hotel room.

Mason couldn’t wait to cuddle with you, but you weren’t sure about spending the night with him after the scene you made.

“I should leave” you said when he closed the door. “You need to sleep”

“I’ll sleep better if you cuddle me” Mason pouted. “See what six weeks away made to us already? We were almost fighting. Now I need to spend the night with you just to be sure the tension is gone”

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking off your hoodie. Mason celebrated whispering “yes” just like a child, and promptly searched for a t-shirt to give you.

“I’ll go to the bathroom so you can get changed”

“You had dinner already?” you asked, worried that you just interrupted him.

“Hm no, but I can order some food if you’re hungry”

“I’m not, but you should eat something Mase”

“I just want to sleep, to be honest” he yawned, heading to the bathroom and giving you some privacy.

After sending Ben a message letting him know you were spending the night with Mason, you quickly changed into his t-shirt, sighing in relief for being free of your jeans and bra. Since you left your pyjamas at Ben’s hotel room, you searched for one of Mason’s shorts, but most of his things were still in his suitcases and you weren’t able to find it in the mess.

You decided to leave it that way instead of disturbing him any more and tucked yourself into his sheets before he came back, so he wouldn’t even notice.

“Alright, you can come out” you said loud enough for him to hear and he stuck his face out, making you laugh. “Hi baby boy”

“Oh finally, I was almost sleeping in the bathtub” he made his way to the bed and laid with you, looking for a comfy position.

Once you were laying on your back with his body on top of yours, Mason rested his face on your shoulder. Your hands went directly to his hair and you scratched his scalp gently, smiling at his tired groan.

“I’ll let you sleep without dinner ‘cause it was a tiring day at work, but you bet we’re having a reinforced breakfast tomorrow”

“Yes mommy, I got it” he hummed in your ear.

Mason didn’t missed the way your body shuddered and clinged against you. You held your breath when he slipped his hand under the t-shirt, squeezing your waist.

You felt like your heart would stop when he started to play with your panties strap.

“I didn’t gave you a sleep shorts, did I?” for a second you thought you were imagining the huskier tone of his voice.

“No you didn’t, but I can put it on now if you give me one”

You bit your lower lip when his finger went under the strap, stroking your skin, but you stayed quiet. It’s just your best friend, playing with the strap of your panties. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I can be dumb sometimes, but not that dumb, Y/N”

“Hm?” you thought you might have misheard him.

“Nothing” Mason chuckled. “Sweet dreams sweetheart” he whispered, kissing your collarbone.

“Good night, Mase”

You stayed awake for half an hour, hearing his cute snoring and thinking about the way you felt when you saw that ring.

When you closed your eyes, all you could think was that this couldn’t be happening. You knew better than falling for your best friend.

—

Sunday was lazy and cosy. Waking up with Mason’s arms wrapped around your waist always made you feel protected, and you missed this.

You called Ben and sent your location to him, so the three of you had breakfast in a super cute coffee, and Mason showed you both some places he liked in Manchester, taking pictures of you in his new town.

When it was time for you to go back to London, Mount turned into a big baby, pouting every time you looked at him.

Ben said he needed to go to the pharmacy before hitting the road, so he parked in front of Mason's hotel and left you both alone.

Mount helped you get in Chilly’s car and checked the seat belt, but wouldn’t get out of the car window for nothing.

“Let me know when you get home” he kissed your cheek, half of his body through the window, impeding you to close it.

“I can share my location with you if you want to” you chuckled at his concern.

“Yeah, do that. And tell Woody I said hi” he kissed your cheek again, making you laugh.

“Yes sir, anything else?”

“Hmmm, tell him I miss him” he smiled, kissing your cheek one more time.

“Jesus Mase, you’re so needy”

“I don’t want you to go” he cupped your face, whimpering. You closed your eyes, resting your face against his hand and smiling at his words.

“I’ll be back soon” you repeated what he said the other day, making him laugh.

“Liar”

You giggled, pouting at him. “Love you”

“I love you more” he kissed you again, dangerously close to your lips this time, which made you quickly open your eyes.

You stared at his eyes and found… something. They were shining, and when Mason licked his lips wet, you felt the urge to be a bit cockily brave before living.

“If you want to do it then do it properly” you rolled your eyes playfully. You never said anything like that to him, but the fact that he’s in another city now seemed to make you brave enough. You won’t need to face him if he dumps you.

But instead of laughing and saying goodbye, Mason leaned closer towards you.

“Can I?” his big brown eyes were focused on your lips, and you felt a lump in your throat.

“Well, if you want to” you tried to keep a playful tone but when he turned his eyes at you, Mason he had a serious look. “Do you?”

He stared at your lips, running his tongue between his own and pulling his face closer to yours. You weren’t sure if he was really going to kiss you or if he was just joking along with you about it, so you stayed standing in place.

When he was close enough for you to feel his breath in your lips Mason looked you in the eyes, asking for permission. You didn’t believe in yourself to speak, so nodding was your only option.

You felt butterflies in your tummy, anxiety and anticipation mixed with insecurity.

Your best friend leaned to you, and you smiled at his shaky breath. You’re not gonna lie, you imagined this happening a couple of times, but never thought that it was really possible.

“Are you nervous?” you tried to hide your smile. Realising he was just as afraid as you was something different.

“Aren’t you?” he brushed his lips against yours. “There’s any chance this could ruin what we have?”

“Only if you’re a bad kisser” you teased him and Mason chuckled, enjoying the moment.

Deciding to dive right in, he finally closed the distance between you both. His soft lips slipped against yours and you couldn’t help but sink into him.

It was a soft kiss. Slowly, as if Mason was savouring you. No one ever kissed you like this.

When both of you ran out of air, Mason pulled away. Smirking at you, he gave your lips a peck and ran to his car without saying anything.

You giggled at his shy reaction and stayed there for a few minutes, waiting for your best friend to come back, all smiley and thinking about what you just did.

Chilwell didn’t missed the way your smile was taking your entire face, or your shining eyes and every single sigh you left out during the ride.

When he left you home and kissed your forehead, he also looked you deep in the eyes.

“Be careful, bug” he stroked your chin, and you knew he knew that something was going on.

Maybe you were wrong. You don’t know better than falling for one of your best friends.

—

You came back to London way too fast, and were already missing your boy again.

You both were always texting each other, talking about your day and trying to manage how hard it was to be away from your best friend.

And despite you never talked about the kiss, things were different, in a good way.

He’d flirt with you like a teenager, making you giggle all the time, and even though the pet names were common in your friendship before, it’s the only way he calls you now.

You were so fucked up. Honestly.

Now it’s been two months since you saw him — and kissed him. You feel like the kiss strengthened your bond, but at the same time you felt so insecure about it.

Now that he’s so far away and you can’t be with him as much as you like, in your head it’s so easy for him to be interested with any other girl.

You tried to make these thoughts disappear, since you’re going out with your best friend.

Ben picked you up for dinner. He texted you earlier and told you to wear something nice, because he had a surprise for you, so you obeyed.

You chose a black dress to style it with your new high heels from YSL, and Chilly whistled from the driver's seat.

“We’re a bit late so I’m not opening the door for you, sorry bug” you rolled your eyes playfully, sitting in his passenger’s seat. “You look really really beautiful. Buddy’s having a heart attack for sure”

“Who?”

“You’ll see” he smirked, making you snort.

It was a quick ride, and you and Ben sang along to his favourite songs all the way.

When you both got to the restaurant, he took you to the receptionist to talk about his reservations and you saw a back you know really well.

“Is that-” you stuttered, and Ben looked at you in shock.

“Damn it Y/N, how could you tell from here?”

“Are you kidding? Is it really him?”

“Yes, bug. Surprise?” Chilwell smiled, shrugging.

You hugged him really, really tight. “Thank you, Benji. I love you”

“Right right, I know you do. Now go on, run to him like I know you want to” he teased you. “I’ll be there soon”

You nodded, doing your best not to fall while you ran to Mason. Your heart was in your throat and the sight of him was making you weak.

When you were close enough, you covered his eyes with your hands.

“Oh” he sighed, making you laugh. “I wonder who it could be. Probably my boy Chilly”

You took your hands away, looking him in the eyes. “Hi Mase”

“Uhm, way better than Chilly”

“Oh for fucks sake” Ben complained, rolling his eyes.

They chose one of those tables next to the wall, with sofas instead of chairs, so you could sit between them both. Great anti-jealousy choice.

You enjoyed the night with your boys, eating your favourite pasta and a glass of wine.

Ben laughed when you heard one of the waitresses saying that you had two gorgeous men when they only wanted one, and Mason kissed your cheek.

“What’s that ugly face about?”

“You think I’m ugly?” you asked with a pout, trying to hold your laugh when his eyes widened.

“I never said that”

“Oh, I think you’re in trouble Mase” Ben chuckled, falling silent with your gaze. “She heard the waitress talking about us” he murmured.

“What a jealousy baby” Mason kissed your chin, squeezing your tight under the table. “You know I’m your boy… and Chilly is your boy too” he completed with a giggle after Ben’s stare.

“If anyone could hear you now, they would think we are a throuple”

“Let them think” you shrugged, taking a sip of your wine.

“See? She’s proud of her boys” Mason cocked his head to the side.

“Yeah yeah, now which of you will order my dessert” you asked, reading the menu.

“I was thinking about being your dessert, actually”

“Behave, Mason” Ben snorted, pinching his nose.

You laughed at them, covering your face with the menu, a nice way to also hide your burning cheeks since Mason squeezed your tight again, loving to see you laughing.

When you had your bitter chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream, Ben drove you back home. You were in the back seat while Mase sat in the passenger sit, so none of them would feel unchosen.

Chilwell parked in front of your front porch line, and you thanked him, tapping Mason’s shoulder.

“Want to spend the night with me?” You asked Mason and you didn’t need to ask twice as he quickly jumped out of Ben’s car.

“Yes mate don’t need to worry about me I’ll be fine on my own” Ben said dramatically, making you laugh. You went to the driver window, pecking his cheeks.

“Where’s my smile?” you asked him like he was a tiny kid, but it worked. Ben smiled at you, his eyes shutting. “Good night Benji”

“Good night, bug” he blew you a kiss before turning his head to Mason’s direction, who had already walked around the car and was now beside you. “Take care of her”

“I always do” Mount smirked cockily, resting an arm around your shoulders.

Ben waited for both of you to be inside of your house, leaving with a honk.

Mason entered your house in silence, knowing you have a roommate, and made his way to your room since you’re not eating or watching anything this late.

“Oh shit” Mason groaned when you closed your room’s door. “We just completely forgot that all of my stuff are at Ben’s”

“You can sleep in your boxers” you shrugged. “I don’t mind it. I’m sure there’s one of your shirts here but I don’t feel like looking for it”

Mason stared at the room floor for a minute, thinking about what you just said. You want him to sleep practically naked?

He shrugged to himself, taking off his clothes and staying only in his boxers. You were already in bed, using the hoodie he left with you months ago as a pyjama. It is big enough to cover your thighs, and you feel like you’re flowing inside it.

“It’s my hoodie?” he looked at you and you nodded.

“It’s the one you left for me in July, guess it’s mine now”

“Yeah, it is” he smiled, tucking his head into your neck. “Jesus you always smell so good”

You chuckled at his compliment, scratching his neck gently. It didn’t take long for his hand to reach your waist underneath the hoodie.

Just like the last time this happened, you held your breath when his fingers played with your panties strap.

He thought you were using pyjamas shorts. He really did, but there’s no way he’s taking his hand out now.

Mason tried not to imagine how'd it be to take it off from you. He tried really hard not to imagine how’d it be to make you moan his name.

You are his best friend and even though you always accepted his touches and cuddles and you both kissed last time you saw him, doesn’t mean he has any real chances.

But the way you were jealous of him that night… and you travelled all the way to Manchester… and that kiss was something else…

You left a shaky breath when he tightened his grip on you, and kept telling yourself that he’s tired, slightly drunk and his fingers just found the way to your waist naturally, that he’s not even totally awake. Well, at least you think he had a drink at the restaurant.

Mason was well awake, actually, and he did his best to keep the other part of him sleeping, but he couldn’t stop himself from picturing you only in his hoodie, your tights so accessible to him.

He sucked in a breath and you could feel the tension on his shoulders. You could also feel his boner when he tried to move his hips away, and your mind went blank.

He never had an erection when you guys slept together, in all these years. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel, and you were filled with a lot of conflicted emotions.

Mason was hard-on for you and this fed your pride. He thinks you’re pretty? Hot? He enjoyed that kiss the other day? He’s been thinking about it like you did?

Just in that moment you realised how bad you wanted him to want you.

When he left a small groan, you ran your hand through his hair.

“Everything is alright, Mase?” you asked gently.

“Uhm?”

“Is everything alright?”

“No, is not” he sighed. “I’m sorry”

You waited, feeling your expectations die, but still smiled at him.

“That’s alright babe, you’re a man attracted to women and I’m a woman and we are in the same bed and things like that can happen” you reassured him.

“Jesus, don’t call me babe in a moment like that” Mason groaned, making you laugh. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable”

“You didn’t. It can happen all the time, Mase. I was surprised it never happened before”

“This means that- Chilly… ?” he stuttered, raising his face to look at you.

“Oh, no” you laughed out loud. “You are the physical one, me and Chilly almost never cuddle”

“Good” he smiled, relieved.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. I wouldn’t live much longer knowing he’s cuddling with you while I’m far away, that’s unfair”

There it was again, the reason for your doubts. In what should you believe, for fucking sake?

Is not normal for a best friend to be that territorial and jealous. At least you wished it’s not.

“You don’t need to be jealous of Ben. He’s just Ben” you kept scratching his scalp. “Wanna go to the bathroom?”

“Not really” he tucked his head into your neck and you could feel the warmth of his burning cheeks.

“You don’t need to be ashamed, Mase. I told you it’s normal and I do understand that you have no control over it”

“I shouldn’t want this to happen” he murmured, so sleepy that you could barely hear him.

“Hm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you Mase”

“I got hard cause I was thinking about it” he whispered against your neck. “I shouldn’t want this to happen, right?”

“You shouldn’t want this because it’s me?” you asked softly, trying to understand what he wanted, how he felt about you.

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. Probably my favourite person in the world. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship” he squeezed your waist, inhaling your scent. “But God, I want to fuck you so bad”

You felt goosebumps all over your body and you were sure your panties would probably be ruined by now. This man will be the death of you.

But you think he drank tonight, you remembered yourself, just trying to keep your feet on the ground.

“You’re probably just drunk and horny, Mase. You’d feel like this with any girl laying in your bed”

“I didn’t even drink tonight, Y/N” he snorted, feeling rejected. “But nice way to dump me”

“Believe me, I’m not dumping you. I just thought you had a drink” you emphasised.

“Uhm, keep going” he ran his nose through your neck, lazy.

“You’re my favourite person too and I don’t want to screw things up” you admitted, and the way he pulled back to look at you with hopeful eyes made your entire body shiver.

“But you also feel it?”

“Yes baby, I do” you decided to be honest, even though you couldn’t know how honest he was being. “Now go to sleep, ok?”

“I don’t want to sleep” Mason kissed your neck.

You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your own body betray you. Mason didn’t missed the way your tights parted under him, which made him smile.

“Mase, you were supposed to be recovering. You really need to sleep now babe”

“Call me babe one more time and I’ll cum in my boxer” he breathed and you closed your eyes, fighting the urge to help him. “Y/N…” Mason whispered.

“We can’t, Mase” you whimpered, feeling insecure. You would have him and then what? He would go back to Manchester where he could find a lot of more attractive girls and you would stay in London.

“Why not” he pouted, nothing like the grown man asking you to have sex with him.

“I can’t risk the chance of you waking up and regretting this”

“I won’t”

“So there’s no rush if you’ll still want this other day” you tried to postpone this conversation, but he was desperate to take his chance, to create an ever stronger bond with you.

Mason doesn't know when you will see him again, so he can’t let this slip through his fingers.

“You want this?” he murmured, looking for your gaze, and you tried to ignore his eyes.

“Jesus Mase, why won’t you just sleep?” you sighed. This man is a tough one to deal with, and as soon he realised you did want him, you lost the war.

“Answer me” Mason kissed your chin, getting in between your legs. “Say you don’t and I’ll stop”

When he pressed his cock against your core, you losted it.

“Fuck, yes. I do. I want you so bad that I’m soaking” you spat the words. Lying to him now would be pointless.

Mason didn’t respond, giving your neck wet kisses instead, and you could feel his smile against your skin. He was desperate for you, and you could tell by his grip in your waist.

“If you want me then you got me” Mason whispered, moving his hand and caressing your core through your panties. “Be a good girl, uh?”

You nodded, feeling nervous. Your best friend was about to touch you like friends don’t usually do and you have no idea how to deal with that.

“Fuck, you’re really soaking” Mason groaned when his fingers touched you under the fabric, feeling how wet you were.

He slid them through your folds, trying to be quiet.

“No one can hear you” you whispered softly when you realised his effort to stay shut. “My roommate went for her boyfriends house”

“Good” he smiled, reaching your lips to a soft kiss. “I can make you scream then”

Your mouth went dry. You know Mason’s sassy and cocky side, and you love it, but you never thought you’d experienced it that way.

He rubbed your clit, gently massaging it, kissing your chin when you started to ask for more.

You couldn’t even think straight when Mason started thrusting two of his fingers in and out of you, always so gentle. You didn’t know if you wanted him to fuck you harder or to savour you like he was doing, so you just called his name, losing your mind.

“You’re feeling good?” he asked you, curling his fingers inside of you. The sight of your eyes shut and your parted lips made him want to scream. You nodded at him, scratching his neck. “And who’s making you feel good, princess?”

Mason smiled as he watched you roll your head back against the pillow. “You are, Mase”

He bit his lower lip in concentration, focused on getting you ready for him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, his dick twitching in his boxers at every soft moan of yours, he removed his fingers, smirking when you cried at the emptiness feeling.

Licking his fingers clean while looking you straight in the eyes, which made you even wetter, Mason pulled away just enough so he could take off his underwear, releasing his dick with a sigh.

Back between your legs, Mason moved your panties to the side, almost tearing them. He lined himself up with your entrance and leaned over you, teasing your hole and stimulating your clit with his tip.

He groaned when you scratched his torso, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t tease baby, or there will be consequences” you hooked your fingers under his chin.

“Sorry” he smiled shyly, thrusting his hips forward to push himself inside. This somehow fed your pride with the thought of your boy submissive to you, but you had no time to think about it as Mason obeyed you, penetrating you slowly.

“Jesus Mase, you’re so big” you whimpered, feeling like you were almost tearing apart, your compliment feeding his ego.

When he was completely inside of you, Mason waited so you could get used to his size.

He started to move when you kissed his neck, trying his best to go slowly, but your soft whines in each thrust was making him crazy.

And he was good. So good. The pressure was perfect and the way he went to the bottom every single time made you wanna scream.

You had no words, only murmuring nonsense stuff and moaning his name. When his thrusts became faster and even more pleasurable, you lost your mind.

“Mase-” you choked out his name as you could feel his cock stretching you out, your walls clenching around him. “Just like that, babe-”

“Fuck, don’t call me like that” he whimpered. “I mean- please call me like that but not when I’m trying to last longer” Mason took a deep breath, trying not to cum with the feeling of you pulsating around him.

“But I don’t want you to last” you whispered, looking nothing like the girl from a few minutes ago who was scared of fucking with his best friend. “I want you to cum inside of me right now”

“Jesus, you’ll kill me” Mason groaned and you could feel him twitching inside of you, but he shook his head, thrusting his hips against you with renewed energy. “You first, princess”

You called out his name when the tip of his dick touched you in the right place, and Mason whined when you clenched around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So hot damn tight” he cried out, suffering to hold his own orgasm.

He quickly took the tip of his thumb to rub your swollen clit, and you watched how his cock was disappearing in your pussy before you dropped your head back on the pillow, enjoying how good Mason is at it.

It was hot and messy and his thrusts were getting sloppier every second. You could feel your heart, tummy and cunt burning all at once and you knew you were close.

“I'm so close Mase” you whined, moaning loudly when he pinched your clit. “Fuck I’m gonna-“

“Let go for me, Y/N. You take me so good baby. It feels so good to be inside you” he whispered dirty words in your ear, coaxing you.

Your orgasm hits you with full strength.

Mason placed his forehead against your, stroking your waist and guiding you through it, his cock pulsating as he released his own orgasm inside you.

You both stayed silent for a moment, tired. After a few minutes, he kissed your lips and got up, looking for wet wipes in your bathroom.

Coming back with them, Mason cleaned you up gently, knowing you’d be too sensitive.

After tossing the wipes in the bin, he laid beside you, his arm in your waist and one of his legs over your body.

“You’re good?” he murmured in your ear, kissing your temple.

“Mm-hmm” you hummed. “It was good for you?”

“If it was good? Fuck, you drained me” he whispered, strengthless. “Yes baby, I loved to fuck you in my hoodie. Felt special”

“You’re so territorial” you chuckles, stroking his chin.

“Shouldn’t I? People are territorial over what belongs to them. So I’m territorial over you” he mumbled, and you knew he was falling asleep. “Cause you’re mine. Mine, mine and only mine. You and your cuddles and your stories and now your pussy is also mine”

You burst into laughs, his face moving with your chest.

“Good night baby boy” you kissed his forehead, smiling at his rose nose and cheeks.

“Sweet dreams, my princess” he leaned against you, trying to be as close to you as was humanly possible.

Before you fell asleep, your last thought was that It would break your heart to see him leave the next morning.

—

You and Chilly were out for lunch. After a rough week, he just needed to chat a little and you were always happy to hear him.

A venting session later, Ben squeezed your tight.

“And what about you? How you feeling, bug?” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Not quite sure, Benji. I miss him” you sighed. “But if I go, then I’ll miss you. And everything I have here”

“It must be hard feeling that way” he stroked your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“Yep… and uhm, I need to tell you something” you pinched your nose.

Ben didn’t even hesitated. “You had sex with him”

“Benjamin?!” you gasped.

“What?”

“He told you?” you were surprised that Ben knew it. Since that happened, Mason agreed not to tell your friend.

“So you HAD sex with him?” he laughed out loud. “Oh my- I knew it”

“So I just confirmed to you… great”

“Really? No one was going to tell me?“

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure about it. Like, I was always sure about him, but not about what we were”

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely something. He’s so in love with you, makes me sick of my stomach”

“He’s what?” you paralysed. “He told you that?”

“No but it’s obvious?!”

“Oh Chilly, c'mon. You scared me for a sec”

“Why? You wouldn’t want this to be true?” he took a sip of his soda, understanding your silence. “Oh shit, is the opposite”

You shrugged, not really wanting to confirm it.

“Whatever”

“I mean it, Y/N. I know he feels it”

“You can’t be sure if he never told you this”

“But he’s my best friend, I know him. And I know both of you. He’s been on you since his first Senior England game”

“Fine, even if this is the truth there’s nothing I can do if he never tells me”

“Maybe you should tell him how you feel”

“We were both very clear about how we don’t want to ruin our friendship”

“And then he fucked you. Nice way to not ruin a friendship”

“We’re good Benji, no friendships ruined”

“I’ve seen this film before, Y/N. You two should talk”

“Fine, I’ll try. I just didn’t felt comfortable bringing the subject in a week like this, you know that beating City at Old Trafford was a really big goal for him”

“You have a point, it was a stressful week for him” Ben nodded, finishing his food and trying to decide which dessert he would pick today.

When you finish yours too you reach out for your phone since you’re used to forget it exists every time you’re with Ben or Mason.

You held your breath when you entered Twitter and saw Mason’s name trending.

According to the videos, Mason was at a club last night and even though he’s a grown man and can do whatever he wants, you felt your stomach churn.

He was beautiful as ever, looking a bit tipsy and his hair was a mess in one of the photos.

A specific one made your heart ache.

Mason was holding a girl on his lap. His face was resting on her shoulder, practically laying on her boobs.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, and Ben looked at you concerned.

“What happened, bug? You’re feeling alright? Something’s hurting?” he sounded alarmed, and you felt a bit of comfort in his concern.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, feeling your chest hurt, so you nodded at his question.

“What is it? You can’t breathe?” Ben stroked your back, worried. When you put your phone on the table and covered your face with your hands, he had a look at the screen. “Fuck, I’ll kill him”

You shook your head, ugly crying in your hands. Ben kissed your temple, never stopping the comforting stroke in your back and whispering that everything would be okay.

When your sobs became too loud he asked for the bill, paying before picking you up and taking you to his car. You didn’t say a word, accepting being taken care of.

At his house, he sent you to a hot shower. You hugged him tightly before locking his bathroom door and getting under the water.

It was a relieving shower. You cried a lot, and when you felt that there weren't any more tears you let your shoulders relax.

Leaving the bathroom, you found out that Ben had left one of his oversized t-shirts and a new boxer in his bed.

Wearing it and wrapping the towel around your hair, you left his room to find him in the kitchen.

“Hey bug, you’re feeling better?”

“Thank you Benji” you pouted, and he left the stove to get to you.

“You don’t need to thank me. You know I’d do anything for you, Y/N, you’re my little sister” he hugged you, and you tucked your face in his neck. “I love you, and I’m sorry he hurt you. He’ll have to deal with me about this one”

“I love you Chilly, but you don’t need to fight with your best mate because of it” you sighed, letting him go back to the boiling water. “We’re not dating, we just had sex. Maybe I went too far, it’s not his fault”

Ben shook his head, but concentrated on making you both a cup of tea.

Your best friend took care of you, and you both spent the rest of the day cuddling and watching movies.

Ben wasn’t the best with physical touch, but he knew you needed it so he tried his best, and this made your heart pound with gratitude.

You ignored Mason the whole day. You know he’s an adult and can do whatever he wants to, and a few weeks ago those videos wouldn’t bother you as you want him to be happy, and he seems happy, but after the last time you saw him you thought… that maybe he could be happy with you.

When the third movie ended, you yawned and turned to face Ben.

“It’s really late Benji, I should go home”

“You can spend the night here, I have training tomorrow but that’s not a problem”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck off bug, you’re my best friend. Of course I’m sure” he ruffled your hair. “Do you want to sleep with me or do you need time alone?”

“As long as you don’t kick me out of bed in the middle of the night…”

“Hey, I already apologised for that night” Ben gave you the middle finger, turning off the tv, and you followed him upstairs.

“I need to tell you something” Ben sighed, rubbing his face. “I think I might know what happened, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m defending him — I’m not”

“Uhm, ok?” you looked at him, suspicious.

“Friday, after our game… I went to the club with some of the boys, we had a lot of drinks” he started, feeling ashamed. “And we played truth or dare. I’m sorry, bug. One of the guys thought it was a good idea to dare Enzo to send Mason a message about you”

“What kind of message?”

“That you spent a night with him or something like that. They all know how close both of you are and they were sure this would make Mason lost his shit cause apparently he’s the only one that still doesn’t know how fucking in love he is” Ben said it all in just one breath. “But this is not an excuse, he should’ve asked you instead of believing Enzo. I just think that he felt threatened, insecure that you saw another man even after what you guys had”

“Jeez Ben, this is fucked up uh? It’s not a cool thing to do. But yeah, he should’ve asked me before fucking other girl”

“You’re angry or jealous?”

“I’m angry. And jealous. He slept with her thinking I slept with another man and now even though he’ll find out I didn’t, he did” you pouted. “He’s dirty with another woman’s pussy Ben I don’t want him anymore”

Your sincerity made Chilwell burst into laughter. “Oh bug, I’m sorry. You’re just too funny”

“I mean it though, she’s all over his skin”

“I’m sorry you’re passing through this, bug. He can be so dumb sometimes” You shrugged, and Ben’s phone started to ring. “Speaking of the devil”

“The Red Devil” you joked, turning to the other side so he could text his best friend. Ben stayed silent for a few minutes, but you could feel he was angry by the way he was typing.

You sighed when he locked his phone, imagining what they talked about, but forced yourself to forget these thoughts when Ben tucked his head in your neck.

“Good night, bug”

“Good night, Benji”

—

Monday morning, Ben’s doorbell rang like crazy, waking you up. You looked at your phone to check the hour, discovering it was only half past eight.

A lot of messages from Mason caught your attention, and you read them quickly, feeling your stomach twisting.

The doorbell rang again, and you snorted. Chilwell left early for training, so whoever might be wouldn’t find him home, but you thought it would be nice of you to let them know this instead of just letting them wait forever.

You ran down the stairs in his t-shirt, rubbing your sleepy eyes and still yawning. It wasn’t the best night of sleep you ever had, to be honest.

The last thing you were expecting was to see Mason standing in front of the door, ready to start knocking.

You tried to close the door in his face, but he was quick to stop your action, using his foot to keep it open.

“We need to talk” his voice was grumpy, and he looked so cosy in his hoodie. You tried your best to not jump on him, still feeling sad about yesterday.

“I don’t really wanna talk with you”

“But we need to. You’re using Ben’s t-shirt?” he frowned, forcing his weight against the door until you gave up.

“I didn’t think I was staying so I didn’t bring anything” you shrugged, and he forced himself to swallow the jealousy lump in his throat.

“Y/N…” Mason tried to hold you, but you took a step back.

“Don’t. I’m still pissed” you snorted, closing Ben’s door and walking to the living room. “How do you even knew I was here? I’ll beat Ben’s ass”

“I went to your place and you weren't there, so it was a logical thought. He didn’t needed to tell me anything. He refuses to talk to me at all”

Your heart melted a little bit, but even though what happened seems a small thing now, you cried a lot since you saw that video, and despite Ben’s explanation before bed you weren’t letting Mason get away with this one so easily.

You sat on the sofa, and he tried to sit next to you. You shuffled to the side, putting a little distance between you, but Mason followed your movement.

When you reached the arm of the sofa and ran out of space, he smiled at you. The pair of you stayed silent until Mason reached out for your hand.

“I’m sorry sweetheart” Mason said softly and it was enough to make you cry again.

“It’s not like we’re something, right? I’m just being dramatic” you shrugged one more time.

You weren’t his girlfriend, you both never talked about your feelings, he had a night out and now you’re acting like this is the end of the world. Maybe you should see a therapist.

“No, we’re not” he sighed, your words hurting him a little bit. “But I’ve always wanted us to be”

You gave Mason a side eye, trying not to cry any more. You wished you could still be mad at him, but if you’re being honest with yourself, just the fact that he was in London on a Monday so he could explain himself to you already made your anger disappear.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Mase. We can still be best friends like nothing happened” you tried to smile like the idea wasn’t tearing you apart.

“I don’t want to be your best friend” Mason snapped, but he quickly recomposed himself. “Fuck, I don’t. Ben is your best friend, ok? He’s your big brother, whatever. I’m your boy, Y/N” he said desperately, giving your thigh a squeeze. His words sounded like they could kill you. “Look at me baby”

When you did, Mason stared into your eyes. You instantly felt the need to cry, and weren’t able to hold the tears when he started stroking your chin.

Unable to wait any longer, he brought you to his lap, his hands going straight under Ben's t-shirt, to your waist.

“It’s not your fault, or mine. We should’ve talked about how we felt” you placed your hands on his neck. “Can’t blame you for sleeping with other girl”

“I haven’t. You’re the only one I had sex with the last four months” he chewed his lower lip. “I went to the club so Rashy could record me because I knew you’d see it and then you’d feel what I felt when Enzo texted me”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me” you shook your head, but you felt good knowing that he hasn’t slept with anyone else since he had you. He’s still your untouched boy.

“I do need to. It was childish, dumb and I hurt you without even knowing the real story. The thought of you with him made me blind. I just kept thinking about you touching him like you touched me” he said shyly, avoiding your gaze. “Kissing him like we kissed. Riding him like you did to me”

You took his hair out of his face and stroked his chin. Shy Mason has ever been your favourite version of him, because you’re the only one to see him like this.

“But that wasn’t the worst part” he pouted unconsciously. “I just realised that once you both enjoyed it, he could take you on dates. And ask you to be his girlfriend. See you every week like I used to and even ask you to live with him. He could do everything I wanted to”

His lower lip quivered and the fragility made you smile.

“I haven’t even met Enzo in person, baby boy. You could just talked to me and I’d told you this”

“Chilly told me it was a truth or dare game and they chose me as the target cause it was always obvious how much I like you” he left out a shaky breath. “But I had already messed up when I found out the truth. I was so dumb, and now you’re mad at me”

“Of course I’m mad at you. Another girl was messing around with what is mine” you felt a boost of confidence knowing he wants you both to be more than best friends.

“I’m sorry babe” he pouted, and your entire body shivered.

“Being sorry isn’t enough” you ran your thumb through his lower lip, quivering when he kissed your finger.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Mason smiled at the feeling of your thighs squeezing around him.

“Maybe if you were so afraid that Enzo could make a move, you should do it before we have the chance to accidentally met” you teased, watching your boy’s eyes go darker.

“Can we not say his name anymore?” Mason rolled his eyes, still stroking your skin.

“Does it stress you out?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “And you haven’t thought for a second that if you didn’t like the way you felt about him then I wouldn’t like the way I’m feeling about that girl right now?”

“I’m sorry” Mason whimpered, tightening his grip on your waist.

“Not enough. Not after making me think someone was touching my man. After making me think you were intimate with her or were looking at her the way you look at me”

“Your man?” Mason smirked, stopping when he saw your serious face. “I’ll never look at anyone the way I look at you. And your name is the only one I like to call”

“It won’t be that easy for you, Mr. Good With Words” you poked his chest, trying not to smile when he held your hand and kissed it.

“Fine, not words then. Let’s have dinner next week, I’ll come after my game” he smiled, pecking your neck.

You tried to hide your own smile again, but Mason tickled your waist and you failed.

“Alright” you giggled. “But I can go to Manchester. You’ll be tired”

“I don’t think so, I’m the one who needs to prove you something” he kissed your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his touch before pulling out of his lap.

His confused eyes made you laugh, even harder when he pouted like a child.

“You didn't think it would be that easy, right? No kisses before my dinner” you shrugged.

“Y/N” he whimpered. “It’s like we're starting from scratch?”

“Yes”

Mason sighed, getting up and walking towards you. “Give me a last one, then”

You got closer to him, slowly. Mason licked his lips wet in anticipation, his hands ready to hold you, when you gave his cheek a peck and ran upstairs.

“Don't forget to close Chilly’s door” you screamed, making him laugh.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he shook his head, just happy that he got another chance.

Once in Ben’s room’s safety, you texted your best friend since he loves to be updated about your life like is a reality show.

—

Mason’s game Saturday afternoon was fantastic, and he even gave Rashy an assist. This would mean Ben was the moody of the moodiest, but he told you he’d be fine, not wanting to mess up with your weekend. You wrote a mental note to spend an entire afternoon with him.

When Mount left the locker room and the boys invited him, he shook his head, smiling.

“What’s about that smile?” Sancho raised an eyebrow.

“It seems like someone visited heaven” Martinez smirked, crossing his arms whilst everyone waited for Mason’s response.

Luke laughed, wearing his hoodie and walking towards Mount. “I know that look” he tapped Mason’s shoulder. “It’s Y/N, right?”

“Oh, so the video worked?” Marcus clapped his hands.

“Not exactly, but we’re good now. I’m taking her to dinner”

“That’s my big boy” Sancho jumped on his shoulders.

“He’s actually her big boy, bro” Onana giggled, messing up Mason's hair. “Happy for you, Mount. You found yourself in United, finally have your house and now you have your girl too”

“The start of the season in a new team can be really tough, but you’re going through it Mase. You’ll see, from now on it’ll only get better” Rashford completed, hugging Mason’s head. “We’re happy for you, brother”

He is happy for himself too. No self pity anymore. He’s going to show the world why he deserves his trophies, his fame and his girl.

With that in mind, he knocked at your door hours later, his shaky legs annoying him and your favourite flowers on his hand.

Ben told him your hotel and even gave his name to the receptionist. He felt like he’ll always be in debt with his friend.

Mason ran out of breath with the sight of you. Your red dress was pressing your body in all the right places, ending four fingers above your knees, and your smile was so bright. Your make up was her favourite make up style, a natural one, and your red lipstick matched the colour of your dress. Your white high heels

“Hi baby” he smiled at you, giving you the flowers. “To you”

“Mase! You didn’t need to” you pouted, running inside so you could put them in a vase. He was still smiling when you came back.

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re beautiful too baby boy” you had a look at him. Mason was wearing a white shirt, black pants and his favourite white Nike sneakers. He smiled proudly when you licked your lips wet looking at him.

When he took you to his car, you were a bit confused.

“What happened to your Rover?”

“Washing day” he shrugged, opening his Porsche’s door for you. “Do you like this one?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Everything about tonight seemed so dazzling.

When he sat behind the wheel, you felt your legs shake a bit and you couldn't contain your gasp. “Jesus, this is hot”

“Uhm?” Mason looked at you, grinning as he started the car. “You said something, babe?”

You chewed your lower lip, knowing damn well he heard you. Mount laughed at your silence, driving to the restaurant he picked.

It wasn’t a long drive, but you spent the entire time staring at his hands. How they pressed the wheel, how he smiled every time he hit the accelerator. How he smirked when his eyes met yours.

So cocky and feeling himself.

And you like to see him like this.

When he parked in front of your favourite restaurant, you pouted at him. Of course it was the Manchester franchise, but his concern with choosing somewhere you would like in his town made you happy.

“Don’t” he closed his eyes, smirking. “I don’t want to ruin your lipstick yet”

You rolled your eyes, and couldn’t help yourself but feel giddy. “Who said you’re ruining my lipstick tonight?”

“I said” he opened his door, running to get to yours before you could open it by yourself. You always felt good around Mason, but being his best friend and being his girl were two different things.

And nothing in this world ever felt as good as being his girl.

You never thought you’d have a dinner date with Mason, but you had. And it was unreal. Everything about the restaurant was so cosy, and the way he looked at you the whole night…

“You’re sure there’s no problem if someone sees us here?”

“You need to relax, love. It’s just me, uh? Not Mason Mount, just your Mason”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble”

“I won’t. Now, white wine and cheesy pasta?” he smiled, and you nodded fervently. You both talked about how’s been settling down in Manchester, his first Manchester Derby and your visits to Stamford, avoiding talking about Enzo and Mason’s partying night.

He also asked about your work, your family, Ben and Nathan. You asked about his new teammates and if they’re already friends, Mason smiled at every answer and question, and you were so happy your belly hurts from laughing.

When you were finished with your food, Mase ordered a chocolate dessert, knowing how much you love sweets after a meal.

“Close your eyes for me, princess. I want you to guess what I ordered” he smiled, and you obeyed immediately.

“It has strawberries?”

“Hm, no”

“Mango? Grapes?”

“Wow, you’re a fruity woman. But no” you could hear his giggles.

“It’s dark chocolate?”

“Yes baby, your favourite”

“Oh, oh!! Petit gateau with the 60% cocoa ganache and cocoa powder sprinkled” you opened your eyes, looking at him instead of the table. “Did I get it?”

Mase had the most beautiful smile, his eyes shut. When he didn’t answer you, you looked at the table just to find the dessert you described – and a ring.

“What- what is this?”

“I promise” Mason started, and you felt your eyes watering. “That I’ll love you just as much as you love bitter chocolate. I do already” he giggled, and you felt like your heart was about to stop.

“Baby…”

“I think you should be my girl, Y/N”

“I’m your girl” you murmured, feeling your heart pounding with love.

“Alright, I think you should be my girlfriend then. The last week just proved that we want each other and not being sincere about our feelings will only leave space for us to get hurt. I don’t want us to get hurt”

You walked towards him sitting in his lap not really caring if other people would comment about it.

“Me neither, sweet boy. But we live in different cities-”

“We’ll manage this. We can make it work. It’s what we’ve been doing since I left, babe. But now I’ll be even more anxious to see you cause I know I’ll be able to kiss you” he chuckled, kissing your chin before brushing his lips in your ear. “And touch you in a way is reserved to me”

“Put it on my ring” you whispered to him, trying to focus. He bit his lower lip in concentration, taking the tiny box and admiring his choice, a shining silver with a red jewel.

“I was going to buy a blue one, but…”

“Red is your colour now. It fits you, and it fits me. That’s all” you reassured him, stroking his chin with one hand while he held the other, sliding the ring through your ring finger.

You cupped his face when he finished, kissing his cheeks, nose and lips. It felt pretty good to see your lipstick marks all over him.

“Want your dessert now?” he smiled sheepishly and you nodded, choosing to stay in his lap while you ate your petit gateau.

It was really yummy and you felt happiness spreading over you, realising how much he knows you for asking something you would like that much.

“You shouldn’t press yourself against my cock like that, you know?” Mason suddenly murmured, scaring you. “It would be really embarrassing for me to cum that fast”

You choked a bit, pushing the plate away. “I’m done”

“Already?” he giggled when you nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He asked for the bill and paid for it before getting up with you and guiding you by your waist. When both of you got to his car, he opened your door and kissed your cheek, making you all giddy.

While he walked around the car and entered, you texted Ben.

Already locking his seatbelt Mase smirked at your giggles, imagining who you were speaking with.

Mason didn’t even ask where you wanted to go, driving his home with just one hand while the other squeezed your thigh.

It was intimate and his hand was warm and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how hot he looked while driving that way.

When he parked in his garage, you instantly felt nervous. It was your first time at his new house, and he could sense your tension.

“It’s just like when you used to come to my house in London” he hugged you from behind. “But we’re not in London anymore”

“And we’re not best friends anymore” you completed.

“No. We’re even better now” he kissed your neck, taking your hand and guiding you inside.

It was a big house, but comfortable at the same time. Mason was still decorating, but already seemed like his place.

It was late already, so he took you straight upstairs.

“Here’s my room, and my bathroom is right there. You can take off your makeup, I brought your makeup remover and a lot of cotton pads”

“I’ll need a t-shirt” you pouted, realising how much you two look like big babies pouting all the time. “And a boxer, it’s more comfortable”

“Yas ma’am. But first” he held your waist, pushing you against him. His other hand went to your neck, his fingers getting into your hair.

Mason leaned towards you, brushing your nose with his and pecking your lips before giving you a real kiss. His tongue sliding into your mouth the second you gave him permission.

He groaned when your nails scratched his scalp and you whined in his mouth, trying to get closer to him. Mason’s hands slid through your body, and he squeezed your bum, making your grip on him tighter.

“I told you” he said once you both broke apart looking for air, running his finger through your lower lip. “Deliciously ruined”

You pecked his lips one more time, feeling your legs a bit shaky.

“I love you”

“I love you so much more” he kissed your neck. “Now go get ready for bed, please. I don’t have strength enough to do what I want to do with you right now”

You chuckled, also feeling too tired for anything. It was a perfect night and you just wanted to finish it laying with your boyfriend, cuddling all night.

After taking off your makeup, you came back to Mase’s room and found him with the most beautiful sleepy face, holding his clothes for you. You quickly changed, letting him look at your body for a few seconds before wearing his t-shirt and boxer.

“Shit, you look so hot. And so cosy. I don’t know if I want to fuck you or cuddle you”

“Well the only thing you’re able to do right now is cuddling” you giggled, and Mason hit your ass.

He tucked you in bed, and you sighed in content. It was always so good to cuddle with him, feeling his body touching yours.

You knew both of you were horny and desperate for each other, but at the same time you were drained with the day’s surprises, and your boy had just won a game earlier. More than that, you were just happy. That you were in his arms, that he is totally yours now, that he loves you.

Happy that you’re able to sleep with his body that close to yours.

—

It’s been two months since Mason asked you to be his girlfriend and you said yes. You both were able to manage the distance, but you were broken to be that far away from him.

When you asked Chilly to meet you that Thursday night, you really thought it wouldn’t be that hard. That you would have time to talk to him before telling the news.

But just like Mason, your best friend knows you, and his soft eyes shined with unshed tears before you even opened your mouth.

You hugged him, instantly tucking your face on his neck.

“I’m moving” you tried to tell him yourself, even though he already saw this on your face. “I’ll go to Manchester, Chilly”

He kissed the top of your head, hugging you tightly. “I’ll miss you, a lot, but I’m happy you made the decision. He was making me crazy with all the texts about missing you”

“I wish I could stay- really” you tried to explain, tightening your grip on hip, but Chilly shook his head.

“I’m missing my best friend, yes. But you?” Ben shrugged. “You’re missing the entire other half of you. I understand why you need to go. I’m happy you’re going, actually. Happy for you, and for my boy that’ll now feel complete”

“I’ll miss you so much, Benji” you pulled back to look at him with big sad eyes.

“But you’ll be happier there. And this is enough for me. Just promise me we’ll text everyday and you’ll visit me on my important games”

You nodded, squeezing his waist. “I’ll visit all the time. And you can always visit too, you know” you stared at him. “I love you. I love both of you so much it hurts”

“We love you more, you know” Ben chuckled, kissing your forehead.

You were happy with your best friend's support, and after a nice lunch with him you texted your boy.

You laughed at him, so silly.

When you had all your most important things in your car hours later, you FaceTimed Mason.

“Hi my sweetie cutie pie” he answered immediately.

“Hi big boy” you smiled at him, locking your old small and pretty house, that was already on sale.

“Big, uh?” a different voice came from his phone, and you felt the blood rushing into your cheeks when Rashford appeared through your screen. “Hi cutie pie” he mocked Mason.

“Hi Rashy. Boys night out?”

“Not actually, is just me, Mase and Sanch”

“You’re coming?” Mason appeared again, and Marcus snorted.

“I’m leaving now, but it’s a long drive, you can stay with them” you assured him, entering your car.

“Wish I could pick you up” he pouted. “Be careful love”

“Join us when you arrive, baby girl” Marcus mocked again, and Mason fulmed him with his eyes.

“Don’t call her like that” your jealous boy complained.

“Ohhhh” you could hear Sancho’s voice. “He’s right Rashy, you can’t call your buddy’s girl like that even if it’s ironic”

“Sorry, sorry. Just tell her to join us”

“You want to come, babe?” he looked at you with his big brown eyes and you nodded.

“This phrase went weird bro” Sancho murmured, causing Marcus to break into laughter.

“Jesus, I can’t with you two” he snorted, causing you to smile. “I’ll send my location and you decide if you want to show or if you’re too tired, just let me know if you choose go straight home so I can come to you”

“Yes sir” you nodded again, starting the car. “See you soon” you whispered, receiving an affected smile.

“God, I can’t wait” he murmured with shining eyes, instantly being teased by his friends. “I love you baby”

“Love you more” you blow him a kiss before turning the call off, adjusting your seat belt and driving off of the porch line. Driving home. To your man and your new life.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #mason mount fluffy #mason mount smut #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fics

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ziggyzolch · 2 months

Text

Headache II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: Finally waking up from your forced nap, you have a discussion with the rest of the team. Warnings: Swearing and general tomfoolery Previous Part

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

You can hear two, maybe three voices in the same room as you. From what you've gathered, you're in some kind of hotel room, and have been asleep for at least an hour. Peaking open one eye, you see a man with silver highlights in his hair, and the same woman that kidnapped you. An idea sparks in your mind.

They had been facing you for the 5 minutes you've been awake, but after painstakingly waiting 2 more minutes and almost falling back asleep, they turn away from you. You have no idea when they're gonna turn back, so you quickly walk up behind them. The man turns first.

"I think we could convince her to stay- What the fuck!" at his girly scream, Wanda turns and punches you in the nose. Doubled down clutching your nose and laughing your ass off, you point at the man, "You scream like a girl!" Before you could fall back down in laughter, Wanda picks you up by your shirt collar and pushes you against the bedroom door.

"Is it impossible for you to just. Be. Normal." she grits out.

"Yup. More importantly though, you are so strong." You reach out to touch her bicep, but she slaps your hand away.

"I can't wait till you're out of here, fucker."

"Yeah yeah. I get it, you love me." You say while flashing her a big goofy smile.

She rolls her eyes and opens the door, dragging you out to god knows where. Looking around the place, mainly for new prank setups, you notice the same silver haired man following you and Wanda. She turns a corner, and a huge living room reveals itself, with even more, probably rapey, people.

You turn to Wanda, "So is this like a weird university where your lessons are focused on kidnapping and trafficking." She looks down at you, opening her mouth to respond when a man interrupts. "Finally up?" He asks while standing up from the sofa he was sitting on, three more people standing up after him. You make eye contact with an intimidating redhead. "Tony, when you listed out her crimes, I expected her to be a 13 year old boy not..." She looks you up and down, "A 19 year old girl."

"Are you discriminating? Can girls not be assholes too?" You ask, faking an offended look.

Wanda interrupts, "She has superspeed or something, makes it easier for her to be a douchebag."

You puff up your chest in pride, "Yeah, it does."

"Alright." Wanda rolls her eyes and pulls you further into the room.

The man who you now know as Tony starts talking, "So, speedster," Both you and the silver-haired man respond, making you raise an eyebrow at him, "You have two options: Join us, or let us escort you to prison." Your eyes widen, "What the hell! What do you mean join you; I don't even know who you are or where I am," They all give confused looks to each other, "For all I know, you guys are gonna make me help you traffic innocent young girls such as myself." Wanda huffs out a laugh at the last part. After securing you to the couch (standing behind you and holding your shoulders down) Wanda looks down at you in question, "You've never heard of the Avengers?"

You attempt to turn only for her to keep you in your place, "I have more important things to worry about than a group of rapists."

"Okay seriously, why does she keep calling us that?" Tony looks to Wanda for answers, only getting a shrug in response.

"Well," A dirty blonde man approaches you, "The Avengers are-"

"Oh my God! I know you!" You start bouncing up and down, while Wanda attempts to hold you in place, "You're Captain America!"

Steve scratches the back of his neck, laughing bashfully. Tony chimes in angrily, "You're telling me you know this fossil but not the Avengers? Or even me!" You raise an eyebrow and turn to Wanda, "Did I trigger him?" Wanda rolls her eyes for the millionth time today, but this time she had a little smile appear on her face. You opt not to bring it up and move on.

"Oh wait, are you the guys that beat that alien?" You ask, "That alien was my brother!" A massive god-like man makes himself known. "I mean he wasn't from this planet was he," You attempt to joke, receiving exasperated sighs and eye rolls. The Norse God pulls you up by your shirt collar, "Jeez! Okay I won't make anymore jokes," He reluctantly puts you down when the unnamed redhead grabs his shoulder, "Tough crowd." You murmur.

Tony claps his hands, "Anyways, you have until tomorrow to make your choice. If you do decide to join, we'll provide details then. Otherwise you're going to prison, which, in all honesty, sounds like it might do you some good," You flip him off, "Hey!-"

Steve interrupts, "Where will she be staying?" Tony pauses in thought for a moment, then turns to Wanda with a wicked smile, "With her."

Objections start flying out of you and Wanda, and maybe some insults from you. Tony sighs, "Enough! Wanda you're the only one that can subdue her before she can even start running, and you," He points a finger directly in your face, "Don't have a choice."

You stare at his finger. Then bite down on it.

"What the- Wanda get her out of here!" Tony yells while clutching his finger.

While getting dragged up to what you assume to be the witch's room, you turn to shout, "It wasn't even that bad, pussy!" Wanda slaps the back of your head in warning.

She reaches the door before you stop moving. "Wait, I have one request." You turn to her and ask, in the most serious face you could muster. She actually stops, thinking that this may be important.

"Can I please get my stuff from my dorm? I have homework-" She groans and pushes you further into the room. You hear the door lock while you're exploring. You forgo telling her you could probably pick the lock. "You can make yourself comfortable on the floor," She says while putting away the key.

"What! You have a sofa right there!"

"Think of this as a punishment."

"Aren't you supposed to be convincing me to join your Powerpuff squad?"

"I don't have to do anything. Also, for being so ungrateful right now, you're not getting a blanket either."

You open your mouth to argue but the glare she sends you shuts you up, opting to just quietly fumfer out insults while attempting to get comfortable on the floor.

❅❅❅

Wanda exits the bathroom after finishing up her night-time routine, and finds you dead asleep like you weren't lying on a hardwood floor. She gets closer and notices your lips turning blue. She probably should've turned off the air conditioning, in hindsight.

Walking to her bed, she pauses. Groaning, she turns back around and walks to her closet, finding a spare blanket and putting it over you before stomping back to her bed.

She can't wait for you to get your own room.

❅❅❅

Next Part

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic

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politemenacephd · 3 months

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Three)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Miguel is rutting, Reader is in heat, Breeding kink, Overstimulation, Rough & Gentle PinV sex, Oral sex.

Word count: 5338

Notes: IM BACCCKKK!! Daddy's come back with milk and oh god we all know what kind of milk I mean, ENJOY! Threesome chapter will be next, along with a non-threesome version, thanks to the last poll we did. Both can be interpreted as canon, it's whatever you want.

Mig was right. It was a long week.

While you could go for maybe an hour or more without feeling the urge, when it hit you were almost incapacitated by a need for each other.

Most of the time Mig approached you in a soft, docile, almost submissive manner. He’d get on his belly and rustle his abdomen, affectionately laying his head on your thighs, or he’d grind his pulsating cock between those same thighs while whispering and purring against your neck.

He’d kiss your head as he moved slowly inside you, petting your chest and hips while he praised how good you were. His good arañita, his small, perfect arañita, sweet and warm. He’d tell you not to worry, to just relax, that he’d take care of you.

But every so often, something seemed to stir up the absolute animal in him.

He became obsessive, possessive, fixated on that primal itch at the back of his mind to be successful in his mating. He’d pin you down hard and mount you from behind, digging his claws in deep while his cock probed deep, thrusting inside you like he wanted to physically push into your womb itself.

And god, the things he said.

The growling, the hissing, demanding to father your offspring, ordering you to get pregnant, ordering you to take it. You indulged him too much in this state. It created the fiercest pleasure in you, the most potent, soul-shaking orgasms, to let him fuck you like a beast until you were shaking and weak.

He’d always calm down after ejaculating, and every time he showed you the same level of aftercare. He’d cradle you close and keep you warm, licking venom across the places you were sore, shifting between constant praise and kisses. Still, the animal just kept coming back.

When you simply couldn’t handle being penetrated anymore, the only option left was to try oral or mutual masturbation, but that proved a little difficult with how different your bodies were.

At first Mig got desperate, and resorted to webbing your body upside down on the wall so you could pleasure each other with your mouths at the same time. He’d ravenously suck on your clit while you struggled to get your mouth around the tip of his bulbous cock, feeding each other’s delusional lust with soft, muffled moans and lapping tongues.

When he’d cum you swallowed as much as you could of the thick, strangely sweet stuff, but inevitably about half of it ended up coating your jaw and neck, and the sight of that just set him off all over again.

But then you started getting lightheaded. You were forced to resort to lying in bed instead, where you’d suck him off until he came and then let him taste you until you shuddered into your own orgasm, going back and forth in this dizzying tasting session until he inevitably broke and just fucked you again.

It was a mess. A wet, literal mess, a cycle of mating and sleeping with little in between, but between sessions you did get a few moments of lucidity to enjoy his company too. It was gratifying to lie on the clean side of the bed in his arms, talking about nothing while he groomed your hair. Whether he was being unintentionally funny or having a real discussion, he was always interesting to talk to, and when you had nothing to talk about you still felt wanted.

He'd wake you up with food whenever he had a moment of control. He always wanted to hear that you liked it, and when you said it was great, he’d bristle with pride.

Even in this strange, dizzying state, you were continuing to fall hard for Mig. You were becoming docile, domestic almost. His home felt like your home now, and more importantly, he felt like home. The sex was fun, yes, but it was also a reminder of how normal his body was, how much you trusted him with your own body.

You lost track of time in that warm, sweet den, indulging in each other like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Part of you wanted to just stay like this in perpetuity, but the world wouldn’t slow down for you, and soon other needs would catch up with the both of you.

….

About five days into the second heat, you woke to find yourself alone in bed. You were splayed out on your deflated mattress, utterly drowning in silk blankets and stuffed pillows, but the usual warm fluff you now associated with bedtime was gone.

Mig wasn’t here.

You arched your back and rubbed your face as you came to your senses. Thank God, you weren’t burning up right now.

In that brief respite you had time to think.

You needed to go to the medical bay. You needed more back up. Your patch was due to run out soon and you weren’t even sure it could withstand what you’d done, not to mention the strain on your body was very real and very taxing. Anything to ease the soreness, or perhaps to bring back the proper function of your limbs, would be greatly appreciated.

You just had to get past Mig.

The work you’d made on his possessive nature had been a little set back after the pollen incident. Whether it was his hormones or his lingering anger at Miguel, the poor man couldn’t let you out of his sight.

When you went to get food, or even just to clean yourself, he insisted on being at your side through it all. He was still compelled to scent mark you, and sometimes in his sleep he’d pin you down and growl as he pulled you close.

He was relapsing hard, despite his best efforts. That was partially why it was so strange that he wasn’t here right now. With a yawn and a stretch, you decided to go find him.

You staggered about the den with a silk blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

You noticed, as you moved from room to room, that a cold breeze kept blowing the blanket up around your feet. That could only mean one thing: the front door was open. You followed the great earthy tunnels up to the surface, emerging into a pale pink dawn, and there you found him.

That beautiful beast was stationed at the nests entrance like a gargoyle. In the morning mist and glistening dew he looked like an honest to god sculpture, chiselled and glowing in the pastel light. You bit your lip at the sight as you sidled up to his side.

‘Mig? Babe?’

He turned and purred at the sight of you. The way his face changed made you melt a little inside; it was all involuntary, the way his eyes widened and his lips automatically curled into a smile. ‘Mi arañita, what are you doing up?’ he asked.

‘I could ask the same of you, dummy. I was worried about you.’

He let you slouch down against his abdomen, his spider legs stretching to tuck you in at his side. He clung to you tight.

‘I just wanted to give you some space, and—well, I think the hormones are giving me ah… guarding reflexes’ he said. ‘I have a drive to just, protect the nest. I’m not sure from what, I just- I know I should. I know I have to guard you.’

‘Guarding your little treasure hoard, huh?’ you teased.

‘Mm. Mi tesoro. My priceless little thing’ he said softly. You nuzzled his side.

‘Well, you’re not gonna like this next bit then.’

‘This—next, what? What bit?’

You sighed. ‘Mig, I think I should I go to the medical bay. At the HQ. Just quickly! I need to get more birth control patches, and I think it might be worth seeing if they recommend anything else I can… Ah, it sound so, crass, but, I can only put off wanting you inside me for so long, and I could use something to ease the uh… aching.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see. Is it, still bad?’

You couldn’t help but smile. ‘My darling Mig, how do I say this… You are, REALLY, really well endowed, and you are inside me almost half the day. Yes, it’s quite bad.’

You saw his brows go up in distress. ‘Mi arañita… I’m, so sorry—’

‘Don’t be sorry, Mig. It’s not your fault that I want you’ you said, trying to play it off with another laugh to ease his worry. ‘We’re about 50/50 on the whole, begging the other for sex, so I take full responsibility for my own soreness.’

‘Well, are you sure you need to go to the medical bay? I can still use my venom if you’re in pain. You said it helped.’

‘Yeah. Yeah I mean, it does, a bit, but- I also know too much of it will paralyze me’ you retorted. ‘I saw that with Miguel.’

‘I can control it’ he insisted back. ‘I can control whether I release it or not, I’d never paralyze you on purpose.’

‘Of course not, I’m not saying that. I just—I trust you, Mig, and I wouldn’t blame you for slipping up, but good will and the best intentions don’t stop mistakes, and it’s mistakes I’m worried about. Plus, the venom won’t keep babies at bay, will it?’

You rolled your eyes at his instinctive little butt wiggle, the way his abdomen vibrated to betray how excited just a mention of such a thing made him. His primal brain was still so hooked on that thought, that deep rooted fetish, that desire to breed you. He coughed to cover what was already painfully obvious.

‘It—it, will not. I feel like, I am sadly the opposite of birth control.’

For a moment you were still. Then you snorted, and you giggled, and that giggle spiralled into laughter. He just smiled back with that same patient expression.

‘Oh my god, Mig. Ah. Oh—okay look, what I was saying is, I just need to visit the bay for a bit, then I will come straight back, and you can have me all to yourself.’

As you posited your idea to him, he took a moment to mull it over. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his mouth as his eyes wandered over the misty horizon.

‘Mm. Very well. But I will go with you’ Mig grunted.

‘What? Oh, you don’t need to do that, Mig, I—’

‘I’m going with you.’

You squeaked as his leg suddenly drew you closer. Glancing through his thick fur, you noticed that his eyes had narrowed. ‘Uh… Mig? You okay?’ you asked. His eyes narrowed further.

‘I don’t know who else in that place might—smell you’ he said. His voice was now low, monotone, dangerous.

‘You—you let me go before’ you said. His leg wound tighter, gripping you like a snake coiled around its prey.

‘Yes, because I physically couldn’t follow you in. And you got grabbed by… him’ he hissed. ‘I won’t let that happen again.’

‘Mig…’ You sighed and gently pet his flank, noting the disgruntled way that his legs were tapping.

‘I… I will not, get in the way, but I am asking, just—to please, let me accompany you’ he pleaded.

God, it was hard to say no to that face. Those big red eyes, those full lips pouting slightly as he silently begged for your favour. It didn’t help you were so unbearably horny for him. Part of you wanted to give him whatever he wanted, if it just meant he’d bend you over again, and give you a little taste of that perfect monster shaft.

Your thoughts must have shown in your face as his sadness shifted slightly into curiosity. You saw his eyes darting over your body’s contours beneath the silk blanket and quickly shoved him with your hand.

‘My god—okay! You can, accompany me. You are a member now I guess, it’s only fair. I only made you stay last time because you said you couldn’t enter the HQ, so… sure. Come.’

His body began to vibrate against your back as he purred with joy.

‘Wonderful. Mil gracias, arañita. I promise I will keep you safe.’

…

In sharp contrast to the comfort of your little isolated den, it was unbearably awkward to make your way through the HQ with Mig.

It’d been awkward the first time you’d gone to the medical bay, when nobody had known your reason for coming nor your relationship to the giant spider, but now? Now the eyes on you were ravenous and aware.

Mig’s body language was so overt even a fool could pick it up. He was hovering around your back with his fur bristled and sharp, his eyes fixated on anyone who drifted too close.

And you, with your body dotted with hickies and bite marks, with your legs still shaky and your hip bones bruised, it was painfully obvious. Luckily for you most people chose to keep their snide smiles to themselves. They found it weird, yes, but they found him too scary to question at this point.

You walked together to the medical bay without any major incidents, though one thought began to nag you as you delved deeper. Last time you’d been here you’d felt Miguel watching you, and now, nothing.

You’d heard nothing about Miguel’s whereabouts since the calls from Peter and Jess five days ago, so you were unsure if he’d returned or not. Your senses told you he hadn’t.

You felt a little pang in your gut as you walked into the medical bay. You had a lot of distaste for the man, but you still hoped he was okay. You didn’t want him to have done anything stupid.

As you got into line you felt Mig bristling, and in your heart, you knew he felt the same.

‘Where do you think he is?’ you whispered up to Mig. He let out a low growl at the reminder of his foe and his unusual disappearance, which also let you know that you were right, and he had been thinking of him too.

‘I don’t know’ he whispered back. ‘And frankly, I don’t care.’

‘I mean, you do. You do care where he is’ you said. ‘You’re worried he might be around, you’re worried he’ll approach me again, I know that for sure.’

‘I care about his proximity to me, and his proximity to you’ Mig grumbled. ‘Outside of that, at this point, he can choke.’

You pursed your lips. ‘Do—Do you really want him, dead?’ you whispered.

Mig narrowed his eyes further. It took him a moment to reply. ‘I… I don’t know.’

‘Mig, I get it. Obviously I don’t like him, but—I just don’t want him to be hurt. Like, hurt hurt. He’s a massive prick but—I mean he’s a person’ you said. It was clear from your tone even you weren’t sure of what you were saying. ‘I’d like to know he’s around, just, away from me. You know?’

You saw the momentary conflict in Mig’s eyes as he rolled his tongue. ‘Mm… I know. I know. I just—I don’t, want to talk about it, please’ Mig insisted. You nodded and gave his flank an affectionate pat.

You sidled up to the desk and put in your usual request to a slightly disgruntled looking receptionist. They requested Mig stay outside but he abjectly, if politely, refused, and not wanting to question the giant spider he was allowed to accompany you through the motions.

It was so much worse.

It was so, so much worse, to stand on the scanner and have Lyla look at the amount of semen inside you while its donor was glowering at you from across the room like a jealous dragon. It was so much worse to be asked, ‘how active are you?’ when Mig was there, a perfect example of who you’d been active with, as you said ‘up to ten times a day’.

It was so much worse that, when asked further questions about anatomical issues, Mig was there to answer in his usual blunt fashion. His casual description of his phallus size, detailing nonchalantly that, yes, he did slather your nether regions with venom to make it less painful. You could see Lyla eating up every word he said.

It at least invoked a kind of sympathy in the horrified nurse, as she willingly signed over whatever you wanted. Pain medication both topical and oral, stronger birth control, and anti-venom shots in case he injected too much.

As you made your way out you could only cope by laughing about it with him.

‘You are—a nightmare, Miguel O’Hara, I swear to god.’ As you spoke you let out a dramatic sigh that turned into stuttered laughter, all while Mig watched with endeared bur confused eyes.

‘Did—Did I do something wrong again?’ he whispered. You could feel him leaning in at your back, begging for affirmation, and despite being exasperated to the point of exhaustion you gave it. You held his little foreleg as you walked into the waiting room.

‘You are so… honest’ you laughed. ‘Just, SO honest.’

‘Is that not a positive trait?’ he asked.

‘Oh, it is. It is. I love that about you, but I also hate it.’ As you spoke you turned to cup his hips in your hands, holding him tenderly. ‘But, I’m willing to put up with it, which I suppose is a good sign, right?’

Mig blinked at you, his eyes wide. ‘Good, because… It means, I am worth the effort?’

‘Very much so’ you whispered. His abdomen rustled furiously even as his face remained calm. ‘Mm… Mm. Good. I am- glad. You are, worth, a lot to me’ he replied in that sweet, shy, stilted manner. You just chuckled.

‘You have such a way with words. Anything else you wanna say?’ you asked, your head tilted. Mig froze.

He knew what you meant. You’d both been teetering on the edge of saying it for a while: the big ‘L’, the biggest thing he could ever say. The moment where he admitted he loved you. He’d blurted it in front of his counterpart before, but to say it to your face? That was terrifying.

He hadn’t said he loved someone since Dana, and this was so much more. He wanted to keep you, to hold you, to see you every morning, but something in him just couldn’t say it. He was still terrified of something going wrong, of repeating his mistakes, and saying that word felt like moving too close to the sun.

And you, you weren’t much better. You were terrified of saying it and of him not returning the sentiment. It felt selfish, in a way, but you just kept waiting for him to say it first.

‘I… You, are mi tesoro’ Mig said softly. His hand cupped your cheek. ‘You are dear, to me. And I hope that I can keep waking up beside you.’

Your heart tripled over beneath his gaze. It wasn’t quite what you wanted, but it was enough for now. ‘I hope so too’ you whispered, and with one last squeeze you let him go.

You stepped into the reception room to find it almost entirely deserted, spare for one or two people milling about in chairs. You were grateful for the privacy as the reception called you over and handed to you those thick bags filled with pain relief and birth control.

‘We’re just waiting for one more thing, is that okay?’ the reception asked. You nodded.

‘Ah, sure, we can um—we can wait’ you said, but as you hurried back to Mig’s side you didn’t look as sure as you’d sounded.

‘Shiiittt. I don’t know how long we have before it—you know’ you whispered up at him.

‘The violent passion of the heat overtakes us both and we begin copulating on the floor of this public establishment?’ Mig replied. You grit your teeth.

‘Yes. Yes, that exactly’ you hissed back.

‘Ah… too blunt, right?’

‘Yes. Very blunt.’

‘But just between us, that is okay, right?’

‘We’re in a hospital waiting room!’

It was halfway through your whispered shouting match that you heard the reception call.

‘Anti-venom?’

Ah. That was the last bit you needed, you thought. What a weirdly quick turnaround, especially when she’d just asked you to wait. You turned and blindly reached to grab the bag from the receptionist, only to lock hands with someone else. You baulked and spun.

There was a man beside you, roughly your age and height, and he was reaching for the same bag of anti-venom.

‘You—can I help you?’ you stammered. The man frowned.

‘I—’

‘Oh, sorry, you both have—sorry that’s my mistake’ the receptionist said, interrupting you both as she yanked the bag back. ‘I have prescriptions for you both.’

You remained locked onto the other man as the receptionist rushed back to speak to the counter. He looked horrified, but of what? Your eyes narrowed. Why would anyone else here need anti-venom?

‘Sorry about that. You both ordered the same, thing, ah—Okay, here.’

The reception put both bags down and pushed them towards the two of you, but you didn’t even notice. You were unblinkingly focused on the other man’s face. His mouth opened and closed a few times.

‘Ah… Thank you. Sorry. I will… go, now’ he blurted, and before you could speak he’d grabbed the bag and hurried for the door. You grabbed your own and followed in hot pursuit.

‘Arañita?’

Mig crawled after you in haste. His sudden emergence into the main lobby caused a few startled screams, but you refused to turn. You were following that man with absolute dedication.

‘Arañita—what is it? What’s wrong?’ he hissed as he caught up with your stride.

‘HIM’ you hissed back, your eyes fixed on the man speed walking away. ‘I need to talk to him!’

Mig blinked. Without even questioning your motive he bowed to your needs, and with the power of his giant spider legs he gave you a little push across the slippery floor so you could close the gap between you and the stranger.

You skidded up and grasped him by the shoulder. ‘Hey! Hey, you—’

‘SHIT!’

The man jumped when you touched him, causing you to quickly retract your hand. ‘Sorry! Sorry, I just—’

‘Oh, I thought—I was having a heart attack, my, god’ the man panted. You watched him clutch his chest and heave, awkwardly and impatiently waiting to speak. ‘How did I not hear you? My senses are… awful, man—’

‘Look, I—’

‘You, you’re the one dating Miguel’s variant, right? The big spider?’

You were surprised when the man addressed you first. His eyes were on his suit as he brushed it down, but every so often he’d cast you a glance. He thankfully didn’t look angry.

‘I am’ you blurted, ‘yes, I’m—with, Mig. Spider Mig. Spider, Miguel. I’m sorry, again.’

He nodded. ‘Right. Yeah. Hence the uh- the, anti-venom. Right?’

‘Yeessss’ you said, clearly if wordlessly putting emphasis on the fact that he, also, had anti-venom in his hand. He noted where your eyes were drifting and accidentally looked down himself, glancing to the bag in his hand, which he immediately then tried to hide behind his back.

‘So, you uh… Other, Miguel, I’m assuming?’ you asked slowly.

The poor man was almost squirming on the spot.

‘You’re not a, spider, right? Like a regular one?’ you inquired when he failed to reply, noting his unusual suit and lack of mask. He sighed dramatically and leaned in close.

‘I—shit, I—look, I’m a physiotherapist, I work for the HQ’ the man hissed. ‘I’m—friends, with Miguel.’

‘Friends?’

‘Yes! Don’t look at me like that. I mean that, genuinely. We are friends. He—has a lot of, physical issues due to his biology, the mutations, and he pushes himself physically so much harder than anyone else, so he needs a lot of help.’

‘Right’ you said, slowly nodding along. After a moments silence spent staring at each other, teetering on the edge of the truth, the man sighed again.

‘I— Fuck, okay. We are, friends, and—Very, rarely, we engage in—we, do—’

‘He gets you to have sex with him, right? Because of the rut?’ you asserted.

The man recoiled in surprise and horror. ‘We—No! He doesn’t get me to—I mean we fucked like, one time, a really long time ago, but that—I really didn’t want to be interrogated today, you know.’

‘Oh, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to interrogate, I was, curious? I guess? Or—’ You paused to breath as all your worries spilled from your mouth.

‘No, okay, for context, Miguel’s been gone for a few days and I said I’d keep an eye out but, more than that there’s a lot of complicated stuff going on, I think we were the last people to see him before he vanished, so—I’m not asking to shame you or, out of the blue, he—there’s a lot of stuff with him implying to Mig and to me that he wasn’t allowed to have relationships like this but then doing it anyway in secret so I’m just—’

‘Oh, ohhh okay.’

To your surprise the man interrupted your spiel was a soft ‘oh’ face of recognition. ‘I gotcha. Of course, you know him too, you’re dating his variant. But surely then, come on, you know about all his weird hypocrisies by now, right?’

‘His, what?’ you asked. The man snorted with laughter.

‘What you just said, about his weird hang ups. God the man spends twice as much time moping about his slip ups as he does actually making them. That dumbass. Trust me, if I wanted any more out of him than being friends, I’d have fucking strangled the man. He’s a mess. But, I don’t, which I think is why he comes to me. He gets in those, ‘moods’, and—I usually just, yanno, help him out. Hands or mouth. And, he does the same.’

‘Oh… Oh, huh.’

The man gave another shrug as you mulled over this new information. ‘So… you’re not, put off? By how… Much he is?’ you said subtly. Again, the man chuckled.

‘What do you mean? I mean he’s stubborn, and a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s fine, that’s fun. He’s still so nice.’

Your look of shock seemed to surprise the man. His smile faded in the face of your overt confusion. ‘He—are you, okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, just… Did you say he’s, nice?’

‘Yeah! Of course. I mean he’d hate me saying that out loud, he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s nice, but I know. He overworks himself to death trying to keep this place running. He’s always on edge because he’s always worried, so he plays off like he’s all… you know, cold and scary, but he’s soft inside. I’m, assuming you don’t know him that well, then?’

You remained utterly confused by this weird interpretation of the Miguel you’d met. ‘He—I mean, yeah, I thought I knew him pretty well, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do anything, nice’ you retorted.

Your overt distaste must have shown in your words, because the man suddenly looked disheartened. He coughed before speaking again.

‘He uh— I mean for me, and this is just me, but—when I couldn’t get surgery in my own universe, he secretly filed to let me have it here instead, and when the medical bay took too long, he personally went there and chewed them out for it. He never told me about it, Peter did, but post-surgery he’d always ask how I was doing. I’d show him and he’d just… give me a thumbs up and say, looks good, and that’d be it. Nobodies ever gone out of there way like that for me, ever, and he did it without complaint.’

Your eyes widened. Now this, this was interesting. You couldn’t imagine the Miguel you’d had to deal with being that considerate, that selfless, and yet, this guy had no reason to lie. Surely there had to be more to it, right?

‘Was… this, when you were, messing around?’ you asked slowly.

‘Oh, no. This was before that’ the man said nonchalantly. ‘Like I said, we were just friends. We still are. I appreciate that he’s never asked for more, honestly.’

Oh dear, you thought, you’d run out of justifications. Why had he been so aggressive with you then? Why was he so angry, so vindictive?

‘I mean, he’s—he’s also REALLY hot’ the man added with a slight laugh. ‘Like, REALLY hot. No offense but I used to have clients talk about how weird it was, you and the spider hybrid, I had to bite my tongue from saying bitch what are you TALKING about? I’d overlook much worse shit to just LOOK at that man.’

As the man chuckled you found yourself awkwardly laughing with him. You didn’t exactly have the best of terms with Miguel, but, clearly this guy had a very different experience. More importantly, you now had a solid lead on where Miguel had potentially gone.

‘So, you saw him recently?’ you queried.

‘Yeah. Well—Look, I know you get it, so, all I’ll say is I saw him about… four, days ago? That’s all I’ll say. I got this just in case, cos it’d been so long since the last time I forgot to stock up.’

You perked up a little as he spoke. Four days ago. That was after Peter mentioned he was gone, a full day after he gave in the paperwork for you and Mig.

‘Is… Is he, okay?’ you asked quietly. To your relief he nodded.

‘Yeah. Yeah he seemed fine, he seemed a bit more grumpy but that’s typical for him. He just, took sabbatical, he said. He wanted to figure some stuff out. He came over to relax then bounced. It’s not uncommon.’

To your surprise, you let out a soft sigh of relief. Had you been holding that in? You opened your mouth to thank the man and to ask his name, but something else hit you before you could.

Your whole body throbbed. You had to rub your thighs together to stop yourself from trembling, as the most vicious, potent heat slid through your veins. Your horror must have shown as the man tried to help you stand.

‘Hey, are you—’

‘BACK!’

You squeaked as something firm and furry grabbed your waist. You were pulled taut to Mig’s side as he appeared at your back, his eyes wide and his fangs bared. He was hissing aggresively as he held you close. You could feel it beneath his fur; that violent, overpowering rut, brewing and overflowing inside him.

To your surprise, the man took no offense. He seemed to see those glowing eyes and recognise something in them. ‘Oh. Oh! Okay. No worries, I got it. You don’t gotta worry about me. You two uh—you two have fun.’

The man waved once before speed walking in the other direction, leaving you and Miguel to panic in silence.

You could both feel the heat brewing to the point it hurt. There were eyes everywhere, eyes all around you, glowering and gleaming. You knew you didn’t have much time before you both lost all social inhibition to your need.

Your eyes met, once, only to find that just locking gaze was too erotic in this state. You both turned and glanced in unison at the same thing; the nearby elevator, the one just large enough to fit Mig inside.

You swallowed hard. You were burning up, physically sweating beneath your suit. You weren’t thinking straight at all. In the moment, all you could do was act. You both barrelled into the elevator together.

Time to make another mistake.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #drider #miguel o'hara smut

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666writingcafe · 28 days

Text

A Reward: Lucifer/Barbatos

Part One of Special Bonus Content (NSFW)

Once Belphie's finished with me, he slides off the bed, and Lucifer and Barbatos take his place. Everyone else backs away to give the three of us some space.

"You wanna know something, MC?" Barbatos asks from behind, his breath hitting my ear and making me shiver.

"What's that?" I respond.

"Lucifer and I have discussed doing this sort of thing before."

"R-Really?" This is news to me. Two of the most emotionally constipated men I know openly talking about me to each other? Then again, they are friends, so perhaps they feel comfortable enough around each other to be that honest.

"Eventually, yes," Lucifer chimes in. "It didn't start off that way. We were simply sharing our feelings towards you, but the more conversations we had, the more explicit they became."

"While demons are known to be territorial, we're also able to share things with people that we trust," Barbatos continues. "I know that Lucifer wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt you, and I'm sure he feels the same about me." Lucifer nods in acknowledgement.

"So, you two have just kinda been...waiting?" I ask.

"More or less," Lucifer answers, touching the side of my face. "Will you indulge us, MC? I promise it'll be worth your while."

"Okay," I whisper. Lucifer leans in and kisses me. A moment later, I feel Barbatos' lips traveling down my neck.

Two people is a lot less overwhelming than eleven, and I'm actually able to properly enjoy the sensations without my brain shutting down on me. Lucifer and Barbatos' touches are quite gentle, but also deliberate. It's rather nice.

Barbatos turns my head towards him so that he can kiss my mouth, and Lucifer begins moving down my torso. He pauses at my abdomen, and Barbatos pulls back shortly after, leaving me momentarily confused.

"Which one of us do you want inside you, MC?" Lucifer asks. "There's no wrong answer; I simply want to know whether I need to swap places with Barbatos, that's all."

"Is both an option?" I hear someone gasp at my question, but the silent conversation between Barbatos and Lucifer has most of my attention. They must have decided to make it happen, for I'm soon instructed to get on my hands and knees. Once they're satisfied with my position, they swap places. Barbatos is soon thrusting in and out of my mouth while Lucifer does the same from behind.

Their low, quiet moans and murmured compliments soon become the only things I'm able to think about.

You're nice and warm, MC.

You're taking both of us so well.

That's it, just like that.

Good MC.

The closer we get to our climax, the less precise and coherent the two men are. Eventually, the only intelligible thing coming out of their mouths is my name. I myself am reduced to moans as they cum inside me. My body momentarily goes limp when they pull out, but then a sudden surge of energy courses through me, forcing me to remain alert. Must be part of the experience of being in the dream realm.

I find myself eagerly looking forward to what's next.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

#did i just do a whole ass meta based off of a completely hypothetical non-existent hc of the third part of 1941?#yes - yes i did #but the Implications would not leave my brain #make of this what you will if you even got to the end and if you did frankly congratulations #good omens

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lulublack90 · 4 months

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Prompt 30 - Uneven

@jegulus-microfic January 30 Word count 995

Previous part First part

“James?...James?” Regulus’s voice was small.

“Do you really mean that?” James was trying very hard to stomp down the feelings that were slowly beginning to bloom through him.

“Yes. James, I want to come home.”

“Then come home, Reg.” He knew the words had more meaning behind them, but he couldn’t examine that right now.

“Okay,” Regulus said, the hope clear in his voice. “I’ll call you when I have a date.”

“Okay, Reg.”

They’d stayed on the line, not saying anything until James had said goodnight, and they both hung up. James stroked Leo.

“What am I going to do, boy?”

———————————————————————————

“Is it because of me?” Barty asked seriously when Regulus went to him on Monday morning to ask about breaking his contract. Regulus shook his head.

“Not in the way you think. You made me realise that what I really want is back home.” He waited for Barty to ask about it, but he didn’t.

“I really don’t want to lose you as an employee.” Barty had recovered quickly, moving on to the next task. “Let’s spitball some ideas and see if we can figure this out.” Regulus hadn’t even thought of that as an option.

They spent most of the morning agreeing on a compromise.

He and Barty had discussed him working remotely back in England and flying to New York every three months for a few weeks. It was a good plan. But at the end of the day, it was his father, Bartemius Crouch Sr, who had the final say.

He was called into Crouch’s office that same afternoon. He was nervous. This man was the one in control of his future. He knocked on the door and waited to be called in.

———————————————————————————

Sirius had told him the date that Regulus was returning two weeks ago, and Regulus had messaged him the night before to say he’d landed and asked if he’d come over for dinner this evening. He’d agreed instantly, only remembering about Lily when she got out of the shower and joined him in bed.

He fretted over what he was going to say all night. He tossed and turned, eventually leaving the bed, worried he would wake her.

The sun rose, and he hadn’t slept a wink. He heard movement upstairs as Lily woke. He put down the whisky he’d been nursing when he heard her coming down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and went straight to the kettle for a cup of tea.

“Erm—Lily—We need to talk.” He needed to get this over with. He’d been putting it off. Not quite believing that Regulus would come back. But now it was real. He was back in Grimmauld Place, and James had run out of time. He didn’t know what would happen between him and Regulus tonight, and he didn’t want to lie to Lily. She deserved better.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Regulus is back.” She barely reacted. She just nodded slowly as she stirred the teabag around her mug.

“For good?” She asked. Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly James couldn’t tell what it was.

“Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Lily nodded again.

“Are you getting back together?” Her lips were pursed, and her shoulders had squared. James felt very small and found he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“He wants me to go over tonight for dinner. So we can talk.” He still couldn’t look her in the eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, holding herself tightly.

“I don’t want to upset you, Lily. But Reg he—” Lily cut him off.

“James, I need to tell you something.”

———————————————————————————

Regulus looked at the table he’d just set. Something was off. He walked around it, scrutinising his place settings. His eyes narrowed in on the culprit. The knife and spoon on James's side were uneven.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? It has to be perfect.” He told the offending cutlery as he carefully rearranged them. He smiled down at the now beautiful table.

‘Knock, knock.’ His eyes flashed in horror as he looked at the clock and realised he’d lost track of the time and James was here.

He hurriedly removed the apron and smoothed down his shirt. The door sounded again as he jogged up the steps out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He paused for a moment to check his reflection in the hallway mirror. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were too wide, but he doubted James would care.

He took a steadying breath and opened the door.

James stood there illuminated by the porch light and looked just as mouthwatering as he always had. Regulus had to concentrate to not jump into his arms and start kissing him.

“Hi,” He breathed.

“Hi,” James replied just as breathy.

They stood and stared at each other until Regulus realised they were still in the doorway and he hadn’t invited James in.

“Come in. Dinner’s nearly ready. I made chicken Kievs. Hope that’s alright?” He babbled as he led James down into the kitchen.

It was warm and cosy in there. Regulus busied himself with opening a bottle of wine while James shuffled from foot to food behind him.

“Reg. Somethings happened.” He froze, hand hovering over the wine bottle. He looked up at the devastated expression on James’s face.

“What is it, James?” His voice came out quiet and cracked. He could have sworn the temperature of the room had dropped.

James swallowed repeatedly, wringing his hands together. All manner of scenarios played in Regulus’s mind. “James, I need you to talk. My imagination is going wild here.” His heart was thundering in his chest. He could feel it in his ears.

James finally looked him in the eye and took one last shuddering breath before he answered.

“Lily’s pregnant.” Regulus felt the blood drain from his face. “I’m the father.”

Next part

#January 30 #james potter #regulus black #james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #regulus and james #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus #jegulus microfic #lily evans #sirius black #uneven

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sgiandubh · 5 months

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Welcome to the shitshow

We have:

A ✈ sighting. No pics.

The MPC live, scarce details. No rings. Spartan decor. Suntan and out of Bonnie Scotland. No further details on destination, which might or might not be the same as the flight. Mark me, I think it is - he is in Gran Canaria and for a very precise reason: keeping his part of the deal and his Onlies on tenterhooks.

C is seen in Marseille, hullaballoo ensues. We pinpoint some coincidental details. I was expecting the shite to hit the fan in 4, 3, 2, 1...

And it did. With both sopranos hinting at the same person, but only one brave (or rather foolish enough) to push a name out there. Disingenuous, to say the least - but oh, how convenient for any given agenda. Because it's too easy, when you give out a name to a thirsty crowd to say: 'well, of course it's because of the shippers! They did this or that (sky is the limit)! They are to blame!' (excuse me?) and 'well, of course they won't say a word, now' (how convenient if the thing does not stick, eventually).

That was, IMHO, a strategic mistake and the petticoat is showing across the pond.

Around the same time, I started to get a different kind of Anon, day after day after day. Very brutal. Foul-mouthed. And...with some intel. I answered the first, but then when things started to 'happen', the coin dropped very quickly that: a) I did hit a nerve and b) someone or some people wanted me to push this particular agenda - remember when...?

For reference:

And then today, just in time for the long, boring, chilly and even snowy (depending on your location) week-end, the bomb dropped and the cargo was juicy:

A name. A woman. A gym. Not one, but three suspicious videos: the one with the leg, the one with the clear voice (unmistakably S!) and the one with the dog (and more S voiceover). How nicely connected. How fucking perfect.

An Airbnb close to the gym. What would a single woman traveler do in a three-bedroom gargantuan villa all by herself, when you are in Winterbird Central with a bajillion other accommodation options, is beyond any logic. So easily and lazily - OMG, date!

Unless...

Unless you conveniently forget some details:

Not one, but three different promos/endorsements, with a discount code to boot - 10% off, how nice!

The one that has been discussed by just about everyone:

The one that provided the discount code for new subscribers: Gymshark, a fitness attire manufacturer (https://eu.gymshark.com/).

And the most important one, hiding behind a humble hashtag: #metcon. Now I don't know you, but I'd rather digress about tea parlors and bookstores, and so had no fucking idea Metcon was, in fact...

Yup. Nike. A very recent model - expensive and sure, in need of immediate product placement/promo:

And so, for tax reasons, she just had to (mandatorily) include the #ad (as in advertisement, lest we'd not have naive Anons again!) hashtag.

Also, this, posted along the short reel with S's voice (but who cared, all 👂were there and only there):

That woman was working. She has, after all, 450k Insta followers. If she and S met at a gym in a winter destination very sought after by Scots should be none of our business. If they met again or have a regular training schedule does not mean they fuck or that we're going to look out for Remarkable Week-end 2.0. If they met in Hyrox GLA - so what? What is this, I beg your pardon, Gilead? People just can't hang out, like ever, I mean men and women?

🙄

But.. but... the gargantuan villa...?

Och. Sure enough, the place is correctly identified. You can check chez Marple. I am not posting it, because I do not want to and by now, I trust just about everyone has seen those pics. But this time, I am not going there. The name of that villa, even, made me laugh like a drain. I mean how more in your face can they be?

Who footed the bill of this rather comfy PR shitshow, reminiscing of Ha-wa-wee, 🐰 and whatever else you could think of? SRH?

Perhaps. But what if Nike did, as a freebie to a very good promoter? They sure can spare the dime and, to be honest, as we speak, there is no sign S and her share anything else than a gym schedule. What tells us with absolute certainty, at least at this moment in time, she is not there with friends, family or even a group of fellow promoters, Avon-style?

Oh, and the world is definitely a handkerchief, especially in GLA, it would seem. Wanna know who also follows her on Insta?

Paul Donnelly. Nope, not the chef. This Paul Donnelly:

The one who literally owes S a shitload of cash. A post that earned me a report (I was just explaining, if I remember correctly, that S would have been wise to legally secure that hefty loan, nothing more).

And now you know what? That post is gone, vanished, poof and I have no idea why. I surely did not take it down, I never do this.

And surely enough, just before I started writing, Filthy Anon came back and warned me there was more (pics, 👅👄) about McFitness. Surely enough, the same info (albeit toned down) was picked up by *urv in her comments' thread, about twenty minutes after Anon dropped by.

Agenda, anyone? God forbid!

You draw your own conclusions. I can only very honestly say:

Welcome to the Shitshow - the Winter Edition!

This page is not going to follow blindly your script, whoever you are. This page simply hopes to cleverly hit a nerve every time it considers necessary. Other than that, big effing deal, really. Ship on.

Sorry for the length. I was never good at summing up.

#fandom #shitshow

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bouncybongfairy · 3 months

Note

Hellooo Could I request for Felix Catton please? Where’s maybe Oliver is so obsessed with Felix’s girlfriend, the reader to the point where he killed her because “if I can’t have you, no one can” troupe and all and like then Felix witnessed it and all angsty sad thingy so sorry if’s dark but thank youu so muchh 🥰🥰✨💖

Till Death

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader

Summary: After you and Felix starting going out, Oliver began developing an unhealthy infatuation with you. Anytime someone laid their eyes or hands on you, it made him feral. One night at a party he finally caves in to his depraved urges.

Word Count: 3.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Stalking Kink, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, CNC Kink, Nasty Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was the beginning of the spring semester at Oxford University. Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, coming back from Christmas break completely decked out in mommy and daddy’s money. Grades are reset and all your friends are saying “I think a 7am lecture every Wednesday and Friday will be refreshing” or “I'm actually going to keep up with my canvas discussion questions this time around.” The best parties of the year are during spring semester, because everyone's stress levels are relatively low. Oliver was planning on heading to a house party with you and Felix. Both of you were friends before Felix and you got together so you two always invited him out when partying. Oliver always obliged in these invites but not for the sake of friendship. He liked keeping tabs on you, watching you get drunker and drunker. You were such a know it all in class, always raising your hand. Yearning to be a teacher's pet, going the extra mile to be the perfect student. Seeing you at night gave Oliver a high stronger than any bump he could take. Watching that innocent good girl facade fade away with the more wild you became after getting intoxicated drove him crazy.

It made him furious when he saw the way Felix handled you, he was so sweet and gentle. It was so obvious that you craved a stronger hand. Wanting so badly for anyone to dominate and to remind you of your purpose. The way you flaunt your body around, practically begging to be shoved to the ground and taught how to act properly. Currently all three of you are getting ready in the dorm Felix and Oliver shared. You were in the bathroom leaning over the sink, your hips pressed against the edge. Your mouth was hanging open while applying mascara, Oliver was watching while making small talk with Felix. Who had his face buried deep in his closet looking for something to wear. Everytime you leaned closer to the mirror the oversize shirt you wore rose up, revealing your panty line.

“Maybe just a polo, nothing too crazy,” he said, pulling out two options.

“How much time before we go!” you called out from the bathroom.

“10 minutes!” Oliver replied.

“Shit!” you gasped, rushing to finish. Felix was completely distracted, putting his shoes on and getting his things together. His phone went off every five seconds, after a while he finally went to see what all the buzz was about.

“Fuck, Mason asked me to pick up a few bottles. Oliver, will you stay and walk with her and I'll meet the two of you there?” he asked.

“Of course, see you there mate,” Oliver held back a scoff, Felix was such an idiot. Leaving you there for him to do… well, whatever he felt like.

You kissed Felix goodbye and unraveled the hot rollers out of your hair. Fluffing it out before circling hairspray around it. Applying the last few touches like lip gloss and perfume. It was around 11pm and the weather outside was nippy. You being half dressed were feeling the effects of this quite viciously. The two of you were making small talk, mostly about the weather or school. Oliver didn’t give a fuck about what you were going on about. He was using it as an excuse to watch you, shiver and shake. The way your teeth were chattering together was driving him insane. The house wasn’t even a mile from campus but your heels were slowing the both of you down a bit. Like a wounded little animal hobbled by the wolf chasing it. This hummored him, thinking about how this would look if you were alone. The street lamps shining down, the light reflecting off your tan moisturized legs. Your lustrous jewelry also catches some of that light, practically calling wandering eyes to your body. Speaking of, your body was barely covered. Wearing a tube dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The material was cotton which meant it hugged you tightly. Fuck, he felt like he could see your goosebumps through it when he looked hard enough. He hated that Felix didn’t correct any of this. If you were his, he’d never let you walk about like that, any guy they passed had his eyes on you. Focusing in like you were their prey, it made his heart race. Bubbling with anger and jealousy, wanting to rip their throats out because he knew what they were thinking. Finally getting to the party, Felix was already a couple shots in, obviously his side quest went a bit off the rails. Giving you a quick kiss before going back to entertaining ‘the boys’ who were quite sweet on him. Annoyed by the lack of attention, you poured an overly generous amount of liquor into your cup and headed into the living room. Where the speakers were blaring and a large group of people were dancing all together.

Oliver sat on the couch, plastic cup in hand watching you. At first, your moves were more reserved. Keeping to yourself, dancing next to people rather than on them. As you suck down your liquor, your moves are becoming less modest. Now dancing against your friend, her manicured fingers gripping your hips. Oliver didn’t drink anything from his cup yet, he didn’t want to lose too much control over himself. Nor did he want anything to impair the focus he had on you. Sweat was starting to bead on your body and your dress was riding up. He liked noticing all these little things about you, the shift in your demeanor and attitude once you were drunk. Normally you were sweet-mannered and shy but when you were fucked up, you were more bratty and vulgar. Not afraid of acting out, practically screaming for someone to put you in check. He ripped his eyes off you and looked over into the kitchen. Seeing Felix down another shot, eyes practically drifted in two different directions. His girl who was way out of his league is half naked and drunk surrounded by wandering hands. He was so oblivious and stupid. Looking back your direction and his jaw dropped. You were standing right above him, hovering over where he was sitting on the couch.

“Why don’t you ever dance?” you ask him.

“Hmmm?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you.

“Any time you come with us to a party, you never get like -hiccup- get crazy,” you say, sinking down to sit next to him. Now whispering in his ear whenever you spoke.

“I do, I just pace myself,” he leaned in.

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” you giggled, pulling a joint out from behind your ear.

“You’re sparking up here?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“You gonna stop me?” you asked, smirking and lighting it.

He felt all the blood in his brain rush down towards his dick. Almost lunging at you, like it was the perfect invitation to finally break you down. Your charm bracelet jingling everytime you bring it to your mouth for a drag. He chuckled to himself, remembering how just hours earlier you were eagerly raising your hand, hogging the attention from the teacher. Beaming every time she reaffirmed your answers, ‘amazingly accurate’ or ‘well done’ things like that that made you practically jump with joy. Now you were double fisting and practically sitting in your boyfriend’s mate’s lap. He was at his breaking point, feeling like his entire body was on fire. Like every atom and cell in his body was pushing him to take you.

“Maybe we can get out of here? The air is starting to feel sticky,” Oliver says, standing up.

“Oh of course! I was starting to feel the same way, especially after dancing,” you said, standing up and following him. Holding on to his belt loop, letting him lead you out of the house.

Once the two of you finally got outside, your body was having a sublime reaction. Due to you being hot and sweaty, the cold weather outside was causing water vapor to come off your body. Oliver could feel his mouth salivating, watching you hands shake and you brought the joint to your mouth. You offered him a hit several times but he declined, enjoying watching you become high out of your mind. Making drunken conversation as you walked, digging into your purse and looking for your pen after the joint was smoked down to the crutch. It wasn’t until you started walking that you realized how fucked up you were. Even when you really try to keep your balance, you’d sway and wobble from time to time. Looking at your phone, checking the stats on your recent post. So preoccupied in your own little world that you didn’t notice Oliver was no longer with you. Dropping your phone into your purse and looking around, calling out to him. The street no longer looked safe and quaint. After standing there doing circles trying to locate him, you gave up and started the walk home. Or at least back to their dorm room. Clutching your purse and trying to fight through the pain your heels were giving you.

Oliver was watching from about fifteen or twenty feet behind you. Seeing you look around with that unsure and scared expression on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and your eyes wide and glossy. Stumbling over your own feet as you walked around in circles looking for him: completely defenseless. You dropped your pen and bent down to get it, unknowingly exposing your backside to him. As you walked you kept pulling your dress down, the cold starting to get to you. He continued to follow, hiding in plain sight like in front of a parked car or mailbox. You were beginning to feel paranoid, hearing leafs crunching or being spooked by dogs barking. Pulling out your phone and ringing Oliver, frustration and uncertainty written all over your face. Amused and aroused by your fear, he would throw a pebble in your direction. It hit your heel and made you jump and fall onto the ground. The road did a number on your knees, both of them now bloody and dripping down your shin. Now crying, feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Oliver had to hide his smirk as he came over to ‘rescue’ you.

“Where did you go! I literally fell!” You cried, reaching out for him to help you up.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how we got separated- here let me carry you back yeah?” he asks with a sickeningly patronizing tone.

“Really?” you asked even though he was already picking you up. His cock was throbbing while looking down on you. Mascara running down your face, teeth chattering and bleeding like a hurt little bunny. He carried you the rest of the way bridal style. Resting your head on his shoulder, complaining about your knees everyone in a while. It wasn’t long until the two of you finally made it back. He lets you stand up but once you put your weight on your legs you start wobbling, using him to support yourself. He grabs your forearm quite roughly and pulls you inside. You were confused as to why he was being a little aggressive but brush it off. Walking over to Felix’s bed and plopping down, finally taking your heels off. Oliver locked the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Taking notice of this, you start to question him,

“How will Felix let himself in?” you ask.

“Enough of that. Pretending you care about him,” he said, turning to face you.

“I don’t- I care about him,” you say with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re in denial or just too prideful to accept it but you don’t care about him. You think he’s stupid and want more. It’s okay, just admit it,” he says, walking slowly towards you.

“Why are you acting like this?” you asked, confused to where this was coming from.

“Me acting like what? Calling you out on a fact? You’re one of those girls who likes to think she’s confident and calling the shots at all times. In reality all you really want is someone to turn your brain off. Take complete control over you and fuck you until you fall apart. Completely brain dead, only worry being when a cock is shoved in your stupid fucking throat,” he said. Tears stinging your eyes, and insecurity flooding your mind as he continued,

“Would a girlfriend who cares about her boyfriend leave him at the party without even checking on him? Simply to go home early with his best friend to get fucked into the matress,” you said, now hovering above where you were sitting on the bed.

“Not. True.” You said, crossing your arms.

“No? So you wouldn’t mind if I see how wet you are? I have a feeling you’re soaking through your panties as we speak,” he said, getting on his knees. In your head you wanted to immediately reject him, but in your gut you didn’t want to stop him. It was true, you did want someone who was rougher with you. That’s not only aroused but not scared by the concept of hurting you.

“I mean if you don’t want me to please, feel free to stop me,” he said, resting one hand on your knee and the other slowly sliding down your thigh towards your pussy.

You felt like a whore, knowing that you should be stopping him. Shamefully justifying this betrayal with the fact that you haven’t had gratifying sex for a while. Felix was of course dominant and it wasn’t that he sucked at fucking or anything. It was just that he didn’t really understand the whole mental side of it. Also he didn’t want to hurt you. Whenever you made the suggestion of slapping you in the face or choking you a little past your limit, he got nervous. Never really doing these actions with full commitment. The tips of his fingers began to trace your slit, as predicted you’d completely soaked the lace material. Finding a weak spot in the lace material, he uses his fingers and rips a hole. You gasp and go to press your legs together; he moves his hands to your knees, stopping you from closing your legs. His hands were stinging the scraps, you grip onto his hair from both pain and pleasure. Ripping and pulling at the strands as hard as you can. Oliver kept looking up, watching your mouth hang open and the most pornographic moans slipping out. Pulling out the whore he knew you were deep down inside, feeling powerful knowing he was doing what Felix could never. Pulling his hair so damn hard was only building onto the pent up anger and jealousy he had over you. He pulled back, saliva and wetness dripping down his chin. Looking down at you, completely deranged and desperate.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. As you went to respond, he shoved his bloodied fingers into your mouth. Pressing your tongue down, pushing his digits down your throat. You gagged which caused him to laugh before continuing.

“What was that?” he teased, becoming more aggressive. His index and pinky finger were pressed against your cheeks, his nails scratching you.

Finally pulling out and smacking you with the same hand. Even though you were drunk and high off weed and adrenaline, that took you off guard. It burned and the fact that his hand was soaked in your saliva and blood felt embarrassing or humiliating; maybe a bit of both. It made you overwhelmed with turmoil. Something that should be so shameful left you wanting more. Longing for something more painful and intense. The rush and exhilaration of pushing the limits of your emotional and physical boundaries was like a drug you never had before. He grabbed your hair and forced you to the ground, onto your knees. You winced as you fell to the ground, eyebrows furrowing and a moan coming out of your mouth.

“Aww does that hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Smacking his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum over your mouth for a while.

“You deaf? Answer the fucking question,” he said, grabbing onto your hair with both hands.

Feeling like this was a trick question, your instinct was to stay quiet. He yanked your hair, showing that he was becoming impatient with your stubbornness. When you open your mouth to answer, he shoves his cock down your throat. Being merciless with his pace, pounding into your mouth, having no regard for your feelings; and you were loving every second of it. Oliver was noticing you were finding a bit too much pleasure in this. Arching your back and rocking your head back and forth. Looking down he sees your hands on the floor supporting yourself. He steps on them, slowly putting more and more weight down and trapping you to the floor. Panic started to set in once you tried pulling your hands away and couldn't. He gathered most of your hair into one hand and used his other to cover your nose. Completely blocking your airway. Oliver watched your eyes widen and your face become beat red from a lack of oxygen. Every time you pulled at your hands or gagged around his cock he would twitch and moan.

“Don’t pass out on me yet, be the good little slut you are and hold on a little longer,” he said, shaking your head by the nose when he noticed your eyes getting glossy and foggy. He finally pulled away, you were sucking in deep breaths. Slowly coming to and he picks you up and lets you fall on the bed.

“Sorry love, I just needed you more pliable for what’s next,” he said, pulling out his pocket knife.

He flips you over onto your knees, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Again, not having any regard for you, he shoves himself into your dripping cunt. Fucking into you slowly, you thought he was being gentle after how aggressive he was being. In reality he is scoping out a good place to carve his initials onto your ass. Using the tip of the blade to make the first mark, you screamed. Not expecting the sudden sting. The entire time he was creating a slit in your skin he would degrade and tease you. Acting sympathetic but really just getting off on owning and marking your body as his. Making you fear and worship him in the sickest way possible. The panic and fear in your scream going straight to his dick, not being able to control the erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He admired his initials becoming less legible due to the blood starting to cover it. He added a few random slash marks on the other ass check, just so the other cuts wouldn’t get lonely. Dropping the knife onto the floor and playing with your ass as he fucked into you. Spanking you causing the blood to fly around, onto your lower back and his face. Once he was done playing, he flipped you around onto your back. You looked smashed, like a hot fucking mess. Seeing how brain dead and broken you were was sending him off the edge. Wrapping his bloody hands around your neck as he came in you. Finally claiming your body, showing you the true purpose of your mouth and pussy. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. Smirking as he washed the blood off his face and body. Felix walked in, completely drunk and high out of his mind. On top of that, in shock from seeing your body on the bed, bruised and covered in blood. Screaming and crying attempting to wake you. In so much shock he didn’t even notice Oliver walk out, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fucking idiot,” he scoffed.

#saltburn fanfiction #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick smut #saltburn imagine #saltburn movie #saltburn smut #rough smut #blood kink #cnc stalking #nasty smut

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swordfright · 5 months

Text

Since we're talking c!Quackity...one of the interactions that fascinates me is the conversation between him, c!Wilbur, and c!Tommy when crimeboys visit Las Nevadas, because it contains this snippet of conversation:

This snippet comes in the middle of a larger conversation wherein Wilbur, more or less freshly revived, is grilling both Tommy and Q for details about how to get into the prison to see Dream. After this, the conversation moves on to navigating the visitation system. This snippet is framed within the context of Wilbur wanting to visit Dream, Tommy trying to convince him not to, and Quackity...? Well, okay, what is Quackity trying to do here? What's his goal in this conversation? He readily supplies Wilbur with info about the visitation and security systems (while Tommy actively withholds and obfuscates this info), so does that mean Q is trying to normalize his own visits by encouraging other people to visit? That's possible, but what interests me more is the question of, like, what the hell is going on here in a broader sense.

The simplest view of this conversation is that it's an argument between two people who are diametrically opposed, and Quackity is the third party here, a guy who doesn't seem particularly invested in either outcome. Which begs the question, why does he bring his own visits up at all? Q is the one who cuts in and mentions that he's been visiting Dream, which at this point isn't a secret on the server but it's also not something Q seems interested in discussing at length. The torture visits are something to be flaunted, not talked about. My assumption, given what we know about Q as a character, is that he's leveraging his experience with navigating Pandora in order to impress Wilbur. Information is something that can be negotiated, brokered, sold - so he's letting Wilbur know he has something Wilbur wants.

This is classic Q behavior right up until the end, where he gets oddly touchy about the torture being brought up. This moment has always struck me as weird, especially considering the handful of other times Quackity doesn't care whether people know (the conversation he has with George comes to mind, as well as the path he asks Foolish to build.) So there are three possibilities here:

that Q is bothered by Tommy saying the quiet part out loud;

that Q has only just found out about Wilbur's gratitude to Dream in the last 5 minutes (literally) and doesn't want to give Wilbur a reason to oppose him right now;

there's something about Tommy specifically knowing about and acknowledging the torture that rubs Q the wrong way.

Personally, I don't see option #2 as viable, given that Wilbur and Quackity are already beefing over how close to Las Nevadas Wilbur can build stuff. That's part of the reason Wilbur is here in the first place: to execute some chernobyl-grade negging. It's not world-ending beef, but given the propensity for mid-tier beef to turn into world-ending beef on this server, it's not nothing. Point is, Quackity and Wilbur have already been at odds with each other for this entire episode. Is Quackity less likely to tolerate conflict involving Dream? Absolutely, but I don't think avoiding such a conflict is his primary reason for acting the way he does here.

My current theory is that it's a combination of #1 and #3 - Quackity seemingly enjoys implying that he's been torturing Dream, but rarely talks about it outright unless it's with Sam. I can't think of many examples of him discussing the torture openly with other characters. I think it's not a stretch to say he enjoys the power of suggestion, he likes making people wonder, he likes making people scared, but he's not really prepared for someone to bring it up so boldly and directly the way Tommy does here. As for why this bothers him, my best guess is that the torture is actually kind of...difficult to talk about with people who aren't directly involved (i.e. Sam and Dream.) It's an incredibly demanding habit that takes up much of Quackity's time and energy, not to mention it's insanely intimate. Like I just don't think it's a stretch to say that Q probably just straight-up doesn't know how to talk about it in a way that's upfront, rather than gloating or flaunting or vaguely implying. Another reason it's likely difficult is that, based on the interactions we've seen, Q probably isn't used to other people bringing it up at all. Tommy's remark catches him off-guard in a very literal way.

The "Don't say that, not even as a joke," really gets me though, because it's such a defensive thing to say, coming from a guy who up until now has been very clear about how little interest he has in defending the indefensible. Is this comment a sign of remorse on Quackity's part? Fuck no, but I do think it's an admission of something. Keep in mind that Quackity's mannerisms when speaking to Tommy are almost identical to the way he speaks to c!Slime. This is evident in a number of streams from the Las Nevadas era, but especially this one: Quackity's tone of voice, language, demeanor, all of it is calculated to evoke the same kind of mentor-mentee relationship he has with Slime. And it makes sense - at this junction in the story, Q views Tommy as someone who's young and impressionable and fucks up a lot, someone who could use Q's advice, someone who's easy to manipulate.

If I were to hedge a bet, I'd say the primary reason Quackity reacts to the torture comment with defensiveness in this scene is because Tommy's remark reminds him that he needs to stay in control of the narrative. I think this is why Q brings up his visits (not the torture, but the visits) earlier in the conversation: "Tommy, you know about this, right?" He's testing Tommy to see how much he knows, and is taken aback when Tommy is prepared to bring up the nasty stuff. Q can walk around with Dream's blood on his shirt all he likes, but once the story's out, it's out - Quackity will no longer have control over who knows and, more importantly, what they think. If anything, this moment is a fleeting but noticeable admission of Quackity's insecurities surrounding the torture in specific. If he's going to properly manage his alliances, he would do well to maintain control of info surrounding, uh, how he spends his time.

#c!quackity #dream smp #dsmp meta #c!tommy #long post

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chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Text

Have Yourself a Moreno Little Christmas

rating: T

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

warnings: heavily influenced by the movie While You Were Sleeping, your typical amount of angst for a romcom, mutual pining, ballet in the park, a moody pre-teen, brief discussions of losing a loved one (parent/partner), bad dad jokes, canoodling in the park, one steamy kiss and a few other softer ones

a/n: Happy Secret Santa @noisynaia! You had Marcus M as your number one Pedro boy of choice, and given that I’d never written for him before, I wanted to do something wholesome and sweet in the world of super heroes. The Nutcracker has always been near and dear to me so I hope you like this take on it! @pedrostories

This will be my last fic of 2023 so - much love, stay warm, and happy holidays! 🤍Masterlist

What do you get a man who has everything for Christmas? A tie? A money clip? Something aggressively manly that smells like woodsmoke, patchouli oil, and the raw sweat of a lumberjack after felling a thousand forests?

What do you get a superhero for Christmas? Indestructible tights? A decorative plaque for his swords? A life-time supply of gauze and iodine?

What do you get for your boss, superpowered and single, with the ability to turn a paperclip into a rose? A silver ball into a flat pancake? Decorative swords into deadly weapons? What do you get him that is even remotely useful or exciting or heartwarming when he is so busy with being a single father and mentor, a symbol and an icon, all while running the world’s foremost superhero operation?

Somehow, “world’s best boss” mug feels rather . . . subpar.

What do you get him if he’s become one of your closest friends? When you try to wiggle some sort of information out of him about a potential gift on one of the many long nights where you’re stuck together doing paperwork for the UN and the NSA – but he is annoyingly vague.

His daughter – a fiery mix of headstrong and thoughtful, soothed by a loving kindness that clearly runs in the family – is no help. She teases you with promises “oh yeah, definitely get him a new spatula” when you both know the man has never been anywhere near a BBQ grill. You give her the rest of the Reeses that didn’t make it into the community candy bowl anyway.

You can’t ask for ideas from his mother, or his teammates, the security guards at the headquarter doors, anyone with eyes (who’s not ten years old) because then they’ll know, you sure of it. They’ll see and that’s just not something you can ever, ever, ever bring up because . . .

What do you get for a man who is your boss, a superhero, a leader, a father, your boss, a very close friend, your boss, someone you very much admire . . . and as a result, have fallen deeply, painfully, achingly in love with?

Your still beating heart on a silver platter seems like the obvious choice. A bowl of your tears for unrequited love is a definitely strong second option. A lock of your hair so the FBI can easily identify you as his certifiably insane stalker – there we go, brilliant idea.

A kiss under the mistletoe? A promise for more?

That damned mug is looking better and better every day.

You knock three times, then one more before opening the door. Behind unnecessarily thick glasses, Marcus glances up, life returning to his face when his eyes fall on you.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the president of Belize is on line one for you.”

The man with sticky, molded blonde hair sitting across from Marcus turns around and smiles. His teeth are freakishly white, all stacked together in tight, proper rows. His suit, freshly pressed and clean of any evidence of interaction with the world, carries a giant button on the lapel: Vote Tine!

“President of Belize, my, my, Mr. Moreno, you are a busy man!”

Marcus stands, his gaze peeling off you to the politician in front of him. “Mr. Tine, I apologize, but I have to cut this meeting short–,”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” He stands, batting his hand through the air. “Just as long as we’ll see you at the next rally, right, Marcus?”

He holds out a perfectly square hand and with a tight-lipped grin, Marcus shakes Tine’s hand.

“We’ll see, Senator.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Mr. Moreno . . .” he bows slightly before turning in the direction of the door. You catch a glimpse of him the instant the smarmy smile slides off his face as, with wolf-ish eyes, he evaluates you from your ankles to the candy-cane broach on your chest. You don’t smile as you shut the door after him – as if you’d be bothered by greasy politicians and their wandering eyes.

Marcus all but slumps back in his chair before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Every time election season comes around, they all want the Heroics’ vote. Until Miracle Guy chucks Dr. Evil through the Empire State Building and suddenly it’s ‘we need these vigilantes off our streets’ . . .” He shakes his head and slips his glasses back on, watching as you take the vacated seat. “Sorry, none of this is your problem. What does the president of Belize want?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say, tapping the corner of your pad with your stylus, “his slogan sucks. Justine Tine – just in time. I’m not unconvinced he didn’t change his name for the sake of a cheesy one-liner.”

A small smile cracks open the dreary look on Marcus’s face. His eyes flicker to the door. “Seems like the type, doesn’t he? I think you’re onto something.”

“So that’s item one, for the day.” You stand, curling your pad into your arms, you lean on Marcus’s desk, knee against the edge.

He stares intently at your face.

“Number two, I just checked our records and there’s no Dr. Evil anywhere in our data banks. The Empire State building is safe, for now, so you can stop worrying about that.”

You mime-checking off something on your pad and the grin on Marcus’s face softens.

“And number three . . .” you pick up the phone on his desk, that suspiciously doesn’t have any blinking red lights. Marcus frowns, noticing this for the first time, when you lift up the receiver and drop it down. His mouth parts.

“Belize has a monarchy. A king, not a president.”

The frown deepens. You wait. And light parts the sky.

“Oh. Oh – you didn’t – that’s – really?”

His eyes are round, wide, relieved, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through those curls. To rub those broad shoulders loose of their tension. But rearranging meetings and make up fake world leaders to give him a break is the best you can do.

“Yes, really. The Heroics are prepared to make a sizable donation to Tine’s cause, and he will thank us at his next rally. So, Mr. Moreno, your next meeting isn’t for another hour, how would you like to spend it?” You smile, tapping your hanging shoe on the ball of your foot. “I suggest using it to eat something. Have you eaten anything today?”

Marcus sighs, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “What, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, would I do without you?”

You avert your eyes before the heat in your cheeks climbs too high, his eyes on you, and you hop off his desk.

“Would you, hmm,” you clear your throat, your voice cracking in half, “would you like me to order something and have it delivered, Mr. Moreno?”

He’s chewing on the skin below his lip when you raise your head from the pad in your arms. Being indestructible is one thing; having his face entirely inscrutable is one of Marcus’s most impressive superpowers. He nods, the look of distant contemplation gone. He flips through a few of the notes you’ve left him on his desk – calls to return, items for next week, reports he needs to sign: busy work.

“Yeah, uh, that’s great. Pick something up for yourself too.”

The mood has soured and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened. A second ago Marcus looked like he was going to pick you up and twirl you around the room. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nervously tap your stylus against your pad.

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.”

You turn to go, his head down, his gaze fixated on whatever isn’t you, when he calls out your name again.

“Oh, um, did you manage to get anything out of Missy abour what she wants for Christmas when she was here last Friday?”

You pause, remembering the uncharacteristically morose girl spinning listlessly in your chair while you watched from the break room as the hot cocoa warmed up in the microwave. You’d never seen so much as a pout on the girl before and no matter what you did, she didn’t crack a single smile.

“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but . . .” Now this is the part of your job that you loathe the most: trying to figure out the line. You saw Marcus as a friend, absolutely, but it’s not like you went and played volleyball on the beach with him, or went bar-hopping, or whatever it is adults with friends do. You love Missy more than you thought you could ever care about a child who isn’t your own, but you wavered how much to press her on her mood, because how did she see you? Nothing more than her father’s employee, most likely. In the end, you ended up getting one word answers from her until Marcus left his office thirty minutes later.

But here you go, overstepping boundaries . . .

“Mr. Moreno, is she alright? The last time she was here, she seemed . . . I don’t know, sad?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. You opened your mouth to profusely apologize when –

“Fuck.” Marcus tosses his glasses onto his desk and buries his head in his hands. The instinct to put your arms around him is so strong you take a step forward before you remember exactly who you are.

How do you comfort the man you love when you shouldn’t love him at all? How do you comfort a superhero, when he’s a father first and human second?

Keeping the desk firmly between you, you drop your pad onto one of the chairs and as slowly as you dare, you touch his forearm. He leans, not away, but towards you. He lowers his arms as you keep your touch on him. You squeeze once, looking down at his hopeless expression.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with Missy?”

Marcus shifts his arm beneath your fingers, his fingers twitching, as if he wants to take your hand but instead puts his other hand over yours.

“This Christmas has just been really hard.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “tell me.”

He looks up at you, eyes warm and wide in a way that only his can. Indestructible in the face of evil, inscrutable with his secrets, Marcus’s greatest weakness is Missy, and he knows it. You know you’re crossing a dozen professional lines leaning over him like you are, touching him like you are, asking him to open up. But you don’t care.

He presses his lips together, hesitant. He won’t look you in the eye. “You have to understand something first. Missy’s mom loved Christmas.”

His hand over yours tightens gently as if he thinks you’re going to pull away. You hadn’t considered it but your palm went a little damp at the mention of her.

Oh God, you’ve so played your hand wrong.

Marcus inhales, his gaze on your knuckles. “Isabel, that was her name, and every year Isabel made Christmas this big event. And every Christmas she bought Missy a little nutcracker. Missy was barely out of diapers at the time, I don’t think she even knew what they were, but she loved them. Thought they were the funniest things with their teeth and stuffy white hair . . . but he other day, going through the decoration box, Missy found them all and I guess she suddenly remembered all those Christmases with her mom and she, uh . . .”

He taps your wrist with his thumb, a tell he has when he’s nervous. The seat squeaks slightly as he adjusts himself in it.

“I haven’t been putting out the nutcrackers that Isabel gave Missy. The Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to put out any sort of real decorations, except for the tree. Missy was so young, I don’t think she cared. But as she got older, she never asked about the nutcrackers so I hoped she just . . . forgot about them. And she did, until she found them last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” You feel like you’ve been sucking on cotton. “Before she came to the office?”

Marcus nods.

“Oh, M-Mar-Mr. Moreno, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

“She was furious that I tried to hide something of her mother’s from her. And she’s right. I was a coward.”

This move is an intentional one. You slip your hand out from his and cup his fingers around yours, as if guiding him. He finally looks up at you, guilt and shame and grief streaking his face like blurry rain against a window pane.

“You are the bravest man I know, Marcus Moreno. You’re a superhero and a single father. Most people can barely handle one. She’ll come around, I promise.”

You swallow the urge to bring his knuckles to your lips, and instead squeeze both of his hands and let go. You slide away from the desk, your heart tight in your chest when his thumbs pass over the palm of your hand. The look on his face is disappointed, you want to believe.

“Thank you. For listening and, uh, everything else. You’re right. I’ll just . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure something out.” He leans back, elbows on the chair’s handles. Marcus Moreno, or what you know of him, doesn’t like to dwell, so you watch some of the heaviness shift from his eyes the moment he decides to change the subject. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you staying in town? Going to see family – or a boyfriend?”

The warm in your chest, lingering from his hands, suddenly bolts across your face. “No, no, um, no, there’s no one –,” Would it be pathetic if you fanned yourself with your pad? God, how does the man work in here for hours with no fresh air? “No, I’m not going home to anyone but I am . . .”

And suddenly there it is. A solution to your Christmas present debacle and maybe a way to save Christmas for Missy Moreno.

You shake your head, beating back the rising heat in your cheeks. “Actually, are you and Missy doing anything this weekend?”

Marcus seems taken aback from this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you and Missy something really, really special.”

You swear the tips of his ears go pink. “Uh, okay. Sure. I-I’ll have to clear it with Missy, but yeah, alright. What time?”

“I’ll put it in your calendar.” You smile and slip your stylus back into your pad. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Moreno.”

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck as you head for the door.

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me, Marcus?

You pause with your handle on the door. “At least once more, Mr. Moreno.”

The mug drops to last place.

Good news.

If you’re ever stranded on a desert island, you’ll survive because you are already intimately familiar with the taste of your own foot in your mouth.

Why did you open with “Hey Missy, your dad tells me you’ve been having a rough Christmas?” to a sullen, grieving pre-teen?

And can time actually go slower, when the air is so stifled with tension? When you’re absolutely sure you’re breathing too loud?

You’ve been glancing at Missy in the rear view mirror for the dozenth time in twice as many miles. Her face is turned towards the window so you can’t actually see the murderous rage in her eyes, but oh wow do you feel it. Nevermind superpowers, this little girl could char you to a crisp with her eyes alone. Potential step-mom failure award goes to . . .

“So.” Marcus clears his throat and you tear your eyes back from the back of his daughter’s head. The fraught silence of the car stretches just long enough after Marcus’s statement to grate ever so gently – “um, how do you, uh, know about this place? Wherever, we’re going.”

You bite the corner of your mouth. Marcus doesn’t appear angry that you’ve soured the mood with Missy before the drive even began. In fact, he looks genuinely curious, the light in his eyes bright. If it weren’t for that single line between his brows, you assume nothing is wrong, but you know that almost frown. Marcus is anxious.

Great.

You settle back in your seat, trying to look as relaxed as you can in a pillowy jacket, your hat and gloves in Marcus’s lap, along with his own. The snow outside stopped falling only a few minutes ago, lining the trees and road with a crisp sparkling white. If anything, it ended up being a beautiful day.

You flex your hand around the steering wheel, trying to summon courage up through your body like your lungs inhale air.

“It’s an old family tradition, actually. My folks would take us out here every year to watch . . . to watch the show.” You glance at him briefly before checking to see if that piqued anything from the roiling black cloud in the back. It didn’t. You hadn’t told either one of the Morenos your plans for this Christmas day. “But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Why not? And please don’t say it's because of work.” The lilt in his voice has you looking at him, long enough to watch a small smile uncurl. You really thought it was impossible for Marcus Moreno to get any cuter, but with his woolen floppy cap covering his ears and the little white bob at the end fluttering in the warm heater air, you force yourself to remember you’re driving a 3000 pound metal death machine if you stare, starry-eyed, for too long.

“No, it’s not because of work,” you grin back and his own crosses completely across his mouth. “It’s not work related . . . but um, after my parents passed away, my brother and sister moved across the country.” Your hands crinkle around the steering wheel. “I’ve spent most of my Christmas’s alone ever since. Coming here without them, i-it felt . . . wrong.”

In the rear view mirror, you think you see her move.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” The weight of Marcus’s gaze, his own planetary gravitational pull, has your nose drawing down then over. He looks genuinely regretful of your situation and you’re suddenly hit with the understanding that not only did Missy lose a mother, but Marcus lost a wife.

Hell, maybe you can just continue up the bone and eat your whole leg while you’re at it.

“Mhm hmm.”

The rest of the car right goes on in silence, except for the faint, ghost-like christmas carols playing from the speakers through your phone.

When you pull off the dirt road and park your car in the cold grass with dozens of other vehicles, you can’t unbuckle fast enough. The patches of icy dead grass snap beneath your boots as you climb out of the car, and you’re struck in the face with a chilly wind.

The words are on your tongue as you look at him over the hood of the car, the breeze snagging the little puff ball on the end of his cap, his glasses already misting over.

I’m so sorry, Marcus, this was such a bad idea.

I don’t know how to talk about my grief or anyone else's and it’s been drowning me for years but I don’t want to pull you down with me.

I’ll drive you anywhere you want I’m so–

“Is this the Stanley Amphitheater?” Marcus takes off his glasses and rubs the condensation away. “This is where they have that jazz festival every summer, right?”

You’re so surprised by his tone that all you can do is blurt out: “yes.”

“So cool! I’ve actually been dying to check this place out!”

“Y-yeah?”

He smiles at you and you have to grab onto the door frame to keep your knees from buckling.

“C’mon, Missy.”

Tugging his hat further over his head, Marcus lopes forward and then he turns and reaches out for his daughter. The moment arcs, Missy’s stone faced glare demanding that he drop his hand, that he turn away from her, an inch away from leaving a mark that aches in a way that only a loving parent can feel from their loved child –

And she takes his hand.

You watch them follow the crowd, blanket in hand, just a few steps behind them, and you breathe out.

Across the stone amphitheater, a low murmur of dozens of eager voices vibrate in the dugout cup of the earth. Children squirm with anticipation in their parents’ laps, couples share lingering gazes over steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, an air of excitement and delight hovering between chapped lips and knitted gloves as the sun arcs lower in the sky. Just in front of the large stage, a live orchestra prepares, discordant cords breaking and rising like smoke.

A man in a striped hat sells buttery popcorn and sweet, crunchy kettle corn in a small wooden hut a distance from the theater. A few families wait in line, children teasing one another behind their parents, their laughter light on the breezy air.

“So, what is this?” Your head whips around at Missy’s first sentence all day. Marcus looks at you equally stunned. The blanket you’ve spread across three laps keeps you intentionally close so you have to lean back slightly to see her face.

“It’s, um–,”

“Missy, do you like ballet?” You ask

Beneath her maroon hat, her eyes lift up, her back straightening from its hunch. You wouldn’t call her look eager, but you cannot deny there’s interest.

She nods.

“Well, what we’re about to see is a very special ballet performance. Some people who have powers like your dad, they don’t go into crime fighting. Instead, they use their powers to make art.”

She blinks, eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

The fringe smile is hidden by a curtain of hair as Missy tilts her head down to her shoes, nodding. Marcus glances at you over the wool of her hat, surprise thinning the lines around his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of cold,” he says slowly, to no one in particular. “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”

“I do,” you wave. Missy nods, grumbling.

Marcus waves over a woman in a striped hat as she wanders through the crowd. The metal box, hanging around her neck and strapped to her back reads, refreshments.

He pays for three styrofoam cups just as the lights in the back of the amphitheater flicker and the orchestra winds down to silence.

Despite the burgeoning chill in the air, and despite the grief dividing yet binding the three of you, and despite the fact that this may be your one chance for Marcus to see you as anything other than his assistant, you’re hopeful. Maybe it’s the music itself, that way that music has to ignite your soul when you need it the most, or maybe it’s the spirit of the season, but for the first time in a long, long time, you don’t feel so lonely. In fact, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt more connected than you do with the people next to you.

Missy’s eyes are bright, flitting around the stage as if determined to not miss a single thing, the cocoa in her hands leaving a dark rim around her mouth that she is blissfully ignorant of. That already full feeling in your chest expands and you want nothing more than to hug her, hug her till she’s warm and hug her till she’s happy. Behind her, her father moves and it catches your eye.

Marcus has never looked at you before the way he is now. Inscrutable, undefined, but it packs such a punch in your chest it feels like you gulped down your entire cup of hot chocolate in one go. You turn away, fearful of what he might see in your eyes, and realize the enormity of what you feel, how it’s all consuming and tugs at you when you least expect it.

The music begins to swell just as the sun sets and the lights at the rim of the theater fade. You take a shaky inhale – nerves and excitement and memories good and bad weighing on your shoulders.

And then it begins to snow.

But not from the sky and it’s not yet cold enough for the consistent sprinkle. Snowflakes tangle with your eyelashes, in the wool of your cap. Then Missy gasps as a translucent ice crystal the size of her palm trickles down into her lap. Glinting like glass, the intricate design of the crystal flashes once before disappearing – not melting – just gone. Around you, other children hold out, giggling their hands as more beautiful flakes of enormous size flutter down from the inexplicable snow drift. A few adults reach out to grab some that burst like bubbles, a wondrous awe crescendoing across the crowd.

From the wings of the stage, a man and a woman, dressed in beautiful light blues and silvers, silks glittering with inset shimmering stones, walk across the stage, their arms moving slowly, thoughtfully.

In sync, they coax the air and the snow follows in a dance of white. Delighted shouts rise up as the snow and ice spin together, arcing and weaving, capturing the essence of a winter wind. The pair on stage bend, their hands flung backwards in a bow and the ball of snow shatters in an icy solar flare, the million white flakes fluttering over the crowd.

Out of the exhilarated murmur that overtakes the crowd, one noise stands out above the rest.

Missy laughs. She laughs as she watches a snowflake melt on the end of her nose.

You wish desperately you could squeeze her to you.

The crowd applauds the snow dancers, bowing again before exiting the stage, as a woman in black steps out. Her short-cropped hair is nearly as white as the snow still melting on the ground and her eyes are crinkled at the edges. When she speaks, her voice booms without the aid of a mic.

“Thank you and welcome to another annual Stanley Kirby production of The Nutcracker.”

Missy’s smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact it widens. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as you watch her from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been directing this play for twenty years now and I can honestly say I find something new and beautiful about it every time. Winter is often seen as the end stage, symbolized through literature and poetry as the time when we humans grow old. But I like to think that doesn’t always have to be true. Spirit, however you like to think of it, is exactly that: an endurance, a bravery, a force greater than ourselves that we can either embrace or let slide through our fingers. We hope you leave today with a little bit more spirit in you. Thank you for coming and we hope you enjoy the show.”

She bows as two men enter in from the wings, these dressed in brown and green, the crowd clapping for both the director and the new players.

A little girl, in ballet shoes and a pink dress with ruffles, her hair down to her back and tied out of her face with a bow, joins them on the stage and sits down in the center as the heavy velvet curtains pull back to reveal a backdrop imitating a hallway. With a large door, two round, gilded mirrors and a single chair.

The orchestra begins, the dancers lifting their hands with a wave of a conductor.

Shadows flicker at the back of the theater, eliciting shocked, almost horrified gasps from the crowd. But you know what’s coming. You don’t turn around. You smile.

Beside you both Missy and Marcus stare, mouths open, as eleven foot tall wooden nutcrackers amble down the stone steps between the seats, their knees stocky, their weight uneven as they march towards the stage. Their giant mouths creak and groan as the switch on their backs moves without any visible force. The green and red paint shines in the lights from the stage, their silver buttons glowing like stars. The dancers in brown coax them closer with a curl of their fingers and a bend in their arms. They begin to sway and spin across the stage, their legs outstretched and their feet curved into satin shoes, the little girl paying them no mind. Instead, she gets on her knees and waves to the marching soldiers.

More awed gasps as now teddy bears then porcelain dolls, the size of elephants, follow the nutcrackers down the steps, the orchestra keeping time and building a sense of whimsy and joy. The little girl bounds to the edge of the stage as the first wave of soldiers approaches. With a kiss from her hand into the wind, the first nutcracker freezes and then shrinks, the dancer behind the girl flicking his wrist. The crowd hums with delight as the nutcracker, now the size of a toy, floats next to the chair. One by one, the little girl greets the marching toys just before they shrink and find a place next to the chair.

With the last doll fluttering in the wind as it settles, the little girl spins and twirls until she drops into the chair and seemingly to sleep.

The crowd roars with joy, a thunderous applause swelling in the amphitheater.

But, best of all, Missy is on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face glows in the light of the stage, her eyes bright and hopeful, her cheeks pink and chapped. In the shadows that flicker of people moving and applauding, beyond Missy’s curly hair, Marcus stares at you in a way that makes your heart grow bigger with every beat, his own silent music swelling the cage of your ribs.

He reaches out his hand for you and you take it.

He keeps holding you long after Missy sits down and the ballet continues.

A nearby park has set up Christmas lights in the trees and on the pathway. Missy, after promising to stay close, has gone and disappeared in the dark, off playing with a few of the other children who stayed after the show was over.

Families sit on benches under covered awnings, the dark night cold but not encroaching, a food truck selling churros and Mexican hot chocolate mystifying the chilly air into white puffs as they serve eager mouths and cold hands.

You walk the lighted path with Marcus, your arm tucked up around his.

The sounds of children laughing fill the comfortable silence between you two.

“This is going to be embarrassingly underwhelming,” he says quietly, the warmth of his body enough to keep a shiver at bay. “But thank you. That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen The Nutcracker before, but this . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head, awe curling his mouth open.

“It’s pretty fantastic, right?” You smile up at him and squeeze his arm.

He closes his mouth just as his eyebrows jump.

“Kinda makes me wonder if I picked the wrong profession, if other people are using their powers like that.”

You chuckle lowly. “Ha, as if there’s anything you could be except a superhero.”

“What do you mean?” The tone in his voice makes you pause. Just around the curve of the path, you’re hidden by silver-dripped trees and frost-covered shrubs. No children run here and the lights on the path are muffled by the overgrowth.

His eyes are dark when you look into them, but dark in the way under the covers of your parents bed is dark, or the dark in your friend’s mouths when they’re torn open with laughter. Dark in a way that holds and comforts and sinks deep. White mist puffs from his chapped lips, nose pink and cold. The lint from his scarf has stuck to the base of his neck.

“You have to save people. It’s who you are. I don’t believe for a second there’s any part of you that could sit by and watch terrible things happen to good people. Your powers don’t change that.” You swallow, fingering the snaps on his coat as you stand face to face, the decision to say the words on your tongue nearly splitting you apart. “You saved me. If that counts for anything. You saved me from being alone on another really shitty Christmas and I–,”

The soft but determined press of his lips against yours brings silence to the grove, your words dissipating into the air like snowflakes. The whole of the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on yours; you forget the cold, the chilly burn on your cheeks, the sweat on your hairline where your woolen cap sits. You forget the sound of people in the distance, forget the lights in the darkness. He kisses like he works, methodically, confidently, and with intention.

His well-kept mustache tickles your nose, his lips a little torn from the cold, but the heat of his mouth warms you to your core. He holds you, his scratchy mitten against your cheek, the rest of him staying perfectly still, letting you savor his touch, commit the shape of his mouth, and by the quietest of moans rumbling in his chest, you think he might be doing the same.

In the split second where you think he’s going to pull back, he cups the back of your head in his glove, sealing the hair around your shoulders to the collar of your jacket. Emboldened by your soft inhale, he turns his head, opening his mouth and more of himself up to you, and you, in turn, run as far as you can with this. You slip your arms around his scarf, trying to get at the heat of his throat, as he gathers as much as he can of you into him.

You aren’t sure who eases you both back down from the clouds, who lifts hands and pulls apart, but your mouths separate, your noses inches from each other, and great plumes of white mist rise from your heated gasps.

“So I’m not crazy,” he murmurs, his eyes nearly completely hidden behind condensation. “There is something here. You feel it too.”

“Yes, Marcus, God, yes.” You close your eyes and bump your head against his as he sniffs in the cold, his cheeks flaming.

“That’s what it takes to get you to call me Marcus, huh? A kiss that knocks your socks off?”

You shake your head, laughing, your nose seeking out the solace of his warm skin. “‘Knocks your socks off’, you’re such a dad.”

“Yeah, I am. And you made my daughter happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. I’ll never forget that.”

The heavy rasp of his voice has your eyes seeking out his. You can’t quite find what you’re looking for behind the glasses, but his relaxed open mouth, the tilt of his head down to you, begs for more.

“W-wait – wait, Marcus.” You fight the sudden spark of images flying across your mind; his bare hands, free of gloves and mittens and wool, lifts your shirt up and those soft lips imprint themselves on the curve of your stomach; scorching water turns his back bright red as he tugs your knees tighter around his waist don’t worry I’ve got you; waking up to him stretched out naked and loose and finally relaxed. Your heart squeezes at the mere fantasy. Everything you’ve ever wanted, inches from your outstretched fingertips. “Are you serious about this?”

Marcus grins, kisses your nose, and pulls you in by your scarf, as if you could possibly get any closer.

“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. I haven’t made a choice this easy in years. Wait, I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.” He lets you go only to smear the condensation away from his glasses. Remind him to wear his contacts the next time you go out in the snow.

Next time next time next time

“There.” He slips those thick-framed glasses back over his nose and then takes your hand. He holds it near his heart. “I like you and my kid adores you. I’ve been slowly going crazy at my desk, hoping that the way you smile at me is only for me, and that you don’t know anyone else’s coffee order by heart.” You huff a laugh, if only to loosen the knot in your throat. “What? I’m serious.” He chuckles with you before taking you into your arms again. His lips are warm against your forehead. “I’ve had it bad for you ever since you started, but I never said anything because I knew you were new to the city and you didn’t need your boss crypt-keeping on you.”

“I think the correct term the kids use is just creeping, but I get your point.” You tilt your head up into his waiting gaze. Warm like chocolate. Warm like the sturdy earth. Warm like . . . “And if my employment is the only thing keeping us apart, then I totally quit.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re totally fired.”

You both laugh into each other, mist rising from your mouths, the corners of your mouths splitting in the cold. The temperature is steadily dropping, but you can’t seem to care. In fact, one big gust of wind could blow you away, suddenly lighter than air.

“So does this mean I don’t have to get you a World’s Greatest Boss gift?”

He kisses your cheek and you feel it in your toes. “You’ve already given me exactly what I wanted.”

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

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