#if to you this song doesn’t work for her at all I apologize I’ve got a medium sized pile of so gs to look at (alvvays only has three albums | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanpecan · 10 days

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₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 3

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. pt 2. pt 4.

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you've now had two extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento. You're doing your best to go back to work like nothing happened. You're attending meetings, running a few errands, and having a very very close call with a curse and an ancient relic.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, slight angst, gore kinda (you're fighting a curse and it gets intense fast)

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 6.8k (do i even have to apologize at this point)

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: this chapter is a little more centered around Y/N as a character. Nanami IS in it but i feel like he isn't the focus so i apologize. but ! i've attached pt. 4 as well because that does have nanami and a fun little hook up hehe. I won't be offended if a lot of y'all skip this to get to the next part. I know i would

˚₊✩‧₊this is the mitski song i had in mind for this chapter idk

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You shut the car door and put your seat belt on wordlessly. “You okay? I’ve never seen you so quiet after drinking.” Akari said, breaking you out of your daze.

You looked at her and considered telling her everything. “Akari…” she looked at you with a questioning look. She smiled.

“You know, Nanami was asking questions about you while you were up singing with Ijichi.”

“What?”

“It was little things. Like he kept asking for clarity on things whenever we brought you up. I don’t know if you even noticed.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well he was asking how long you’ve been here. He seemed to know that you’d joined the school when you were 16, during Ijichi’s third year. But he wanted to know how you did.”

“What did you tell him?” you asked.

“Eh, I said something about how your classmates were assholes. But that doesn’t matter. He also asked about your relationship status.” She glanced at you with a cheeky smile. You gave her a blank stare. “Well, not directly, but Shoko asked about my dating life and I told them how we were both hopeless, and I may have mentioned that date you went on where the American called you exotic and tried to grab your ass.” She laughed as she remembered. “He smiled when I mentioned you kicked his ass.”

You smiled and she seemed happy that you were more relaxed. “I could just tell he was interested in you, and you know I’m good at reading people.”

“You’re too flattering.” You said. “I don’t think he’s interested in me like that.”

“You’d be surprised, maybe he feels connected with you after he saw your IBS crisis.” She laughed. “Too soon? I’m sorry.”

You smiled and shook your head. You felt a burning in your chest. “You don’t think he was talking so much because he was into you? He didn’t talk to me at all.”

Akari scoffed. “If he was into me I’d turn him down immediately.” She frowned. “If I didn’t know his age I would have thought he was in his late thirties, and I’m not into dudes that much older. You know I like them hot and stupid.”

“That hasn’t worked out so well for you in the past, maybe it’s time to change it up.”

Akari furrowed her brows. “Why are you pushing him on me, fight for your man, girl.”

You slumped back into your seat. “I’m telling you he doesn’t like me like that.”

She rolled her eyes. “And why are you so sure?”

“Because he told me so.” You muttered.

“What?” She suddenly got serious.

“...Can you keep a secret?”

“What happened? Y/N??” She looked over at you. “Hang on, we're almost at my place. I need to be all ears.”

“You can’t tell anyone, and you can’t judge me.”

“Wait! Don’t tell me anymore!”

Akari quickly parked the car and ran out. She practically pushed you all the way into her apartment and onto her couch. She quickly poured you another drink before pouring one for herself.

“Okay,” she handed you the cup. “I had a feeling something happened, you’ve been acting so weird.”

“You wanna take a guess?” You said before taking a drink.

She hesitated. “My gut was telling me that something happened with the curse he exorcised yesterday. And I thought that maybe it had gotten to you and you were overly flirty and confessed or something.”

“We had sex.”

She choked on her drink. “What!”

You buried your head in your hands and groaned. “The curse injured him and infected him with lust. I was just standing outside the barrier. I was checking my phone when he came stumbling out into the car, and well…things escalated and…yeah.”

Akari looked at you in shock. She put her drink down. “He didn’t report an injury. Was he in his right mind?”

You understood what she was implying. “He wasn’t violent. The opposite actually. I was surprised too, he wouldn’t let me tend to his wound.” You took another drink. “It was great.”

She still looked concerned. “But he told you he wasn’t into you.”

You frowned. “We didn’t really talk much afterwards. I think he was more embarrassed or maybe he regretted it… Anyway I ran into him at the bakery that I like and we talked for a bit there.” You sighed as you remembered. “I confessed that I liked him and he said he wasn’t interested in a relationship with me, so I said we should forget everything that happened.”

“I’m sorry.” Akari said. “What an asshole, I bet he said it just like that too. He’s so blunt. You didn’t deserve that.” She looked at you. “I’m sorry he showed up tonight. I can’t imagine how awkward that must have been for you. But I’m serious. He was asking little things about you. So maybe there’s hope?” She turned her head and scowled, “If it was me I wouldn’t want to see the bastard.”

You took a deep breath, you didn’t want to tell her about the bathroom. Not that it was wrong, you just wanted time to process everything. You frowned. You had just ruined his chances with her, you were painting him out to be a villain. “He was very sweet though. I understand where he’s coming from. I mean, I don’t think he really had any control over his mood and I should have turned him down. I have regrets too. I think it’ll be easier to just forget. If he does want something he should be the one to approach me.” You lay back on the couch. “The shittier thing to do would have been not to acknowledge it at all. He’s a good guy, it’s just like you said. He’s blunt.” You smiled at Akari. “This is our secret, okay?”

Akari nodded looking at you sympathetically. “Of course.” She came closer to you and hugged you. “Other than the mess, I’m glad he was nice to you. You pulled your long-time crush, that’s powerful girl.”

You smiled and hugged her back silently.

You both went to bed shortly after and you were left alone with your thoughts.

The bathroom. He had said he didn’t want to talk, fucked you, and even wanted to take you home. This sort of contradicted your theory of him liking Akari, right? No, he just thinks you’re easy. You frowned. You should have let him speak before you cut him off…twice. You’d just been afraid that what he’d say would hurt your feelings.

You tossed and turned thinking about him, remembering his touch, his lips. Despite it all he had been so gentle, so desperate to have you again. It hurt your feelings thinking about it. He had done all that but he didn’t really want you. You sighed, if he asked to have you again, would you do it?, you wondered. Yes, you decided, feeling hopeless. You felt very strongly about him and despite him not reciprocating your feelings, yours hadn’t diminished. You might have liked him more, or at least the idea of him more. You slowly dozed off.

You were pretty quiet the next morning and Akari let you just exist. She drove you to work, talking about things here and there but not bringing him up. You were grateful for her. “You know I do love you.”

Akari smiled as she turned off the ignition to the car. “I’ve always got your back.”

You both rushed into the meeting room afraid of being late but when you got there, there were only two other managers including Ijichi, and Principle Yaga sitting silently with a frown on his face.

You checked your watch. There were two minutes until the meeting was supposed to start. No other sorcerers were here. You sat down next to Akari and Ijichi. You looked at the empty chair beside you and for a moment thought about switching sides with Akari but you decided it was too much. You were thinking too much about it. He was not going to sit next to you, that would have been bold and stupid.

Suddenly the door opened and Shoko walked in giving you and Akari a smile. Two more sorcerers came in with a minute to spare. You watched the clock strike 7 and the door opened again. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was, his aura gave him away. You heard him head in your direction and you whipped your head in surprise as you heard the chair next to you slide out and Nanami sit down.

You clenched your jaw and felt Akari poke you from the other side. You looked at her.

You okay? She asked with her eyes. You nodded and rolled your eyes with a smile. She smiled back. You didn’t turn to look at him.

This wasn’t the first time he had sat next to you in a meeting. The first time you had been way more nervous. It was about a year and a half ago; after he had just rejoined Jujutsu society. You had already started crushing on him and he had asked you for a pen to jot down some small detail about a schedule change. The rest was history.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the doors burst open and you heard a familiar chuckle. “Okay, okay, we can start now. I’m here!” Gojo. He walked in cockily and sat down in the front row of seats. Yaga gave him a scrutinizing look before standing up, ready to start.

“You’re just the man I wanted to see, I have a mission for you.” Yaga grumbled. Gojo yawned in response. “Good morning everyone, I’ll make this short.” He shuffled some papers. “An update on the Okkotsu case, the boy’s violence has escalated resulting in the death of three high school students on Thursday evening. Yesterday Kisagari and Harutomi were sent to investigate and were instructed to bring the boy back.” He clenched his jaw. “They did not check in last night and upon further investigation Harutomi was found dead this morning a little outside the school grounds.”

The room went silent. You frowned, this was more serious than anticipated. Both of the sorcerers were grade two, it came as a shock that one of them was dead.

“Satoru, can I rely on you to pick up where they left off?”

Gojo stretched his arms and leaned back on his chair. “Of course,” he responded.

Yaga went over some other brief reminders before dismissing the meeting. You’d volunteered to deliver some items the school was exchanging with the Kanagawa Prefecture Cultural Museum. You stayed in your chair a little longer reading over the file Akari handed you. Nanami slowly got up from his chair and you could sense him staring at you. He probably wanted to talk. You owed him that much. You turned to look at him but before you could say anything Ijichi appeared next to him.

“I’m ready to head out whenever you are.” He said to Nanami.

Nanami turned to him and nodded. “Let’s go.”

You looked at Nanami but he turned away and started heading towards the door. You frowned and turned back to the papers in front of you.

“You okay?” Akari said.

You looked at her and smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m over it. It was a one night stand situation, I’m overthinking it.” She didn’t look convinced but you shook your head. “Believe me I’m not angry or hurt. Life’s too short for that.”

You headed out to your school assigned car and sat down. You glanced at the back seat in the rear view mirror. You felt your cheeks get hot as you remembered what had happened, and smacked your hands to the sides of your face. You could try to talk to him later…maybe.

As you drove towards Naka you thought about what you might eat for lunch. Along with bringing the items to the museum and picking up the ones they were trading, you were to go around and check the shrines in the area. You’d had a mission around here a while ago and remembered a soba restaurant close to the museum. Since you had spent the night at Akari’s you didn’t have the sandwich you had planned to eat today. Oh well, you thought, at least I wasn't the one that paid for it.

You noticed you were getting close and called ahead to the museum. “Good morning, this is Y/N with Jujutsu Tech. I'm about 30 minutes away.”

“Oh perfect,” A woman answered. “Head towards the employee parking, we’ve told the guard to let you in. By the way, we came across a new artifact donated by the estate of one of our late patrons. It looks very old and was kept in a special box, would you be able to take it to get it assessed?”

“Yes of course!” You were a little hesitant to pick up unregistered cursed objects but usually it was no big deal. Especially if it was kept in a special box. It would be fine.

As you walked into the back of the museum, a shiver went up your spine and you got a terrible feeling in your gut. You took a deep breath and went in, a little on edge. You went to the room you’d been instructed to and waited. Some of the items you were expecting to pick up were already laid out. An old cursed katana in need of restoration and a few Edo period items. You put down the box you were carrying. You were exchanging these items for an ancient tea set from the Nara period that was in prime condition and a painting scroll from around the same time.

“Sorry for running a little late.” You jumped as a voice came from behind you. You tensed as you turned, you hadn’t even felt the person’s presence.

“Oh, no problem, I’m Y/N.”

“Yes, yes, this is the item I spoke to you on the phone about.”

The lady put down an intricately decorated green box about 6 inches long and 4 wide. “We just got it in this morning. Our staff decided to open it to see what was inside, but only found one small object wrapped in a sort of paper wrap with writing on it. We couldn’t decipher the language, but right after we opened it the lights in the museum went out so we closed it.” She laughed nervously. “None of us are very superstitious, but we did get spooked.”

She picked up the box to hand it to you. You grabbed it but felt that she had a tight grip on it. You pulled a little harder to take it from her but she just stared at the box. “Ma’am?” You pulled again but her grip hadn’t faltered.

“I just…would like to see it one more time.”

“I don’t think that’s a good-“ she yanked the box back and quickly lifted the locking notch to open the box. She stared inside.

You went around her to look inside as well and gasped. You knew what this was. You had only seen one brought to the school when you were a student. It was one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers. You quickly shut the box and yanked it out of her hands.

“I’ll take it from here.” She seemed to snap out of her daze and nodded.

“Yes- uh. Let me find a box to put these loose items in so you can carry them easier. Excuse me.” The lady left the room and you stared at the box in shock. You needed to get this out of here.

You quickly pulled your phone out and called the school.

“Hello, this is Y/N. I’m picking up items from the Kanagawa Cultural Museum and they have given me one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers.”

The person on the other end let out a small noise. “Is it bound?”

“It’s wrapped in a talisman and contained in an emerald box.”

“Okay... We can send the closest available sorcerers to assist you in ensuring it gets returned to the school without interruptions. Do not worry about your other tasks, the finger is the new priority.” You looked back at the box nervously. “Do you know if they unraveled the talisman?”

“They opened the box and examined the finger but quickly closed it back up. The finger appears to still be partially wrapped in the box.”

“We should assume they unwrapped the finger, even if it was only for a little bit, so there might be curses coming that way, and the talisman is probably weakened if not all together useless.” The guy sighed on the phone. “You said this was Y/N correct.”

“Yes.”

He was silent. “Take the finger and run, you won’t be able to handle whatever curses are coming your way.”

You were hurt by his comments but knew it was true. You thanked him and hung up. You looked at the door. The lady was taking a while. You quickly began to unload your box and started loading the other contents into it. The sword was going to stick out too much so you quickly stuck it to your hip using your belt. You placed the finger in last and picked up the box. You went back into the hallway and once again felt the energy sour.

You headed towards the exit when you noticed a shoe in the hallway. You clenched your teeth. It was a woman’s high heel, the same kind the lady had been wearing earlier. Your instincts told you to run to the car but then a smell hit your nose. Blood. Blood and the sickeningly bitter scent of a curse.

Run. Your body was telling you to run. You were close to the exit, the car was parked right outside the door. You started to move your legs and turned towards the exit. You had been told the nearest sorcerers were heading your way. Someone else would be here to help. You would just get in the way and end up dying. You couldn’t fight, not well anyway. You didn’t have any weapons, you needed to leave, you needed to - you stopped in your tracks as you heard a small noise. You listened intently.

“Help!” It was a whisper. “Please.” An agonizing voice coming from behind you. You turned trying to find the voice. “Help.” It was coming from the hallway to your left. You hesitated. You blinked and took a deep breath. You clutched the boxed items closer to yourself and your hand went to the katana on your hip. It was old and rusted but it was something, you weren’t completely unarmed. You quickly went toward the noise and peeked around the corner.

You stood there shocked. The lady was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall, her face twisted in pain. She had a deep purple bruise on her right ankle and her left foot was gone. It looked like it had been hastily bit off. Where she was bleeding there was a small yellow curse lapping up the blood.

“Help! Help me! Help.” She started yelling as she saw you approach. You ran over to her and shushed her. The little yellow curse didn’t even notice you, it was too busy drinking the blood, but it was growing in size. You put the box down next to her and looked at her wound. It was big, an injury like this required immediate attention. Your mind raced as you thought about what to do. You could try to heal it, try to use your RCT. However you had no medical knowledge whatsoever so the chances of you messing it up were greater than you fixing it. But you had to do something. Even if you didn’t understand, stopping the bleeding or scabbing it over would help tremendously.

I don’t have enough CE for this, you thought bitterly. It would take a lot. You looked at the little creature in front of you and something clicked in your brain. You couldn’t explain it but you just knew what to do. You grabbed the creature by the base of its neck. It didn’t even flinch, it was too preoccupied consuming the trickling blood. That was until it started shrinking, its fingers curling, the tips of its ears wilting and then it started thrashing in your hands.

You were absorbing its cursed energy. Your hand burned as you felt the rotten energy enter you. Your veins ached and you winced, feeling like you were going to be sick. The input was foul, you felt like you needed to expel it, quickly. You placed your other hand on the bloody stump and tried to focus on your reverse cursed technique. You laughed when you noticed something was happening only to flinch as the creature started to kick and scratch at you. You slammed it onto the floor trying to subdue it. It became more and more withered as you became accustomed to the feeling of absorbing its energy. The wound was looking much better. Almost.

The yellow creature let out one final shriek before it completely deflated. The lady’s ankle was now a hardened scab. You knew it hadn’t healed completely but it wasn’t going to get any worse. You looked up and saw that she was staring horrified at your hand wrapped around the stump. In your other hand, the curse was now a grey lump of flesh. You clenched your fist and it disintegrated into ash.

You looked up at the lady and let go of her leg. “We need to get outside.” Once outside you could make a veil and prevent whatever was inside from getting out. You had quickly deduced that the small yellow curse was not the one that had done the damage. There was something bigger and stronger and it was looking for the finger.

You grabbed the green box with the finger, tucking it under your arm as you helped the lady up, letting her lean on you as you started for the door. You quickly hobbled there together. You were going to make it. You were two feet from the door. One foot. Your hand reached out to push when you suddenly felt the wind get knocked out of you. Your mouth flew open and released a stream of blood. The world went black for a second and you felt yourself falling. You came to, right before you hit the ground and regained your balance. You turned around quickly but your body was overcome with pain. Your hand went to your abdomen, you had broken some ribs. But what had hit you? You looked over at the lady and saw she was unconscious. “Shit.” You slid her off your shoulder and looked around for a curse. Nothing. You quickly checked her pulse. She was breathing. You sighed and stood up looking around.

The box! You looked around the floor for it. You had dropped it when you had been hit. It was nowhere to be found. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You realized now the curse had probably slammed into you while trying to get the box. You had to get it back and fast. You stopped. No this isn’t right. I need to get this lady to safety and set a veil. I need to wait for the closest sorcerer to arrive, I can’t fight. You heard screaming from the hallway again. You clenched your jaw. You were terrified.

You looked down at the lady and quickly picked her up. You were right by the door. You pushed open the door wheezing a little and trying your best to ignore the pain as she leaned into your broken ribs. You set her down on the steps outside and turned to the building. The curtain! you needed to put one up. You lifted a hand and muttered your phrase.

You opened your phone and dialed the school. The same person picked up. “The situation has escalated. I was attacked and the curse got a hold of the finger. So far there's only been one confirmed injury, but I think many others are in danger. I’ve placed a veil for now,” you said.

“Stay put, help is almost there.” You looked back at the building and frowned. You hung up. You heard another yell and your stomach dropped. You felt yourself tearing up. There had to be something you could do. You needed to do something, anything, you couldn’t just stand there while everyone inside was in danger. It wasn’t fair.

You felt your body move and before you realized, you found yourself stepping into the veil. You quickly went to the door and stepped back into the building. You saw more of the little yellow creatures climbing up and down the walls. You counted seven. They were all moving towards the same place. Looking along the wall, you spotted what you were looking for and quickly hobbled over to push the fire alarm.

The alarm rang in your ears. You coughed and winced as more blood came out of your mouth. Your chest ached with every step, every breath, but you kept going. Someone was yelling for help. Without thinking you snatched one of the little yellow curses and started absorbing it. You were careful not to heal your own wounds. You’d been able to help the lady, but with little understanding of internal anatomy, something told you you’d do more damage than good.

You turned the corner and found a man in shock staring at where his hand once was. You rushed over and grabbed it with your free hand exerting the cursed energy into it. The little fiend shriveled in your hand again as the wound scabbed over.

As the alarm cycled you hoped people in the museum were evacuating. Since you were in the employee backrooms you couldn’t tell. The man stared at his hand traumatized and you left him there to try to find the creature. The closer you felt you got, the more of the little yellow demons swarmed the walls, like vultures waiting for prey. You pushed past twenty trying to get through a door frame and you were surprised to see that there were at least a hundred in the next room. The curse you were looking for was there too.

It was a large pudgy creature, around 6 feet tall with frog-like features. It had grubby hands and ornate green stripes along its back. It was muttering something, you couldn’t make out the phrase. It had a disembodied human hand in its mouth and it was sucking on the exposed wrist draining it of blood. Every time it slurped, the fingers of the hand would contract open and closed. It made your stomach uneasy.

The curse didn’t notice you coming in, it was too preoccupied trying to open the emerald box. You noted the curse had it backwards and was trying to pry it open on the side with the hinges. You didn’t know how much longer you had. You debated what to do. In this room the curse was isolated, it couldn’t access any more victims and hopefully a majority, if not all, of the people in the museum had evacuated. There was a sorcerer on the way, you could leave it here or wait outside of the door to direct them towards the curse.

But the finger….You could get it while it was distracted, or at least try to. You had the katana and even though it was old, it was still a weapon. As you pondered what to do you noticed the room had gone silent. The creature was still mumbling and trying to get the box open but the other small yellow creatures had gone quiet. You put your hand on the hilt of the katana once again uneasy. You made your decision. Even if you were useless you could buy some time. You slowly crept closer and closer to the curse. You took a quiet breath before pulling out the sword and swinging it at the monster's neck.

The sword hit the curse’s flesh with a loud thunk. It was blunt. Practically useless. The creature stopped struggling with the box and its head quickly turned to look at you. It had two sets of eyes, although they all seemed to be looking in different directions. Suddenly the curse made a dive at you, mouth open ready to bite.

You attempted to dodge to the right but you were too slow to completely move out of the way. You felt a cool sensation on your arm and you turned to see your left arm in a sorry state. The skin on your forearm and elbow was gone. Blood poured out and you could only stare in horror. The pain hit you all at once and you barely managed to turn away from your arm, trying to locate where the curse was now. It was staring at you seemingly confused as to how it had missed you, the sliver of your flesh hanging down out of its mouth like a tongue.

It looked like it was going to charge at you again and as you started backing away you realized your back was to the wall. It realized this too and moved forward at a ridiculous speed. All you managed to do was bring up the old katana. You shut your eyes embracing yourself for the fatal blow but you only felt the curses’ plump body falling into you, wriggling around. The sword was in your hand but your wrists were twisted awkwardly around the handle and you realized it had become stuck in the creature's mouth. You let go and pushed against the creature with your leg.

In its shocked state, it stumbled backwards and you were able to see what had happened. It had opened its mouth wide and lodged the katana between the top of his mouth and his jaw. He couldn’t shut it. It reached desperately to try to pry it out but its stubby arms couldn’t reach inside its own mouth.

You quickly took advantage of its distraction to try to locate the green box. You spotted it on the ground in the middle of the room.You looked back at the creature making sure it was still distracted and started sneaking away.

It suddenly let out a loud screech and its body started contorting. Its head grew bigger and smaller, arms longer and shorter. It seemed to be trying to molt out of its body to get rid of the sword. But no matter how much it twisted and yelled the sword wouldn’t come out. You wondered for a second, what kind of curse was imbued on the sword.

You took another step away and suddenly the creature’s attention snapped back to you. You tried to make a run for it but it hurtled its way in front of you and slammed you back into the wall.

You yelled out weakly, more blood spilling from your mouth and your left arm sending a shooting pain throughout your body as your exposed muscle stained the wall with your blood. The curse moved its hands to your neck and lifted you up, choking you against the wall. You desperately tried to inhale and tried not to panic, but the combination of the pain and lack of oxygen wasn’t letting you think clearly. You kicked desperately at the curse but it wasn’t budging. You put your hands up to its wrists and tried to budge them to no avail.

As you started to see dots, your kicks got weaker. You felt its grip tighten and your hands fell weakly onto its arms. You began trying to take the energy out. Your body felt almost as if it was on autopilot. No air and feeling defeated, you started to allow the cursed energy you were absorbing into you entirely. You felt a burning sensation on your arm and coming from inside your chest. Your entire body felt hot as you felt things fixing themselves. You also noticed the grip around your neck had faltered some as you took a desperate and choppy gulp of air. That little flow of oxygen allowed you to think a little more clearly as you kept absorbing the CE.

You didn’t want to finish healing yourself but you needed to put the energy somewhere. You looked at the curse in front of you. Its face was right in front of your chest. You reached down with your right hand and grabbed the blade of the katana. You began transferring the energy into it. You felt the sword get hot and push back, almost as if it was refusing the new input of CE, but after gripping the steel tighter you felt the sword lose its dullness.

The rust started to fall away and the metallic sheen of the blade began to glow. The edge of the sword was becoming very sharp. You wanted to let go but found that your hand was bound to it, the transfer requiring more and more CE and blood and pain. You felt the blade cut into your palm and you ground your teeth. You needed to stop. You ripped your hand away from the blade and removed your hand from the curse’s arm. You quickly put your hands into the curse’s mouth and grabbed its teeth and lip. You pulled its upper jaw down hard for it to close its mouth and watched as the newly sharpened sword point pierce through the creature’s palate and skewered out through the top of its head. As the tip of the blade suddenly appeared through its skull, the grip around your neck loosened and the curse dropped flat on the ground, twitching.

You could only stare in shock at what had just happened.

Suddenly a rush of the small yellow curses began moving forward to consume the liquids oozing out of the curse. You felt your stomach churn as you watched them lap everything up. You turned away from the sight and looked for the box. You took a staggering step towards the item, still laying in the middle of the room, and let out a yelp. Your entire body felt heavy and tired. You felt sick. You still had an excess of CE and your body couldn’t handle it. You collapsed to your knees as you neared the box. You placed your palms on the floor and tried to expel the energy from your body. The floor beneath you turned black and cracked. You poured it all out and felt slight relief, but still felt sore and achy. You looked back up at the box and reached for it. You took it in your hands and sat back. You took a shaky breath and laughed. That could have been bad.

You jumped as you heard the door open and quickly turned towards it. You felt a slight pang of relief as you realized it was a pair of sorcerers. That relief turned to anger as you realized it was two students.

Inumaki and Maki. They stared at you curiously and looked around trying to make sense of what had happened. You looked around too. The place was crawling with little yellow curses, a horde of them concentrated on the still twitching body of the large curse with a katana stuck through his skull. There was a human hand just laying limp to your right and you were sitting in the middle of the room. You bet you were a sight to see. Your suit was torn in various places, soaked in blood from wounds that had healed.

“Are you okay?” Maki asked.

“The curse-“ you stopped and put a hand up to your throat. It was burning and speaking felt difficult. Your voice had a heavy rasp to it due to your windpipe almost being crushed. You tried to clear your throat but it sent a sharp pain down it. “The curse has been defeated, I secured the finger.” You finally said fighting against the fire in your throat. You held up the box. “Are you two the only ones here?”

“Daisuke is outside, he drove us here.” Another manager.

“Tuna.”

“We’ll take care of these creatures, Daisuke is waiting with another secure container to put the finger in.”

You sighed and nodded. “Any casualties?”

“None, almost everyone was evacuated. Police and firemen have arrived on scene. The veil you placed is very good.” Maki said.

You slowly got to your feet and tucked the box under your right arm. You had healed your previously flayed left arm but it still felt sore. You put your hand on your left elbow to try to comfort it. “Be careful. He’s down but he’s got razor sharp teeth. Also we need that sword. If you could get it for me that would be great,” you said with a smile. You could tell from their faces that it wasn’t very convincing.

You limped out of the room and collapsed against the wall once you were out. They sent students? If the curse had gotten a hold of the finger the students would have been in serious danger. You would have surely been killed, and they wouldn’t have known what they were walking into. You were going to say something when you got back. You got back to your feet and started heading towards the exit.

You spotted Daisuke talking with some policemen as you emerged from the veil. He looked at you shocked to see the state you were in and quickly pulled out a wooden box to put the cursed item in. You dropped the box into it and he quickly shut it, muttering some kind of extra enchantment on it.

You leaned against the car exhausted and still feeling off. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him and nodded. “Yes,” you hesitated. “But I think I’m going to need you to give me a ride back to the school.”

The students finished up quickly and you sat in the passenger seat sleeping the whole way back. You felt uneasy still. Your bones creaking and your entire body sore.

Once inside the school you insisted on taking the box and delivering it to the main office. You wanted to talk to the staff member you had talked with over the phone.

You swung open the door to his office and stormed up to his desk. You dropped the box onto the infront of him and stared the worker down. “Here it is. One of the legendary Ryomei Sukuna fingers, one of the most powerful relics in the world, previously unwrapped and unbound less than an hour ago.”

The guy looked at the box and then up at you giving you a criticizing glare. “You seem upset.”

“Why the fuck would you send two students instead of a high ranked sorcerer?”

The guy looked away from you and smirked. “They were the closest available and besides, if you were able to handle it why would I waste someone’s time?” He gave you a snarky smile.

Your blood boiled. He had a point but you had gotten so lucky. “They could have gotten hurt if the curse had been able to get the finger, you didn’t know the whole situation of what was going on.”

He shrugged. “It looks like I made the right decision. If you, out of anyone, was able to defeat the curse, there was no real danger. The curse even cauterized the wounds. None of the victims were in grave danger.”

“What?”

“Two of the victims were found with missing limbs but not even bleeding out or anything.” He started to act annoyed. “Look I have things to do, I expect your report by tomorrow, let us know your thoughts in the appropriate feedback section. Have a nice day. Get out.”

You stared at him frustrated before storming out of the room and almost running into someone. “Sorry,” you muttered before looking up. It was Nanami.

He looked down at you concerned by the state you were in, bloodied and sweaty. “Y/N are you okay?”

For some reason that was your last straw. His question made your eyes start watering. You rolled your eyes blinking hard to try to stop the tears. “I’m fine.” You said not meeting his gaze. He didn’t move.

“You should go see Shoko.” He said, his voice now softer. He moved his hand to your face, carefully placing it under your chin to make you look at him. His thumb grazed your cheek. You looked up at him and frowned, tears leaking from your eyes. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Nothing had been going your way and you were exhausted. You took a step forward towards Nanami and wrapped your arms around him.

It was stupid, but you desperately needed some kind of comfort. He didn’t move at first but he eventually put his arms around you. You buried your face into his shirt and felt yourself relax for the first time in hours. You felt your eyes close right as your legs gave out beneath you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: okay okay i got a little (a lot) carried away with the fight scene. I just love making Y/N a badass and I promise it makes sense later. Again theres a lot added in thats part of a longer story but idk...if anything i'll cross post here and ao3. Thank yall for reading and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't.

please click on through to pt. 4 and if you did read this all, I love you.

super duper shout out to @zoldsick for reading and editing my crazy ideas, thank you cath<3

pt. 1 pt. 2. pt. 4

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r

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enris · 2 months

Text

CAN I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?

synopsis after a year, jake finally earns your father’s blessing. (even if that meant breaking his bank account)

pairing sim jaeyun x f! reader

warnings this is not proofread! i apologize for any mistakes

word count 1.5k+

note first ever official post on tumblr 🥹 and i’m starting it with a slightly long one…bare with me 😔 i hope you enjoy reading, feedback is highly appreciated as i am still kind of new to writing! and of course, if it wasn’t obvious from the title, this is inspired by the song Rude by Magic!

“CAN I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?” you watched as jake asked your father the same question, once again. you’ve already told him countless times to not worry about whether your father accepts him or not, but he just can’t seem to live without getting your father’s blessing. so now he made it his whole life mission to get his blessing.

you were watering your precious plants as you heard your dad rejecting him, again.

“my answer is still no.”

the expression left on your boyfriend’s face was just unbearable to see. it almost looked like he was about to cry any second now.

“dad, what’s so hard about accepting him? can’t you tell he’s a nice guy…” you say, trying to convince him yourself, but nothing was working.

“yn, you are way too young to be getting married right now, you hear me? this is unacceptable behavior. and you, young mister,” your father turned to jake who was already staring at him with puppy eyes, “you are not marrying my daughter, you get it? you have been asking me this same question for the past YEAR and it’s been bothering me ever since then. please, leave immediately.”

“what do you mean i’m too young? dad, i graduate from college in 2 months!” you say, but all you got in return was a head shake. you looked over to jake who shrugged back at you.

“yeah, and who’s the one who refused to dorm in? let alone going overseas, you threw a tantrum because you wanted to stay here for college!” your father argued back after a few moments.

you gasped as jake couldn’t hide his smile, “dad!”

“yn, come on, i wanna take you to this new restaurant that opened up.” jake smiled at you as he held his hand out, signaling for you to hold it.

“eh—? young boy, you better not do anything to my daughter, you hear me!? i’m not giving you my blessing for a reason! and you, young girl, you better be home before dark! i can’t stand it when you try to sneak back into the house at 1am…”

“what? you could hear me?” you ask, suddenly remembering all the times you’ve came back home late at night. i guess all the struggles for staying quiet doesn’t matter anymore.

before you could say anything else, your dad went back inside of the house, leaving you dumbfounded.

“i mean—how could he just say that and leave..?! this whole time i’ve been extra careful to not wake him…but he heard me this whole time?!” you couldn’t believe this whole situation, and turned back to your boyfriend.

“well, at least you don’t need to worry about being loud…?” he nervously smiled at you as you stared at him.

you took a deep breath in, “let’s just go to this restaurant. i’m starving.”

you and jake arrived at the recently opened restaurant and were shocked on how busy it was, despite being new. luckily, you guys got a table pretty fast.

“wow, even their menus are pretty.” you say as you scanned through all the foods that were available.

“yeah, they are.” jake responds, but he wasn’t looking at the menu. his eyes were on you as you were looking at what to order.

“hello! may i start off with your drinks for you today?” a waiter soon came over to your table and pulled out her pen and notepad.

“ah yeah, we’ll just take a water.” you say and watched as she wrote it down.

“awesome! are you guys ready to order?” she continues to ask, and you looked over at jake who nodded with a smile.

“uh, i’ll have this pasta please. what are you gonna order?” you turn to your boyfriend who was still scanning over the menu.

“i’ll take the same as her.” he says and the waiter writes down both of your guys’ orders before collecting the menus.

“alright, i’ll be back with your waters and your food will be our shortly after!”

as the waiter left your guys’ table, jake turned to you, his face more serious than before. but of course, what he said was not serious, at all.

“so, how should i suck up to your father?” he leaned in closer to you as he asked.

“what?” you were taken aback from the sudden question he had asked you, “what do you mean?”

jake’s eyes wandered off a bit as he leaned back into his seat again, “well it’s obvious he doesn’t want me to marry you…so i need to suck up to him, don’t i? what does he like? i need to buy him something don’t i? or do i need to show him im a good person…what do i do?”

“woah woah, calm down…what’s all this rush for? you’re acting like your gonna propose to me as soon as we graduate or something.” you say, and you can see the expression of jake’s face change immediately.

“ahaha, i just wanna make sure your father accepts me!” he chuckled nervously, though you can see the sweat dripping down forehead.

“calm down babe. if you are that desperate to get my father’s blessing then you do have to throw a little money around for him..”

“how much money are we talking? if it’s something expensive like gucci or…” jake paused as he noticed the expression on your face. even though you didn’t say anything, it was almost obvious you were telling him he needed to buy something expensive.

jake cleared his throat as he looked at the specific item, “wow…your father is an expensive guy isn’t he?” he scoffed, his hand covering his mouth out of pure shock.

“his birthday is coming up soon…if you buy this for him im almost completely sure his whole perspective on you would change.” you say, and he almost couldn’t even believe you.

“shit, i really gotta buy this specific rolex for him?”

“yeah, he’s been dying to have this specific one.”

all your boyfriend could do was nod continuously as he stared at the price of the watch.

he clapped his hands together, “all right, i’ll get this for him then!” he says with a forced smile. “my bank account will be crying tonight…” he mumbled before walking away to get a person for help.

you rushed over to him, “hey, you don’t have to do this you know? my fathers blessing surely doesn’t mean that much to you, does it? you can just get his favorite food instead.”

jake turned over to you, “baby. if i get him something expensive, especially if it’s something he’s always wanted, he would definitely give me his blessing. if i don’t have his blessing that means i can’t marry you, and i want you to be by my side forever.”

before you could even say anything else jake planed a soft kiss on your lips before calling over a worker.

“do you think he’ll say yes now?” jake asked you before he head inside of the house.

“i mean i sure hope he would…” you responded.

“how about this; if he doesn’t give me his blessing then i’ll kidnap you and after we graduate college we travel overseas and we can get married there!”

you scoffed, “you’re serious about this aren’t you?”

“of course, my girlfriend WILL become my wife and i’ll make sure of it!”

as soon as you guys were about to head inside of the house, your dad opened the door for you. you were shocked, but definitely not as much as your boyfriend who was beside you.

“everybody is getting ready to eat dinner now, what’s taking you so long?”

“uh—hello! yn’s father..” jake waved nervously at your dad who just stared at him. “happy birthday! i got you a gift.”

“oh? what is this?” your father dug his hand inside of the bag and was met with a rolex box. he gasped as he realized what it was.

“it may not be the right time to ask this question considering the special occasion so i apologize in advance. but, CAN I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, please?”

you were scared looking at your father’s expression and noticed his grip on the rolex tightening. out of impulse you spatted out a few sentences.

“please dad, he’s really a nice guy. he treats me so well and i love him so much, you don’t understand how much i want him to stay in my life. if you don’t give him your blessing then i wi—”

“silly boy, is this your way of sucking up to me? huh? just because you bought me a rolex i’ve been wanting for ages you expect me to give my blessing to you just like that?” you and jake were both shocked at how your father responded.

“dad—”

“it definitely worked.”

jake’s eyes immediately widened, “wait, really?! i have your blessing?”

“i’ve been testing you all along to see how good of a guy you are and you definitely exceeded my expectations. treat my daughter well, sim jaeyun. im lending you my trust and hope you protect yn.”

you couldn’t hide your smile and so couldn’t jake. you guys both hugged each other before he thanked your father.

“thank you! i promise i will keep your daughter safe. as long as she’s with me only good things shall happen to her!”

xtra omg i’m sorry if this seemed messy 😭 again i’m new to doing things like these so feedback is appreciated!

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randomfandomworks · 9 months

Text

Velvet Relationship HCs

Velvet x GN!Reader Synopsis: Headcanons dealing with how I imagine Velvet in a relationship Word Count: 805 Warnings: Potential OOC Pronouns Used: (You / Your)

✭ Velvet is pretty defensive of herself and the things she worked towards

✭ So it’s pretty impressive that you could break through to her

✭ You and Veneer are probably the only two people she fully trusts

✭ And because of that she will never let you go

✭ You're stuck with her

✭ Because Velvet rarely trusts people she’s very protective of those she does trust

✭ You especially

✭ So while she’s proud of her relationship with you

✭ She’s afraid to put it in the public eye

✭ I mean she’s always wanted to be famous

✭ But she never thought of how that title may affect her relationship

✭ Luckily enough you see the reasoning behind her wishes (she’s rather convincing when it comes to something she wants)

✭ However after your relationship progresses a bit more she starts to relax and share bits of it with her fans

✭ Lipstick stains, blurry photos, planned appearances, and staged kisses keep the paparazzi and news at bay

✭ One time her makeup crew was running a bit behind

✭ So she asked the only person she could trust for help

✭ Which is how you ended up styling her show makeup

✭ With a few bits of commentary from her to cover up how flustered she was getting

✭ And as a finishing touch to the effect you had already given her you would look at her reflection, speaking softly to her

“You’re so pretty Vel.”

✭ Velvet still thinks that’s the only time she’s ever actually blushed at a compliment

✭ She likes to lay on your chest when your alone

✭ When she does she can hear your heartbeat which relaxes her more than she thinks it should

✭ You get to hear her and Veneers music before anyone else

✭ Velvet genuinely loves you so much

✭ She just doesn’t know how to express it

✭ At least she didn’t at first

✭ In fact during the start of your relationship she was more closed off to any kind of affection

✭ However when you made it clear you weren’t going anywhere she started to open up to the idea

✭ Now whenever you two are alone she’ll be all over you

✭ She can get very clingy (particularly after a long day or show)

✭ She loves to wrap herself around you

✭ Even occasionally play with your hair

✭ Not big on PDA however, as I’ve explained, she doesn’t enjoy sharing you with the public

✭ Occasionally when you both exit an event there will be a sea of paparazzi

✭ And as I’ve said Velvet tends to get protective over you

✭ As a result, in this situation she immediately reaches for your hand

✭ Pulling you close to her until you both have been safely escorted away

✭ This protectiveness may also be a factor in her preferring to be the big spoon

✭ She likes to hold you rather than be held

✭ Though on a few occasions she has preferred to switch those roles

✭ Definitely has you backstage for all of her and Veneers performances, or at least close to

✭ Buys you anything you could want or need

✭ Her favorite thing to buy you is matching accessories

✭ Just little gifts to show she cares

✭ Has probably written at least one love song for you (But she would never admit to it)

✭ Absolutely loves receiving praise or words of affirmation from you

✭ Isn’t exactly a great communicator on her own

✭ However if you take the time to sit her down and talk to her about whatever may be bothering you, she will listen!

✭ She’s grateful that your willing to openly talk with her

✭ And in return she will try to get a bit better at it herself

✭ She will always take your side

✭ No one else’s opinions matter (besides hers of course)

✭ Always defends you in your arguments

✭ Unless of course you're arguing with her

✭ Velvet can be very strong in her opinions

✭ And if your arguing it can get very heated

✭ She also refuses to be the one to apologize

✭ Except for this one time where she got carried away and you would not talk or contact her until she apologized

✭ It took a bit but eventually she realized that she missed you

✭ Something she had never felt before (at least romantically)

✭ So she contacted you, a few weeks after you argued you got a call

“I’m sorry. Really. Can you please just talk to me again I…I miss you.”

✭ Velvet prefers quiet dates with you

✭ She goes to enough loud, public events

✭ So with you she just wants to sit and read, or write a new song, even watch a movie

✭ You’re the quiet in her life

✭ You make Velvet a better version of herself

✭ You can see the kind of person she is behind the fame

✭ And help her to grow on it and be happier

✭ Being with you makes her more happy than she ever believed she could be

#randomfandomworks #no use of y/n #trolls 3 #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls #velvet trolls #velvet x reader #trolls velvet

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lilgarbitch · 10 days

Text

Running in Circles- Seven

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: angst, drinking, Y/N being a cute little dumbass

Word Count: 9.5k

Author’s Note: as quoted from a recent post: i fear my desire to make men miserable is playing a large role in my work and i do apologize for that. Also…I promise Will and Y/N are just friends…👀

(Author’s Note Pt. 2: Taking a break from posting for a minute so I can revise the old chapters as I’ve been getting some input that some things aren’t that great🖤 Will update soon)

Part Six

Noah

“YOU WHAT?” Ruffilo shouted from across the room at me as he stood up in disbelief. I sat on the couch with my head in my hands, pulling at my roots.

“I don’t know why I did it.. I just. I had to do something to make myself feel better about the situation,” I said, shaking my head, my voice strained with stress.

“When I said to find your own way to get back at her, I didn’t fucking mean that, you dumbass!” He was now pacing, like he was the one who fucked up. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to him about this.

“I know. I just..,” I let out a deep sigh, falling back on the couch, “Maybe I did it to hurt her, or maybe I did it to hurt myself. I don’t know. I just couldn’t take this shit anymore.”

“Dude! You spent YEARS talking about this girl. You’ve written fucking songs about her. You get into one fight, and do this?” He finally stopped and stared at me, waiting for me to come up with a better explanation, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t have one.

Footsteps creep into the living room, so I look up and see Jolly looking at us, confused.

“What’s all the yelling about?” he asked, looking between the two of us. I just anxiously chewed on my lip, so Ruffilo answered for me.

“This jackass decided to hook up with someone at his fucking birthday party.” He put a hand on his hip like a disappointed parent, waiting for Jolly to give any reaction. I turn to Jolly and he’s giving me a look, a mix of shock, confusion, and disappointment. I let out a groan, getting up and walking to my room. I don’t need this. I had hoped Ruffilo could give me any advice for this absolute fuck-up I made, but I should’ve known I would just get scolded.

I fall onto my bed and shove my face into my pillow, letting out a groan. I don’t fucking know why I did it. I was pissed off at how close she’s gotten with Matt. And when random friend of one of the guys was chatting with me and I looked over and saw that fucking Ghost Face grinding against Davis, I just lost it. I don’t know why sleeping with a random girl was my decision, especially when it won’t even affect Y/N if she never finds out, it was just the only thing my irrational brain could think of. Maybe I did it hoping it would help me get over her, but it just made me feel so much worse. I know we’ve been ignoring each other, but she’s acting like she doesn’t even fucking care about me anymore. So, I thought that maybe I shouldn’t care either, but obviously, everyone thought that was the stupidest thing I could do.

I hear the rest of the guys get back from the store, hearing cheers as they probably showed everyone the food and alcohol they got, and all I could do was groan. This break was supposed to be fun. The party was supposed to be fun. I was hoping to take Y/N on a date or two, showing her my favorite places in the city. But no. She showed up for the party, ignored me the whole time, and was nowhere to be found when I came back..after making that terrible decision. Fuck. Why the fuck did it have to work out this way? Why’d I yell at her at the bar? If we could just sit down and talk, maybe we could at least be friends. I can’t stand finally having her in my life yet she just fucking ignores me. Fuck, I need a fucking distraction.

I stood up from my bed and headed downstairs, trying my best to sneak by so no one would notice me. I reach the kitchen and grab a random bottle we had on top of the fridge, before sneaking back to my room. Locking the door behind me, I go to sit on my bed and grab my phone, connecting it to my speakers before opening Spotify and clicking a random playlist.

Turning the volume up full blast, I twist off the cap of what I now see is a bottle of fucking vodka. Grimacing, I lift it to my lips and take a large swig before setting it down on my nightstand, making a disgusted face at the taste and burn.

My thoughts were brought back to the first night of tour, drinking with the group and watching her from across the bus. She took a shot of vodka and made the same face before catching me watching her and giving me the most beautiful smile.

A growl erupts in my throat. I need to get her out of my fucking head. How am I even going to look at her when tour starts again if I can’t even handle thinking of her?

I grab the bottle again and take an even larger drink, leaning against the wall behind my bed as I felt the liquid fire fill my gut. Distraction. I need another fucking distraction. Because this isn’t hitting me fast enough and the music isn’t overpowering my thoughts.

I open my phone and pull up Instagram, hoping to find absolutely fucking anything that pulls me from these thoughts. I scroll and scroll, every meme trying to be funny, and every picture of someone looking happy just pissing me off.

I keep scrolling before my eyes land on tattoos. Her’s. I pause and see that State of the Scene had posted a photo of her in a sound booth. My eyes trail down to the caption. “Lorna Shore’s Will Ramos posts Praising Deities’ Y/N Y/L/N, calling her the ‘next deathcore vocalist’ and that he ‘can’t wait for y’all to hear what she can do.’ Let’s hope she releases something new soon, as fans have been enjoying her covers of ‘To the Hellfire’ and ‘Sun//Eater,’ sung on her current tour with the band Bad Omens.”

All it took was one comment. A single fucking comment to push me over the edge.

“Are those hickeys on her neck?”

Before I could even think, a yell came spewing out as I threw my phone across the room, creating a loud band and a small crack as it shattered against the wall.

Tears came pouring down my face, now being unable to hold back every emotion that I’ve felt the past few weeks. I took one last swig of the vodka before setting it on my nightstand and lying down, pulling my covers over me. ‘Love Me to Death’ by Suicide Silence blasted through my speakers, proving that my phone wasn’t completely destroyed, but now I couldn’t fucking change it.

She has every fucking right to move on. I fucking did, too. But to get that confirmation that after barely a month of finally having her in my life, she’s fucking gone. I just couldn’t take it anymore. My chest ached and burned. All I wanted to do was scream until the pain was gone. I wanted her. I needed her. How did my life turn into such a fucking train-wreck so fast?

Suddenly, someone knocks on my door. They try to say something, but between my sobs and the music, I don’t know what.

“FUCK OFF,” was all I said before shoving my head under my pillow, ignoring the rest of the world as I prayed for the alcohol to hit more and clear my mind.

Y/N

The other guys left after listening to my isolated screams, commenting on a few, and giving me a few ‘good lucks’ before going about their day. I made sure to thank Dave for letting me use his studio, and he said that it was here for me anytime. I doubt I’ll ever take him up on that offer, as I was still extremely intimidated by him, but I really appreciated it.

Will and I were now just messing around in the studio. We already spent a good hour or so working on how I could get certain screams and growls to sound better and how I could enunciate words differently if that’s what I enjoyed. Now, we were just playing music and singing along as we occasionally went back and forth in the sound booth, wanting to see if we could hit notes right. Every recording we took was just full of giggles, so thankfully we were already planning to delete them right after listening.

He even taught me a few controls, mainly how to set songs up for him, make them only play for the person in the booth, and which button let me talk to him. We learned more about each other’s music tastes and where it came from, even who we took inspiration from for our own music. I learned more about his love for Sleep Token, which went a lot deeper than I thought. He went on a few rambles just talking about his appreciation for how they write the music and even played songs, pointing out specific things Vessel did in his vocals.

He kept playing ‘Chokehold’ over and over, to the point that I practically learned the whole song. After about the tenth full run-through, not counting the amount of times he went back and repeatedly played specific parts because he just couldn’t get over the sound, I stood up and walked to the sound booth.

I was getting more used to being in here now and definitely more used to singing in front of Will. We’d been in this studio for hours at this point, just singing to each other, so all my nerves were gone.

He watched me as I walked and immediately sat up and leaned over the controls, a little confused.

“Play it again, I wanna try,” I told him through the mic as I put the headphones on.

“Chokehold? You wanna sing Chokehold? You literally just fucking heard it,” He said, laughing.

“I heard it like 30 times and you even gave me a rundown of every single quirk in his vocals, now run it,” I teased. He playfully lifted his hands in defense before getting everything set up.

The intro started playing so I held the headphones close to my ears and counted the beats in my head, not wanting to miss the cues.

When we were made

I did my best to make it airy and hold the same enunciation as Vessel did.

It was no accident

It was honestly so entertaining to practice Sleep Token songs. Vessel put so much character into every single note and to reenact it was so fun. Especially switching between chest voice and head voice or adding the little ‘t’ at the end of a line.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Over-exaggerating certain parts was new to me unless I was singing along to a more pop punk song, where everyone had a specific accent they used.

I come as a blade

I did my best to flow into a high note, and I did surprisingly well, so I turned to Will with a proud look on my face before continuing.

A sacred guardian

Will was watching me in awe, and I so badly wanted to laugh at the face he made, but I had to keep my composure to continue.

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

It looked like Will was slowly falling into deep thought, but I knew it was still recording, so I just ignored him and continued.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

I did my best to remember how Vessel did the audible breaths and tried to recreate them.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a-

I look back over to see if Will was doing his famous dance to this part like he had every other replay of this song, but instead, he stood up and paused the music, and started messing around with more controls.

“Will? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, and he just shook his head as he did whatever the hell he was trying to do.

Finally, he stopped touching buttons, and the music started again, and he was rushing into the sound booth with me. He hurriedly came over and grabbed the other set of headphones lying in here, putting them on and turning to me with a child-like smile.

“Roll with it,” He said, so I nodded and began to sing.

When we were made

Woah, he finally turned on the control so I could hear myself.

It was no accident

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Then, Will joined in with me.

I come as a blade

I looked at him, shocked. We sounded so fucking good. He went lower as I took the high note at the end, nailing it once again.

A sacred guardian

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

He looked at me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I took that as a signal for me to let him sing the following lines.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder, and I assumed that as him saying to join him.

You’ve got me in a-

He started headbanging to the music and I looked at him like we just did the craziest thing, because, to me, we fucking did. I had to hold back my giggles as he jammed out next to me. The next lines were about to come up, so he composed himself and put a hand on my shoulder, this now being our signal for him to sing.

Beneath the stormy seas

Above the mountain peaks

It’s all the same to me

It makes no difference

He patted my shoulder, so I joined in.

I’ve seen my days unfold

Done the impossible

I’d turn my walls to gold

To bring you home again

He stepped back from the mic, so it was just me singing the next few lines.

So show me that which I cannot see

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Oh, and though we

Act out of our holy

Duty to be constantly awake

I did my best to hit the last notes, and then felt a tap on my shoulder.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He started doing a fry scream and it sounded so good.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder once again, and I had to quickly think of the best route of action to make our vocals sound good together, but just landed on continuing to do clean, alto vocals.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He switched back to his clean vocals for the ending.

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Show me the way

We held out the last note together, him not trying to create harmony, just matching our vocals so they meshed together.

We looked at each other in shock as the song ended before rushing out of the sound booth and over to the control board. We listened back to our isolated vocals in disbelief. The fact that we just threw this together last second was unbelievable.

We listened to it a few times, talking about what could be fixed or edited, both of us individually running to the sound booth multiple times to sing our parts so we could edit them together. We even did some lines differently, seeing if more harmony or if me doing harsh vocals would sound better.

After recording probably too many pieces, he switched over all the vocals to his laptop, and we started working them together. Finally, we added the instrumental over top, spending a few minutes lining everything up perfectly, giving it one last listen, and then just staring at each other, shocked.

“We just fucking made that!” I said, pointing to his laptop. He nodded with a wide smile.

“Yes, the fuck we did,” he said, holding his hand up. I gave him a high-five, laughing at the insanity that was the piece of art we just made.

“What now? Show the boys?” I asked, hooking a finger over my shoulder at the door behind me.

“Dude, we have to fucking show everyone. Are you kidding me?”

“Now? You’re gonna post it now?” I asked, both shocked and amused.

“Y/N. We just spent over two hours editing this together. Plus, it’s just a cover. Yes, now.” He laughed out. I looked over at the clock and realized that we had indeed been doing this for a while.

“Okay, okay. Ahh, I’m scared. No. I’m excited,” I rushed out, kicking my feet. He just laughed at me before turning to his laptop. I watched as he downloaded the file before uploading it on his personal Spotify with my name featured on it. I just stared at the screen in shock. I just did a cover song. It was now up for everyone to see. And I did it with Will Ramos. Oh my fucking god.

I quickly pull my phone out, ignoring every notification, and open Spotify. I copy the link to the song and head over to Instagram. I screen-recorded the story Will made earlier, and cropped it as I made a post of the video, and added the link to the song played over the post.

“Chokehold- Sleep Token. A cover by Will Ramos and Y/N Y/L/N 🖤🤘🏻,” I wrote in the caption. I tagged Will and hit post.

I looked over at Will and grinned. He looked back at me, smiling twice as big. I was so full of excitement and energy, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just flung myself on him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Will, you’ve made these last two days more fun than I’ve had this past month. Thank you so much.” He held me closer, laughing with me.

“Anything for you, my little petal.” I giggled at my nickname again before pulling away.

“I’m serious, though. These last few weeks- Hell! These last few years had been fucking crazy for me, and I feel like by simply meeting you, shit’s finally starting to fall into place. I’m doing new things. More people are listening to me. I just learned controls, for fucks sake,” I laughed, making him chuckle down at me, “So thank you. I’m so unbelievably fucking happy to have finally met you.”

He looks at me with a warm smile, my words soaking in. I was still hugging him, so we were still super close, and I don’t know what came over me, but I pulled him down and brought his lips to mine.

He tensed for a moment but instantly kissed me back. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, sliding my fingers into his pink locs as I held him close. His hands slid up to my sides, pulling my body towards him more. The kiss was about to deepen, when I got pulled back to reality by my phone ringing. I immediately pulled away and looked at him, shocked, before fumbling to grab my phone. I answered it without even looking at who was calling.

“Hello?” I greeted, having to clear my throat as it cracked a bit out of shock.

“YOU RELEASED A SONG WITHOUT TELLING YOUR OWN BAND? YOUR OWN BROTHERS?” Tommy shouted into the phone, making me chuckle and pull my phone from my ear.

“Shit. Yeah, sorry about that. Will and I were messing around in the studio,” I had to clear my throat again after saying ‘messing around’ before continuing, “ and we were listening to Sleep Token and decided to try out doing a cover, and it came out surprisingly well.”

“When the fuck did you meet Will? I thought he was in New Jersey," he asked.

“Funny story, actually. Him and the band are staying here with a friend, and we ran into each other at the club,” I sheepishly replied. There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, and I almost thought we lost connection before he finally replied.

“Oh, we’re having a long chat the next time I see you, missy. Which better be soon, might I add. I’ve seen you maybe once in the last four days,” he finally said, with a tone mixed with suspicion and deviousness.

“Yes, Sir. Now, did you only call to yell at me?” I teased.

“Well, I did want to tell you that you two sounded fucking fantastic and that maybe you could invite Will over to the boys’ house, but I can sense you’re having more fun there,” He teased back.

“Shut it. I appreciate the compliment and will pass it on, but I’m ignoring everything you said after that for multiple reasons.”

“Oh… shit, you’re right. That might be a bad idea…Anyway, have fun with your little date. Love you!” He said, making me roll my eyes.

“Love you, too.” And then I hung up. I chewed on my lip nervously before finally turning around to look at Will. He was staring at me with a humorous expression.

“I hope you know that I could hear that entire conversation,” He chuckled out, making me facepalm, “And tell him that I said thank you for the compliment. Now…what was that?”

I groaned and walked past him, sitting down and throwing my head down in my hands.

“Will. I’m so sorry,” was all I could get out. I hear his footsteps come towards me, and I looked up to see him crouching down in front of me.

“For what? I mean, we’ve done more than that, so don’t think I’m bothered.”

“No. I mean, I am sorry for kissing you. I said we were gonna leave it all behind and pretend like nothing happened, and I still want to. But I’m mainly sorry that I may be pulling you into a very awkward situation.” He gave me a confused look. I let out a deep sigh. Should I even explain or just leave him out of this?

“So… Something may or may not have happened with…someone …I’m touring with…and shit has been weird. Fuck. It’s a long ass story,” I finished with a groan. He chuckled softly and rested his hands on my knees before sitting down in front of me with his legs crossed.

“I have time, my petal. Tell me what’s bothering you.” I let out another deep sigh. I might as well tell someone else the bullshit that’s been happening since everyone else seems to know.

And so I did. I told him everything. From the festival to the song lyrics. The ‘talk.’ The night at the bar. The Halloween/ birthday party. The depression. Me getting back into smoking. How reckless I was being last night because I wasn’t in the right mind. Everything. And he sat there, staring at me and listening intently, occasionally giving my knees a squeeze if I got a little too emotional. He let me tell him everything. Once I finally finished, he stood up, pulling me up with him and giving me a big hug.

“Everything will work out, my little petal. You two will eventually make up because you have to, or else tour will be really weird. I’m perfectly fine being that rebound that kind of gets in the way because I know you didn’t do it to hurt anyone. And because I really enjoy spending time with you and being your friend,” He pulled away and looked me deep in my eyes, “And just your friend. We can leave everything in the past. We randomly ran into each other at a club, went home separately, and the next day, I gave you vocal lessons and we recorded a song together. That’s all that happened. Okay?”

Tears were now welling up in my eyes as I nodded before pulling him back into a hug.

“Thank you.” I managed to get out. He rubbed my back as he held me close.

“Anything for a friend.”

After a minute or two of just taking in the comfort and reassurance, I finally pulled away and sat back down, him following and sitting back in his chair. He turned back to his laptop, typing away at something for a few minutes as I sat in my thoughts.

“Will?” I asked after a few moments. He turned to me with a ‘hm?’

“What’s with the ‘my little petal’?” I finally asked. He chucked and sat back in his chair with a small shy grin.

“Uh..well, first off, you’re pretty like a flower. You’re soft, delicate, and, you know, are able to either attract or repel others with your looks…I guess? Plus, you can be a little sharp, but only if you have to…And I like flowers. I don’t know. It was something that came to mind last night and I guess it just stuck,” He answers, a little embarrassed, making me giggle.

“God, you’re such a sap. If I didn’t have a goddamn soul tie to someone, that would work on me,” I teased, making him laugh loudly.

“Good to know,” he teased back with a smirk, “But, on a different note, I do have an idea for you.”

I look at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue. He returned to doing something on the laptop before moving him and the computer to the control board. I watched him curiously as he started messing with things again. He couldn’t possibly want to change anything about the cover we did. It was already posted.

After messing around with a few things, he turned to me.

“Two questions. One- How badly do you want to at least try and make things better between you two? Like, I know it’s still super rocky, and it’s gonna take time, but do you want to at least reach out?” He asked. I was confused, but still thought about it for a moment, weighing my decisions.

“Badly. I know we’re gonna have to start over completely. We’ve both done some weird shit in the past few weeks, but I need us to reach a point where we can at least look at and speak to each other again.” I finally answered. He nodded before continuing.

“Second question, are you okay with being recorded today?” I looked at him, extra confused, and saw that he was pointing towards a camera that has apparently been in the sound booth this whole time. What did this man have planned?

I pulled out my phone and opened the camera, looking over my appearance. My makeup was mostly intact after redoing it in the morning, even after tearing up a little, and I didn’t do anything with my hair today, but I ran my fingers through it so it was semi-presentable. Then my eyes landed on my neck, and I made a slight hiss at the marks.

“Let me borrow a hoodie, and I’ll be fine,” I answered, and he immediately started taking off the one he threw on earlier and handed it to me before getting up and walking to the sound booth to start messing with the camera in there.

“Will, what am I about to do? Why am I being recorded?” I asked, more confused than ever. He just shot me a smirk as he finished messing with the camera and came back out.

“Just get in there.” He said, pointing at the sound booth.

“You have to tell me what song I’m covering. Do I even know it?” I said as I threw on his hoodie and walked into the sound booth. I pulled the hood up so it was shielding my neck from the camera and then tried my best to pretend a camera wasn’t flashing, indicating that it was already recording me.

“Y/N, I promise you that if you don’t know this song, it’s not meant to be.” He spoke into my headphones. I continued staring at him, confused as ever. And then I watched as he hit a few buttons, setting the track back and hitting record, before finally hitting play. I got myself ready to sing whatever song I apparently should know.

And then ‘Just Pretend’ started playing.

Will and I were working on putting the video together. He made me do multiple takes, the first one showing that I was a little spooked at the song choice. We edited the audio, taking out as many voice cracks as possible since singing this song over and over again did eventually make me emotional.

Now he was, in his words, “working his magic,” and, “putting the best video over the audio.” And I just sat back and let him work, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodies as I listened to him type away at his laptop.

Would this even work? He kept choosing audio clips that captured more emotion, even if I was literally crying as I sang. I told him that it was going to sound weird, but he kept shutting me up, saying that he knew what he was doing. I was so drained from everything we did today, and good god, I’ve listened to myself sing so much today, I think I’m going to lose my mind. I leaned my head back against the chair and let out a deep sigh. Today has been a lot. Not in a bad way, just…a lot.

He swiveled his chair around and turned to me, making me look up at him. He held the computer out to me, so I took it, eying him.

“My work here is done,” he said with a proud smile. He was a little too excited about this, even after watching me cry for over an hour to a song. My eyes flickered between him and the laptop, debating if I even wanted to see this, but I still hit play.

The music started, and my voice rang through the laptop speakers. It was a little too full of emotion for my standards, but I’m going to trust Will on this. Then, I realized he had chosen one of the last recordings, where I had already cried, so my eyes were a little red.

I continued watching, seeing that he still kept some of the audio clips where my voice cracked, but just in the right spots, like the parts where I held out notes.

Weigh down on me, stay til morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

A tear fell down my eye in the video. I don’t cry in front of people. And he wants me to post this?

Weigh down on me, stay til morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

I had glanced into the camera at that point. I didn’t even know I did that, but you could see the emotion in my red, puffy eyes. My makeup was even starting to run a little.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain’t gettin over you

My voice cracked at almost every high note, but it didn’t sound bad. It was just…emotional.

We’ll try again

When we’re not so different

We will make amends

Til then, I’ll just pretend

I had stepped away from the mic at that point, unable to finish from the exhaustion of having to repeatedly sing a song that held every emotion I felt, but Will layered vocals from another clip over the video, just sounding a little more distant. I looked over at Will with a look of disbelief as the video faded out.

“Well?” He asked, still holding a proud, smug grin on his face.

“Wh- How- Will!” I stuttered, in complete shock, “I-what do I even do with this?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked. I reached out to Mr. Nicholas Ruffilo, asking for permission to even do this. He said to send him the video as soon as it’s finished, and then we could figure out where to go from there,” he answered. I looked between him and the laptop again before handing the computer back to him.

“I don’t know how this is gonna work out, but since you did all the work, you get all the blame,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. I can either see this fucking things up more, or actually working out, but either way, fans are going to freak the fuck out if this gets posted online. God, am I really communicating with a man through music again?

Will types away at the computer, probably saving the file and sending it to Ruffilo, before looking at me.

“I’m starving. Wanna go get dinner?” He asked, as if nothing happened. I give him an exhausted yet humored side-eye before nodding and standing up with him.

Noah

I awoke to someone rummaging next to me. With a groan, I rolled over and looked to see Ruffilo screwing the lid back onto the bottle of vodka next to my bed, Nick turning my speakers off, and Jolly picking up my smashed phone and a picture that I guess had also fallen when I threw the phone.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I groaned, before bringing my arm over my eyes, the hangover instantly kicking in. I still felt tipsy, probably not having slept for a long time, but that didn’t change the fact that I hadn’t had a single sip of water today.

“Take this,” Ruffilo said. I peek out from under my arm and see him handing me a glass of water like he read my fucking mind, which I instantly took. I sat up and chugged the whole glass. It felt like I hadn’t had water in days. I set the cup beside me before dropping my head in my hands with a loud groan.

“Do we..?” I heard Jolly ask, not knowing what the hell he meant. I then heard someone, probably Ruffilo, crouch down beside my bed. I glance over and see him giving me a pitying look, making me roll my eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready, I have something to show you downstairs. I can make the other guys leave for a little if you don’t want to deal with company, but it’s something that you need to see,” he said in a hushed tone, like I was a dog he would scare away if he spoke too loud.

I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my eyes before swinging my feet over the bed. There’s nothing they could show me that would make me feel worse than I do now, so why the fuck not? They all backed up as I sat up from my bed, swaying a little as the alcohol hadn’t yet left my system. They all file out of my room, and I follow.

“Did you guys seriously pick my lock?” I grumbled out, remembering that I had locked the door before passing out. Nick glanced over at me, looking a little guilty, causing a huff of a laugh to escape my lips.

They led me to the living room, which was thankfully empty. Who knows where everyone else was. Jolly reached over and grabbed a laptop, sitting down on the couch and opening it. I plopped down next to him, sinking into the back of the couch, not really wanting to be here. After a few moments of him typing away at it, pulling something up, he sat the laptop on the table in front of me.

I glanced at the laptop and then at the rest of them, confused. What the fuck were they about to show me? Ruffilo motioned his head towards it, signaling to me that I had to press play, so I did.

Instantly, the beginning of ‘Just Pretend’ played through the speakers of the laptop, making me groan. What the fuck was this? But then, her face came up as the vocals started.

I just sat there, staring at her in shock as she sang. She had a hoodie pulled over her so only her face showed. I leaned in closer, noticing something. She was crying. Every time she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot, and her makeup had been running.

Her voice cracked with emotion every high note, like she had been holding back a sob. I never wanted to see her cry. Especially not like this…

The bridge hit, and my eyes widened as she looked at the camera. Her eyes were full of what I could only describe as despair. They were dull and glazed over, barely even processing where she was looking, just staring off as she let the emotion flow through her singing. Her voice was harsh, like she had either been using it a lot or smoking. But it was still beautiful.

She stepped away from the mic after the heart wrenching post-chorus, almost like her body was about to cave in on itself. But her voice still rang through. Her face scrunched up as she looked down, and you could almost see a sob shake her body. The sight of her at a breaking point as her beautiful voice still sang, just in the distance, was more heartbreaking than anything I’ve ever seen.

The video finally ended and I just stared at the black screen, catching my reflection in it and saw that I was crying as well. I don’t even know what to do now. Emotion poured through me and my head fell into my hands as broken sobs left my lips. What the fuck was that? What the fuck do I do now?

I made a terrible fucking mistake, and she had obviously went to Will to make her feel better, but then she makes this? What the fuck does any of this even mean? What the fuck do I do? I want to see her. To hold her. But that’s not my place. It never was. She learned that going to people like Matt or Tommy or Will was much less heartbreaking than coming to me. But I just need to talk to her. To start over.

Why did I start ignoring her? Why did I get so upset at the bar? She had every single right to feel that way, I just became attached too quickly and couldn’t let her leave. But she still did. She left, and she probably already moved on to Will. I mean, that was the same sound booth that I saw in that picture earlier, so she’s obviously been spending the break with him. She was barely here at the party. God, that fucking party. The first time I got a chance to be close to her in two weeks and I spent it ruining everything. I got jealous at her being a friendly person and went and fucking slept with someone. She had every single right to fucking move on. I mean, I tried to as well.

But what the fuck was this then? Why did she cover my fucking song, looking ever so heartbroken? Where the fuck did this even come from? Why were the guys showing me this? I finally look up at the three boys in front of me, all of them staring down at me in pity.

“What the fuck is this?” I finally managed to get out between sobs.

“All I was told was that she wanted to make this and that Will wanted me to show it to you. You’re gonna have to talk to her to figure out the rest.” Ruffilo responded, not helping me at all.

“I just don’t understand! I see a post of her hanging out with Will, covered in hickeys, and then she fucking does this?” I ask, still overwhelmed with everything. Ruffilo sighs.

“Noah. You do realize that you’re doing the exact same thing, right? You slept with someone and then proceeded to break down in guilt. She’s just the one to throw in the towel first. She’s trying to make up.” I groan between sobs and fall back into the couch, bringing an arm up to cover my face.

“What do I do, then? It’s not like I can text her. My phones broken and it’s just gonna be awkward.”

“Just think about it. Plan out your best choice of action and work from there. This is something that can only be fixed by the two of you,” he answered. Fuck.

“Also, I’ll head out tomorrow to get you a new phone. It’s too late to go now,” Jolly chimed. After thinking about it for another minute, I let out a deep sigh and sat back up.

“Okay. I’ll figure this out.” The boys watched me for a second, trying to get a good sense of if I was being serious, before coming over and patting me on the back before heading into the house, probably to hang out with the rest of the guys, leaving me in my thoughts.

Y/N

I anxiously chew on my lip as Will and I walk down the streets of L.A. Neither of us heard anything back from Ruffilo or any of the guys, yet. Will said that he didn’t want the night to end just yet, since I wasn’t in the best headspace, and he did his best to keep me from my thoughts as we went on our little adventure, which I really appreciated. But, to be honest, neither of us know where the hell we were going.

After we ate, he thought it’d be a good idea to just explore the city since neither of us really knew anything about it, but nothing caught our eye as we walked. It was nice to stretch our legs after sitting in a studio for a good eight hours, though.

We walked through the city, pointing out random things we saw, occasionally bumping into each other, either on purpose or because we weren’t paying attention, and just chatting about whatever came to our minds.

“What are your thoughts on adding a rhythm guitarist to Praising Deities?” I asked. He chucked, but gave it some thought.

“I mean, I have a feeling you’re gonna want to change up your style a little, now that you’re more comfortable with broadening your vocal range, but it is a lot of work splitting the guitar into two parts,” he answered.

“Yeah. We’ve changed things up a few times, but adding harsher vocals like yours would be a huge step. I do some already, but nothing more than a simple growl. So, if we really want to take that step, a lot of work is gonna have to go into this.”

“Do you have someone in mind? Or do you just want to add the more concentrated sound of a melodic guitar?” I thought about it for a minute.

“No, and I highly doubt Tommy would want to learn to switch to pure rhythm. Not that he’s bad at it, but he really enjoys what he plays now,” I look over at him with a smirk, “I mean, would you be mad if I stole Andrew? He might even like my vocals more than you.”

He let out a loud laugh and swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in to his side. I giggled and looked up at him as we paused on our walk. He looked down at me with a smirk.

“You wish,” was all he said before he let go and continued walking, picking up speed to make me catch up to him. But that’s when something caught our eye. A flash. Fuck.

We both pause and glance towards the direction it came from, seeing a man holding a camera in our direction.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled. He let out a sigh.

“Let’s just head back to Dave’s. There’s nothing out here for us to do anyway.” And with that, we turned around and retraced our steps, making our way back.

“You’re back again? Don’t you have a band to be spending time with?” Austin teased with a fale scowl as we walked into the house.

“Of course I do. It’s your band!” I joked back. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“What? Will didn’t tell you guys? You’re getting a second, better vocalist!” I continued, putting my hands on my hips to look confident. Will softly pushed me while laughing, making me stumble and giggle as I walked over to the couch and sat down with everyone.

Will walked past us into the kitchen, and I started chatting with everyone there. I’ve gotten surprisingly comfortable with them after they helped me with my vocals earlier, so I wasn’t as nervous to be around them anymore.

Will came back out and handed me a drink. I didn’t know what it was, so I gave him a slightly suspicious look as I took a sip. I made a face, not expecting it to be a vodka cranberry, but it was still really good. He chuckled at my face before sitting down next to me.

“Oh so first she steals clothes, and now she’s taking our drinks?” Micco joked. Ever since this morning, they’ve been messing with me all day, but I loved it. It was like I was back with my own boys again.

I looked at him confused, before remembering that I was still wearing Will’s hoodie, so I set down my drink and took it off, handing it back to him.

“No, you didn’t have to. I’m fine,” he said, trying to push it back to me.

“Well, I don’t really need it anymore, and I don’t wanna accidentally wear it home,” I persisted, trying to give it back. He grabbed it and sat it between us.

“I’ll keep it here if you need it,” He spoke softly as he leaned back and turned his attention towards the guys.

I just shook my head with a small laugh before grabbing my drink, taking a sip, and doing the same.

The guys and I all chatted for a few hours, the alcohol making Will and I a little more loose-lipped as the night went on, him even making us more drinks. They asked me questions about my band and how the tour was going. I may have been a little too honest, but it didn’t affect them. I even asked them for advice on the best course of action on drastically changing the sound of our music, now that I was getting more comfortable with the thought of it. They gave really good advice, but a lot of it was that I had to talk to my own bandmates about it, which made sense.

After we were a few drinks in, Will leaned his head on my shoulder as we all talked. He was still fully awake, the alcohol just making him want to get comfier, and if I learned anything the past two days, it was that Will was a cuddler. He loved physical touch, and the closer to you, the better, so I wasn’t shocked when he eventually sank into the couch, cuddling into my side as we all chatted. And I knew it was normal when the rest of the guys didn’t even blink an eye at it.

Though, after some time, he became dead weight against me, and when I looked over, I saw that he was out like a light. I did my best to keep the conversation going, but between the warmth of his body heat and the alcohol, I felt my eyes getting heavier.

The rest of the guys started to notice, so they eventually excused themselves to either head to bed or hang out somewhere else, saying they didn’t want to wake him.

With that, I leaned my head on Will’s and eventually slipped into a deep sleep.

I woke up to the feeling of someone looming over me, so with a scrunched face, I opened my eyes and saw Moke and Austin looking at Austin’s phone, giggling about something. I tried to raise an arm to rub my eyes, but realized they were stuck. Looking down, I saw that at some point in the night, Will and I had laid down, and now he was sprawled out on top of me, practically pinning me to the couch. He was still completely out, just pure dead weight on top of me.

A yawn escaped my lips, making the two goofballs aware that I was now awake, and they giggled down at me.

“What are you two idiots up to?” I softly asked, my voice coming out harsh and raspy, either from the alcohol or the fact that I don’t think I shut up for a single second yesterday.

Austin turned his phone around with a mischievous grin on his face, showing me that he had taken a picture of Will and me and posted it to his story, captioning it, “These two don’t know how to party.”

I finally managed to slide a hand out from between Will and I and reached for his phone, wanting a closer look. I couldn’t tell from my angle, but Will was completely intertwined with my body. Our legs looped around each other and I was using one of his arms as a pillow as his other arm draped across my chest. He was using one of my tits as a pillow, which made me giggle. We were both out cold, Will’s mouth slightly agape as if he was snoring. I gave the phone back to Austin after rolling my eyes.

“So, am I just stuck like this now?” I ask the two, making them chuckle.

“Yep. He can sleep for a whole day if he’s comfortable enough, so good luck!” Moke responded. I almost let out a groan, but didn’t because I would feel bad if I woke him.

“So I’m trapped under a dead body and you two are just taking pictures? What the fuck?” I teasingly whisper yelled. They both walked away with suppressed giggles, leaving me to wait for Will to wake up.

With my now free arm, I searched around me, trying to feel if there was anything for me to entertain myself with. My body was hanging ever so slightly off the edge of the couch, so I had a feeling my phone slipped out of my pocket at some point in the night. I couldn’t move my head, or any other of my body for that matter, but thankfully my hand finally touched the cold screen and I did my best to grab it with a contorted arm.

I turn it on after finally picking it up, and saw that it was already noon. The guys and I were up for a while last night, so I’m not too shocked that we slept this late, but it felt weird that I had spent more time with Will than anyone else this whole break. But at the same time, I didn’t care. I literally live with three of them and I’m going to be spending the next almost three months with the other five, and this will be the only time I’ll get to spend with Will for who knows how long.

Maybe I could see if my boys wanted to hang out with the Lorna Shore boys. I would invite everyone else, but with everything happening, I haven’t been too close with any of them lately. I’ll mention it to Will later.

I finally open my phone and click on the messages I saw that I had. There were a few from my boys, telling me that they missed me and they wished I was partying with them and everyone else. I wish I was too, but with the state that my life was in right now, I’d much rather spend my time with the person who was most unrelated to the tour and everyone in it. I couldn’t be more thankful to have run into Will. He was everything I needed at this time. Someone who brought excitement into my life, distracting me from everything else. Someone who, even though it was a terrible mistake, managed to heal a small part of me the other night. A healing intimate encounter, proving that not every man I got this close with in my 20s was going to hurt me in some way. Purely a quick rebound that we both agreed wouldn’t affect anything, followed by getting an insane amount of support in both my music and with the stress that this whole fiasco has caused. And a new friend. An amazing friend. He was so different from anyone else I had in my life at the moment that it just felt so good to be around him, especially because he came with a completely different friend circle, so I could have peace from everything while still being social.

I did my best to text them back, having to type with one hand that was hovering unsupported over my face and still deep in thought over how insane my life has been recently. But the movement from the heavy weight on my body almost made me drop my phone on my face.

Will shifted in his sleep, turning slightly and pulling himself closer to me. He dug his face between my shoulder and neck, probably shielding his eyes from the light that shone through the living room windows. I close my phone and set it on my chest, not wanting to drop it and scare him. He let out a tired groan as he stretched and pulled closer to me, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the tickle of his face and breath on my neck.

He paused for a second once he heard it, finally realizing the position he was in, before giggling with me.

“Good morning,” his groggy voice spoke into my neck, tickling me even more, making me squirm and try to pull away at the feeling.

“Good morning, dead weight.” I exaggeratedly huffed out. He lifted his face and looked at me with half lidded, tired eyes and a cheeky grin before trying to push himself off of me without hurting me.

I took an exaggerated deep breath as I sat up, teasing him. He shook his head with a smile and yawned.

“By the way, I think Austin might be worse than paparazzi,” I said as I stretched, needing to loosen my cramped muscles from not being able to move them all night.

He gave me a confused look, so I told him to check Austin’s story. He took a minute to search for his phone. Finally finding it between the couch cushions, he typed in Austin’s username and checked, immediately laughing.

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re dating,” he chuckled, rubbing his face.

“I’ve never cared about fan speculation since they’ll grasp onto anything these days, but this is probably gonna cause some issues for my situation if I don’t clear the air.”

“Yeah..” he dragged out, “I mean, it’s no problem for me. If anything, this will definitely help keep the fan’s eyes off of you and Noah until you get everything situated.”

I thought about it for a moment, and he was right. Fans love digging into our personal lives, so if there wasn’t a distraction, I know rumors and stories would spread over how they see Noah and I interact. Hell, there's fans who think I’m with all of them, even my bandmates, so if they just focused on my so-called ‘relationship’ with Will, I won’t have to worry about them constantly talking about Noah and me.

“Honestly, this may help a lot of issues. As long as I inform mine and his band what’s actually happening, this will save us from a lot of heat on the internet.” I said after a few moments, “Oh! Speaking of, are you busy today?”

He thought for a moment, trying to get his tired brain to run its gears.

“Not that I know of, but I can also ask the guys,” he finally answered, suppressing a yawn.

“Would you be down to meet my boys? I just feel bad that I’m gonna be spending more of our break with you and not with them.” He let out a sleepy giggle after thinking about it for a second.

“Or, you can always just hang out with them? Without me?” he teased. I felt a blush creepy up to my cheeks, but not before playing it off and faking a gasp.

“You don’t want to hang out with me anymore?” I pulled an exaggerated pout. His eyes immediately widened.

“Wait! No! That’s not what I meant!” He rushed out, making me laugh.

“I’m kidding! I just figured that I’d hang out with you until you kicked me out since I probably won’t see you for a while after this, and the boys would love to meet you and possibly the rest of the band if they’re down.” A frown creeped up on his face as I spoke.

“Wait..You’re right. I won’t see you after this,” he whined, “Yeah, I’ll ask the guys if they wanna join, but I’m not letting you leave until you’re getting on that damn tour bus.”

“Does that mean you’re joining me when I go back to the hotel to change?” I asked, laughing.

“Yes.” he stated, bluntly, making me laugh more.

“Okay, let me text the boys, and then we can head over,” I chuckled out. He nodded and stood to go talk to his bandmates as I grabbed my phone and texted Tommy.

Y/N- On a scale from 1 to 10, how excited would you and the boys be to hang out with Lorna Shore today?

Tominic- ASKING THEM NOW OMGOMGOMG

I shook my head and laughed at his text. Tommy wasn’t as big of a fan of them as I was, but when I played their music enough, you can’t not enjoy it a little. But then, I realized I may have to clarify something.

Y/N- I feel like this may be obvious, but this invitation is for you three only. I’m not in the mood for awkward conversations right now❤️

Tominic- 🫡 Yes, maam

Y/N- …maybe Matt can come, too

Tominic- He’s not at the house right now, so you should text him

Y/N- will do. I’ll let you know where we’re meeting up. Give me like 2 hours to head back to my hotel and change

Tominic- 👀 so you spent the night?

Y/N- IN A HOUSE FULL OF 5 OTHER GUYS SO SHUT IT

I laughed as I closed out of our chat and opened Matt’s. I sent him a text, but he didn’t immediately respond, so I just closed my phone and got all my things together and waited for Will so we could head back to my hotel.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian reader insert

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discount-shades · 2 years

Text

Sleepy Baby Part 2

a/n: I was shocked and flattered about how many people liked the first one. I figured I’d do Part 2.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1400 ish

Summary: Despite all evidence to the contrary Jake is still very confident in himself.

Previous Masterlist Next

Jake glances up from the dart board to see who was walking through the door of the Hard Deck. His shoulders slump when it isn’t you. It had been a month since you had played the Village Peoples’ In the Navy and walked out the door after calling him Baby. His friends had laughed at him when you made your dramatic exit. Penny had been delighted that you used the song in the way it was intended when she left it on the jukebox. To knock a pilot down a few pegs. She was known to play the song to tease Maverick.

From the moment he met you, Jake was hooked. Your smile, your laugh, your wit, it was everything about you. If he was being honest with himself it was probably the salute you sent him as you walked out the door that sealed the deal for him. You did not care that he was a pilot. In fact you spent most of your short amount of time with him mocking what most people fawned over him for.

While the pilot schtick got him laid, he always got the impression that the uniform was the key factor. Not himself. Spending most of his time at bars near the base probably didn’t help. They tend to attract a certain clientele.

When you had called him Baby he had been sure you would be back and had taken to spending an inordinate amount of time at the Hard Deck, waiting. He had even promised Penny to buy the bar a round if she would call him if you arrived and he was not there. No luck so far.

“Get over her, man.” Javy sighs at his friend's antics. “You were clearly more into her than she was you.”

“No, she was into me,” Jake insists, throwing a bullseye. “She said she would give me her number next time, well implied she would, but still.” Despite Javy’s laughter at the comment, Jake was sure. He just needed to see you again. “She is probably at a different bar.”

“That is because she is avoiding you, Hangman.”

“She is, but not like you think,” Jake took his time lining up his final shot. “I need to find her to get her number.” As the days of not seeing you back at the Hard Deck passed Jake was becoming more convinced that he needed to go find you.

“You don't even know her name!” Jake could tell Javy was getting exasperated. “And there must be thousands of bars and pubs in San Diego. How are you going to find her?”

Jake threw his final dart and hit the bullseye again. Turning he grinned at his friend, “But, she said she worked with kids at the library,” a plan was forming in his mind. “I’ll just visit her at work!”

“This is starting to slip closer into ‘stalker territory’ than I am comfortable with.” Javy said, rubbing his head. “How many libraries are in San Diego anyway?”

“There are 34 libraries within San Diego City limits, and another 33 in the surrounding county.” Bob said from behind them, reading from his phone.

Jake and Javy startled and spun around. “How long have you been sitting there?” Jake asked.

“Again, I've been here the whole time.”

Jake pointed his finger at Bob. “Phoenix doesn't hear about this!”

“No promises.”

…

Jake pulled his truck into the library parking lot and gently laid his head on the steering wheel. This will be the 42nd library he has checked, and the last one within city limits. It has been six weeks since he has started looking for you and he has his spiel down.

He’d introduce himself and apologize for forgetting the name of the woman who he had previously spoken to. She had mentioned some great kids programs for his niece who he will be watching for his sister who is on a business trip. Polite description of your features, hide his disappointment when he is told that no one matching your description works there. Graciously accept the brochure of the Children's Activity Program and on to the next library.

The good news is that if Evie ever did come to stay with him for a few weeks he would be set on activities for a seven year old to do. He sighed and got out of his truck and made his way toward the door.

…

You are in your office ordering caterpillars for the yearly butterfly program your library puts on. After putting the caterpillar kit in your online cart you click the sale tab on the website to see if there is anything else the library needs. The first item is a 3D tic-tac-toe game and you are reminded of him.

It has been over 2 months and, if you are honest, everything still reminds you of him. You regret not giving him your number more than you care to admit. Your therapist was right. You are ready to get back out there. But your heart is still too tender to go back to the Hard Deck and not see him. Or worse, risk him not being interested. He is the one that you let get away.

So every week you still go to a different bar. You make small talk to those around you. But you have not felt the instant chemistry you felt with the pilot. No banter, no jokes. And every time you meet someone who is charming you can't help but compare them to the pilot. And you still don't even know his real name.

“Hi my name is Jake Seresin, I’m looking for some children's programs for my niece.” Your ears perk up as you listen to the front desk through the open doorway. When the man describes speaking with a woman who matches your description you search your memories for men you have spoken to recently.

There was the man with a wedding ring who had hit on you. A single dad who had just signed his son up for everything, no questions asked, and someone who looked like a teenager who was looking for activities for his younger siblings. No uncles that you remembered.

“Our Activity Coordinator is in that office,” you hear your coworker say, “she is the one you need to talk to.”

You sit straight in your chair and look up, ready to greet the person walking through your door and your breath catches in your throat. It's him, looking just as good in jeans and a t-shirt. The pilot. Your pilot. He is smiling so widely when he sees you his whole face is lit up.

“Hugs and Kisses, you are a hard woman to track down.”

You press your lips together trying not to smile as widely as you want to. “I figured you were up for the challenge, Sleepy Baby," you reply.

“This is the 42nd library I have checked to see if you worked at.” He sits down in the chair across from your desk. “The thought of your smile was the only thing that kept me going.”

“Well 42 is the meaning of everything.”

“Oh Darling, you are the meaning of my everything.”

You give in and laugh, grinning so much your cheeks hurt. “I liked the imaginary niece in your story,” you lean back in your chair matching his posture. “Who did you steal her from?”

“Oh Evie is mine and very real.” He assures you. “My sister's daughter, she’s seven and happens to be delighted when she hangs me every time we play hangman.”

“A girl after my own heart,” you smile at the way his face lights up when he talks about Evie. “You let her win, don't you?”

“I do.” He admits looking slightly distressed. “She is the type who would steal imaginary kittens too and I can't help but love her for it.” You both laugh at his confession.

You sit for a moment, smiling at each other across the desk. “I’m Jake, and I never did get your name or number.”

You smile at him before leaning over and picking up a blank piece of paper off your desk. You carefully draw the number of lines for letters in your name and ten lines for the digits in your phone number. You hold up the paper with a cheeky grin. “Well Jake, my name and number, I’ll play you Sleepy Baby for it?”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #topgun maverick #top gun hangman #hangman/reader #hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman top gun #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #top gun x reader

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m0llygunn · 1 year

Text

Apologies and Promises (eddie munson x fem!reader)

Part 3 to Same Old Song and Dance 01 / 02 Summary: Hurt feelings hidden under the shallow guise of anger and indifference, in an inebriated state there’s no choice but to face the layers of truth.

Tropes: enemies to lovers (kind of), mean stubborn idiots in love, honestly idk at this point. Warnings: 18+! mature language, ‘bullying’, forcible wrist holding, pet names (princess, sweetheart, angel, baby), mentions of oral (m receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, vomit mention. Author’s note: I am resisting the urge to over explain why theres no smut and this chapter was needed to progress feelings (i know smut is a selling point IM SORRY... but soon i swear it'll be back). wc: 7.2k+

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73 @ropickle @suethh @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @emma77645 @yujyujj

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You didn’t wait around for him to show but you also didn’t expect to have to wait around for him to show.

You’re not disappointed. Why should you be? You didn’t want him to pick you up anyways.

If anything, you’re pissed.

He relentlessly badgered you last night about it. Wouldn’t leave until you agreed to let him drive you to school. He was so insistent, that he nearly slept on your floor using that stupid notebook as a pillow.

You’re not disappointed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Want me to knock him out?” Steve offers and you can’t help but laugh.

Steve was dropping off his coworker-turned-best friend, Robin, when you were walking into school. He’s a close family friend— and Nancy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, so you happily stopped for a chat.

“Steve. I hate to break it to you but Munson’s a veteran school fighter. He might not win every fight but he’s definitely been in more fights than you.” You say, patting Steve on the cheek as he comically deflates before you.

“Hey! I won the last fight I was in and I’ve been working on my biceps, can’t you tell?” He says, flexing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, watching Steve flex his unnoticeably larger arms until he rounds up his antics and leans back against his car. “Your dad at that work conference thing too?” You ask, curiously wondering if it really is a work trip your dad’s on right now.

“Absolutely. Any chance to get away, right?” Steve says with a somber laugh.

“I know the feeling...any chance.” You reply, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “Might throw a party, might not.” He says indifferently. You perk up at the idea of a party. It’s always the same crowds that show, you know the list of attendees like the back of your hand.

“You should, I can get Nance to come along, maybe you can rekindle.” You say, hitting Steve’s arm. This could be to his benefit too, Nancy has been bringing him up again recently and that’s always the catalyst to the ‘on again’ portion of their relationship.

“You got some kind of insight?” Steve replies, eyes studying you.

You purse your lips, choosing your words wisely. “Can't say. Bad enough I already told you my business, can’t tell you her business too, Stevie.”

Steve smiles, shaking his head, accepting your answer because he knows that’s as close as he’ll get to you spilling Nancy's secrets.

He knows all about your rivalry with Munson, and as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he was actually the first one who suggested sleeping with him quite some time ago. It was a joke of course… yet here you are. You figured he deserved to know that he was some sort of prophet, so you filled him in. Not in as much detail as you did with Nancy, but you told him the gist of it.

Your conversation with Steve simmers to a lull, both of you watching over the crowd of students funnelling from the parking lot into the school. You’re not explicitly looking for it, but you can’t help but notice the lack of a certain obnoxiously loud van.

“You’re good, right?” Steve asks, shoulder bumping your own.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You sure?” He asks again, turning towards you enough to gauge your reaction. You shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe a little embarrassed.” You say, shifting back and forth on your feet, eyes still flickering over the bustling parking lot.

“Don’t be. Fuck him.” He says making you snort a laugh.

“Fuck him?” You question, smirk playing on your lips.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. But he did stand you up so…” Steve says trailing off. You try to laugh it off but it sounds more like a scoff.

“Yup. Eddie Munson stood me up.” You say, words rolling off your tongue in a confusing cross between regret and hurt even when you meant for it to be a joke. A laughable comment between two friends who know how you and Eddie interact, who know he’s nothing more than a nuisance to you, nothing more than an incessant house fly that just won’t quit circling you.

You never thought you’d be saying that in this lifetime. You never thought he’d have the opportunity to stand you up.

You tell yourself you’re not disappointed, but the words sure do taste like it.

You shrug your shoulders, shaking off your thoughts. “I should go, bell’s about to ring.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was during your second period math quiz. A timid, curly headed freshman knocked on the door interrupting the silence of the room.

Mrs. Rotman stood from her desk, crossing the room, engaging in a whispered conversation with the boy. She turned to look around the room, eyes flitting over the students before landing on you. She turned back to the boy, whispered something to him and sent him on his way.

You tried to pretend you were busy doing your quiz but it was hard with her eyes focused on you as she walked in your direction.

“Honey, your fathers in the office for you. Something about a family emergency. Don’t worry about the quiz, sweetie.” She whispered, leaning down to your level with sullen eyes that made your heart rate pick up.

“Family emergency?” You questioned anxiously.

“Yes dear, go on and head down to the office.” She said, patting your back.

Leaving behind your quiz that you barely had a chance to start on, you quietly let yourself out of the class.

Speed walking down the hall, opening the door to the stairwell with enough force for the sound to echo against the cement walls and linoleum floors, you hurry to descend the stairs. With your mind busy, rifling through what potential family emergency would bring your father back to town, you didn’t even notice him standing by the stairwell exit until you stepped down onto the landing.

There’s a moment before he looks at you. A moment where your heart beats faster. A moment where you’re flooded with scary feelings. A moment were you remember last night. And a moment were you remember this morning.

“Oh for god's sake.” You groan, leaving that moment behind, churning everything into a genuine annoyance because you fell for such a stupid trick.

“Princess, funny seeing you here. Daddy’s been waiting.” Eddie says, smirk plastered on his face, waiting with his back against the wall, trying to exude some sort of coolness that he doesn’t possess.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit, burning hot from the inside out. Eddie deflates in front of you, smirk dropping as he steps away from the wall towards you.

“No?” He says, almost like he’s asking you.

“Why the fuck would you think this was okay?” You sneer, voice raising in volume. He shrinks further.

“Just wanted to see you.” He shrugs, eyes falling to the ground.

If he 'wanted to see you', he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“You wanted to see me?” You scoff bewilderedly.

“Yeah, and apologize for this morning.” He says, eyes flickering up to you.

You spin on your heels, ready to explain the situation to Mrs. Rotman and go back to finishing your quiz. You don't want to hear an apology for that.

“Shit— Princess, come back!” He calls after you. You hear feet clambering, catching up to you just as you clear the first set of stairs. His grasp captures your wrist and you get the eeriest sense of deja vu.

“Princess, c’mon, let me apologize.” He says, voice pleading as you try to tug yourself free.

“No. You can apologize to Mrs. Rotman’s math class for interrupting everyone during the quiz.” You huff, using all your weight to try and free yourself.

“No, let me apologize to you.” He insists. You feel your heart rate pick up and in an instant you spin, startling Eddie with your fast movement.

“Do you think this is funny, Eddie?” You spit, brows furrowed, face flushing hot in anger.

With his mouth pulled in a flat line, he shrugs.

You know he's hardly phased by your spitfire and you step closer to up the ante.

“No, seriously? Are you having fun, Eddie? Answer the question.” You say, burning your gaze into his.

He doesn't indulge you in an answer, he just looks at you with round eyes. He doesn't cower, he doesn’t spit heated words back, he just remains looking at you with his stupidly big eyes. You're not even sure if his disposition is meant to soothe you, but it does and you hate it. It irons out nearly every wrinkle of anger and you hate it.

“I know none of this matters to you, Eddie, but it matters to me.” You say, mustering up every blazing emotion you have left in you but it comes out too gentle to be anger.

“What matters to you?” He asks quietly, his face softening, eyes getting impossibly rounder. His grip on your wrist loosens as he steps closer to you.

You press your lips closed, breathing deeply to compose yourself. Your sentiment is ambiguous, you recognize that. Whether is was purposeful or not is a mystery to even you. You wouldn't admit this matters, whatever this is between you and Eddie, never. You couldn't.

Even if you didn't leave space for ambiguity, you know what he's asking right now. Does he matter to you, does this matter to you?

“School, idiot.” You say quietly. You cover ambiguity by shutting him down and embellishing it with an insult. It's a lie, you both know it. It’s an orchestrated move at this point; he steps right, you step left.

He moves in closer to you, toe to toe, his chest less than arm's length away. His grip on your wrist slides down, stopping just before your palm, inches away from being a hand hold.

“You're only upset because I took you away from your quiz?” He asks quietly, amusement hinting in his tone. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Yes.” You reply flatly. You lick your lips instinctively and you mentally scold yourself.

“No, you're not.” He laughs softly, eyes only watching your lips now. “You're really that desperate to finish a math quiz?” He asks, amusement becoming forthright.

He does think this is funny and it makes your blood boil.

“Stop doing that.” You sneer but it comes out weak.

“Stop doing what?” He asks, eyes still unmeeting of yours.

His overconfidence and arrogance buzzes around in your head, spurring on your anger. You feel cornered by him calling your bluff and nothing good has ever come from that, especially when your heart is beating so fast you can't hear your own thoughts.

“Assuming you know me, Eddie. You don’t.” You snap, hammering your words into him like nails in a coffin, punctuating your words with a tug of your wrist but his grasp hardens, not letting you go.

He finally looks up at you, eyes meeting your gaze and you can tell your words stung by the mirrored reflection of hurt. He looks taken aback. Whatever he thought was about to happen, you pulled it out from under him like a mean trick and hurt switches to anger.

“So you’re really only upset because you’re here?” He scoffs, brows pinching.

“I just fucking said that.” You spit back.

“And you’re not at all upset because I didn’t pick you up this morning?” And that's all he has to say to send you into a flighty panic. You won't look truth in the eye, you can't.

“Eddie. Let go.” You seethe, tugging your wrist harshly. You bring your other hand to his in an attempt to pry his fingers off. His grip isn’t enough to hurt you, it’s simply unrelenting, a desperate attempt to finish this conversation.

"Princess—" He starts but you interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to give him another opportunity to throw your own feelings in your face.

"Let go." You say, your volume raising out of desperation.

“Fine. Just fucking relax for a minute, Jesus Christ.” He groans, when you start swatting at his forearm. His own annoyance rises and it pisses you off because what does he have to be annoyed about? He’s not the one that got stood up.

“I am relaxed!” You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut and stamping your foot.

Eyes still closed, you listen to your own voice echoing off the walls, forcing you to hear yourself. It sounds like a reverb of hurt between the two of you. Despite the meaningless message your words attempt to convey, it sounds like a slip of honesty, a slip of your true feelings and how he’s affected them. It sounds tears short of being an angered cry.

A beat passes before the echoes subside, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Princess.” Eddie whispers softly. His voice isn’t loud like yours, it doesn’t vibrate off the walls but it still echoes in your consciousness, occupying a space hugged tightly next to your heartbeat.

You feel fingertips ghost over your cheeks, delicate in nature despite residing in the antagonistic warland that you and Eddie have fostered together. Your heart catches in your throat and you hate it.

Your face pinches in its default anger. You ready yourself to scold him, but when you open your eyes and all you see is soft, warm brown staring back at you, it doesn’t come. You hate it.

He closes his grasps on your face, both hands holding you gently by the jaw. Both hands.

Your wrist set free, you pull away, storming back down the stairs. He steps forward, you run away— another orchestrated move.

Hearing yourself is too much, you need air. You need somewhere where your own thoughts can't reverb like your words against cement and linoleum. You need something to get you thinking straight.

Scuffing sneakers echo behind you as you clear the staircase, cross the foyer, and push open the door to the parking lot. You expect a hand around your wrist again but it doesn’t come.

You slow to a walk and so does he, his steps crunching on the pebble covered pavement as he trails behind you quietly.

You round the corner of the building before leaning against the wall, expectant hand held out towards Eddie.

He tentatively raises his arm, fingers grazing yours, palm just barely ghosting your own, before you smack him away.

“No you idiot, cigarette.” You say, exhaling deeply.

He mumbles an embarrassed apology before digging through his pocket.

“Here.” He says quietly, passing over his carton of camels.

You pull one out, placing it between your lips, Eddie’s eyes watching your every move. Flickering the lighter that was tucked into the empty space of the box, you light it up, smoke pluming from the corners of your lips as you take your first drag. Eddie swallows harshly, lost in thought.

“Well?” You snap, his eyes fleeting back to yours.

“R-right. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning, princess. I’m really really sorry.” He says softly, strumming the chords of your heart with his words. You hate it.

“Why should you be sorry about that, I didn’t want you to anyways.” You say, trying to sound indifferent. You don’t though. You hear your own voice just like you did in the stairwell and you sound like a little kid who hasn’t quite mastered the art of fibbing. It’s a jejune lie, not even a good one.

“I said I would though, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He says, round eyes set on you.

The sun glimmers against his hair making the wavy brown strands look golden, a perfect match to the gold in the eyes staring at you right now.

He’s genuinely sorry, you believe him, and you hate it.

Continuing on your juvenile streak, you pocket his lighter before handing back his carton. You know he sees you do it but he doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever, Eddie.” You mumble, taking a drag from your cigarette.

You let your head fall against the brick behind you, eyes scanning thoughtlessly over the surrounding thick tree line. Eddie takes a step, his shoulder hitting the wall as he leans against it, still facing you.

“Don't you wanna know where I was?” He asks carefully, a testing tease lingering around his words.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest, your burning cigarette skillfully held out to not get ash on yourself. Eddie exhales a light laugh before leaning into you.

“Well, princess.” He starts, leaning in even closer. “I accidentally slept in because I was too busy staying up all night thinking about this girl who gave me the best head of my life.”

“Gross.” You scoff, hiding your smile by taking another drag.

“Fuck yeah. It was certified sloppy toppy. I think I was reborn yesterday, died and got as close to heaven as I ever will.” He says, body twisting so his head knocks against the brick wall dramatically.

“Now you're just sucking up.” You grimace, taking another drag.

He laughs softly before the both of you fall into a quiet lull. You partially expected him to make some kind of joke out of ‘sucking up’ but he doesn’t. Only the sound of trees blowing in the wind can be heard, along with scattered chirps of birds in the distance.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, breaking the silence. You let your eyes flicker to him before focusing back on your barely burnt cigarette. You drop it, stomping it out under your shoe. It was a waste of a cigarette, but Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You reply, facing towards the tree line again.

“Okay, princess.” He sings, clearly not believing you. “But everything aside… we’re good?” He asks, watching you carefully.

“Eddie.” You exhale. That’s a big thing for him to ask of you and he doesn’t even realize it. How can you say that everything between the two of you is good when… What even is there between the two of you? Are you even friends? It's another truth you're not willing to face.

“Princess, tell me we’re okay or else you’ll keep me up another night.” He says, slouching his shoulders.

“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh. He steps closer to you, hand raising and grasping a piece of your hair. You watch in your periphery as he swirls it between his fingers.

“I’ll never get another wink of sleep, I’m begging you. Tell me we’re okay or tell me how to fix it.” He says, tiptoeing even closer to you.

“Eddie.” You laugh again, shaking your head. The hair between his fingers falls but he’s quick to reach for the strands that fell into your face, skillfully tucking it behind your ear.

“All I’m asking for is your forgiveness. What d’you say, angel?” He whispers. You turn your head, looking at him skeptically with raised brows.

“Angel? I think that’s hardly a fitting name.” You scoff.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. After last night.” He says, hand retreating from you to grab his heart dramatically, throwing his body back against the brick wall in a swoon.

“Suck up.” You say trying to hide your amusement. You watch him as he continues his antics, biting your lip to hide your smile.

He turns to you, looking up through his lashes, feigning a faux innocence.

“So what d’ya say, princess?" He questions, quirking a brow at you. "Want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a deep grin, eyes amusedly awaiting your response.

You pause, not necessarily thinking about his offer but more so distracted by the way the sun reflects off of his eyes making them glow golden again.

He takes your pause as a yes, stepping into you, hands grabbing behind your ears, cradling your neck. He presses sloppy kisses all over your cheeks and up to your forehead, all while you protest through giggles. It’s sickeningly sweet. Truly sickening. You hate it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you ask my friends where I was yesterday, princess? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” Eddie mocks into your ear startling you.

“Oh no.” You groan to yourself, flashing Nancy a preemptive apologetic look.

“Princess, d’ya happen to have a lighter? Mine seems to have gone missing.” He says, moving on from his original remark, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke, it’s a dirty habit.” You say flatly, keeping your focus on your lunch and Nancy sitting across from you.

“Oh, that’s crazy I could have sworn I saw you hanging out in the back of the school with some guy smoking earlier? I must have been mistaken.” He says, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he throws one leg over the cafeteria bench, straddling it.

“We weren’t ‘hanging out’.” You scoff.

“Right, right. I was groveling, my bad, princess.” He laughs.

You look up at Nancy and she’s shaking her head, lips pursed tightly, holding back her ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. Eddie doesn't typically bother you at lunch, so to Nancy, this very much looks like him 'getting worse'.

“Eddie, don't you have somewhere else to sit?” You say, shrugging his arm off your shoulder.

“What? Can’t come have lunch with my girl?” He teases, scooting closer to you, his knee pushing against your thigh, your shoulder practically resting against his chest.

“I just barely forgot about the stunt you pulled earlier, you’re pushing your luck, Munson.” You warn.

“Don’t call me that.” He says flatly.

“Munson? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You laugh.

“Nope, not to you it isn’t.” He replies flatly, grabbing a grape off your lunch tray before you can stop him.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You say, his arrogance pinching at your agitation.

“Lighter.” He sings, eyes sparkling with amusement meeting yours, stealing another grape in the process. Turning his head, he focuses on Nancy. “Wheeler, how’s it going?”

“Good.” She laughs, still shaking her head.

“Heard you tattled on me to Princess.” He says, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his face.

“Eddie, leave her alone.” You huff. You feel his hand raise up your back, settling slowly, before rubbing back and forth. He leans in closer to you, face brushing against your hair.

“Gotta share the attention sometimes, princess.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles the shell of your ear and you feel your heart rate pick up.

You sit up straighter, Eddie’s chin knocking into your shoulder as you reach into your front pants pocket.

“Lighter. There. Leave.” You say, finding his free hand to push it into his hold.

“Good girl.” He teases, quickly pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You feel yourself burning hot and it takes everything in you not to hit him back with some sort of insult but you know if you do he’ll just stick around for longer.

He gets up from the bench with a coy wave of his fingers and a polite nod to Nancy, disappearing into the crowd of the lunch room.

“Nancy, if you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god.” You say, holding back your smile as you watch your friend’s eyes burst with amusement.

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so!” She laughs.

“I can see it in your eyes Nancy, I know you’re dying to say it.” You reply.

“I won’t say it… but I will say that you’re blushing pretty hard right now.”

“Out of embarrassment! That was embarrassing, Nancy.”

“People aren’t usually that smiley after being embarrassed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie kept his eyes on the prize all night. Not in a creepy way, just to make sure you were okay… and because he just liked looking at you. You were making it awfully hard though, the way you kept disappearing between the groups of people occupying Harrington’s infamous Saturday night party.

His goal was to sell what he needed to sell, then he could have his fun. So when he sold his last eighth, his heart rate picked up as he bounded through the waves of people to find you.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a pang of nerves when he finally found you, all alone in the kitchen, getting yourself a drink.

Steve decided late Friday night that the party was on. He called you up and from there you called Nancy. It’s a practiced drill at this point, Steve calls a few people, who call a few more people, and the word gets around pretty quickly. Eddie got news that night, and it was a given he would sell. He always sells at Harrington parties, similar to how you’re always drinking at them.

“All your friends scurry off on you, Princess?” An all too familiar voice says right into your ear.

“No.” You say flatly, turning to see Eddie at your side.

“That’s funny, I only see you.” He says, eyes teasingly looking around you before settling back to meet your gaze.

“You should get your eyes checked, there’s like 20 other people in here.” You say, motioning to all the other bodies occupying the room.

“You know what I mean.” Eddie says, hip bumping yours gently as you pour from a bottle of something highly alcoholic into your cup.

“Do I?” You laugh before quickly shooting back your drink.

“Look at her, she’s a professional.” Eddie teases as you scrunch your face through the burning sensation in your throat, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of your lips from your overzealous tilt of the cup. Without as much as a second though, Eddie’s hand raises to you, wiping your chin dry.

“Why are you so nice now?” You ask, leaning closer to him so he can hear you over the music.

“I’m not.” He smiles, eyes leaving yours to watch as you set the empty cup down on the counter. He knows he’s lying, you both do.

“Is it because I sucked your dick?” You giggle.

You take another step closer to him where he leans against the counter. His eyes meet yours again with a mixture of amusement and shock looming on the surface of his gaze.

“You’re more drunk than you look, princess” He holds your gaze, amusement taking the reigns until his eyes lower to the short distance you’ve created between the two of you.

“I’m not drunk.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. Eddie watches you, you can tell he’s smiling and you’re not even looking at him.

“Where’s Wheeler gone? You were with her all night.” He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head, meeting his gaze, lifting your eyebrows as you decipher his question.

“You were watching me all night?” You ask teasingly, a smile playing on your lips.

“Princess.” He exhales, rolling his own eyes jokingly. The way his little nickname for you rolls off his tongue makes your already dizzy head spin.

“She went upstairs with Steve.” You answer, letting your hand rest on the counter, pinky brushing the material of his jeans where he leans against the marble countertop.

“I hope she’s not as drunk as you are.” He replies, eyes on your fingers as you continue to brush them against him. You shake your head. You could tell him that their rendezvous was premeditated, and a recurring pattern between the two, but you don’t want to talk about them.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? First you took care of me when I was sick, now you’re looking out for my friends. Such a sweet boy.” You coo, leaning into Eddie, removing your hand from the countertop and placing it flat on his chest to stabilize yourself.

“Baby, I think you're too drunk, look at you being sweet.” He laughs and you dip your head, hiding the way his words affect you. You’re always ‘princess’, never ‘baby’. It makes your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

You can’t help but notice how he doesn’t touch you though. He’s always poking and prodding at you in one way or another. Last time you saw him, he was all hands and kisses to your cheeks, but now, nothing.

“Did you make a lot of money tonight?” You ask, stepping in closer to him, your thigh pressing into his as you stand beside him.

“I did good enough.” He shrugs, arms staying closely to his sides and it almost makes you want to pout. He should be grabbing your hand or twirling your hair, doing what he always does.

“You were busy all night.” You mumble, your head down, watching as you kick at his shoe before stepping over it with one foot. Still leaning against the counter, he shifts, arms moving at his side and you almost get excited before you realize he's just crossing them over his chest. You lower your hand, sitting it closer to his hip as you move to stand directly in front of him.

“You were watching me all night?” He mocks, copying your same lilt.

“I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” You whisper, head down. He’s still not touching you.

“You did.” He replies, exhaling a laugh. You rest your other hand on his crossed arms, hoping he’ll get the hint but he doesn’t and you sigh, slouching into yourself.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asks, quietly.

“You.” You reply flatly.

“Yeah, but you’re all pouty. You don’t pout. You scowl. Yell. Threaten violence.” He teases gently, dipping his face enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re not touching me.” You mumble, words so quiet you can barely hear them yourself over the blaring music.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, leaning his ear closer to you. You step in closer to him, pushing your way between his legs.

“I said, you’re not touching me.” You grumble, annoyed that you have to repeat yourself. Even more annoyed when he hears you and still doesn’t touch you. You huff, pushing your body flat against his, but he stops you, hands on your shoulders holding you away from him.

“Princess, I can’t. You’re drunk.” He says firmly, serious eyes meeting yours. Your knee shakes as you try to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

“You can. You just want to piss me off.” You say, funnelling all of your emotions and forcing them into a short lived anger.

“Trust me, that’s not why.” He says softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your shoulders. You happily focus on his simple caresses on your bare skin, but the feeling it gives you just leaves you wanting more.

“You're touching me right now, Eddie. Just keep doing that.” You whine, giving him your best pout paired with doe-eyes. His gaze soften, eyes fluttering over your features.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, flashing you a small smile.

“You like it though, that’s why you keep coming back.” You whisper. Eddie’s mouth pulls in a flat line and you think you might have said something wrong. His grip on your shoulders falls and you’re sure you did.

You’re sure you did until you feel his hands meet your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands slip up his chest and around his neck and you hug yourself to him tightly. You absorb every ounce of him you can, every inebriated sense of yours captivated and buzzing with feelings and flutters. Even through the thump of the bass vibrating throughout the kitchen, you swear you hear his heart, or maybe it’s yours, either way it doesn’t matter because Eddie Munson is holding you just like you wanted him to.

“I was waiting for you to come find me.” You whisper into the skin peeking out of the collar of his shirt as you press your head to his shoulder.

In the bustling of the party, you stand chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other like this was the only way things were meant to be. He responds to you through the movement of his hands, rubbing up and down your back, touching you, just like you asked. Soothing you like you didn’t know he could.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Eddie, you’re not doing it right, you’re supposed to just come in. I’m not supposed to have to ask you.” You whine.

“Princess, I can’t.” He says, smiling as you try to tug him through the front door of your house.

“You can, you did it before, remember?” You say, giving him your best pout.

“You were sick.” He says, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he stands firmly outside, your tugs not making him budge in the slightest.

“I'm going to be sick right now, if you don’t come inside.” You whine, punctuating your words with little stomps of your feet.

You may have taken a few more shots after Eddie broke up your hug earlier. You knew you had him at that point so maybe you took them just to spite him. It made sense at the time and as the night progressed, you were right. He was by your side the whole time, never more than an arm's length away. And when it was time to go home, you didn’t even have to ask, he was already offering you a ride and guiding you to his van.

“Princess, you’re killing me.” He says exasperatedly through a smile before stepping into the doorway.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Jesus, just drink the water, princess.” Eddie laughs.

“I’ll do it if you lay down with me.” You say stubbornly. He shakes his head and you drop yourself down onto your pillow. “Please, Eddie. Please.” You plead, your eyes catching the dizzy image of him in the lowlight of your room.

“Drink the water and I’ll think about it.” He says sternly.

“Lay down and I’ll think about it.” You mock, copying his tone.

“You are so…” He laughs, trailing off.

“Good at giving blowjobs?” You giggle, filling in his sentiment. His gaze drops to the floor as he sits on the edge of your bed, shaking his head in disbelief of the moment.

“I was gonna say ‘impossible’.” He corrects with a laugh.

You furrow your brows. In attempts to prove him wrong you sit up, taking the water from him and silently finish it small swallow by small swallow until your belly feels impossibly full of water.

“Done.” You huff, falling back to your pillow dramatically.

“Good.” He says, hand patting your calf that’s sprawled against the comforter next to him.

“No. Good girl.” You say, correcting him through giggles. He squeezes your calf, before sitting up enough to put the glass down on your bedside table.

“Good girl.” He says to appease you, smirk heavy in his features.

“Was I good enough for you to lay down?” You ask, flashing him innocent eyes. He exhales deeply and even in your spinning state, you know he’s weighing his options. His eyes track the span of the bed before looking back at you, seriousness written across his features.

“No funny business.” He says firmly, making sure to make eye contact so you know he’s serious.

“No funny business.” You agree, nodding your head waiting for him to give in.

“Only for a few minutes. Sober you wouldn’t want me here.” He says, removing his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Yes she would.” You mumble with a pout but quickly get excited when Eddie starts shuffling to lay down. You prop yourself up ready to cozy into him but he stops you.

“Nuh-uh. On your side of the bed, princess.” He says, motioning for you to lay back down. You throw yourself to the mattress with a whined cry.

“You’re no fun.” You huff, whine building in your chest.

“I’m not here to have fun, princess. This is serious business.” He laughs.

You continue pouting on your side of the bed, turning enough to watch as Eddie settles into your mattress. His hair sprawls over your pillow, just like before, his throat bobbing as he swallows before turning his head to you.

“Go to sleep.” He says and your jaw drops. His lips curl into a smile, eyes dancing in amusement.

“You’re mean, you couldn’t even say goodnight? Just go to sleep?” You shrill, trying to focus your gaze on Eddie to get your glare across.

“Go to sleep.” He repeats, smirking as he reaches his arm to your bedside table, switching the light off, leaving you both in the low glow of the moonlight that sweeps in through your half open curtains.

“Eddie, I can’t unless you say it nicely.” You argue.

“Princess. Please go to sleep.” He says with teasing lilt.

“No.” You giggle.

“I said it nicely, c’mon princess.” He groans.

“Eddie.” You whine, hearing the annoyance in his voice.

“Princess.” He mocks.

You scan your eyes over him, the low light helping you find where his hand lays at his side. Quietly, you tiptoe your fingers across the mattress until you brush against his hand. Before you can close your grasp, he rips it away with a tut.

“Eddie, I held your hand when you wanted me to.” You whine.

“That was different.” He replies.

“No it wasn’t! Just hold my hand.” You say, pushing yourself up to try and grab his hand where it lies on his stomach now.

“Lay back down.” He laughs pulling himself further away from you. You drop yourself to the bed, your bottom lip quivering. It’s not for dramatics though, you know Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No. I’m tired of doing this, I just want you to hold my hand.” You whisper back. Eddie says some kind of teasing response but you ignore it, feeling too lost in the spinning of your head.

In your current state, you feel a lot of things. Most importantly, you’re confused. These nights usually end with Nancy and Steve. Eddie's existence would have never even crossed your mind, but now, all you want is to be close to him. It doesn’t help that he’s been making you practically beg for his attention all night. It might seem sudden, but it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you feel your eyes grow wet. Your breathing starts to come out in harsh whines from your stomach that get caught in your throat.

When the first tear falls it feels catastrophic. It feels destructive, disastrous even. It feels like a break in your guard and you aren’t quick enough to catch it. There’s no snark left in the world that could patch this up right now. So you hide.

Pushing your face into your pillow, your tears free fall.

You feel shifting on the bed and you push your face further into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Eddie asks softly, sounding closer to you now.

You don’t offer a response, your throat feels too tight to speak. You feel like you’re drowning in more than just tears.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He replies gently, all teasing gone from his voice. “I’ll hold your hand, here.” He finds your hand, taking it in his but it’s too late. The floodgates are open, set on their path of destruction, open to exposing damage.

His hand wraps around yours and you feel small. Not because of the size difference but because there’s a reason you don’t show these feelings. There’s a reason it’s easier for you to scowl and yell. This side feels too bare, too soft, too uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar and scary. It feels like offering yourself up to impending disappointment. It feels like waiting for someone to pick you up and they don’t.

He pulls your hair, you pull his back. He stands you up, what can you do besides pretend it didn’t hurt?

You should yell, you should scold, you should threaten violence. You should tear your hand away, kick him out.

But you don’t. You couldn’t, not anymore. Not right now.

You just want Eddie, all games aside. You want him in the silence of the night, not through the bass of the music where one of you has to move left while the other moves right. You don’t want to dance the line of whatever this is anymore.

You pull his hand, willing him to come closer, a silent plea through your tears, and he does. He shifts closer until you're pressed to him, your intertwined hands hugged between your chests as his other hand wraps around you, resting against your back. He soothes you with quiet promises of everything being okay intermixed with his own apologies that only make you cry harder.

Maybe you’re not the whole reason that you two have ended up here, but you’re half of it, and it takes two to play this game. If you tap out, you’re half of the way to it being over.

If you walk away and he follows, isn’t that just the game changing again? A game of cat and mouse?

Maybe all these metaphors are stupid. Maybe they’re all a figment of your imagination that blossomed as a child from the first time he pulled your hair. Maybe you’re too old for these playground antics. Maybe you’re too old to not say how you feel.

“I was sad when you didn’t come to pick me up.” You whisper, your sob-filled secret sailing into the darkness of the room as if his chest wasn’t there to catch your secret.

Your words are as much for you as they are for him, you couldn’t admit your hurt before, but now you do.

Truth tastes soft in your mouth, not at all like the burn of alcohol you’ve drowned yourself in. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t fix everything, it just creates a storm in your belly. A fight between everything you know, everything you’ve done, and something new. It’s unnatural, it makes you feel sick.

“I know, princess. I’m sorry.” He whispers in return, his hand rubbing against your back. You imagine with every pass of his hand on your back he’s helping you fight the furries of the storm rising inside of you, but with the storm rising, there is nowhere else for these feelings to go but up.

“I don’t want you to say sorry, I just don’t want you to do it again.” You cry.

Your throat constricts as you feel bile rising.

“I won’t. I promise, okay?” He says softly. His words would have eased every metaphorical storm inside you, but this storm has turned literal, you’re about to vomit.

“Eddie, I'm gonna be sick.”

It’s a rush of limbs and a dash down the hall. Everything pours from you, every uncried tear, every burn, every furry, every roar of the storm. Everything you know, everything you’ve done, it all leaves you. And in its wake all you have left is Eddie’s hand rubbing your back, telling you it’s okay. It’s soft and unnatural but you let it absorb you entirely. It burrows into you, finding a place you never knew existed, a place where softness thrives and doesn’t need to be hidden by the guise of anger and indifference.

Eddie brings you back to your bed and in the silence of the night, apologies and promises lay side by side, holding hands.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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sxcretricciardo · 2 months

Text

out of breath

You’re in the middle of rehearsals, the music pulsating through the studio. The choreography is demanding, but you thrive on the challenge. You glide across the floor, your voice rising and falling with the melody. It's a perfect blend of movement and song, and you feel completely in your element.

Suddenly, you feel a tightening in your chest. You try to shake it off, focusing on the next step, but the constriction grows. Your breaths become shallow, and panic sets in as you realize you’re having an asthma attack.

You stagger to the side, gasping for air. The room starts to blur, and you hear the concerned voices of your dance crew calling out for help.

Just then, Daniel bursts through the door. He had come to surprise you, but his joy turns to alarm when he sees you struggling to breathe. Without a second thought, he rushes to your side, cradling your face gently.

“Breathe, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice steady but laced with worry. He helps you find your inhaler and holds it as you take a few puffs, but your breathing doesn’t ease up.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” he says firmly, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to his car. The drive is a blur, Daniel’s hand never leaving yours, his thumb soothingly stroking your skin.

At the hospital, the emergency room is a whirlwind of activity. Doctors and nurses swarm around you, hooking you up to monitors, checking your vitals, and administering medication. Daniel stands by your side, his eyes never leaving your face. He grips your hand tightly, his worry etched into every line of his face.

“Just keep breathing, love,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”

Time seems to stretch endlessly as the medical team works to stabilize your breathing. The doctors explain the treatment plan to Daniel, who listens intently, asking questions and making sure he understands every detail.

After what feels like an eternity, your breathing finally begins to ease. The tightness in your chest loosens, and you can take deeper breaths. The doctor smiles reassuringly.

“She’s responding well to the treatment. We’ll keep her here for a while to monitor her, but she should be fine.”

Daniel lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank you, doctor,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

As the nurses finish up, Daniel sits beside your bed, holding your hand. “You gave me quite a scare there,” he says softly, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the ordeal.

“Don’t apologize,” he replies, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Just focus on getting better.”

He stays with you through the night, refusing to leave your side. He dozes fitfully in the chair next to your bed, waking up every so often to check on you. Each time you open your eyes, he’s there, his presence a constant source of comfort.

In the morning, the doctor gives you the all-clear to go home, with strict instructions to take it easy and avoid strenuous activity for a while. Daniel thanks the medical team profusely before helping you to the car.

When you arrive home, he’s determined to make sure you’re comfortable. He tucks you into bed and brings you a cup of tea, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re going to be alright,” he reassures you. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, he sits beside you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, I’ve been working on some new dance moves. Wanna see?” He stands up and begins to perform an exaggerated, clumsy dance routine, complete with silly faces and over-the-top gestures.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension easing from your body. “You’re ridiculous,” you giggle.

“But I made you smile,” he says, sitting back down and wrapping an arm around you. “And that’s all that matters.”

As the day turns into evening, Daniel continues his mission to keep your spirits high. He brings out a stack of your favorite movies, orders takeout from the restaurant you both love, and tells you stories from the racetrack, each one more outrageous than the last.

By the time night falls, you’re feeling more like yourself again. You curl up against him, exhaustion pulling at you but comforted by his presence.

“Thank you,” you say softly, looking up at him.

He kisses your forehead. “Anytime, love. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Next time, let’s aim for a drama-free rehearsal, okay?”

You laugh, nodding. “Deal.”

With Daniel by your side, you know you can face anything. And as you drift off to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you, you feel nothing but safe and loved.

•

The next morning, Daniel insists on making breakfast. He’s not the greatest cook, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. You sit at the kitchen table, watching him struggle with pancakes, batter splattering everywhere.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you ask, amused.

“I’ve got this,” he declares, flipping a pancake that lands perfectly in the pan. He grins triumphantly, and you can’t help but laugh.

When breakfast is finally ready, it’s a bit of a mess—pancakes slightly burnt, eggs a little too runny—but it’s the thought that counts. You eat together, savoring the moment.

After breakfast, Daniel suggests a walk in the park. The fresh air and gentle exercise might do you good, he reasons. You agree, and soon you’re strolling hand-in-hand through the leafy paths, the sunlight filtering through the trees.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, glancing at you with concern.

“Better,” you assure him. “Much better.”

He stops and pulls you into a hug. “Good. Because you really scared me yesterday.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just... promise me you’ll take it easy for a while, okay?”

“Promise.”

You spend the afternoon lounging on the couch, watching movies and playing board games. Daniel does everything he can to make you laugh, from his terrible impressions to his attempts at singing your songs. It’s impossible to feel down with him around.

In the evening, he surprises you with a bubble bath. He lights candles around the bathroom and fills the tub with warm water and your favorite scented bubbles.

“Your royal highness, your bath awaits,” he says with a mock bow.

You laugh and give him a peck on the cheek before sinking into the tub. The warm water and soothing scent help to relax the last of your tension. Daniel sits on the edge, chatting with you, making sure you’re comfortable.

Later, as you’re getting ready for bed, he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

“More than okay,” you reply, leaning back against him.

“Good.” He turns you around and kisses you gently. “Let’s get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“We do?”

“Yep. I’m taking you somewhere special.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see,” he says with a wink.

Curiosity piqued, you snuggle into bed, Daniel’s arms wrapping around you. As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support and love.

The next day, true to his word, Daniel takes you to a surprise destination—a secluded cabin in the mountains. It’s a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle, just the two of you surrounded by nature’s tranquility.

You spend the day hiking, exploring the woods, and enjoying each other’s company. At night, you sit by the fireplace, wrapped in a cozy blanket, sharing stories and dreams.

“Thank you for this,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Anything for you,” he replies, kissing the top of your head.

As you gaze into the crackling fire, you realize that no matter what challenges come your way, with Daniel by your side, you can face anything. And in this moment, you feel nothing but pure, unadulterated happiness.

#daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #lando norris #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #oscar piastri

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vinylfoxbooks · 4 months

Text

June 9 - Lip Gloss | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 862 Part 2 Part 1 and Part 3

The bell above the door announces James’ presence before James himself can. Regulus looks up and smiles gently at him, grabbing his bag, “Dora. I’m leaving now.”

Pandora hums and nods, “Alright. Have a good time, Reggie.” Regulus nods and starts making his way towards where James is waiting for him by the door.

James takes his arm and guides him out of the store, “Hi Regulus, how was work?”

“Slow.” Regulus hums, “We only had a couple people come in. I got yelled at by a jealous husband.”

“Oh?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, thanking James with a head nod when he opens his car door for him. He waits until James gets in the car as well and starts driving before he starts talking, “So I’ve got this girl that comes in. She’s a regular customer, probably my age, that constantly comes in for romance books. They’re usually spicy but I genuinely couldn’t care less about that. Well, today she came in with her husband and I was checking her out, talking to her about the book that she had picked out. He got pissy at me and started yelling at me for trying to ‘flirt with his girl.’”

“Ew.” James shakes his head, taking a turn, “I hate when people do that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s whatever. He just kept yelling and yelling at me and getting after me for selling his wife the book and all of the other books that she’s been reading. Again, I couldn’t care less about that.” He shakes his head, “I eventually had to tell him that I had a date with you. A guy.”

James huffs a laugh, “Did that actually work.”

“He didn’t apologize about it.” Regulus shakes his head, “The thing is, the book? Song of Achilles.”

“That’s a good one.” James hums, “And nothing to throw a fit over. Especially since it’s gay.”

“My point exactly.” Regulus shakes his head, “Pissed me off.” Then he takes a moment to look over James. He’s wearing a nice gray t-shirt underneath a long red coat and some regular jeans. He’s also wearing…

Fuck.

James Potter is wearing fucking lip gloss. His lips have a slight sheen to them and it makes Regulus’ heart stop. Already plump lips with this pretty, slightly red, shiny stain on his lips. Regulus takes a deep breath, “You look nice.”

James turns to him and smiles softly, “Thank you. You look wonderful as well.”

Eventually, the two of them make it to the movie theater and head inside, getting their tickets and popcorn then heading into the theater. They talk quietly between themselves during the ads before the movie itself starts.

And now, Regulus was impartial on going to see this movie. James really wanted to see it and Regulus always enjoys the environment of a movie theater so he agreed to go with James as a date but he…

He can’t focus on the movie itself when James is sitting there with his slightly red lip gloss, shining beautifully in the ever-changing lights of the movie.

Fuck, it’s driving Regulus crazy.

Soon enough, after about an hour and a half of Regulus mostly watching James then snapping his head to look at the movie whenever James leans over to whisper something about it or crack a joke in Regulus’ ear -- he doesn’t understand most of the jokes and just nods along when James makes a comparison because he hasn’t been paying much attention to the movie -- the movie ends and they’re standing up and James’ stretches his arms above his head which raises his shirt a bit. They walk out of the theater together, hand in hand, and hop into James’ car.

“Harry’s with his mom tonight,” James informs him, “Would you like to go to my house and I can cook you some dinner?”

Regulus hums after a couple minutes, “Sure.” James glances at him before he starts the car and smiles, making the breath catch in Regulus’ chest because of that damn lip gloss.

The drive to James’ place is filled with James singing quietly to the music that he’s got playing on the radio, his oh so slightly red lips glinting in different lights as he sings. When they show up at the house, they head inside and James goes into the kitchen to put together a quick meal.

When he comes back out with two plates of some sort of pasta, he hands one to Regulus -- who has settled himself on the couch -- and sits down next to him.

They talk while they eat and Regulus is completely transfixed by James’ lips, which the older man seems to take note of. He tilts his head a bit and smiles at him, “See something you like?”

“What lip gloss are you wearing?”

“It’s a lip tint Lily gave me.” James smiles back, “I figured that I would try it out. It seems, to me, that you like it.”

“I do.” Regulus nods.

The older’s smile widens, “You want to try it? It’s cherry flavoured.”

“What is it with you and cherry flavoured things?” James shrugs and leans forward to pull Regulus into a kiss.

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #jegulus #pandora lovegood #microfic

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heliads · 1 year

Note

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot

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addisonnie · 1 year

Text

mine for the summer

summary: a lifeguard and a camp counselor walk into a bar…..

an: HIIIIIIIII here is part 1 of maybe 3? not sure. anywaysssss, enjoy! im working on trying to make my fics shorter because i work myself to the bone making long ass fics, so this one is going to be a few short parts rather than one long one !

warnings: cursing, there’s a camper named ‘michelle’ who is mentioned a few times, my apologies if that’s your name! you’ve got a name twin i suppose. not proofread because i’m in my lazy era (as i always have been)

——

Wyoming is particularly hot today. Ellie has spent much of the morning wiping sweat from her brows and detaching children from her back — they seem to be extra clingy this year. For the past four years, Ellie has donned the same red athletic shorts and matching white top with the words “CAMP COUNSELOR” across the chest in jersey font. Here she stands for the fifth summer, in the middle of an open field with children clinging to her legs, giggling like madmen.

A few other counselors sprawl across the grass, all involved in something different: capture the flag, football, and general roughhousing. One particular counselor catches her eye, though. You’re standing on the lake’s shore, donning a red bikini top and a pair of shorts that match hers, only yours say “LIFEGUARD” across the globes of your ass. She doesn’t think she recognizes you. Your hair is tied back, sunglasses cover your eyes and your skin seems to sparkle and glow under the heat of the Wyoming sun. And then, you turn around.

Ellie just about drops the child she’s holding on her back. You’d missed camp last summer due to unforeseen circumstances, and in that one year, you’d surely grown into yourself. She couldn’t deny the blush that crept up the nape of her neck as you caught her eye and immediately began waving before breaking into a full sprint toward her.

“Ellie Williams! Is that you I see?” Your voice is as sweet as it always was, Ellie blushes harder.

She carefully places the camper down before meeting you halfway, “it is! Look at you, all grown up.”

You chuckle before dragging her into a tight squeeze, “you’re only six months older, yanno.”

Ellie’s grip loosens as she pulls back to smile at you, “I’ve got to take wins where I can get them.”

The hug goes on for a few more beats, you sway side to side and squeeze Ellie a bit tighter when she moves to pull away.

“So, Williams. How you been? Joel? Sarah?”

She smiles a little wider at the mention of her family, “good. We’ve been good. Sarah actually just got engaged, so the wedding is soon. You’re invited, by the way.”

Your jaw drops in shock and you lightly smack at Ellie’s bicep, “engaged! I didn’t even know the bitch was dating!”

“We have a lot to catch up on—“

Her words are cut short by a shrill scream of your name, “Get back to the lake! We’re playing chicken and you're my teammate!”

The shout was followed by you being dragged away by several young girls, straight back toward where you came from. You maintained eye contact with Ellie as you were dragged toward the shore and shouted back at her, “come find me later!”

Ellie smiled and nodded.

————

Ellie hated kids, that much she’d admit. However, if you asked her how she felt about her campers, don’t act surprised when a slight smile brushes across her face — only for a few seconds. Friday night at Camp Silver Lake called for a massive camp-wide bonfire, chock-full of s’mores, hotdogs, and some classic campfire songs.

Ellie is sitting on a log in front of the fire while she watches you over the burning embers, a couple of gangly kids are wrapped around you like a jungle gym; You giggle and attempt to shake off their sticky fingers.

“Ellie. I will give you five whole dollars if you play campfire song song from Spongebob. Five. Whole. Dollars.” One of Ellie’s campers stood at the front of a gaggle of children with her hands clasped together as if she was praying.

“Michelle. Mickey. My beloved Mickster, five dollars isn’t enough. Make it ten and do my laundry for a week.”

Michelle squints at Ellie and purses her lips, “ten bucks and I won’t tell miss lifeguard over there that you have a crush on her.”

Ellie splutters out a cough and looks up at Michelle with wide eyes, “I do not!”

“Oh, please. You’re so whipped for her she’s practically got your balls in her back pocket. Ten. Bucks. Oh—! Here she comes.”

Ellie scoffs’ “language!” eliciting an eye-roll and a a $10 bill slapped onto Ellie’s naked thigh before she happily skips away, winking at you and ignoring the confused look on your face.

“What’s Mickey so excited about? Someone fall out of that tree again? She thought it was reaaaal funny when I did the other day.” Ellie laughs and pats the open space next to her, “something about me playing the Spongebob campfire song. Really gets her going, I guess.”

Your eyes light up like a kid in a candy shop, “I fuckin’ love that song!”

The tips of your fingers squeeze at Ellie’s thigh and she blushes wildly, hoping she can blame the flush on the heat of the roaring fire nearby, “that would be so fun, you have to! Oh— also, will you hand me that cup? The red solo, it’s mine.”

Ellie smiles and pats the top of your hand with hers, “If you’re good I’ll dedicate it to you.”

She misses the way your cheeks burn red while she turns to grab your drink, “here you—hey! Chill out with throwing that ball by the fire! You’re gonna hit someone.”

A chorus of “sorry Ellie” rings out from the crowd of campers and she grunts, turning back to face you.

“Sorry about that, here’s your drink. Jungle juice?”

You laugh and nudge her with your shoulder, “I wish. Try fruit punch.”

She watches you sip from the cup and swallows harshly while you maintain eye contact over the rim. Her fingers itch and tingle, and before she knows it her pointer finger is tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She wishes she could find a wildflower somewhere to place with it; All she sees is dirt and grass. Could she tuck a piece of grass behind your ear? Probably not.

Her thoughts are cut short by a yelp and a quick wet splash, leaving her forearm just slightly sticky. A football sits in your lap along with an empty solo cup, the contents appearing soaked into your white tank top.

“Oh, fuck. I told them to stop throwing that ball over here. C’mon, we can go get you cleaned up. Fuck, I’m sorry. Shit.” Ellie is cursing and mumbling like a madman as she grabs your waist and yanks you from the log you were sitting on.

“Geez—Ellie! It’s fruit punch! You’re acting like I got shot.” She huffs and squeezes your hip, “whatever. I’ll take you to my cabin, you can borrow a shirt and I’ll wash this one.”

You smirk to yourself as her pointer finger hooks into the belt loop of your shorts, Ellie dragging you behind her as she angrily marches to her cabin.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x y/n #addi writes

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zvdvdlvr · 1 year

Note

i’ve been rewatching ncis lately and was wondering if you go do some fluff for ziva x reader? maybe a little bit of angst idk sorry i don’t have anything specific 😭😭 but i absolutely love your page and your writing!!!!

⎯ ❝ what i want to hear ❞ | ziva david

✰ - synopsis :: ziva messes up and needs to apologize to her beloved girlfriend.

✰ - warnings :: female reader, reader is gibbs’s daughter, r doesn’t work at ncis, angst to fluff >:p

✰ - k.j.’s diary says... sorry abt photos i cant really find any that mach the aesthetic i was going for.

“Please, y/n, for all of us: take Ziva back,” Tony pleaded, on the phone. “She keeps looking at the phone and is all nervous and keeps looking up whenever the elevator dings. I’m actually begging you right now to answer her calls.”

McGee nodded from his desk. “It’s even got Giibbs a little worried.”

Your sigh crackled through the phone. “No. I see no point. If she truly feels remorse for what she said, she’ll tell me in person.”

Tony whined and leaned back on his chair, frustrated with both of his best friends.

“I have to go because unlike you, I do my job,” y/n quipped. “I’ll talk to you, Tim, and Jethro later. Bye!”

Tim and Tony echoed their goodbyes and hung up. Ziva had her hands on her head and was clearly thinking back to the conversation from about 24 hours ago.

“You okay over there Ziva?” McNosy asked from his desk.

“I do not know why she is upset! I answered her question and now she is upset at me!” Ziva burst out, her eyes getting that ’I love her but how the hell do I fix this’ look.

“Sometimes you just gotta tell ‘em what makes ‘em happy,” Tony shrugged.

Nodding, Tim agreed. “For the first time in his life Tony’s right. Tonight go pick up some flowers and sit down with y/n and apologize for what you said.”

“I just told her the truth!” Ziva defended.

Gibbs scoffed as he rounded the corner. “If I know my kid, David, you better tell her what she wants to hear before she pulls the cold shoulder.”

Sighing, Ziva went back to typing reports on her computer while thinking about what she would say to you tonight. She knew the guys were right, she had to tell you want you wanted to hear.

𓇽 - time skip

“Hello my love,” Ziva greeted from the table of your apartment.

You shrugged your coat of without looking her way.

“y/n, please hear me when I say that I’m sorry for what I said.”

Once again, you don’t acknowledge her as you turn to the fridge to grab the pasta that Rossi had given you on your most recent visit. You scoop some spaghetti into a bowl and place it into the microwave.

“I realize now that what I said hurt you and I’m willing to make up for what I said,” Ziva spoke. She wrapped her arms around your stomach and leaned into your back.

“So then say it, Ziva,” you say quietly.

“I… I would love you as a worm. I would make a little container with soil and leaves and flowers you like and carry you around with me everywhere. I’d love you if you were a moth, black widow, pirhannah, australian hissing cockroach, or a rabid wolf. I promise.” Ziva’s words were like the most beautiful song you’d ever head, playing your heartstrings like a cowboy playing a harmonica.

“You, Ziva David, are a goddamn sap,” you coo, turning in her arms to embrace her. “I love you too. I’d make a greenhouse just for you if you were a worm.”

Ziva laughed and pressed kisses up and down y/n’s neck. “I do not doubt that, my love.”

As Ziva clung to y/n, a dopey smile pulled at her lips. She really did love this woman… even if she became a worm.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Atlantic City

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 6.2K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | hey y'all, we have reached the penultimate chapter. we're in for a little angst, but i promise i make it better with a whole lot of goodness. as always, i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line, i'd love to chat. also, if i could offer a song specifically for the young joel sequences, it would be Downbound Train by Springsteen (who else?) alright, that's all.

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gif by @santigarcia

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“She had a little oatmeal and a little applesauce, I think more of it got on her bib than it did in her mouth, though.” Tiny hands gripping at his shirt, he winces at the first sign of her impending meltdown, that small whimper of hers that always seems to come out in the mornings like this.

“Alright, Joey, that’s okay, I’ve got her.” Except she doesn’t, not yet, because Sarah is still clinging to him, tears starting to heat and dampen the side of his neck where her face is pressed as Deedee tries to coax her out of his arms. He’d like to cry too.

“I have class until seven, but I gotta run to the store too to get more formula. Shouldn’t be later than eight, ma.” It’s near herculean to finally untangle Sarah from him, a particularly loud cry striking through his ears as Deedee finally manages to scoop her into her arms. He’s learned that he can’t loiter, can’t look at her too much like this, because then that slick curl of guilt will take root and furl up his throat. So it’s a quick goodbye, a kiss to the crown of Sarah’s head and a lowly murmured love you, babygirl before he thanks his mother, who acts offended that he even tried to thank her in the first place.

He can still hear Sarah crying when he gets back in his truck. Deep breath, just one to smooth out the shake in his hands. And then his day can begin. The same day he has been doing for the last five months. They’re building new apartments off the highway toward Austin. Good work, honest work, at least that’s what people say when he tells them what he’s doing these days. He’s not sure where they get the good or honest from. Mostly, it’s sweaty and sore and simple. But it is good money, and lord knows that’s exactly what he needs right now.

She, no name, he’s been practicing no name for her, making the fact of her disappear from his life so it won’t be a problem when Sarah gets older, so just she. She left when Sarah was three months old. Not a word, not a note. Fine by him, because while they were certainly a mistake, Sarah isn’t, at all, not to him. So he’s working, making money, and in the evenings, chasing after a degree that promises something better for the both of them.

Traffic is stupid this early in the morning, crawling lights along the highway in the dusk still burning itself off with the hazy sunrise. He sighs, slumping back. He can sigh and slump now, no one watching, small relief as he rolls toward the job site. Another sigh when he sees that cars are even more jammed up because of an accident on the shoulder of the highway. He’s not one for the radio these days, much more interested in saving up slices of silences in between all the crying and sighing, though he still starts to flicker through radio channels, nothing better to do anyways.

“With us this morning, an up and coming author whose first novel has garnered a great deal of attention this year.” His hand stills, spine straightening out when the radio show host says her name. Her real name. And then it’s her, thanking the host for having her with an easy laugh.

The last time he heard her voice, he was standing in the front office of Thatcher’s with a phone to his ear and a hand held over his mouth to silence the quick sobs shaking his body as she spoke, as she apologized, as she said goodbye. The same and different. So very different. His ears rush with it, mind in a thick fog as the host says something about best selling, and new project, and some award that he hasn’t heard of before. And Cherry takes it all in stride.

She did it. She really did it. He can’t help the broken laugh that flutters up his throat, a quick burst of it that feels good only because it’s been so long since he’s had something like that, felt something like that. But it’s a quick radio segment, and she’s already thanking the host again, and they’re already taking a break for some commercial. Gone again. Sigh, slump.

Good for her, he thinks. Proud of her, he thinks. Did the right thing for her, he thinks.

And finally, traffic starts to crawl again, just another day.

…

“Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll have it ready to be sent by Friday. Look, I told you already that I’m not going to rush this one, okay? The first draft needs a little more time, just to Friday.” Often, when she takes phone calls in her office, she imagines what it would feel like to pick up her computer and smash it through her window. It’s a helpful thought exercise, keeps her from cursing out her agent at times like this.

“Alright, and– no, I saw the concepts you sent me and absolutely not. I don’t know how you can already be sending me cover art when you haven’t even read the fucking thing yet. I don’t care what kind of rush you’re in, I’m not going to accommodate it because, quite frankly, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Well, at the very least, she tries not to curse out her agent.

“Friday, no earlier and no later. And please, do not call me before then, because if I’m talking to you, then I’m not working, and if I’m not working, this fucking thing is going to take even longer. Okay? Great, thanks so much, bye.” Click, sigh. She has also imagined chucking her cell phone through the window, but that is a much less satisfying vision, so she settles for shoving it away in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“Mom?” She’s quick to stretch out of her slump at the sound of Ellie’s voice, swiveling around in her chair as she smooths out her scowl .

“What’s up, babe?”

“Is it cool if I go to the mall with Dina?” Dina, the center outfielder, right.

“Oh, yeah, do you want me to drop you off? I can–”

“No, that’s okay. Dina’s mom is gonna pick me up and take us.” Guilt starts to flicker between her ribs. This happens whenever she’s entrenched in writing. She blinks, and can’t seem to figure out where the time has gone or when the last time was that she and Ellie spent real time together. And though Ellie rails against it with a dejected groan, she can’t help but get up and pull her into a quick hug. Missed you, sorry. Love you, sorry. Ellie squirms a little, but still squeezes her back.

“Well, be safe, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, okay, I will.” Normally, this would be when Ellie bounds away before Cherry can get an I love you in edgewise, but instead, she stays standing in front of her, a small pinch between her brows.

“Are you, um, like– okay?” Cherry sighs. This again. This new thing again. Something that Ellie has started to do at the most unexpected times. Something that started after that day at the ballfields when their car got stuck in the mud and she and Joel shared some choice words.

“Els, what’s this about you asking me if I’m okay, huh?” She tries to say it light, with a small laugh, but really, her stomach is starting to sicken, because this is supposed to be her job, mom job, and clearly, she’s failing at it.

“I don’t know, I just– how come Tommy is the one working on the porch now?”

“Uh, well, I mean– Tommy and Joel are business partners, so they, you know, share jobs with each other.” It comes out stilted and stuttered, and she has to stop herself from wincing at the lameness of the excuse. For her part, Ellie doesn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, brow still scrunched and mouth screwed up like she tasted something funny.

“But why isn’t Joel working on it, like, at all?” That all holds a lot more meaning than it should, and Cherry can’t help the sigh that slackens through her chest.

“I know what you’re getting at, and you have to understand that, well– we– Joel and I– there’s a lot of history there, Els. And it’s– well, it’s very complicated.”

“Do you think you guys are gonna work it out though?” It surprises her, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that there’s a hopeful tilt to Ellie’s question and raised brows.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want you worrying about that, okay? Whether we do or not, I’m gonna be just fine, so long as I have you.” Mom brain, she can’t help herself, stealing another hug that Ellie rails against with a mom that sounds like she’s being accosted it’s so despondent.

Saved by the bell, or the car horn more like it, Ellie wrangling herself out of their hug with a quick bye, love you as she bounds through the house toward the front door. Sigh, slump, Cherry shuffles back over to her desk, steading her palm on the edge of it as she brings her other hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

The thing is, she is pretty sure that they’re not going to work this out. And that’s what she wanted, isn’t it? She’s not sure anymore. She’s not sure about a lot of things. For starters, why she really decided it was a good idea to move back here. Yes, New York was becoming no good. But then, forty-odd other states she could have chosen from. And no, too late to back out now, because Ellie has already made friends, somehow already managed to settle before school has even started. And there’s the house, and now this fucking porch.

“Hey, Cher?” Speaking of which, snapping herself back out of her slump.

“Hi, Tom, how’s it going out there?” The first time she saw him again, she was shocked by just how much Tommy Miller grew up and filled out. Joel mentioned something about him serving in the military, and it shows, she thinks. A little more serious, a little presence in the set of his shoulders. A far cry from the brash, bold, bumbling boy she remembers. The passage of time, and all that.

“Just got done with the finish, actually, if you wanna come take a look?”

“Oh really? Like, it’s finished finished?” It is, and it’s frustratingly perfect. Wood polished and still glossy, plenty of space for a table and chairs. She should be happy, or at the very least satisfied, so she isn’t sure why all she feels is a petty curl of anger rising like bile up the back of her throat.

“Wow, yeah, it looks– looks really good, Tommy, thank you. Is it alright if I pay you now? I just need to get my checkbook.” She’s already walking back toward her office, but Tommy doesn’t follow, rubbing at the back of his neck with a weak laugh.

“The thing about that, Cher, is that I’m under very strict, very aggressive orders to not take any money from you.” That anger flares at his words, a scoff in her throat as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh, is that right? And just which hardass are these orders coming from, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think you’re, uh, pretty familiar with said hardass.”

“Uh-huh, right, I suppose I am.” She’s not going to let Joel win this one, turning on her heel to continue her warpath toward her checkbook, Tommy having no choice but to tentatively follow after.

“Cherry, seriously, I can’t. He’s gonna rip that check up the instant he gets his damn hands on it.” She doesn’t listen, dashing off her signature on the six thousand dollar check, though when she tries to hand it to Tommy, he tucks his hands deep into his jeans pockets, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Tommy, I don’t know what kind of stupid game your brother is playing, but I refuse to participate. You did a job for me, and did it perfectly, and now I’m going to pay you. I don’t– I can’t have this hanging over my head, alright? Just take it, please.” She hates the warble that please comes out on, a thick flush of tears starting to thicken in her throat.

“It wouldn’t be hanging over your head, Cher. You know he ain’t like that.”

“Oh, do I? Because, honestly, I’m not sure what I know about him anymore.” Silence falls, a flash of something passing over Tommy’s face that she can’t place. He clears his throat before he speaks again, and when he does, it’s shockingly quiet.

“I still remember the day you left and didn’t come back, you know. And no offense, but it’s not because we were particularly close or anything.”

“Gee, thanks, Tom. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything though.” She regrets the sharpness of her words instantly, Tommy letting out a long sigh as he shuffles his feet in the doorway to her office.

“I remember because Joel came home that night. And back then, you’d be hard pressed to get him home unless it was Sunday and ma was ready to drag him by his ears over for dinner. But it was a Tuesday, and he came home that night, and he cried.” There’s no stopping the tears now, not when Tommy’s voice breaks, covering it up with a clipped laugh and a swipe of his knuckles under his nose.

“I don’t think I had ever seen him cry that hard. Jesus, he couldn’t breathe, and it– it just wouldn’t stop. At the time I was kinda pissed, to be honest, because he wouldn’t shut up, just wailing like a little kid.” All she can do to sit down in her desk chair, taking a shaky breath as Tommy toes his boot into the floor, trying to hide the crumple of his brow on his downturned face.

“And he kept saying the same thing over and over again, like he was trying to convince someone, maybe himself, I don’t know. He kept saying I did the right thing.” Her whole body shudders, sniffling back snot as her vision swims. She doesn’t know what all Joel has told Tommy, whether he knows just exactly what happened that summer. But the way that he’s looking at her now, frown slipping heavy down his face, earnest, honest, she thinks that he knows enough, has seen and heard enough to be giving her nothing but the truth.

“Not that I’d admit this to him, but I love my brother, really, I do. But, Cher, he can be a fucking idiot about stuff like this. And I know that he doesn’t deserve another chance for the shit he’s pulled, but I just– you gotta understand how much love he has for you.” What could she possibly say to that? For a moment, it’s quiet, both of them taking stuttered inhales and exhales, trying to breathe in the fact of what was just said.

“Tom, where is Joel working today?”

…

“You have to read this book. I’m about halfway finished with it and it’s so good.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve heard of that author before.”

“That’s because it’s her first book, I think. But seriously, she’s totally a genius.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to check it out then.”

He keeps his smile hidden behind his palm, elbow propped on his desk as he listens in to the conversation between the two students in the row ahead of him. It’s her book, he caught a glimpse of her name on the spine of it. It both buoys and batters him, a strange feeling settling in his stomach as his evening class begins.

Something his boss recommended to him. A degree at the community college that will supposedly open up all these doors for him. At least that’s what he tells himself when he slogs over to the campus after work every night. Another year to go and then, and then. Something good, he hopes. For him and for Sarah.

The same thing every day. Get up at five, if there’s sleep to be gotten up from in the first place. Get Sarah sorted and driven over to his parents’ house and then get to work by seven. Work and work and work, a good seven or eight hours before he has to book it to class. Then class, something he never enjoyed, and especially doesn’t care for now, working hard at it only for the sake of getting out of it sooner.

Last week, Deedee had tried setting him up on a date with the daughter of one of the women she plays Euchre with every Wednesday. She even offered to take Sarah for the night, a smile so steeped in hope that it had made him feel a little sick. He had sighed and made a half-hearted joke, something about a date getting him here in the first place. A distraction getting him here in the first place.

Night is creeping in by the time he gets out of class, streets going dark save for the syrupy glow of house windows, of families sitting down for dinner. And he’s never late, always at his parents’ house when he says he will be, so just this once, just a little late. He goes to the store a little further away because he knows there’s a bookstore a block down from it, lucky that it’s still open this late.

And everything gets saved that doesn’t have to be spent, so just this once, something for him. They have her book on display in the front of the store. Exactly what he was hoping for, her picture on the back of the dust jacket. The same and different, all grown up.

He buys himself a copy, but he doesn’t open it, not yet, keeping it in his lap the entire drive back.

…

Maybe a little crazy, driving her minivan through an active jobsite, men stopping in their work to tilt their hard-hatted heads at her when she parks in the midst of gravel and sawdust right in front of the half-built house. But she’s too hell-bent on the task at hand to care much, marching right up to the nearest man and asking him where Joel Miller is.

“Sorry, ma’am, who are you again?”

“Who am I? Who am I? I’m someone important, buddy, that’s who I am. Now if you don’t tell me where he is, I’ll just start wandering all over this place and probably land you with an OSHA violation. So if I were you, I’d make this easier for both of us and just take me to him, thanks.” She can hear a murmur of snickers and yips from the other men working around them, and it seems like enough to get this guy moving with a muttered okay then.

She acquiesces to putting a hard hat on, something about an actual OSHA violation, before following the man into the bare bones of the house. Some walls are put up, and some are still only frames, saws whirring and nails guns firing all around her, a perfect swirl of work and the smell of cedar that she tries to skirt around as the man leads her further into the fray.

When she sees him, she thinks to herself that it’s not fair, the way he looks with a tool belt slung low around his hips, his t-shirt clinging to the shifting planes of muscle in his back as he leans over a workbench to look at a scroll of blueprints. No, not fair at all, her throat going dry with just how not fair at all it is.

“Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” Boss, right, he’s the boss. Fan-fucking-tastic. Joel’s head whips around, immediate confusion scrunching up his face when he sees her.

“Cherry? What– what’re you doing here?”

“What?” It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the incessant sound of work going on around them, though Joel is quick to usher her away from the thick of things and into a half-finished room that she guesses could either turn into a bathroom or a closet judging by its size. It’s a bit ridiculous that Joel closes the door to the room given that one of the walls still hasn’t been put up.

“Why– how did you find me here?” She’s just a little annoyed at how inconvenienced he’s acting, his hand on his hip and his knee jutted out as he raises his brows at her. It’s enough to get her angry all over again.

“Tommy finished the porch today and refused to take my check, so I asked him where I could find you and tuck this fucking money into your hands myself.” She punctuates her words by taking the folded-up check out of her pocket and shoving it into his chest, but Joel doesn’t accept it, the slip of paper falling to the ground when she pulls her hand away. What he does next is far more infuriating though, not breaking eye contact with her as he bends down and swipes up the check between two fingers before promptly ripping the thing up far more times than it needs to be.

“Don’t try to write me another one, Cher, I’ll just do the same thing.” A bitter laugh slips up her throat, and before she knows what she’s doing, the heel of her palm is shoving into his chest. Except he’s bigger now, broader, so what once would have made him stumble now only makes him sway a little. All the more reason to do it again.

“You– fucking– ass– Joel Miller!” He’s still unmoving under her ministrations, each of her words coming with an admittedly weaker shove until finally, Joel says her name, a quiet plea. And she wasn’t supposed to cry, that’s what she told herself on the drive over here. Under no circumstances was she going to cry. Yeah, right, big blubbering streaks running down her face already. Her hands fall limp at her sides as she shakes with it, whatever it is. Easier to call it anger, but she knows that’s not what it is.

“Cherry, please don’t cry.” She wants him to reach for her, wants to feel his palms smoothing that shudder, and for a moment, it looks like he will, but his hands just hang suspended between them, like he has thought better of it. She wishes he hadn’t thought better of it.

“I can’t– I can’t do this. You make this so hard, Joel, do you know that?” His face falls, feet shuffling closer until the toes of his boots are brushing against her sneakers.

“What can’t you do?”

“This– this– I want to be with you so badly, but I just can’t.” She hates what a relief it is when he finally reaches for her, his palm resting along her jaw, the calloused pad of his thumb collecting stray salt.

“Why can’t you? I– I’ve been wanting you for a long time, Cher. We could do it, I know we could.”

“I’ve heard that before, Joel. And it didn’t end well.” She can’t look at him as she says it, her stomach sinking with the words. Because it’s true, after all. He sighs, a long, dejected sound that makes her tear up all over again.

“Will you look at me, please?” She doesn’t want to, and isn’t sure if she can right now, but he shows her how, his knuckles crooking under her chin, a soft please that she folds to, finally meeting his eyes with hers.

“I can’t change what I did in the past, Cherry. And it kills me that I hurt you, but I was trying to do right by you. I don’t know anymore if I did, and I don’t know anymore if it even matters. But what I do know is I never stopped loving you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be yours until the day I die, and probably then some, to be honest.” A laugh at that, thick with snot, feeling good in the midst of all these tears. She curls her fingers around his wrist where his hand is still cupped along her cheek, a tug to come closer so she can rest her forehead against his, though there’s a small shuffle first, both of them pushing their hard-hats off, paying no mind to the clatter of them when her nose brushes along the line of his.

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep.” She says it quiet, almost reluctant, but Joel just smiles.

“Not a promise, just the truth. Reckon I’ve been yours my whole life. And I’ve been hoping you’ll be mine too.” Something blooms inside her, relief in opening up, in allowing even amidst that still-there grip of fear. Because he’s here, and so is she, and there’s plenty of time to prove that fear wrong, to get it right, now, here, in the present.

She doesn’t answer with words, just closes the space still between them, the easiest yes in the way her lips press against his.

…

He knows he needs to go in. Needs to gather up Sarah and get back to their shoebox apartment so the whole routine can start over tomorrow morning. But quick, he can be quick, sitting in his truck with only the faint slant of clarity from the streetlight to brighten the pages. He steals the first chapter just like that, quiet, mouth moving with every word. And it’s a peculiar feeling, like pride, though he knows he has know business letting that swell in his chest with the way things ended between them. It’s good, of course it’s good. Not that he’s some well-seasoned reader, but he knows good when he sees it, and she was always so good, he thinks.

He’s only twenty minutes late when he finally knocks on his parents’ front door, and though Deedee makes nothing of it, he still feels that guilt sickening and skittering up his spine, trying to tamp it down with kisses pressed into Sarah’s curls.

By the time he gets them home, Sarah is indignant, fussy coos humming in her chest, ready for a bottle that he still has to make. Muscle memory, auto-pilot, he heats it up with her in one arm and the book held in his other hand, plowing through half of chapter two before he finally has to set it down to feed his girl. His girl, his perfect girl. He has enjoyed doing this from the very start, one of the things he always felt he could get right, at the very least. Simple and sweet, all the motions of bedtime, a small mercy that she goes down easy tonight because he’s still thinking about the book he left splayed open on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t sit down, just simply leans over the counter to keep reading under the light above the stove.

Sarah begins to cry about an hour and a half later, and by then he has already finished half of the book, careful to mark his place before checking on his girl. His hands still shake sometimes with the reality of holding her, something so small and careful that he has to roll his shoulders back a few times after every diaper change, every close cradle, like his whole body braces for her, trying to be big and enough for her. And he should get some sleep now, he knows that. But he reasons to himself that he’ll be waking up in an hour or two anyways for her, so, might as well.

Just like that, for the rest of the night, back and forth between Sarah and his close huddle over the kitchen counter. By the time morning is starting to blush that pale blue through the curtains, he has read the whole thing.

And no, not his place, and no, he has no right, but he is proud of her. Proud that she got out, proud that she did it. And relief too, that maybe he did the right thing after all, even though it hurt so very much.

…

Maybe a little crazy, the both of them. She’s pretty sure she heard a few wolf whistles when she led Joel out of the house and back to her car, but she doesn’t care, and she doesn’t think he does either judging by the way he keeps rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans in the passenger seat, both of them sweeping their eyes over the half-finished lots of this new neighborhood, searching for the same thing.

“Wait, right there.”

“Right where, Joel? There aren’t any–” She doesn’t finish that thought, a gasp high in her throat cutting it off when Joel reaches across for the wheel and veers her car right off the street and into an empty lot. The only reason she doesn’t press the brake is because she’s too stunned to move, letting the car roll into a thick copse of trees. She’s only snapped out of her stupor when Joel huffs out a right here, stop, stop, Cher, bringing the car to a stuttering halt. It’s all she can do to laugh as she looks around at the perfectly secluded spot.

“You always did have a talent for finding places like this.” He grins crooked at her, still leaning over the console with his hand on the wheel.

“Yeah, well, you– just c’mere.” Not pretty, not at all. A little greedy and a little desperate, her elbow beeping the horn as she scrambles over the console, Joel groaning when her knee lands a little too close to his crotch before she finally settles in his lap. He holds her by the hinge of her jaw, opening her mouth with his and taking everything she has to give. And in turn, she seeks out more however she can get it, one hand in his hair tugging when his teeth nick her bottom lip, her other hand bunched into a fist in his t-shirt. And it should be good, except it’s all so scrunched up in the passenger seat, and her legs are bent at such an angle that when she tries to grind her hips down onto his, she ends up with a mortifying cramp in her hamstring.

“Oh fuck.”

“I know, Cher, me too.”

“No, I mean, my– my leg is– I need to get up, it’s–” Joel finally seems to get the hint when she lets out a hiss of pain, quick to open the passenger side door so she can hobble down off his lap, tenderly trying to stretch out her leg in a graceless hop. Luckily, it seems to sort itself out, though Joel still gets out of the car, making her heart do something strange when he holds onto her hip with one hand as he rubs out the muscle in her leg with his other palm, squinting up at her and murmuring a question, that better?

“Y-yeah, thank you. We could– the backseats go all the way down.” He’s a sight, eyes big and blown out, lips parted in a swollen little pant as he looks at her.

“Right, let’s– let’s do that then.” She makes quick work of cranking open the sliding door of the minivan and folding the backseats down, plenty of room to assure that there won’t be anymore cramping crises. When she turns around to usher him into the back, Joel is quick to stamp a hard kiss to her mouth, a breathless laugh punching out of her lungs when he pulls away.

“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Cher.”

“Well, if you liked that, just wait until I put the seats back in place.” His smile splits, all boyish in the way his eyes crinkle up. And it’s all graceless fumbling from there, both of them crawling into the back, leaving the door cracked to let in the late summer breeze, though she can already feel sweat sticking her shirt to her back. Not that it matters though, not when they’re both making quick work of each other’s clothes.

Her want wills, and he answers in kind, letting her press him back, bare for her, heart beating for her as she settles between his legs, already taking him into her mouth, salt and sense, all him making her hum low in her chest.

“Jesus, look at you– so fucking pretty like this, Cher.” He’s one to talk, she thinks, chest flushed to blaze all the way up to his cheeks, his eyes heavy and hooded looking down at her as she laps at his leaking tip before taking as much of him as she can into the heat of her mouth. Though he doesn’t let her work him over for long, a petulant hand curling around the nape of her neck and a breathy baby, baby, c’mere coaxing her up, both of them sighing when the swollen ache of her cunt grazes along his length.

“Like this– I want it like this, Joel.” Her lips drag the word up the arc of his throat, sealing them with her lips slanting over his.

“It’s all yours, Cherry. I’m all yours.” They move together like they never stopped in the first place, all quiet communication in the press of their foreheads, eyes turned down to watch as she sinks down onto his throbbing cock, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat as her hips settle against his. For a moment, just this, the tight peaks of her nipples grazing his chest with each broken breath, palms smoothing along skin only to grab greedy handfuls where they can. And then the quiet murmur, good? Yes, so good. Moving with so good simpering up and down her spine, a moan breaking in her chest with the first pass of her hips against his.

He lets her find the rhythm first, his mouth hot and open against the side of her breast, all coaxing, all consuming with the way his hands grip at her ass. Everything turns hazy and humid in their close press in the back of her car, skin slick and sticking, chests fluttering with hard pants.

Not so young anymore, either of them, getting a little ahead of their own pleasure because she can already feel it snaring and snapping in her pelvis, that liquid languor that turns taut so fast. And of course Joel can tell, bringing his hand to curl around her hip so he can drag messy circles against her clit, mouth open and pleading against hers.

“That’s it, Cherry, take it for me. Fuck, I wanna feel it, just like that.” Her breath catches in her throat, that searing snap that slackens everything else, his name on her next exhale as everything melts down around her. Just him, and the close grind of his hips up into hers that’s snarling on the edge of too much, cracked whimpers with each thrust that she bites back, wanting his pleasure just as much as she wants her own.

“Baby, baby, so good like this. Want it so bad, want you so bad.” Her lips slide against the shell of his ear, crooking into a grin when he groans at her words, his grip on her tensing and tightening as he comes, warmth spreading and sating.

All tangled up, their bodies slacken and slump, splayed out in the back of her car as they both catch their breath. Joel’s head tilts up when she huffs out a laugh, breath fanning over his chest where her chin is resting.

“I don’t think that was the smartest way we could’ve started this new relationship thing.”

“I think we’re pretty far past new relationship, Cher.” She hums at that, no real argument, settling instead for a kiss pressed into the bare patch in his scruff.

“You know, Ellie asked about you.” Joel’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Seriously? Thought that kid hated me.”

“Mm, I think you won her over with the diarrhea joke.”

“Well it certainly worked on you.”

“Unfortunately.” He huffs at her dig, laying a mean squeeze to the crease where her ass meets her thigh.

“Unfortunately, none of that, Cherry baby.” Ease, all ease in their shared smile, settling back down around each other with a sigh. They’ll have to untangle soon, leave soon, back to reality soon. But for now, this time with him, all the time to say what she wants to say to him.

“I never stopped, you know. I think that’s why I came back, at least partly. I was hoping that you hadn’t stopped either.” Her cheek rises and falls with his breath, Joel trailing his finger along her jaw to coax her eyes back up to his.

“I didn’t, Cher. Even when I didn’t wanna admit it to myself, I was waiting for you, hoping for you too.”

................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller fic

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gucciwins · 2 years

Note

Can you write one where Harry accidentally posts a photo of y/n on his story. But she hasn’t noticed yet and when he comes home he just keeps apologizing but she doesn’t really mind.

Okay…you didn’t say harry and bel but that’s where my brain went through. So here’s a little something. roughly 1kish 💜

Harry thought social media was a nice way to connect with fans, but he mostly used it to post on his stories to show his friends new documentaries he was watching, his favorite wine, and new songs his girlfriend was always showing him. It was his own private world that only his close friends could see.

His girlfriend was busy at work today working on a photo shoot with a friend’s new lipstick line and needed Bel to be a test subject, and she was more than happy to help. Harry was sitting in the studio listening to everyone’s thoughts on their new song when he heard his phone ring. Harry can’t help the smile that takes over his face when he sees Bel’s contact name.

Bel: what do you think?

He stares at the attached photo of you posed in front of the mirror, a seductive look on your face, and he knows that look well. Fuck. He wants to be there with you giving you everything you could ever dream of.

Harry: You’re the most beautiful person in the world. I’ve convinced you’re an angel. 😭😘 xx

Harry: How’d I get so lucky xx

Bel: stopppp 🙈 xx

Bel: love you, mi vida. will see you when you get home xx

Home.

You loved his house.

You saw it as home. He’s been wanting you to move in for ages, but you always were hesitant. Now slowly, he’s noticed you bring more items over, you’ve made less effort to spend equal time in both your homes and, instead, happily stay in his large house that has begun to feel even more of a home with you around.

Harry was so lost in his head, staring at the photo you sent, that he decided to share it with his friends. He did it often, sharing pictures of you both or you alone happily showing you off. He was always careful to add it to his private story. Harry captioned it: pretty girl. He added a yellow sticker of the sun that read, “you are my sunshine” as Harry was adding it to his story Tom called for him. He locked his phone and focused on Tom and Mitch, who had been trying to get his attention for the last few minutes.

“Sorry, I’m all yours now.” He promises.

Mitch laughs, “oh wait until I tell Bel that,” he teased.

Harry playfully shoved him, telling Mitch to play the track again.

They got to work for ten minutes when all their phones started ringing simultaneously. Harry reached for his and was flooded with messages and calls. Mainly from Jeff and Viola.

Shit.

This could not be good.

“H, you posted on your story,” Mitch tells him.

Harry is too focused on calling back Jeff to focus on what Mitch is saying. “Yeah, earlier.”

“Jeff, what’s going on?”

Jeff laughs, “H you posted Bel on your Instagram.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “what else is new?”

“No, Harry. You’re not hearing me,” Jeff explains. “You posted her on your story for your 48 million followers on Instagram.”

Harry gasps, “fuck.”

He quickly hangs up on Jeff and opens Instagram, and around his name is a pink circle and not the usual green. Oh, he’s the worst. The world knew they were dating, but you sent him the photo privately, and he shared it for the world to see. He deleted the story but knew there was no point because there must be thousands of screenshots.

“I-I need to go home. Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, not knowing what your reaction will be. “I need to apologize. Bel was on her way home.”

Mitch gives him a pat on the back, “it’s Bel chances are she brushes it off like nothing.”

Harry doesn’t want to risk any chances and rushes out of the studio. He tries calling you, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Come on, Bel.” He gets home in twenty minutes and is relieved when he spots your car in front. He hurries inside, throwing the door open, not bothering to slip off his shoes. Something you will chastise him for later. You’re caught by surprise by the door opening and Harry rushing in that you drop your book, and you know you’ll have trouble finding the page later.

“Harry?” He hurries over to your side, worry etched all over his face. “Amor ¿qué pasa?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kneels in front of you and holds your hand tight. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.”

You sit there, getting more confused by the minute. “H, what are you apologizing for?”

Harry is so lost in his own head and repeating his apology that he doesn’t seem to hear a word you’re saying.

“Harry!” You raise your voice, and it’s enough to snap him out of the panic he’s put himself in. You soften, “baby, tell me what happened?”

Harry takes a deep breath, rubbing, bringing them close to his chest, needing it for comfort. You would do anything to see his dimpled smile.

“I posted you on Instagram,” he shares, dejected. “On my public. Not the private one.” His voice sounds defeated, and you hate that something as a photo of you sent him into a panic.

It breaks your heart, seeming him upset. You know it was an accident. Of course, you do.

“H, want you to listen to me, okay?” Harry nods, keeping his emerald eyes focused on you. “I’m not mad or upset,” you assure him.

“You’re not?”

You shake your head, “H, I saw it the minute you posted. I get your notifications. Sent you a text to check, but you didn't reply, so I assume you knew, and I let it be.”

Harry tilts his head, looking like a confused puppy. “You knew?”

You let out a small laugh, “I did.”

“Why didn’t you answer my call?” You know he must have been referring to a few minutes ago on his way home.

“Left it charging upstairs,” you apologize.

Harry sighs, letting his head drop into your lap. You run your hand through his hair and let him take however long he needs to let this all go. Although, you have the perfect idea to help him forget the incident.

“I love you, Bel.”

You repeat the sentiment, happy to have him home.

“Do you want to make it up to me?”

“Thought you weren’t upset,” he mutters.

You giggle, “no, I mean for scaring me for the way you barged inside.”

Harry raises his head, an eyebrow raised, and waits for you to go on. “See, I happen to like this position we’re in. Except, it’d work better if I had less clothing on.” A smile spreads on Harry’s face, and you know this moment will be one you laugh about on a later date, but for now, this is the perfect distraction.

“I am so lucky to have you in my life, Bel.” He whispers as he helps remove your joggers.

You feel the same way.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles love on tour #love on tour series #harry styles fic rec #harry fic rec #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 9 months

Text

╰┈➤ i won’t sleep till you’re safe inside.

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x Sister!Reader (platonic obviously)

Type: Fanfic - Fluff -> Angst

Word count: 8.5k (🫢🤯)

Warnings: NOT CANON-COMPLIANT! (I’ll make a list of everything that’s probably not canon but is for this fic) colour-coordinated dialogues to make it easier to understand who’s talking, starts out fluffy but evolves into angst, cussing, reader is desi, usage of Hindi (translations given, except for the Sheila Ki Jawani song), hahaha culturedumping & projection go hand in hand 😭

Some Goldenmodel (is that their official ship name??) too! (pls they’re literally so cute 🫠🫠)

A/N: Basically where Pavi loses his sister instead of Gayathri :D

The numbers at the top of every section indicate Pavitr and the reader’s age respectively (reader is older than Pavi) :)

Andddd the Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar hc continues 😁

Probably (Definitely) Non-Canon List:

-reader’s existence basically since she’s the daughter of Maya Aunty and Uncle Bhim (so she’s not technically his sister she’s his cousin but close enough!)

-I actually have NO idea how Pavi’s parents died or anything abt them so I’m basically making stuff up hehe

-Reader also gets the scholarship to Mumbattan that Pavitr got, but for a different subject

-kinda waffling on Bhim’s death since I’ve never actually read the comic where he died so idk much of anything

-Reader helps Pavi make his webshooters (kinda)

-Pav may be a teensy bit ooc I apologize for that

-there’s probably a lot more but none I can pinpoint specifically right now

(this is the song that Pav sings btw)

title inspo:

Will you call me to tell me you’re alright?

Cause I worry about you the whole night

Don’t repeat my mistakes

I won’t sleep till you’re safe inside

(Safe Inside, James Arthur)

——— ———

4 & 6.

“Didi!”

You stifled a giggle, peeking out from behind the tree you were hiding behind to see the tiny boy scrambling over rocks and protruding tree roots, his eyes squinted in concentration as he searched for you.

“Come out, come out wherever you- ai!” He cut himself off with a sharp squeal of surprise, stumbling backwards as you leaped out and bared your teeth like the demonic rakshasas that seem to lunge right off the pages of your mother’s - Pavitr’s aunt’s - mythology books.

“Not fair,” Pavitr complained, glaring up at you and crossing his arms. His nose scrunched at the injustice and you laughed, sticking your tongue out at him and ruffling his hair.

“Totally fair.”

“Nahin! Pura cheating! Didi, tum hamesha dhokha deti ho!” (No! Fully cheating! You always cheat!)

“Oy, Pavi, main kaise dhokha de rahi hai? What nonsense you’re talking.” (How am I cheating?)

“I’m telling Maya Aunty that you’re being mean to me.”

“Wait-”

“Arrey, both of you stop squabbling and come up here,” Maya Aunty’s voice carried down into the lawn from the veranda as she poked her head out of the kitchen. “I made gajar ka halwa. Come eat before Bhim gets back and finishes everything.”

Pavitr’s eyes lit up at the mention of the carrot dessert, all earlier frustrations forgotten for the moment. “Race you!” He turned and darted across the lawn, his hair bobbing as he kicked up clouds of dirt under his shoes.

“Pavi, how is this fair?!”

——— ———

6 & 8.

“Didi! Checkmate! I win!”

“Ai, Pavi, that’s not… chess doesn’t work like…” He turned to you with big, shining eyes, grinning from ear to ear because he thought he had won. You trailed off with a resigned sigh, not having the heart to tell him that he had just got his own king killed.

“Wow, Pavi, you’re getting so good at this! You’re a natural!” You ruffled his hair affectionately, despite his protests and attempts to fight you off.

“Y/N! Yahaan aao!” (Come here)

You immediately perked up, eyebrows drawing together as you heard your mother’s voice, only… something was off. She sounded like she was holding back tears, the beginnings of a raw sob lingering in her throat.

“Haan, Amma? Kya hua?” (Yes? What happened?) (Amma/Maa just means mother)

She sat hunched next to the balcony, a phone in her slack grip. Your father - Pavitr’s Uncle Bhim - knelt with his back to you, holding her and rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. Tears fell from her eyes and the only sounds that split the air were her jagged heaves between soft sniffles.

“Amma? Papa, what happened to Amma?” Unease twisted in your stomach, knitting your eyebrows closer together as you moved forward and grasped your mother’s hand.

Your father turned to look at you and you inhaled sharply.

That was the first time you had ever seen your father cry.

“Pavitr’s parents were involved in an accident,” He struggled to keep his tone even for you.

“An accident? You mean…”

“Yes, beta. They’re… they’re gone.”

Your breath hitched and you backed away slightly, steadying yourself against the wall behind you.

You didn’t know much about what happened - and it would probably stay like that since you were ‘too young to bother yourself with the worries of the adult world - but you knew one thing for sure.

This is going to break Pavi.

I can’t let that happen.

You heard soft patters of bare feet on the marble floors and looked up just as Pavitr’s dark hair disappeared to the side of the doorframe.

Not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down mid-speech, you got up and left without a word, patting your mother’s hand sympathetically on the way.

You found Pavitr sitting against the tree you used to play hide and seek around. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead on his kneecaps and raising his head when you approached. “What happened, Didi?”

You grasped at words that would help convey it, but to no avail. How could you tell a 6 year old - one who was essentially a brother to you now - that his parents had died?

You had two ways out.

…I should tell him.

“Pavi… Maya Aunty will explain, but… basically, you’re going to be spending a lot more time with us - with me. How does that sound?”

Pavitr grinned, his eyes shining - and of course he had to look like a trusting puppy. Of course it had to make you feel guilty the moment those words, a romanticized version of the truth, left your lips.

“That sounds awesome,” He said happily, half-turning to wrap his arms snugly around your waist in a hug. “We’ll have so much fun! You can finally teach me how to play kancha and lagori like you’ve been wanting to! Right, Didi?”

“…yeah. You’re right.” You leaned down to kiss the top of his head as he nestled comfortably against your side, the strands of hair tickling your chin as you rested your head on his. You felt tears starting to well up as the depth of the situation hit you at full force.

Kaayar. Coward.

——— ———

9 & 11.

“Didi!”

You looked up from your schoolwork as Pavitr burst into your room. “What’s going on?”

“Maya Aunty said there’s some sort of… scholarship? They said we have to go to Mumbattan!” Your eyes shot wide open and you pushed your chair back from your desk to follow him into the kitchen. What scholarship? Mumbattan?

Maya Aunty had told you both that she had submitted samples of your writing and a few of Pavitr’s blueprints for futuristic designs he had come up with for various robotics competitions, but… you never thought the entry would ever amount to anything.

“Amma, Papa, yeh sach hai? Did we get a scholarship to Mumbattan?” (Is this true?)

“Haan, beta.” Your mother looked slightly tired, weary - but ultimately happy. The happiest you had seen her in quite a while. Your father patted your head affectionately, a large smile on his face. “Well done, both of you. Mere champions.” (My champions)

The moment dissipated like it was never there in the first place when Maya Aunty’s eyebrows scrunched together with worry once more as she turned to Uncle Bhim. “Arrey, Bhim. Hum kaise kharch uthayenge? Mumbattan mei, woh kiraaya-” (How will we afford this? The rent in Mumbattan-)

The moment you heard those words, you let out a soft exhale and took Pavitr’s hand, gently tugging on it and leading him away from the ‘adult’ conversation. By now, you were almost conditioned to do your best to avoid conversations that always got your parents stressed out and sometimes led to frustrated breakdowns which simmered into tearful apologies and doubtful plans.

“Let’s go play kancha, Pavi. I’ll even let you start this time.”

You ran out onto the lawn with him, your hand holding onto his smaller one tightly as if you could protect him from all the harm and sadness and worry that the world had to offer.

——— ———

11 & 13.

“Didi!”

“Don’t didi me. You agreed to this, remember? You brought this upon yourself,” You said between giggles that got increasingly louder at how ridiculous he looked.

Maya Aunty and Bhim Uncle were both out buying groceries, and Pavitr was so bored that he accepted your challenge to see who could balance more than five stones on their forehead. And if he lost, you would get to do his hair and makeup.

That was why he was currently sitting in front of you, bright pink eyeshadow on both his eyelids and wearing the brightest red lipstick you could find. He winced in pain, loudly protesting every two seconds as you tried to put his wavy hair into a Dutch braid. He had let it grow out over the past few months, and at the rate he was going, if he left it for even a little while more it’d be longer than yours.

“You need a haircut, Pavi. I think you might be getting split ends…” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression of pure horror that crossed his face at your words, which quickly turned to annoyance. “Shut up, you’re just saying that because you’re jealous- ow!”

“Whoops.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Did not.” You looped a rubber band onto the ends of the braid, finally finishing and tilting your head to critically examine your handiwork. “There, you’re all done.”

Pavitr glanced at his reflection in the compact mirror you offered him. “Wait, I don’t look that bad. I can pull this off pretty well, actually.”

“Sure you can, sweetie. Let’s do your nails now.”

“You’re the absolute worst.”

——— ———

12 & 14.

“Didi! Rise and shine!”

You groaned softly, turning over onto your side. “Get out.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet and definitely not a prime example of you being mean to your younger brother. Seriously though, we have to get going soon for school.” He expertly dodged the spare pillow you threw at him, deciding to kneel by your bedside and stare you in the eyes like some psychotic cat.

“Not everyone’s a morning person, Pavi. Besides, it’s 6 in the damn morning. Come back in another hour.”

Pavitr didn’t respond, just started humming a tune and tapping out a familiar beat on your bedside table, using two pencils from your desk’s mug of stationery as makeshift drumsticks.

“I know you want it but you’re never gonna get it, tere haath kabhi na aani…”

Your eyes shot open as you recognized the song. “No, Pavi, I swear to God-”

“Maane na maane koi duniya yeh saari, mere ishq ki hai deewani…” Stifling laughter, he backed out of range before you could smack some sense into him with another pillow.

“Pavitr! Stop!” You chucked a pillow at him, sitting up and staring at him in utter astonishment at his song choices.

“Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya, main toh khud se pyaar jataun! What’s my name, what’s my name, what’s my name…?”

“Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, if you don’t stop singing that song right now-” You lunged forward, trying to grab him and muffle the lyrics of the Bollywood song he was singing - granted, he wasn’t a terrible singer, and in fact he could sing in Hindi quite well, but out of every song he could’ve chosen… this? “By the way, you missed a few lines, but that’s not the point! Stop it!”

“My name is Sheila! Sheila ki jawani! I’m too sexy for you, mei tere hath na aani-”

Chaos ensued in the next few seconds. Pavitr, who had been running around your room doing whatever choreography he could remember from the scene with that particular song in the movie you had both watched, tripped on the fallen pillow and fell flat on his face.

You had been chasing him around and tripped over him, rolling over and landing beside him. Luckily, you managed to break your fall with your palms.

“How’d the ground taste, hmm?” You asked, offering a hand to help him up.

“You’re mean,” Pavitr complained, taking your hand and pulling himself up. You fixed his slightly ruffled hair, a little surprised at how soft it was. Was he already going through the phase of being obsessed with how he looked?

“Yeah, well. You’re in my room at 6 am singing one of the sluttiest Bollywood songs you know, so… you’ll live, buttercup.” You gave his head a rough pat, turning to reluctantly make your bed - might as well, since you were already awake - as he hovered over your shoulder with a grin.

“But hey, it did get you up, didn’t it?”

——— ———

13 & 15.

“Didi! Where are you? I need to tell you something!”

“…I don’t understand. What are you saying?” You felt so paralyzed that you didn’t even register your brother’s voice. Instead you stared at the person you thought was your boyfriend, dangerously quiet. The calm before the storm. He shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with his sleeve and clearing his throat.

“Um, I think we should break up. I’ve kind of been… seeing another girl. Shreya.”

You were careful to keep your expression neutral, crossing your arms to prevent you from worrying at your nails. “For how long?”

“Uh, I-”

“How. Long. It’s a simple question.”

“Five months.”

“Son of a bitch.” You kept your voice low, sweeping a hand towards the door. “The exit’s there. Leave.”

“Listen, I’m really-”

“Get out. I’m serious. Get the fuck out of here before I make you do so.”

He stopped and stared at you for a few seconds, realizing just how angry you were.

“Okay. Well, it was… good seeing you, I guess. I hope you-”

“Didi?”

This time you heard Pavitr call you, soft hesitancy in his voice that carried into the room from the other side of the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Pavi, I’m fine. You can come in.” You covered the cracks in the screens of overly pleasant tones that you layered over your voice so as to make sure he didn’t worry.

He quickly entered your room, and from the way he glared daggers at your now-ex-boyfriend you assumed he had heard everything - or at least, a large chunk of the conversation.

“Hey there, buddy.”

He had the nerve to smile and hold his knuckles out for a fist bump. Truth be told, you felt a sort of bitter satisfaction when Pavitr just glared up at him and didn’t bother lifting his hand to return it.

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

His eyes widened slightly and traveled from the harsh scowl fixed on Pavitr’s face to your dangerously calm demeanour.

“You heard him, didn’t you?”

“I… yeah. I’m going. See you around.”

You followed him with your eyes as he inched toward the door, shutting it behind him.

The moment he left, your unbothered façade cracked and splintered into pieces. You moved yourself to sit on your bed, slipping the covers over your legs. “Thank you,” You murmured to Pavitr, closing your eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill. He came over to sit beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Mat rouoh didi. Hum ek movie dekhenge?” (Don’t cry didi. Wanna watch a movie?)

“Haan, please. As long as it’s not Tees Maar Khan, I am not watching that again with you. I’ve had enough of that Sheila ki Jawani. Wait, Pavi, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

“…that’s not important right now, don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t notice him anxiously trying to peel off the edge of the blanket that was stubbornly sticking to the pads of fingers.

——— ———

A week later.

It had happened so suddenly. No one seemed to know anything.

Well, except the fact that your father had died somehow.

I know we fought a lot more in… in the end, but I love you. I always have and I always will, Papa. You made me who I am today, you taught me to know my own worth and accept no less. Believe me, I think about it every day. If you were here I’d tell you.

You wished you could say that out loud, to offer everyone present a window into your thoughts to prove you weren’t just an angsty teenager - or a family disappointment, which a few aunties seemed to believe by the way they were whispering and shooting overly sympathetic looks your way which were quickly followed up by hushed giggles.

But instead you kept your head down and used what little energy you could muster to give a nod of acknowledgement every time a distant relative - even ones you hadn’t seen since you were a baby - popped up in your face to console you.

“Where’s Pavitr? Did he come to the antyesti?” You jumped; you hadn’t noticed your mother hovering beside you until she laid a light hand on your shoulder. She seemed to move around like a spectre; dressed completely in a simple white salwaar kameez with a long white shawl wrapped around her in such a way that it obscured both her arms and her hair, along with part of her face.

“No, I don’t think so - at least, I haven’t seen him.” You looked over her shoulder at the priests starting to get everything prepared for the ceremony and searched the crowds of vaguely familiar people.

Where the hell is he?

Getting the priests to agree to Pavitr - who wasn’t exactly Bhim’s son but the closest thing to it - leading the rituals was hard enough. But then again, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice, did they? You couldn’t exactly do it - the rituals of an antyesti were to be performed by the eldest son. Or the priests themselves, if he couldn’t do it for any reason. Never a woman.

You and Maya Aunty weren’t allowed to do anything except watch and pray.

And now if Pavitr didn’t show up in time-

Thwip! Thwip!

You frowned and shook your head slightly, wondering what the source of that noise was. Oh, well, probably just a pesky mosquito buzzing in your ear.

“Didi, Maya Aunty, I am so, so sorry that I’m late. Did they start already?” You jumped again in surprise - what was it with people sneaking up behind you today? You took in Pavitr’s crisp white dhoti and neatly styled hair, and for a second you couldn’t decide whether to hug him or punch him in the face.

“I’ll tell you everything later, didi. Pinky promise,” Pavitr murmured to you, offering his pinky to you. You linked your little finger with his, looking into his eyes as concern bubbled up to mix with the hurricane of emotions already clamouring for attention in your brain.

He had horrible bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept properly in a week. And when you gently squeezed his pinky, his breath hitched as if he was in pain and he drew his hand back after a few seconds. You blinked in confusion, getting a brief glimpse of painful-looking faint purple splotches all along his hand and the underside of his arm. They looked like bruises that had been poorly covered up by foundation that was almost three shades too light for his skin, but before you could say anything he turned to make his way through the crowd.

“Pavi-” You started to ask what was going on, what happened, what was wrong, but he just shook his head, angling his chin toward the priests waiting patiently for him.

“Badh mein, didi. Antyesti ke badh.” (Later. After the antyesti)

——— ———

After the ceremony.

“Pavitr Prabhakar, if you don’t tell me what’s going on-” You came face-to-face with one of your more distant aunties, who immediately lit up excitedly in a way that was probably not suited for a cremation ceremony as soon as she recognized you.

“Arrey, beta! You’ve grown so much! How old are you now? You still sing, no? Kya aapne college ke bare socha hain?” (Have you thought/started thinking about college?)

“Haha… hi, aunty… no, aunty… no, I haven’t thought about college yet… have you seen Pavitr anywhere? I need to find him and it’s really urgent but… oh, uh… yes, of course, I would love to catch up over chai sometime. Sure, we should plan that - oh, sorry, bye! Tell my mother that I’ve gone to look for Pavitr, okay? Thank you!”

Seizing the opportunity that presented itself in the form of another aunty who came waddling over to greet the first one, you squeezed through the crowd of people in sarees and dupattas, some milling about and some dispersing, all accompanied by the almost suffocating smell of jasmine. God, did everyone use the same horrible perfume?

Luckily for you, the antyesti was held fairly close to your house - on a large terrace that was only about a 15 minute walk away.

You got to the front door and fumbled with the set of keys in your pocket for a second, your fingers shaking slightly as the shock and grief began to set in. Adrenaline could only take you so far, it seemed.

“Pavi? Pavi, I’m home, where-”

You opened the door to your room and inhaled sharply at the sight that lay before you. Pavitr leaned against your bed, sitting on the floor with his knees hugged close to his chest, chin resting on his kneecaps. His eyes were squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttering as tears slipped out one after another from underneath them.

“Pavi…? Oh, Pavi, mera chhoti bhai, kya hua? Kisi ne… tumhein chot pahunchaee?” (My little brother, what happened? Did… someone hurt you?) You scooted closer to Pavitr, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him into your side. He buried his face in your shoulder, tears soaking through the thin fabric of the kurta you were wearing.

“Shh. Sab theek ho jayega. Mujhe batao, Pavi. Kya hua?” (Everything’s okay. Tell me, what happened?)

“I’m Spider-Man.”

You blinked in surprise. Out of all the possible explanations he could have offered you, that was certainly not on your list. “Spider-Man? Matlab… the superhero?” (Matlab means meaning)

The hero had emerged only a week ago. Wearing an intricately patterned mask that left his wavy hair loose at the top, a blue-and-red spandex suit and blue dhoti pants on top of them, he was basically impossible to ignore. You had seen some key similarities between Spider-Man and Pav’s hair, but you had always just assumed it was related to how boys cut their hair like their idols sometimes.

“Chacha died because of Spider-Man. Because of me. He got caught in the crossfire and I couldn’t reach him in time and-” Pavitr’s words spilled together in a panicked haze, blurring each syllable and tripping over letters in an attempt to get them out before he could break again. (Chacha is another word for uncle)

You shifted to face him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Shaant ho jao. Main yahaan hoon. Main kaheen nahin ja raha hoon.” (Calm down. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere)

“I can’t-” His breath quickened as his whole body started to heave with dry sobs. “Please just… just listen to me. This is what I wanted to tell you last week. I’m Spider-Man.”

He mistook your silence as a sign of disbelief and carried on speaking, trying to convince you. “There were these bullies I was running from, and I tripped and fell into a tree hollow and there was this yogi who said he’d give me the powers of a spider to fight the evil in this world, and I didn’t know it would turn out like this so I accepted and-”

“I believe you.”

That caught him off guard. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes wide. “You do?”

“Of course. You think I haven’t noticed you sticking to everything? You almost ripped the couch’s upholstery clean off because you weren’t paying attention.” You gently swiped your thumb near the corner of his eye, wiping away the tear that was at risk of spilling out. “It’s okay, Pavi. Let’s.. talk about something else for the moment.”

As much as you wanted answers - how exactly had your father died? Which sick, twisted, psychotic ‘villain’ killed him? - you knew when to stop pushing Pavitr and now was definitely that time. Tears still shone in the corners of his brown eyes, not quite ready to fall but not small enough to be blinked away.

“Spiderwebs!”

“What?”

“You need spiderwebs, naa? So you can swing like a spider instead of leaping around and relying on sticking to whatever surface you can reach. Ooh, it’d be so cool if you could shoot them from your hands and lasso bad guys and when they fight back you go dishoom dishoom.” (dishoom is basically just a sound effect for beating someone up 😭 usually punching someone)

“… you mean webshooters?” Pavitr watched your emphatic display of just what dishoom dishoom meant to you with a mildly concerned look on his face before he took a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. It was filled with designs for some sort of gadget, the sharp, jagged pencil lines highlighting every feature and listing possible building processes.

“I’ve done some research and I’ve got everything, so I know how to make it. But I need something that can contract if I wrap a web around it… kind of like a yo-yo? But it also has to fit on my wrist so that it’s easy for me to angle where I want the web to go.” He absentmindedly tapped the pencil against the silver bangle you were wearing. The soft clinks gave you an idea and you quickly got up, going to your dresser and rummaging around in the drawers.

“Wait, I think I might have something that’ll work…”

Your fingers closed around what you were looking for and you fished it out. You held two large golden cuffs in your hands, but they weren’t regular heavy cuffs. The top and bottom were actually two separate pieces, joined together in the middle by a stretchy piece of white nylon that went all the way around.

Just looking at it made your heart ache a little as all the memories associated with the simple accessory came flooding back.

Your father had given it to you a few Diwalis ago, when you were throwing a tantrum about having to wear the large bangles to go to with the itchy salwar you had on - against your wishes, of course. But your mother warned you that her mother was a stickler for traditions and insisted on everyone wearing the most colourful ethnic wear you all had, including Pavi.

Your father had slid one of the cuffs onto your right wrist, laughing gently at your surprise look when you discovered how light they were, a stark contrast to the gold bangles that weighed down your other wrist.

“Compromise paaya, hain na?” (We’ve found a compromise, right?)

“Haan, papa.”

Now, more than eight years later, you held one of the last things you had left to keep your father’s memory alive.

And what better way to honour him than to use his kaadas to fight evil and protect the city?

“Use these.”

Pavitr looked up and immediately shook his head, gently pushing away your outstretched hands. “No, didi, I can’t- this is what Uncle gave you-”

“I know. He gave them to me as a gift. And now I’m passing them down to you. Please, Pavi. Take them.” You took his hands, pressing the kaadas into his palms and closing his fingers over them.

Something in your tone made him search your gaze for a few seconds before giving in and bringing the cuffs up to his eyes, testing out the nylon middle. “Wait, this is perfect. If I can just…”

He reached into the depths of one of your drawers and pulled out a small device that looked like it had some sort of fluid sloshing around in its… fuel container, maybe? You furrowed your brow in surprise. “Has that always been there? In my cupboard?”

“Well, yeah. Can’t have Maya Aunty accidentally pulling it out of mine, can we?” He gave you a grin. “Besides, you have so many things stuffed into that one drawer that it’s basically impossible to find.”

He attached the device to the inside of the cuff with a small click and slipped it onto his wrist.

Thwip! Thwip!

With two tiny flicks of his wrist, he had shot two webs to the ceiling and was now hanging upside down, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Well, this is working pretty well-”

Thud.

“Don’t you dare,” Pavitr warned you as he winced and rubbed the spot where he had fallen on his backside.

“I will not laugh. I will not laugh. I will not-”

You couldn’t help but burst into giggles at his mildly pathetic sad-puppy expression as he sat dejectedly on the floor after falling from the ceiling.

“So, uh… the web strength may need some work.”

“Everybody, this is Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, Mumbattan’s Spider-Man.” You pretend to speak into an imaginary microphone, gesturing animatedly towards Pav as he lay on the floor.

“Oh, sure, announce it to the whole world, why don’t you,” He grumbled, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

You gave him an overly sweet smile, leaning over to mess up his hair. “Never. I’m gonna take this secret with me to my grave.”

——— ———

14 & 16.

6 months really went by quickly.

6 months of monthly poojas to honour your deceased father. 6 months of Pavitr being Spider-Man. And also…

“Didi! Why isn’t my hair staying down?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because that bad guy threw you into an electricity tower? Pavi, why are you dressing up all of a sudden anyway?” You sat on the floor of your room as you skeptically watched him brush out his hair. He had insisted that your mirror was big enough and ‘had the best lighting’.

He stayed silent, though you could see him scrunch his nose a little in embarrassment. The realization hit you and you let out a loud - maybe overly dramatic - gasp.

“Oh my god! You have a date!”

“…maybe. So?”

“So that means I get to meet and terrorize them! You know, sibling stuff!”

Pavitr froze for a split second, a small smile starting to form in the corner of his mouth at the last part. Siblings. In all honesty, didn’t that word describe the bond you both shared almost perfectly? Siblings - not by blood, but by something so much bigger than either of you could’ve imagined.

“Absolutely not. Gayatri’s-”

“Gayatri? Is she Punjabi? Ooh, is she pretty? Is she really badass and cool and-”

“She’s a model,” Pavitr interrupted, smoothing down his hair and glaring at you. “And this isn’t my first date with her. Just for the record.”

“Wow, and she’s your age? Damn, Pavi, you managed to pull a model! I’m so proud of you right now.”

“I will strangle you if you don’t stop talking,” Pavitr grumbled, punching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying anything bad!”

“Sure you ar-” Pavitr stopped mid-sentence and stiffened, craning his neck and glancing out the window over his shoulder like a cat that had heard something strange. “Wait, someone’s here. Gotta go!”

He dashed into the bathroom and came out two seconds later, fully decked out in his spider suit and mask.

“Don’t get your ass kicked!” You called out as he nose-dived out the window.

“Ha, ha! Very funny!”

——— ———

10 minutes later.

“Pavitr, what the hell?!” You leaped backwards as a strange sort of alien materialized in your room for a split second before they disappeared into a black hole-like void, followed by a… Spider-Man? Not Pav. This one was taller and his suit was red and black, and oh God, was he bleeding from his armpits?

You were tempted to offer him a few cotton wipes and something to clean the wound but he disappeared in after the weird teleporting alien before you could ask.

Pavitr came crashing in through your window, landing on the floor and glancing around. “What? I thought they came here-”

“Really?! Now you show up? I’ve just had some sort of cow-man and a new Spider-Man teleport into my room through a pit and-” You stopped short as another Spider-Man landed on the floor. Except… Spider-Woman? She wore a suit in the shape of a white-and-black ballet leotard and had a hood with web designs on the inside.

“Pavitr, is… this Gayatri?” You tried to wrap your head around the fact that there were three different types of Spider-People and a cow on the wrong side of evolution who had just phased through your house. “Oh, hi, Gayatri, I’ve heard so much about you. Pavi thinks you’re really classy and cool and you’re the prettiest girl alive and-”

Pavitr webbed a pillow and swung it into your face before you could finish, temporarily shutting you up. “Didi, this… this isn’t Gayatri.” Despite his face being covered by his mask, you could tell from his tone that he was embarrassed out of his wits. “This is, uh… this is Gwen. She’s a Spider-Woman. Look, it’s hard to explain, but they’re all from different universes and I think the New Guy’s in love with Gwen, so we gotta go save their romance before it shatters. Bye!”

He leaped out the window again, followed by Gwen - who was stuttering and tripping over her words trying to form a plausible denial for his last statement.

Never a dull day in Mumbattan, I guess.

——— ———

5 minutes after that ordeal.

“Arrey, your chai is getting cold. Drink fast, no?”

“Haan, Amma. Ek second.” (One second) You moved away from where you were hovering near the window. As much as Pavitr reassured you that he was okay, that being Spider-Man was easy now - you still remembered having to disinfect wounds and ice bruises and watch him hiss and crinkle his face up in pain every time you wiped a tissue soaked in Dettol along his cuts.

Maybe those were only fairly harmless flesh wounds, but what kept you up at night was the worry that one day it might turn into something worse.

“I’m drinking it,” You said defensively and sat down as Maya Aunty lifted an eyebrow at you over her own mug. Just as you sat down the whole ground seemed to shake, a horrible din filling the air, screams and the sound of rubble falling mingling together in the cacophony.

“Oh, someone blew down Alchemax,” said Maya Aunty once the noise died down. With a small shake of her head, she casually returned to her chai as if this sort of thing happened almost every day.

“What an idiot.” You glanced out the window, squinting into the distance and widening your eyes as your eyes snagged on a flash of vibrant fabric flying through the air, just barely visible through the pieces of flying rubble.

Oh, fuck, that’s my idiot.

——— ———

You figured the easiest and fastest way to get near Alchemax was to take the bus. After all, those bus drivers had basically decided long ago that they were above the rules of the traffic. They honestly didn’t give a damn about the speed limits and you respected that.

“Hi, Y/N!” You turned at your name, tilting your head curiously because you didn’t recognise the voice.

You found yourself looking at someone who looked oddly familiar, you just couldn’t place it - until you glanced briefly out the window and saw a Zomato billboard. Of course if had to be her, how else would she know your name?

“Oh, are you Gayatri? Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from Pavi.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, and likewi-“

The bus swerved sharply and you, Gayatri and more than half of the people who weren’t holding onto the railings were slammed against the back window before the bus started to tilt forward. You blinked away stars for a few seconds as the wind was knocked out of you.

When you regained your vision you let out a yelp of surprise. Someone yelled “Fuck!” right next to you, followed by a string of unrepeatable Marathi cusswords - while also listing out gods and praying to them that they’d make it out alive - and you could understand why.

Some dumbass - or maybe a large piece of rubble - had ripped a hole in the middle of the fucking Mumbattan Bridge. The whole bus was falling right into that hole, and unfortunately the bus driver’s magical ability to fly straight over potholes seemed to have evaded him right now, judging by the fact that he was currently contributing to the chorus of terrified screams.

“Hold on!” Gayatri caught your forearm right as your grip on the flimsy side railing was loosening and pulled you up to latch onto the railing at the back. Good lord, was this girl strong. You decided right then and there that you definitely liked her.

You saw Pavitr stop mid-swing and turn around, his mask’s eyes widening as he saw both of you pounding relentlessly on the back bus window in the hopes that it would break in time.

He shot a web that stuck to the back of the bus, tipping it almost vertically as he held onto one of the bridge supports. His eyes narrowed with effort as he struggled to hold onto the deceptively delicate-looking silky tendrils.

You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for the time when Pavitr fell from the ceiling 6 months ago. If that hadn’t happened, you and the other people on this bus would’ve been flattened on the ground by now. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.

Pavitr glanced behind him, his shoulders falling slightly in shock. The web holding onto the bus stretched and dipped, threatening to snap any second. He wrapped the silken web around the support, trying to bring it up.

You and Gayatri were just barely hanging on, your entire bodies dangling down with gravity as you held onto the railing for dear life.

Suddenly something changed. Another web attached itself to the bus and pulled you onto the bridge. Another Spider-Man, possibly?

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as the bus levelled itself on solid ground again. Gayatri gave you a weak smile, grasping your hand and pulling you straight into the throng of people rushing to exit the bus.

The moment she stepped outside Pavitr wrapped her in a hug, eliciting a surprised squeak from Gayatri.

“Are you okay? I was so worried-” He realized his mistake mid-sentence, drawing back from her and patting her shoulders with both hands, unsure whether to cross his arms or rest them on his hips. “Uh, you seem like a nice young woman who I do not know…”

Gayatri chuckled softly and looked past him. “Papa!”

“Gayatri!”

She ran at him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Seeing their bond warmed your heart but also made it ache slightly with the acceptance that that could never happen to you with your own father.

“Real smooth, Pavi,” You grinned at your brother, who grumbled something under his breath and closed the distance to crush you in a hug.

“Shush, didi. I just saved your ass.”

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” You ruffled his hair affectionately and pulled back, smiling at the growing shouts of ‘dhanyavadh, makhdi-bhaiya!’. (Thank you, Spider-Guy!)

“Amma’s going to kill you, by the way. She thinks you snuck out to go to some p-”

You let out a soft mmph as you collided with possibly the boniest person you had ever had the misfortune of bumping into. You were pretty sure you had just got stabbed in seven different places by various joints.

“Sorry, I didn’t-” You paused as you looked up, taking in spikes, a leather vest, pins, a guitar, and mask eyes which looked like running mascara.

“Holy shit, you’re really cool.”

The Spider-Man variant blinked in surprise and let out a laugh. “Why, thank you, poppet. I try. Pisses the fascists off so much that they call me Spider-Punk.”

You heard the twang of a well-known (almost infamous, at least in Mumbattan) accent and glanced at Pavitr. “He’s British,” He confirmed, giving Hobie a high-five.

“Well, I don’t care. He looks awesome.”

“Oi, Pav, I like this one.” He gave you an appreciative fist-bump, and you lifted your eyebrows at the sheer size difference between both of your hands.

“That’s my sister.”

“Makes sense. But you know I didn’t mean it like that. She seems cool is all.”

“Wait. If you’re British, can you do us a favour and steal back the Kohinoor? Please?”

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises. Fuckin’ Sweeney*, I doubt they even know where it’s kept.” (*Sweeney/Sweeney Todd - Cockney rhyming slang for Flying Squad [the police])

You nodded along politely with a smile like you actually understood even one word of that sentence. “Well, okay, in that case-”

You turned and almost burst out laughing. Pavitr looked like he was on the losing end of a staring contest, his hand almost engulfed in Inspector Singh’s much bigger one. Gayatri stood behind him, looking between them in awe. “I’ve never seen him so emotional.”

“Excellent job.”

Your bother just gave a nod, but knowing Pavitr he was internally over the moon and would hold that simple statement close to his heart, insisting that his girlfriend’s dad “loved him”.

“Man-like Miles, my guy!” Hobie grabbed the red and black Spider-Man - Miles’ - shoulders and shook him excitedly, punching him lightly as the people of Mumbattan started cheering.

You were about to join in when something happened. Well, not happened, really, but… something felt off somehow. You had read something once that said a person’s hair stands on end as a warning when lightning’s about to strike. You imagined that’d feel like you you were feeling right now. And you could hear whistling… was that sound just your ears being weird?

The cheers died down suddenly and you turned around too late. One of those portal-holes, slicing through the air like a deadly frisbee, slammed into you and knocked you inside in such a way that you got teleported straight off the side of the bridge. You scrabbled for the supports, but to no avail as you sailed right past them.

You heard Pavitr’s panicked yell, the sounds of confused and worried chatter bubbling among the ground, and the air rushing around in your ears as you free-fell.

You can’t save me, you realized as you saw Pavitr dive off the bridge, reaching out his wrist in preparation of shooting a web. You won’t get here in time. You focused on mouthing the next few words that came to your mind, because if you were going to die and leave your brother you would do so by reminding him that he was - and always would be - loved. Pavi, I’m sorry. I love you. I always will.

Your stomach dropped and your head spun - but by some mercy you didn’t feel the final impact.

——— ———

Pavitr’s POV.

“No, no no no- please, please no-”

Pavi, I’m sorry.

I love you.

Six words. Six words which shouldn’t be used in the same sentence. Those two sets separately, sure, but in very different scenarios.

Those would not be the last words you said to him. They couldn’t be.

Time seemed to slow down, making his movements sluggish and hazy. He stretched his wrist out till it ached, silk erupting from his - no, your - kaada. Come on, come on…

The silk shot toward you and for a second he thought it would reach in time.

Then he heard a crash and watched you fall straight through the flimsy tin roof of an abandoned warehouse. “No!”

He landed after you, shooting a web at a street lamp and pulling up to break the built-up momentum at the last second. Kicking down the warehouse door, he rushed over to your limp form, sprawled across a few empty crates in the dimly lit space.

“Nonono you have to stay with me, please don’t go, I can’t-” Pavitr swallowed hard as he picked you up and set you down with your back against the wall, holding up your jaw so your head didn’t fall forward. He snapped his fingers in front of your face two, three times - no response.

He could feel his vision starting to blur, heart practically causing an earthquake as he shakily put his finger to the pulse point on your neck.

Nothing.

“No,” He whispered into the still air, as if that would be able to revive someone who was so much more than just a cousin. You were his sister, his closest and most annoying friend, his anchor. You were supposed to be a constant in his life. If you were gone… what would go next?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, cradling your lifeless body in his arms. But after a little while Hobie dropped in through the hole in the ceiling, and Miles and Gwen came in through the door. He didn’t understand anything they were saying. Pavitr felt like he was underwater, the cold, murky silence filling his ears and bleeding into his brain.

Someone else, much bigger than him tried to drag him away. Someone wearing a beige police uniform and a turban. He kicked and fought, screaming at them that they didn’t understand, he couldn’t leave you, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. That you were going to wake up soon. You were only unconscious, after all. You had to wake up sometime.

You had to, right?

Pavitr watched as you were placed on a stretcher, a white cloth laid over your body. He slumped in the hands of whoever was struggling to drag him away as all his hopes of you waking up splintered into a million pieces. Pieces that he would step on and trip over and they would cut his skin a billion times. Little tiny paper cuts. Paper cut after paper cut, till he bled out.

Through whatever shocked haze his brain was forcing itself into, he knew that something inside him had broken. Duct tape could fix it. Duct tape could fix anything. Was this metaphor for something? His brain really needed to slow down, he couldn’t keep up with what was and what wasn’t fixable with a single roll of duct tape.

He pictured his heart, the muscles and blood vessels torn clean through in the centre, forming a hole in the shape of you. Did it stop beating? It felt like it stopped beating. Was there a way to check if he was still alive? He hoped he was. Though there didn’t feel like much reason to be. Not anymore, at least.

Oh. Maya Aunty. Someone would have to tell Maya Aunty. No, he would have to tell Maya Aunty.

Two funerals in the span of 6 months. Two core members of the family gone.

Twin flames burning warm and bright, always lighting up the entire place with their own unique luminosities, until they couldn’t anymore. The wicks were extinguished and the candles melted into stumps before their time.

The Spot knew exactly what he was doing, Pavitr realized. Because he might as well have set fire to his entire home.

——— ———

15 & still 16.

Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar was many things.

He was Mumbattan’s Spider-Man. He was Maya Aunty’s nephew. He was Gayatri’s boyfriend. He honoured his dead parents with his last name. He carried the legacy of his dead uncle with his middle name alone.

Most of all, he carried the memory of his sister in every scar that he got that day.

Suddenly every moment you had spent with him seemed too little. Even just one of your hugs would take away some of the pain.

Keep them in your heart, they’re watching over you. Recall the memories you made with them.

What did that even mean in this case? You had gone too soon. Dead, cremated at 16. You weren’t even an adult. And what hurt the most was that everything - from your room to your belongings - was exactly how you left it.

It had been almost 3 months and he still hadn’t let anyone change anything in your room. The messy duvet could stay messy. And the pillow that was thrown at the foot of the bed had taken up permanent residence there.

The room smelled like vanilla and honeycomb. And it would stay that way for as long as he could help it. If someone rearranged anything, would that part of you disappear from this house? He didn’t want to find out.

Everything that made this room yours would stay there, it had to. The way you meticulously arranged every makeup and hair product by height, colour and serial order on your chest of drawers. The way your cupboards always smelled of cotton candy because of an essence diffuser your friend had given you.

Gayatri, Miles, Gwen and Hobie had all tried their best to help him, and Margo had even dropped in a few times and offered to play video games with him. And admittedly, he was in a much better frame of mind than how he was only a little while ago.

He sat on the floor, hugging his legs loosely to his chest and clutching a mug of chai in one hand. Pavitr couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to; the altogether lack of the owner of this room made the silence even more oppressive and suffocating.

He stretched his legs out slowly, refusing to let his mind wander. Focus on the wallpaper. Focus on the sound of traffic. Focus on the chai. Focus on anything except the posters, the pillows, the way that it felt like time itself was holding its breath inside this room.

Pavitr’s leg brushed something hidden underneath the rug in front of him. Frowning slightly in confusion, he leaned forward to peer underneath the fuzzy square of fabric - finding nothing but a small notebook and a pen.

He pulled it out and, upon recognizing it, drew in a surprised inhale. The leather-bound cover was dusty and worn out. The label that read Bhim Prabhakar in neatly printed handwriting had been scratched out, jagged words cutting across the paper like tiny knife strokes. His heart squeezed when he read the word written in the second handwriting.

Y/N.

Of course he remembered this book, how could he not? On days when you had noticed he felt sad, you tore out two lined pages of paper and made him write down what was bothering him in a letter.

“Here, Pavi. Write it to anyone you want, and fill it out with everything bad that happened today. You don’t have to send it to them, don’t worry. I’ll even do it with you.”

He still remembered the first time he had done that activity with you. You both sat back-to-back, scribbling down all the ‘yucky feelings’, as you had put it once. Pavitr had finished his letter and surprised you by addressing it to you, twisting around to hand you the folded piece of paper.

You hadn’t addressed your letter yet, so you wrote his name on the top in big block letters.

To: Pavitr Prabhakar.

Because it was a very official document, you had explained solemnly.

And when you took a look at how he had mentioned you, you had lunged forward and trapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

He felt tears well up slightly as he recalled the amount of times he went and wordlessly sat at the edge of your bed, pointing to the leather journal. And you would pull out two pages, hand him a pen, and sit back-to-back on the floor. Every time, without fail.

Pavitr opened the book, running a hand along the pages of handwritten letters that were unevenly glued or stapled in. Some were tearing at the edges, others had chai-stains or ink splotches.

He carefully pulled out a page - only one this time - and picked up a pen from the mug of stationery on your bedside table.

Pausing to think for a second, he tested the pen on the bottom of the page. Then moved the tip to the first line.

Dear Y/N,

Pavitr stopped and narrowed his eyes at that. It felt strange, almost alien for some reason. A foreign word on these pages.

He tapped his pen on the page as he got an idea. He scratched out the two words he had written, addressing it to someone with a different yet more familiar title, at least to him.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

I know very little about the antyesti process so if anything’s wrong don’t hesitate to correct me! <3

Glossary:

Antyesti - Antyesti literally means "last sacrifice" or "final auspicious ceremony", and refers to the funeral rites for the dead in Hinduism, which usually involves cremation of the body. This rite of passage is the last samskara in a series of traditional life cycle samskaras that start from conception in Hindu tradition.

Saree/Sari - A saree is a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia. It is usually worn with a blouse that exposes part of the midriff, but blouse styles can vary.

Dupatta - A length of material worn arranged in one or two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, worn by women from South Asia. (Srry guys u have to look up those two definitions if ur curious,, it’s better to see how it looks rather than read a description anyway)

Kancha - Kancha is played by using marbles. It is popular in small Indian cities and villages, among small boys only as a gully sport. It is rarely played by girls. The participant has to hit the marble kept in a circle. If he hits the target properly, he wins. The winner gets the kancha (maybe kanche is the plural form? idk) of the other participant boys.

Lagori/Pithoo/Seven Stones - Lagori is a traditional game from the Indian subcontinent. It involves a pile of stones and a ball.

A member of one team (the seekers) throws a ball at a pile of stones to knock them over. The seekers then try to restore the pile of stones while staying safe from the opposing team's (the hitters’) throws. The hitters' objective is to hit the seekers with the ball before they can reconstruct the stone pile. If the ball touches a seeker, that seeker is out and the team which the seeker came from continues, without the seeker. A seeker can always safeguard themselves by touching an opposite team member before the ball hits the seeker.

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @vhstown

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author-ssi · 1 year

Text

Music & Sex ~MYG

➜Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader ➜Genre: Smut, (Slight) Fluff, One-shot Warnings: vulgar language (Yoongi cursing), oral sex;fem receiving (Yoongi’s tongue technology), fingering, hand job, vaginal sex (protected and kinda rough) [18+ MDNI] ➜Word Count: 2.6k ➜Summary: A rebellious Min Yoongi keeping the company of a docile girl seemingly appears a bit odd. However, there are certain things that connect the two and those are music and sex.

“Min Yoongi, get out of my class!”, the professor’s agitated yell echoes throughout the classroom and all the students are left to watch a fuming Yoongi storm out, slamming the door behind him. “Fucking asshole”, he growls marching up to his locker and starting to take out his things. “I swear that was the last straw! I’m going to drop out!”, he mutters frustratingly slipping his guitar’s strap over his shoulder and shoving his laptop along with his music equipment in his bag. “Fuck those shitty professors! Acting like they care whether I become successful or not, while all they do is promote their own favourites. What a shitshow! As if fake support and perfect grades will get me to my dream. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m going to get there on my own!”, he determinedly grumbles to himsef slamming his locker shut. “Yoongi-ssi”, her gentle voice is immediately recognised by him and he halts his movements turning around to face her.

Y/N; one of his classmates, a quiet and mellow girl who Yoongi has developed a soft spot for. “Sweetheart, I’ve told you before to stop adressing me so formally”, he chastises her with a small smile and a tender gaze, his frustration slowly dissipating. She mumbles a timid apology with a slight bow of her head before raising her eyes to meet his. “You shouldn’t drop out”, she tells him attentively, taking a step towards him. “You heard that huh?”, he half-smirks leaning his body against the lockers as he takes out his pack of cigarettes, not missing the frown that instantly takes over her features. He’s aware of her disapproval of him smoking but he can’t force himself to quit it; it helps him cool off whenever he’s upset. Having placed the cigarette between his lips, he glances over at her while he lights it, chuckling at her reaction. “You’re cute when you pout”, he teases enjoying the red tint on her cheeks that only he seems to be able to evoke.

One might wonder why he hasn’t already made a move on her. The reason behind that is because he doesn’t feel like he deserves her; he’s a rebel and she’s a sweetheart. He can’t trust his unstable self around her, sooner or later his reckless actions would hurt her. “After you left, professor Han announced to us that a showcase is going to be held at the end of the month where every student has to participate-”, his nonchalant groan interjects her making her memontarily pause before continuing unbothered by his evident expression of disdain. “He also mentioned that representatives from certain music companies will be present, on the look-out for new recruits”, she finishes her sentence knowing full well that by the end of it, she’s got his attention back. And she was right... Yoongi’s eyes gleam conspiratorily as the cogs in his brain start turning full-speed, brainstorming tons of ideas before ultimately settling on one, “Let’s do a performance together”.

Despite his rebellious tendancies, slacking off has never been a part of Yoongi’s vocabulary so the moment Y/N agrees to their collaboration, he has thrown himself right into work; coming up with a series of melodies and beats while trying to put together the best song he’s ever produced. After all, he has a knack for constantly surpassing his previous works and outdoing himself. “This is amazing Yoongi!”, and of course, the sight of Y/N’s impressed face when she listens to the final result is a bonus. A proud smirk appears on his face pushing aside his usually humble self; a behaviour brought out solely by her expression of admiration towards him. “Glad you like it. Can I trust you to have the lyrics figured out by the end of the weekend?”, he asks reverting back to his professional self. “It’s Friday... I’ll have them done by tomorrow night! You can count on me, Yoongi”, she grins widely at him, determination flashing over her clear eyes. He smiles satisfied with her work ethic, gathering his equipment from around the studio of their university where they had arranged to meet up. “Alright then! So... Want to go grab a drink or something?”, he suggests casually and when she shoots him a quizzical look, he reveals to her his habit of rewarding himself after finishing a project by indulging in the calming sensation of alcohol. Giggling at that, Y/N agrees in a heartbeat.

----

“How can you still look so pure? Naked and writhing under me”. He tried to resist. Really, he tried. How had an innocent offer for a drink led to this? “Yoongi please”. When did things go off track? Was it when the conversation somehow ended up heading to their past sex experiences? Was it when she revealed how much she craved to be eaten out since her fingers were not good enough for her anymore? Was that his breaking point? His eyes had darkened as he processed her drunken confession and without wasting another moment, he rushed her out of the bar they had been lounging at - the one he’d always opted for since it’s the closest to his apartment. Thanking the heavens for this convenience, Yoongi led the girl only two blocks down the street gently pulling her along by the grip his long, slender fingers had on her wrist. It wasn’t until he reached his doorstep that the reality of what he was rushing her into dawned on him and guilt started to consume him. He became so eager that he didn’t even glimpse at her the entire time. If he did, he could have at least gathered from her body language or expressions whether she was as eager to do this as him. He mentally facepalms himself for almost taking advantage of her innocence like that and proceeds to loosen his grip on her turning around to voice his apology. “Are we not gonna go in?”, her voice laced with anticipation reaches his ears before he’s able to complete neither of his intented actions; his fingers remaining encircled around her wrist, his apology dying in his throat. What he turned to face was the sight of her clear, impatient eyes gazing up at him, her cheeks flashed and her thighs tightly pressed together. Yeah... That was his breaking point.

Nose brushing against the skin of her inner thigh, Yoongi resumes his previous actions ignoring defiantly the begging whimpers of the innocent girl whose legs are wide open for him. “You’re so loud”, he sighs with a low chuckle as he finally stops his trail of wet kisses on her thighs. “Alright, if you need it so much... I’ll give it to you”, he smirks as his index finger creeps over to the part of her that seems to be calling out to him; glistening with her arousal, clenching over nothing. Yoongi only but presses his finger against her clit, slightly rubbing on it and that’s all it takes for him to hear the sweetest moan fall past her lips. “Is that it? That’s what you were whining about? Hm... You’re easier to please than I thought”, he mocks her moving his finger down her slit before he brings it - now coated with her arousal - over to his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact, his intense gaze remaining on her as his finger leaves his mouth with an intentional ‘pop’. Y/N knows he is only teasing her. She knows Min Yoongi isn’t stupid. He had known what she craved for him to do the moment she was left lying naked under him, her legs parting as she bared herself to him. So, she whines his name again looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips. "You're cute when you pout", a smirking Yoongi mumbles knowing she's had enough of his teasing by now. And so, his smirk disappears into her dripping and pulsating core as he starts to ravish her; wet lips pressing down fervently, skillfull mouth moving eagerly as if it belongs to a man who has been starved for days. “Now sing for me, your moans are the sweetest music”, he whispers with his warm tongue flicking her clit which causes her body to jolt and his request to be fulfilled. A string of moans fall past her open lips and her small fingers tangle themselves in his hair tugging them firmly in search of a way to channel the immense pleasure surging through her body.

Yoongi’s senses are overwhelmed by her voice, scent and taste and his resolve to go easy on her is easily broken. His slender fingers grip her thighs pushing her knees to her chest as he plunges his tongue in and out of her more forcefully. He feels her legs start to tremble as she continues to moan and mumble incoherently about how good it feels. This only adds to his fervour; two fingers take his tongue's place inside her slit and his tongue moves over to suck on her clit. That does it for Y/N. Her head drops back on the bed and her back arches against it as she reaches a toe-curling orgasm. Yoongi removes his fingers but not his tongue, simply slowing its movement instead, in order to prolong her pleasure. Y/N rides out her high humming in satisfaction before giving his hair another slight tug to let him know she's done.

A dazed smile appears on her lips when Yoongi lifts his head and locks eyes with her. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me", he praises her with a half-smile, half-smirk squeezing her thighs softly. His sturdy body then moves up to press against her own bringing them face to face. She simply stares at him too breathless to voice her own thoughts. Even more so when he kisses her deeply letting her taste herself on his tongue as he swipes it over her own. Y/N moans in his mouth, desperately wanting to reciprocate the pleasure she just experienced. Getting more daring, she sucks on his tongue lowering her hands towards his clothed erection. Yoongi won't deny that he's been feeling his cock straining in his jeans all while eating her out. When he notices her getting more daring, he pulls away from the kiss and casts his gaze down to the sight of her nimble fingers fumbling with his zipper. "Too eager, aren't we now, sweetheart?", Yoongi teases her slightly biting onto his lip while he waits for her next move. "I want to pleasure you too, Yoongi", Y/N states confidently, her words all the more fuelling his lust for her.

His hand joins hers to remove his jeans and he hastily kicks them off along with his briefs. Hardly does his erection make its appearance before Y/N's hands are touching it, feeling his hard cock up and down eagerly. Yoongi groans from the pleasure he's suddenly receiving, burying his face in her neck and sloppily sucking on it while he lets her do what she wants with him. A small whimper is all Y/N allows herself to release, her mind now set on only pleasuring him. Her thumb swipes across the tip of his cock smearing his arousal all over the head, before she resumes to vertically stroking his cock. "Ff-fuck Y/N, keep going", Yoongi grumbles under his ragged breath, his hands gripping the sheets on its side of her body as he hovers over her. She glances up at him with a satisfied smile, only now noticing how straining his position appears to be. Using her other hand, Y/N grasps Yoongi's shoulder firmly, pushing him to the side and making him lie down on his back. Her other hand keeps working on his cock, as she moves to straddle his legs, "Much better", she comments earning a simple nod from Yoongi as he lets out a deep breath, visibly relaxed and now more open to the pleasure he's receiving. Y/N slightly tightens her grip around his slim girth and moves her hand more swiftly on his long length. Shivers travel through her entire body, almost making her halt her movements, when she hears him let out a low moan. "Dammit Y/N", Yoongi hisses with his jaw clenched, abruptly lifting his torso and grabbing the girl by her hips. His lips find hers in a fervent kiss whilst she continues to stroke his cock.

"Y/N, I need you to answer me something...", a panting Yoongi murmurs against her lips placing his hand on top of her own to halt her actions. "Are we going to go all the way or...?", he trails off looking her straight in the eyes with a serious expression. Y/N glances down at his cock, erect in her hold between them, raising Yoongi’s doubts of whether she actually wants to do this with him or not. He deems his concerns as justified when he sees her lift herself off of his lap, drawing away from him. A deep frown settles on his lips in disappointment until he realises that she's settling herself beside him; lying down on her back and opening her legs for him. Once again, Yoongi erases all of his inhibitions - hastily taking out a condom from the drawer of his bedside table and eagerly moving to place himself between her legs after having put it on. "Are you sure about this, sweetheart?", he asks for her permission once again, gently cupping the outer side of her thighs. "Yes, I'm sure Yoongi. I want this, so don't hold back", she answers him urging him to go on with a roll of her hips towards his awaiting cock. That's the last consent Yoongi is going to take tonight...

Keeping one of his hands on her thigh, he uses the other to guide his cock to where she needs him most, entering her with a slow push. A whine slips past her now parted lips, drawing his attention. Yoongi focuses his gaze on her, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face twisted in pleasure, before moving his hips until his whole cock is buried deep inside her. He watches as she squirms and whimpers under him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling his body close. Her soft skin is burning hot against his with each one of his languid moves and her breathless moans sound melodic to his ears. As his rhythm accelerates, the sound of the raw contact between their bare flesh acts like the bass line to a song, providing him all the more satisfaction. His ears pick up on the moment her breath becomes more shallow, immediately knowing that she's close to coming undone. So, Yoongi leans in to Y/N’s ear urging her in a whisper, "Cum around me, sweetheart". It's like he flipped a switch in her because in that exact moment, he feels her walls tightening around his cock as she cums, granting him his own orgasm as well.

Normally, if this was just a hook-up, Yoongi would already be lying on his back and lighting up a cigar while watching the random chick put her clothes back on to depart. With Y/N it's different, though. After disposing of the condom, when Yoongi lies on his back, he doesn’t reach for his pack of cigars - instead, he reaches for her; pulling her body close to him as he hugs her waist. Closing his eyes, he relishes in the rhythm of her trying to steady her breath and the tuneful, satisfied hum that follows after she snuggles up to his side.

It is then that Yoongi realises that having sex with her feels the same as making music. And damn, he fully enjoys doing both.

#bts #bts x reader #min yoongi #suga #agustd #smut #bts smut #suga smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #music

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