#if you saw me forgot to put a read more break on this

[chickenparm]

Amidst Daydreams(Scaramouche/Reader) - Part Three/End

It takes a village to care for a child, but how many to teach a puppet how to be a human? Just one is all he needs, it seems.

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Kabukimono!Scaramouche/AFAB!Reader 6,359 Words - NSFW m!Masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, that last tag sounds worse than it is i swear, P in V, fingering, the softest smut this side of the mississippi

The puppet remembers the moment of his birth in startling clarity. The light searing his eyes, the heat burning his skin, every fiber of his being singing with the static euphoria of the lightning’s will. A will strong enough to forge him into being, piece by piece with a single-minded purpose. 

The puppet also remembers the moment that purpose is taken from him. When the impossibly heavy burden that weighs his entire body down is stripped away with fingers that delve into his chest. All at once, the sensation of divinity that could only be understood by someone crafted as its vessel leaves him in a choked sob. 

Or perhaps he’d been crying since the very beginning, since his first breath was taken through shuddering, redundant lungs. 

He remembers something akin to a second birth. His impossibly tiny world shaking and heaving with unknown force before once more his eyes burn. But there is no heat, there is no divinity, there is no gnosis tucked in the empty space at his breast where something should have been beating. There is only the amber light of the only home he’s ever known, wood groaning above and below. 

And footsteps - heavy, unbothered by the racket made as their heels hit the wooden floorboards. 

The puppet’s first birth is something harrowing, a constant stain at the back of his eyelids that he can’t seem to shake. But the second… Only happy memories reside there. Stacked high, one upon the other until the very top of the tower teeters with each new addition. With every ounce of his being, he clings to the hope that it does not fall. 

It doesn’t feel like a home at first. Even as he relishes the scent of tea leaves and something he’d later come to learn was human food. You’d been so patient, so kind when it was well within your right at the time to have denied any responsibility for him. And even as his mind worked sluggishly to piece together everything around him, only one thing felt stable in such a maelstrom. 

You. 

Knowing what he knows now, after an enlightening conversation with Niwa, the Kabukimono isn’t surprised he had latched onto you so quickly. With a little thought, he can pinpoint the exact moment that the emptiness in the cavity of his chest began to fill itself in with something just as powerful as the object that once resided there. 

The evening when he’d fallen apart for the very first time. When the memories of abandonment rang so strongly in his mind that he’s certain you could have felt them yourself - and you must have, because just as swiftly as it descended, so too did you sweep it away like the tears on his cheeks. Your hands were so warm. So unlike his own that hold a frigidness even when pulling blades from the forge. 

The very moment he collapsed against you, leaning into the easy embrace you offered in return, the echoes of his birthright were silenced in his chest. All that’s left is a feeling of fullness, of impossibly tangled thoughts and feelings that he hadn’t been able to decipher nor describe. As it settles between his ribs and among his nerves, he can only cling tightly to its mass and hope that it stays with him. 

It stays nameless and coveted until the frightening morning of your illness. Only then is he allowed the knowledge of what might be fusing with his very being. Love, explained in your own words, the best way he can understand it. Certainly, he has a vague idea of what love might be - he’s seen it in the way Katsuragi cherishes his wife. He’s witnessed it at the end of the day in the village when families come together and share their happiness with one another. 

Niwa’s explanation comes as an uncomfortable shock, but the light it sheds on everything makes the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. With the guidance of his teacher and friend, the Kabukimono is able to finally understand what’s going on.

A yearning to be in your presence, to share the uncertainties with life. The elation he feels at your side, the odd loneliness when he’s at a distance. Even with Niwa and Katsuragi, even with the tentative friends he’d made in the village, no one could ever bring him the solace that fell on his shoulders like the wisps of morning mist. 

And when he comes to a conclusion, murmuring the words in wonder, Niwa can only smile with his hands on his hips and an expression of pride on his face. 

As sudden as it feels from the outside, the Kabukimono knows that without a doubt, he’s been trying to love you this entire time. Now, he simply needs to figure out how.

Therein lies the problem that plagues him when he returns that afternoon to check on you. Unaware of his presence, you lay where he’d left you, buried beneath your blankets and looking so, so comfortable. Would you let him join you, he wonders while kneeling at your side, his palm flush against your forehead. 

Never before have you denied any of his attempts to be close to you. While before it had been an unknown, addictive sensation that he wanted to endlessly chase, now he understands its root cause. The thought of sliding between the sheets of your futon and conforming his body to yours is something he can’t quite shake, even as he’s forced to return to the furnace after the midday break. 

For the first time, he finds himself hopelessly distracted. Niwa seems almost expectant, but when he catches sight of the pinched look on the Kabukimono’s face, he doesn’t broach the topic. At least, not until they’re cleaning up for the evening and are preparing the forge for the work to come in the morning. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Is that what this is?” The puppet pauses in his mindless sweeping, pushing the dust around aimlessly in a way that does nothing to further their progress. Niwa’s hand wraps around the broom, easily tugging it from the Kabukimono’s lax grip. 

This frees the puppet’s hands up to cross his arms, fingertips flexing as he works through the twisting sensation in his gut. As he does, he murmurs his thoughts to Niwa. “My stomach hurts, my skin feels hot. It almost feels like I want to cry, but I know I won’t. Is it normal for my hands to shake like this?”

Holding one aloft, just to prove his point to Niwa, the tremors are easily visible to both males. Leaning on the broom, a fond sort of smile crosses the taller man’s face. “Of course it is. It’s not often that you love someone so deeply. I’d say it’s almost a one-in-a-lifetime sort of thing.”

Neither mention that his lifetime is so very long. It doesn’t feel prudent, considering the lightness of the atmosphere contrasting to the twisting of the Kabukimono’s stomach. Tucking his hand away again, he asks, “What should I do? Should I do what Katsuragi does with his wife-”

“Ah… Kissing them like that might be a little surprising.” The broom nearly hits the floor with how that question startles Niwa, but the man is able to catch it before wood clatters against stone. “The simplest option would be to just tell them. You talked about it, and got sent to me, so it wouldn’t be out of the blue for you to talk about your feelings.”

Even on a primal level, at his freshest in the world, the puppet was acutely aware of the apprehension that comes with facing rejection. After all, his first experience with this world was the bite of abandonment, of being unwanted. To hear something like that from you would likely spell out a death sentence - one that he wouldn’t bother to fight against.

Almost as if he’d read the Kabukimono’s mind, Niwa drops the broom he’d been trying to keep upright and instead claps both hands on the puppet’s shoulders. They don’t even flinch under the added weight, bearing Niwa’s sudden expectations quite easily. “If there’s one thing I know best in this world, it’s that not going after the things you want will only lead to regret. At least you could say you tried - and even if it’s not reciprocated, you know they won’t abandon you over it.”

“I thought you knew bladesmithing the best-”

“Not the point, Kabukimono. You can keep all your feelings for them inside if that’s what you want, but you’ll always be thinking about the possibilities. That’s just going to eat you up inside, turn you bitter and resentful. That’s not fair to either of you.”

Fair. The Kabukimono understood that rather well, one of the first things he’d learned. Not everything was fair, but it was up to the people involved to do their best to make it so. While the time to make his initial experiences right has long since passed, maybe it isn’t too late to try and do things right by you. 

Perhaps if you pushed, he would have. 

On his return home, you’re awake and moving around with the sluggishness of someone that still isn’t quite feeling up to par. At the sight of him leaning a hand against the doorway to remove his shoes one at a time, a smile spreads on your face - slow at first, then all at once when he returns the gesture. If you notice how shaky he is, you don’t make a mention of it. 

In fact, you make no mention of what you’d instructed him to ask Niwa about. It’s almost as if it’s been forgotten, pushed away now that it isn’t at the forefront and he isn’t pestering you about the intricacies of human relationships with one another. Any earlier than this afternoon, he might’ve been hurt at the dismissal, but Niwa’s careful explanation shed a little light on things. 

He’d embarrassed you. It’s a feeling he’s only vaguely familiar with, only recently coming to real terms with it now that he no longer depends solely on you for companionship. There’s no room for that sort of trepidation between the two of you, not while you understand him so completely. 

But it goes both ways, and he’s acutely aware of how you couldn’t even look him in the eye after he’d wheedled at you over rapidly-cooling Chazuke. 

With this knowledge, the Kabukimono carefully compartmentalizes thoughts of running at you full-tilt with the intention of kissing you until you melt in his arms like you do when he’s hugged you in the past. Instead, he focuses on the little joys of his day - success in forging, the new weapon that Katsuragi has been working on, the premise of a real sword dance on the horizon with its completion. 

And after his long-winded recount of the day, he finally notices the way you lean your cheek heavily into your palm, elbow propped on the table. Half-lidded eyes watch him with as much interest as you can muster, quietly asking little questions to keep him going. Even barely-awake, you still humor him and his excitement at simply being alive; yet another reason the cavity of his chest no longer rings hollow. 

When your eyelashes brush the tops of your cheeks for a little too long, he makes the decision to hurry you off to bed. Touching you for the first time since he arrived home is the sweetest joy, better than any candy or tea he could ever hope for. The weight of you leaning into his side as he ushers you back to your futon makes his throat tighten, anticipation for something he can’t place. 

“You know,” you start, letting him help you sit down in the softness of your bedding, “it’s strange. You haven’t hugged me yet - you always do when you come home.”

He supposes he hasn’t. While he wants to rectify that immediately, thoughts of wrapping you so tightly in his arms that the two of you sink together into one being are nearly impossible to fight, so too are there quiet reminders of why it might not be right. Because he just doesn’t know what it means to you, while he is painfully aware of exactly what it means to him.

Then your arms raise, reaching for him with an insistence for such a grave wrong to be corrected, and the Kabukimono falls into them like he was always meant to be there. 

Palms pressing into his back, you sigh pleasantly against his ear as his weight settles against you. All the greed in the world pales in comparison to the way he turns his face to press his nose beneath your ear to breathe in your scent. 

Breathing is unnecessary, initially only done with the purpose of interrupting his unnatural stillness. In this moment it holds a single purpose - the only way he can claim more and more of you in a way that won’t leave you reeling and wary of him. The shoulder his cheek is against shifts with the subtle movement of your head tilting to the side, almost as if you were offering for him to take and take and take and-

Too quickly, he pulls himself from your arms and struggles to find the correct words to explain himself. But you don’t ask for that, nor do you even seem upset. Perhaps it’s your illness, or maybe you don’t understand what he’d been doing, but you look at him with a vague dreaminess full of trust and familiar tenderness. 

Settling for the easiest course, he withdraws enough to have room to stand and murmurs just above his breath, “You should get more sleep. Humans need rest to get healthy again.”

“Thank you for worrying about me.” The slow drawl of your voice as you settle in is like the smoothness of his own blankets that cradle him soon after, wrapping around his body and trapping him with warmth and comfort. 

As he buries his face in his pillows to blot out the world, he has half a mind to burst back into your bedroom and exclaim that he’s quickly becoming convinced that caring about you is his sole purpose in this world. 

Perhaps his birthright was ripped from him because there was a greater task for him out in the world, one that involved him building a life that venerates you at the very center. 

—

The puppet dreams. 

At first it’d been only wisps of color, scents, sensations of warmth and comfort. It’s only after he spends time acclimating to the wide world that the images in his mind come into focus. 

The forge beneath a lavender sky, songs and stories that meld together into a single steady thrum that becomes indistinguishable. The sky radiating out from him in all directions, above and below, listening to his call as if he were meant to be among the clouds. The first sight of the blazing red of a perpetual maple in Autumn, leaves falling and regrowing in one hundred and sixty-eight cycles. 

A weight on his chest that’s painfully familiar in its scent and pressure. The softness of skin beneath his fingertips as he mindlessly drags them down a body that shouldn’t be so known to him. Darkness takes his vision as he relishes in the sensations of touch, scent, sound. It’s your voice, sighing names that he knows belong to him but he doesn’t understand why you refer to him in that way. 

And amidst it all, a pressure builds in him that he tries to grasp at, yet his hands are more occupied with tracing over dips and curves, squeezing at flesh that gives so sweetly between his fingers. Finally, finally he can open his eyes, and there you are. Perched above him, palms pressed to his chest to steady yourself, you look like the deity he might have been in the first moments of his life. 

That unfamiliar pressure shudders with a roll of your hips, searing heat gripping at him as your rhythm stutters. Your nails dig into his chest, unable to break his skin despite your urgency and his sick yearning for you to leave some sort of mark on him. There is already the sign of ownership on him, but perhaps with enough force you could overwrite it and claim him as your own.

The lungs in his chest rattle as he sits up, darkness engulfing once more but with a quiet familiarity. A dream, one that leaves him adrift and yearning for something he’d never experienced. Subconsciously, he gasps for breath to cool his nerves. The room feels stifling, but not nearly as much as the layers of fabric and blankets in his lap. 

Niwa had spared no detail, even as the man’s face grew red, so it’s not as much of a surprise as it might have been. The thought of loving someone physically is that that implanted itself into his brain, burrowing with the intention to wait until this very moment of weakness. The puppet can’t control his dreams, but even as he tentatively reaches for himself with a shaking hand, he doesn’t regret that they’re beyond him. 

The pillows beneath his head protest as he falls back into them, suddenly feeling boneless the moment the skin of his palm touches against the throb of his arousal. Instinctual but hesitant, his fingers wrap around it and squeeze, and a strangled sound tears from his throat against his bidding. 

Even the tentative drag of his hand from base to tip feels as if he’s grown intoxicated, the alcohol that’s never had an effect on him is unable to come close to the muddiness of his thoughts. Swallowing thickly, he spreads the beading moisture of his arousal and wonders if he’s doing something terribly, terribly wrong. 

Because only one thought whirls in his mind, one vision that’s been burned into the back of his eyelids. You, tangled in his lap, rocking your hips and branding him with unfamiliar sensations he just can’t recreate with five fingers and his palm, no matter how hard he squeezes. 

The blankets scatter as he rolls from them, stumbling to his feet with a sick sense of purpose. Your visage in his mind is blurry, the memory of your scent feels so far away. Just a peek, just a glance so he can finish this and find relief amidst the guilt growing in his chest. Niwa’s hesitance speaks volumes of how unwelcome this might be to you; it will be a secret he conceals for the remainder of his life. 

Padding across the hall, he silently pulls the door open just enough for his vision to be filled with your prone form. The blankets have been kicked away in your sleep, leaving you clad in your nightclothes that show a little more skin than he ever expected to see from you. Peace is settled on your features, and as his hand tugs at the strings of his pants to pull himself free, he wonders if you’d hold that same expression if you knew what he’s done. What he’s doing.

Just like before, the first pass of his hand is almost too much. Pain blooms from his lip as he bites down into it, the flesh giving beneath his panic. Waking you would be the worst thing imaginable, but that prospect isn’t enough to stop himself from jerking his hips forward into his curled hand. 

Your head is craned enough to show the line of your shoulder and neck, just where he’d not-so-subtly buried his nose only a few nights prior. The phantom memory of how your skin had smelled, how it had tasted on his lips when he pulled away and swept his tongue across them in the privacy of his bedroom. Both bring a sense of urgency and recklessness, barely stemmed with how his palm slaps over his mouth to stem the uncontrollable sound of his self-pleasure.

Perhaps he could get closer. The tatami would muffle his footsteps, allowing him to approach your form and bask in your presence. The proximity would be too much for his addled brain to handle, nerves already frayed at the mere prospect of gazing at you while touching himself like this. Holding himself back is paramount, and he forces himself to stay in place, even as he leans closer to the space in the door.

The wooden frame digs into his shoulder as he leans into it heavily, depending on the structure to hold him upright as his knees grow weak. The hand on himself is no longer his own, at least in his darkest thoughts. Instead it’s yours, stroking with far more confidence than he does, touching him openly rather than in a dark hallway that reeks of his shame. 

Each fluttering blink of his eyes brings a different image. Your face before his, close enough to share in his breath, your palm dragging along his skin. Your knees on the floor as you use your mouth in ways he can only imagine in this one heated moment. The arch of your back beneath him as he grinds against you, eyes growing hazy and unfocused at the prospect.

Would you make the same sounds he does? Choked-off and strangled in an attempt to hide himself, that is. He desperately wishes it’s the opposite, that you’d be loud and unfettered so he knew that he was making you feel the exact same sort of unknown ecstasy that he suffers from at his own hands now.

The mere thought of bringing you the sort of sensations he struggles through now makes his stomach clench, anticipation building toward the notion of simply making you feel good. He would do whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, so long as you let him chase it alongside you. Knowing your mind could be frayed alongside his own is a prospect that feels sweet on his tongue despite being a far-off notion.

One particularly angled thrust against his palm makes his eyes flutter, vision growing hazy as he loses track of himself for a moment. Desperately, he moans your name against his palm, breath humid against his own lips, and doesn’t register the mistake. All he knows is something is coming quickly upon him, fast enough that it tears through rational thought and reason. 

The scratch in his throat speaks of his wanton abandon, how careless he was in a single instance on top of a mountain of poor choices leading up to this very moment. 

This very moment that your eyes slide open, vision locking on to him in the crack of the door. You look further down and see how tightly he’s holding his mouth shut, how he hunches against the doorframe, how his hand has ceased the furious movements that had brought him so close to being free of this if not but for a single night. 

The Kabukimono doesn’t even shut your door as he stumbles back, tripping over his own feet in his haste to fade back into the darkness. It’s too little, too late - you’ve seen him and what he’s done, and there’s no coming back from something like this. Not with how wide your eyes had grown, how your lips had parted in surprise. 

Tears well in his eyes because of course they do. Once, you told him that they’re the physical manifestation of feelings too strong to be contained. As he makes it into his room and all but drags himself to the furthest corner from the door, they run down his cheeks and one finds its way to the tip of his tongue. These tears could be nothing other than the starkest regret, fear, terror for what’s to come. 

Making himself smaller in that corner is easy. He’s slight of build, capable of bringing his knees to his chest and burying his face into the blissful darkness in an attempt to keep the world at bay. Something so miniscule couldn’t possibly be of scrutiny by the world, yet he feels your eyes on him nonetheless through the door he’d forgotten to close in his haste. 

Sighing quietly beneath your breath, it sounds impossibly loud and akin to the sharpness of a sword cutting the air cleanly in two. It feels like a physical blow, slicing him to the bone as he buries his fingers in his hair to tug painfully. The wetness in his right palm smears across the skin of his forehead with the motion and he isn’t sure he could ever feel as dirty as he does beneath your gaze.

The tatami shifts beneath him, the sign of your approach and subsequent kneel down to his level. If you were to strike him, it would be well within your right, but the only sensation of touch comes in the form of your fingers wrapping around his wrists. With firm pressure, you pull his hands away from where he grips his hair harder and harder, nearly pulling it from the root in his spiraling panic. 

“Look at me.”

Hasn’t he done that enough? This goes unspoken, his unwillingness to acknowledge you seeping into his very being. No, he’s done far too much looking. More than he ever should have dared to do. 

Yet, you still don’t admonish him. Instead, one of your hands releases him temporarily, only to worm its way to his chin and pull him to look up at you. Even now, when he’s convinced that everything has been ruined, the most selfish parts of him take hold for one last lingering gaze at you. Just enough to take with him when he’s forced to leave.

But there’s no malice in your eyes, no anger. Not even annoyance as you blow a sigh from your nose and take in the sight of his tear stained cheeks and mussed hair, cheeks ruddy still in a combination of what he’s done and how he feels about it now. “Listen to me.”

The Kabukimono is always listening. At least, listening to you, that is. 

“What were you doing?”

Of course, you already know. But speaking it aloud must be the penance you’re demanding from him, and it’s with an impossibly shaky voice as he breathes out, “Touching myself.”

“Why?” And when he can’t answer, embarrassment taking hold of him so tightly that he can’t even expand his chest to speak, a visible pang of disappointment crosses your features. Once again, he’s let you down. Undeterred, you try again, “Were you thinking of me?”

So subtly that he’s certain it would’ve gone unnoticed if you still weren’t cupping his chin, he nods. What use is there in denying the obvious? The disappointment fades, and left in its place is a smile. It’s small, almost tentative in nature, but undeniably existing where it shouldn’t. 

“You’re terrified… Do you think I’m upset?”

“Aren’t you? You should be. Upset, angry, disgusted-”

“I’m none of those things.” And with a sideways tilt of your head, the smile on your face grows wider, a balm to his vision that’s still blurred with tears. “I’m actually… relieved.”

What? Relief barely registers in his mind as something you could possibly be feeling at this moment. Nothing that he’s done this evening would warrant you to feel any sort of relaxation, no matter the root source of your tension. His confusion must be palpable in the air, your tongue darting out to wet your lips and surely tasting it there. 

With great mercy, you let him find peace. “Do you feel something for me? Is this a physical reaction, or something more?” 

The Kabukimono has never hidden anything from you up until this moment. The only secret he’s held has been the damning existence of his impossibly heavy feelings. And with your blessing, your plea, he recognizes the only opportunity that will ever be afforded to him. Some might describe him as eccentric, perhaps even a fool if seen in the wrong light, but he’s far from an idiot. 

So with the last chance to fix things laying before him, he snatches it without hesitation. 

“It’s love. It has to be, I have never… will never feel like this toward another person.” When your smile doesn’t fade, neither does his confidence. It grows with each syllable he forces through his trepidation. “I can’t describe it. Without you I feel like I might die. Please don’t send me away, I don’t think I’d make it if you’re not with me.”

“Oh, Kabukimono,” You sigh almost longingly, leaning close enough that the scent he’s been craving overrides all his senses. From this close, your face near enough that he can feel the exhale of your breath across his lips, he’s certain that the only thing that exists now is you. He can feel your words against his mouth as you draw ever closer, “You don’t have to describe it. I understand it more than you could ever know.”

Kissing you feels like that dream of the skies. Weightless, abundantly free, opportunity to explore in every direction. The one he chooses is forward, leaning into you more and more until he’s on his knees and you’re on your backside, until he is the one slotted between your thighs rather than his dreams of you in his lap. 

He’s always been a swift learner, and taking note of how to kiss you is something that comes to him quickly. Mimicking your movements, he finds a steady stride against you that feels eerily natural. More credence to the theory for his existence, his conviction that truly he was made not for the divinity of a gnosis, but the quiet contentment of becoming one with you. 

Emboldened to impossible heights, his hands find purchase wherever he can manage - one at your hip, one curled around your breast and marveling at how he can feel even through your clothing how receptive you are to his fumbling advances. With that hand tugging at fabric, he chases that phantom sensation he remembers of skin-on-skin. 

Arching into his palm, pressing yourself into his hold in an effort to be malleable to his needs, you sigh into the kiss. The puppet feels the first hint of madness, the all-consuming nature of what he’s become in the short span of time he’s been allowed to partake in what he’s yearned for. 

And you let him. With the urging of your tongue pushing past his teeth, tasting something only you can understand, the desire you reflect back at him feels impossibly tangled. 

Unraveling you starts with your clothing falling open, the fastenings flimsy enough that the natural movement of his hand down your body is enough to slide everything free. At your navel he pauses, wetly pulling away from your lips to seek guidance. In theory, he knows what to do, but more than any pleasure he could find for himself, he desperately wants to give it to you. Perhaps if he does, if he can prove that something in him is worth keeping, you’ll be further convinced to keep him close. 

With one arm behind you to prop yourself up, your free hand finds his wrist and encourages him to reach lower. Further and further until your lips part in a gasp and undeniable wetness meets his fingertips. Like a siren song he follows it, pressing into the heat you’re offering and memorizing the way your head rolls back and away from him. 

“Tell me.” he urges you, even as his fingers stroke insistently, searching for something he isn’t sure of. “Show me what to do, how to make you feel good.”

And in response, your hips shift enough for his touch to bump against something that grinds against his fingertips. It’s a wordless instruction, one he understands well enough to latch onto in every way. With swirling fingers, he chases after every little sound he’s able to rub from you. Always generous, you hold nothing back, and vaguely he wonders what your voice would taste like if he were to swallow it whole. 

“Use… use your thumb there and y-your other fingers- ngh- lower. You’ll know, you’ll-”

Unwilling to be skeptical of any direction you give him, he maneuvers just like you demand and his fingers sink into the heat he’d been dreaming of. Your muscles clench around him as he goes further and further, knuckles pressing tight to your entrance. Like you want more, need more, it feels as if you could take him indefinitely. 

He expects you to tell him to stop at some point, to have gotten your fill of what he can offer and grow tired of the sensation. But a sort of frenzy seems to take over you, your hips grinding down on his fingers in tandem with his movements, almost as if you were looking for something. Chasing something - and then you seem to find it with your back hitting the floor and your spine arching almost painfully. 

You don’t tell him to stop, you don’t demand relief from whatever is causing you to buck against him so viciously, so he does the only thing he can. He doesn’t let up, repeating the same motions that reduced you to this. The soft give of you inside grows impossibly tight, clamping down until he can barely move his fingertips against something inside that nearly matches where his thumb is on the outside. 

The only way to describe you is having been reduced to your base components, barely functioning as you writhe against his hold. He can’t help but note that when you’ve fallen apart like this, chest heaving and finally grabbing his wrist to stop his steady movements, that you’re impossibly beautiful. He could easily find himself addicted to this, to you. 

But just as much as he wants to try and break you down further, his own needs are crawling up his spine, boiling a heat in his stomach that is so akin to how he felt in his dream. The Kabukimono wants - recklessly, viciously, so desperately that it leaves him feeling panicked and adrift. 

Even ruined as you are, there’s enough coherency for you to take note of how close he is to falling apart. With infinite mercy, you reach to pull him closer. The right process clicks in his brain, breaking through the haze toward what he needs to do to you, to take from you. With your legs spread to slot his hips so nicely against your own, you offer yourself freely. 

Is it selfish if he wants everything, and that happens to be exactly what you’re willing to give? 

“Be… be gentle. I’m sensitive.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be as proud as he is when hearing that, but the only thing he comprehends is that he’s done well. That’s all that matters, but to keep doing well he wants to follow your instructions to the letter. So, with a gentle hand, he pulls himself out once more to line up against the entrance that once squeezed his fingers so tightly. Surely it would feel better on his cock, better for you, too.

With your wetness, he slides home so easily that he nearly sobs with relief. With taking him in so easily, he’s convinced of exactly how right this is. Lost in the sensation, he doesn’t realize you’re crying until the dim light of the moon outside shines across your cheek. Then, with further inspection, he realizes you’re not crying at all. 

He is, and they fall freely from him to land on you. You don’t seem to care, instead focusing on wiping them from his own face rather than your own. Once more you treat him with unending tenderness, giving and giving until he feels content and complete. The only thing he can do is give in return, taking first by sliding himself free before thrusting back in. 

The sharpness makes you gasp, and an apology bubbles on his lips before he realizes you liked it. So, with an impossible amount of giddiness, he does it again and again. Over and over, savoring the feeling of your body accepting him and refusing to let go until he has to force himself out for a split-second. 

“You’re doing so well.” You pull him close, so much that your forehead bumps against his own and your labored exhales match his greedily inhales. In and out, as if the two of you are sharing a single breath at the pace of his reckless pleasure-seeking. Though, with how close he’d been before, the search doesn’t take too long when it’s found inside you. 

The praise heightens everything, the validation that he’s doing everything you want bringing him to an unfathomable height before you push him over with a sharp tug on his hair. The strands beneath your fingers hold strong as you provide a sensation to keep him grounded, a tether as he pushes impossibly close and sobs brokenly over the all-consuming sensation of release. 

Shaking against you, he can’t be bothered to mind his weight with how he slumps in your hold. So very familiar to how you’ve held him before, when intentions were far more innocent than the things you’ve done tonight, he’s certain something in his chest is beating. It throbs in time with your pulse next to his ear on your chest, forehead pressing into your collarbone. 

Certainly, the two of you can’t reside on the bare tatami for the remainder of the night, but neither of you make any attempt to change this. In fact, one of your arms blindly reaches up to his nearby futon, swiping the pillow to tuck under your head with a pleased sigh. 

In the silence that falls, comfortable and warm like the Summer evening outside, the puppet wonders if perhaps there is some merit to the claim that he’s becoming more human. With something like a heartbeat in his chest, the warmth of your body embracing him, his hand laced with yours against the floor, he can’t help but feel more like a human than he ever has before.

[timetothirst]

Simon Riley is (not so) secretly a huge sap | Part 2

(A/N)- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. and a little angst but mostly so much sweetness that it’ll raise your blood sugar. i banged this out in one sitting with no breaks so if it seems incorrect or weird then no it isn’t. i’m sleep deprived and v lonely i hope u understand. That being said enjoy my little goobers! MWAH

You love Simon’s tattoos. You trace them with your fingers whenever you get the chance, kiss the ones on his chest and shoulders whenever he huddles close to you in bed. You even managed to convince him to let you color in part of his sleeve once, provided you used washable markers. He lets you doodle on him too, if you like. You have to use black pen, though- he’s got a theme going, don’t you know.

Sometimes, when curiosity strikes you, you’ll point to a particular one, ask how he got it and why. His answers range from profound and emotional to “Eh, I thought it’d look cool. And I was right.” These ones are your personal favorites, the ones that are only there to fill out the tapestry on his skin. Like the small, quarter-sized ones hidden on the inside of his wrist, all grouped together; A bucket hat, a baseball cap and a little bar of soap. The symbol for TF141 on his bicep. Barbed wire, chains, and swirling flames that seemed to leap off his skin, even in black and white. A ballistic missile with a shark face painted on it, which- and even he would admit this- was a bit of an impulse decision, and kind of clashed with the rest of his sleeve, even though it still looked good.

There are ones you know not to bring up. Ones that clearly have dark memories attached, his own twisted way of explaining why he was who he was, ensuring he never forgot. It wasn’t healthy to have permanent reminders of his perceived failures etched into his flesh. He knew that now, but they still held sentimental value, however strange that may have sounded. A cockroach on his shoulder, dog tags. A rifle, helmet and boots, all stood up together. A date written above three skulls, side by side, one of them far too small. You didn’t ask about these.

It’s because of this that, when he brings you a gift one day, its importance isn’t clear right away.

You’d been together a while. It wasn’t a birthday or an anniversary, nothing too special. Still, hed gotten you something anyway

“Oh. Almost forgot…”

He was fresh out of the shower when he remembered, wearing a pair of sweats and little else. He spent some time digging through plastic bags in order to find it. “Popped by the shops and saw it sittin’ there. Thought it’d look nice on ya, an’ I had the cash on me, so…” he had explained with a shrug.

Despite his feigned nonchalance, you had known him long enough to tell that he was nervous about your possible reaction to his present. A bit unusual for him, but not strange, per se. When he handed you a small, rectangular box with shiny gold lettering on it- the name of some company or other, but you couldn’t read the font- you took it happily.

You thanked him even before you knew what it was, which he teased you for just before pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you to open it.

It ended up being a cuff bracelet. In your preferred metal, of course. Simon remembered little things like that. It fit perfectly, and it was made to look like a key had been bent and wrapped around your wrist. It looked pretty sweet, actually, and your eyes were bright as you put it on and thanked him once more.

You could tell that there was something you weren’t putting together, though. The way he was looking at you, holding his breath and searching for a reaction of some kind. You fiddled with your new key bracelet and glanced around, but you couldn’t figure out what he was waiting for.

“…What’s happening right now? Is there, like. Something else, or-?”

He rolled his eyes then, giving a quiet chuckle. “Bloody hell. You’re lucky you’re cute, you lil’ idiot.” He teased, though there was nothing but soft affection behind his words.

“And you’re lucky you’re handsome, you big jerk,” You replied, your tone exactly the same and your smile never faltering. “Now, will you please tell me what i’m not getting?”

He was tense and silent as he nodded and took your arm, the one you had placed the bracelet on. He directed your hand to his chest and guided you to press your palm flat against the skin there. That was when you looked down and put two and two together.

It was one of the oldest tattoos he had, judging by the fading and quality, though it still looked just as good as all the others.

A shiny metal lock, just off center and resting right over his heart.

Lock tattoo. Key bracelet. Blushing, fidgety boyfriend that looked like he was going to sink into the floor at any moment.

Ohhhh my god.

For a second, you stood there, too stunned to say anything. You kept your hand on his chest and used your free one to cover your mouth, your eyes wide as you looked from him, to the bracelet and back again.

“I kept the receipt.” He muttered.

That snapped you out of your trance, and you immediately shook your head as you began to tear up.

“Simon…it’s beautiful. This is- I don’t even know what to say, it’s just-“ You choked out. You leaned forward and hugged him then, your grip tight and your head resting where your hand had been just moments ago. Thanks to your new closeness, you could actually hear his heart beating now. Much faster than normal, but beginning to slow down now as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

Simon was many things, but a poet wasn’t one of them. He didn’t even want to attempt to tell you just how significant this gesture was to him, not with words anyway. He didn’t even think he could if he tried, if he was honest with himself. But he didn’t have to. You understood. You were always good like that. His sweet, wonderful partner that not only filled a hole in him he never knew he had, but also helped patch up the old ones with soft touches and encouraging words.

“Thank you, Simon.” You whispered. He could feel your lips moving and your warm breath ghosting across his skin as you remained latched onto him, refusing to let go anytime soon. Not that he minded. He rested his chin atop your head, closing his eyes and savoring your presence just like he always did. When his voice eventually returned, it came out impossibly soft.

“No, thank you.”

[apollosdaydreams]

Let Me In

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You are dating Lando Norris, you love him don’t get me wrong but sometimes he can be a bit forgetful. Lando loves to game when he's not busy with racing, often streaming while he plays. When he streams it's like the outside world doesn't exist. You were coming over and you had forgotten your keys to his place, and Lando had his phone on silent. 

Warnings: None fluff, adult language. I have no clue how twitch works so sorry if i get that wrong.  

Word Count: 590

You were currently standing outside Lando’s apartment, you had forgotten your keys and were waiting for him to answer his phone. As time went by you realized that he wasn't going to answer his phone. So you went on twitter and saw that lando was streaming on twitch. You sighed out loud and rolled your eyes. Mumbling on how forgetful he can be when you put a screen in front of his face. 

“Fucking I-Pad kid” You mummbled to you self, while slightly laughing at your situation, of course this would happen to you. It wasn't even Lando’s fault, you had forgotten the keys. 

While standing outside his door thinking what to do, you decided that you should see if he would see your comment. So you downloaded twitch and made an account. You then looked up his account and followed him, you clicked on the live and waited. Nothing happened. So you decided that the next best thing was to subscribe, so you put in your credit card info and then it went through. You then saw that you could add a message. On the screen it read “y/n y/l/n has subscribed! Please let me in Lando. :)” 

“Oh shit!” Lando said while laughing. “My girlfriend! She's on twitch telling me to open the door!” I'll be back guys. You laughed to yourself and stood there waiting. You then saw the door opening. You pretend to look mad, but that only lasted about a second before you both bursted out laughing. 

“I'm sorry baby.” He said while hugging you and pulling you into the apartment. 

“It's fine lands, it's my fault anyway I'm the one who forgot the keys.” You told him.

“But I should have been looking at my phone.” He said, while walking back to his streaming room. 

“Lando, look at me. It's fine. It's my fault, honestly it's actually hilarious.” You told him while laughing. “You better get back to you steam babe, don't want to keep them waiting for too long.” You said. 

“I'll be done soon love.” He said, before he left he kissed you and then went back into his streaming room. 

You decided to have fun watching him on your phone, as you had to pay, better put it to good use. You sat in the living room on the couch, waiting for Lando to be done streaming. 

“Sorry guys, I'm back.” Lando said. “My girlfriend was locked out of my apartment, so I had to go save her.” He said. “She had to subscribe to me!” He laughed. “I gained a subscription so I'm happy!”

You laughed out loud at this, you didn't realize how loud you laughed until you heard Lando addressing you on the stream. “Sorry guys, that was my girlfriend.” He said with the biggest smile on his face. After a few minutes of his staying on Twitch, he told the viewers that it was time for him to go hang out with you, his girlfriend. You turned off your phone and saw him walking into the living room.

“Hi baby.” He said while flopping down on the couch, his head laying in your lap. You moved your hand to his head, running your hand through his curls. 

“Hey lands.” 

“I'm sorry.”

“Lando, if you say sorry one more time I'm going to leave.” you jokingly said. “Don't feel sorry, it’s my fault I'm the idiot who forgot my keys.” 

“I love you so much,” Lando said.

“You are sleeping on the couch tonight.” You said. 

I hope you guys enjoyed this, it would be greatly appreciated if you would like, comment and repost this!! Sorry about the end it was kinda rushed. Sorry for not posting much, I'm busy with college but Thanksgiving break is happening soon, so I hope to write a lot during that time. If you guys have any ideas for me, my requests are still open!! 

Request Guidlines 

© 2023 on tumblr apollosdaydreams do not translate/remake/repost my works in any platform without authorized permission.

[dotster001]

For Tuna; The Search Continues

Summary:gn!reader Grin has begun round two of his search for his your sugar daddy. Luckily, this time he got a babysitter for you, so no interruptions!

This is such a crack fic...And I deeply love it 😂

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Part One Part three choose your ending...

"Thank you all for meeting me here," Grim said to the crowd of people. "And thank you all for the gifts. They shall be taken into consideration. Now, today will go as such."

He looked around the room in confusion. "Wait, it appears we are one person short, I guess-"

"Yeah! Me!" Floyd bursted into the room, revealing Jade clutching his cheek, and sitting on the floor.

"What the hell, Sealie! We had a deal! You promised I was in!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grim shifted in his seat nervously.

"Then I'm gonna squeeze you so hard you have to remember!" Floyd made to rush Grim, as Azul wrapped his arms around Floyd's middle, not even seeming to break a sweat as Floyd "ran" in place.

"Jade, please come get your brother, before he kills Grim and ruins it for everyone."

"I tried to stop him," Jade hummed as he retrieved his brother.

"Sure you did," Azul sighed, casting a quick stun spell so Jade could  get him out of the room. Once things had settled down, Grim called for silence again.

He put on a wig styled in your style and color.

"You will court me as though I am Y/N. You will only move on to the next round if you prove yourself here today. Any questions?"

Idia raised his hand.

"Yeah, who are the normies?"

He pointed at the two random Octavinelle students sitting at the table.

"Ah, yes. Two of our applicants couldn't be here today. They have special circumstances surrounding their absences, so they will be doing their tests at a later date. These two are here to remind you all to step it up."

Rook raised his hand. "Not a question, I just want to say your fur is looking soft and luscious today, monsieur Fuzzball."

Leona, Riddle, and Malleus all groaned and mumbled to themselves, while Vil massaged his temples in pure exhaustion.

"Thank you, Rook," Grim said with a smug smirk. "An anonymous donor has been providing me with a new fur product." Rook winked at him before grinning at Vil.

Silver raised his hand. Lilia attempted to shove it down, but it was too late.

"Again, this feels wrong to me. Firstly because Y/N has no idea about any of this, and secondly, because Y/N should pick their lover! I mean we've all known the prefect long enough to know that-"

"Look!" Grim slammed his clipboard on the table, calling for silence. "I've had enough of you and your goody two shoes ways! The only reason you made it through to this round is because the prefect says you're "baby girl", and I want to say I at least tried to think about Y/N in this process, but if you don't get it together, I'm cutting you completely!"

Silver looked at Lilia in wide eyed confusion, and saw Lilia was grinning. He wasn't sure which was scarier. Not knowing what the hell Grim was talking about, or the fact that his father seemed to be very pleased by it.

"If there are no more questions, then I will give you all the scenario. You are to act as though this is your anniversary dinner. Some of you have already lost points, because you forgot a gift," Grim pointedly glared at Silver.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Silver entrusted me with his gift," Lilia said, excitedly pulling out a gift bag.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes. You did."

Silver shrunk into his chair, as Grim happily accepted the present.

"Alright then. Now," Grim cleared his throat, then in a horrendous mockery of your voice, "Let us begin."

….

"Yo! Y/N!" 

You heard Ace's voice shout behind you as you kneaded the bread dough Trey had asked you to help with.

You turned over your shoulder, in time to miss Trey's expression darken.

"What's u-"

"Ace!" Trey shouted, startling both of you into silence.

"Perfect timing, I need to speak with you. In private," Trey said through gritted teeth, attempting to cover up his earlier blunder with a smile.

"What? No don't distract me, I'm here to-" but Ace was cut off as Trey not so subtly shoved him out of the kitchen, telling you they'd be back in a minute.

"Trey, with all due respect, what the fuck? You know full well that right now, Grim is running a practice date with-"

"Ace, shut up for just one moment, I'm trying to help you!"

Ace's mouth snapped shut in shock.

"My first question is, did you have to take out a loan to be able to afford to come here?"

"Yeah everyone has to-"

"The kind of numbers we are fighting against is people who have so much money, that they might as well not have even come here, because they definitely don't have to work a day in their lives."

"But Y/N doesn't care about-"

"Ace, seriously. I need you to think this through, or I'm leaving you here to rot," Trey said tiredly. "No, Y/N doesn't care about money. But they care about Grim. Grim, if he's as smart as I'm starting to suspect he is, is going to make his final pick, then spin it as a fairytale choice for Y/N. He'll wait long enough that they have forgotten about him interviewing people, and he'll come in with a sad little face and be like, 'Y/N, you're my family, but I'm worried that I can't give you everything you need.' And he'll continue to say stuff like that, and lay the ground work, until one day he sets up a cutsie spontaneous date in the living room with his chosen suitor."

Ace frowned for a moment. "That's…that's actually pretty smart. But Y/N says Grim's a dumb ass all the time. Why would they listen to his arguments now?"

"Ace, sevens, I shouldn't have to spell everything out for you. There's a difference between "my dumbass friend" and "my dumbass roommate, who is wholly reliant on me, who is also my cat, and who is my only family in this world"."

Ace pouted for a moment, before spitting out, "It's not fair! How are we supposed to even compete then!"

Trey grinned. "Well, we're here, and they're there. The plan doesn't work if Y/N has already picked someone before Grim has."

Ace broke out into a grin. "Trey, you're just as devious as the rest of us!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now, do you want to help Y/N and I make bread? This is a one time offer, after this you're on your own."

"Absolutely. Nothing like making bread amongst friends."

….

"Riddle, it was so very wonderful that they allowed you to have our anniversary dinner off," Grim hummed as he cut a piece of meat. "Unlike last year…" he sighed whistfully.

Riddle gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, my rose, but it was unavoidable. I had to perform life saving surgery."

"You always say that. I'm starting to think you are avoiding me…."

Before Riddle could come up with a response, Malleus had risen from his seat and knelt before Grim.

"My treasure, our lives these last few years have been so wonderful, especially since we have been able to provide the Great Grim with his own estate, and a lifetime supply of sea meat. But I feel I cannot truly continue to share anniversaries with you, unless," he looked at the floor bashfully, "Unless they were with you ruling by my side."

Suddenly, a shimmering ring appeared in his hand.

Grim gasped. "Darling!"

"No fucking fair!" Idia shouted.

"Agreed, this stinks of deceit, lizard," Leona spit out angrily.

Rook subtly returned the ring box he'd been holding to his pocket.

"All's fair in love and war!" Lilia said with a boyish laugh. "But I suppose it is time for my move now."

He stood up from his seat, composing himself, before putting on a face of pure horror.

"My little bat, I beg you not to accept his proposal! You see, as his longtime attendant, and closest adviser, and general of his armies-"

"General?" Vil muttered under his breath, as he furrowed his brow in utter confusion.

"Aim high, I guess," Riddle muttered back.

"I have come to the terrible knowledge that, his highness, king of those who worship darkness, and highest of all draconic fae, has been seeing another on the side!"

"No!" Grim gasped.

"That's a vicious lie!" Malleus spit out, a green thunderbolt striking the ground behind him.

"Is it? Then why did I see you roaming the grounds in a lover's embrace with Silver yesterday?"

"What!" Silver shot up from his seat.

"No, that wasn't what it looked like!"

"Malleus! How could you do this to me? And on our anniversary no less?" Grim sobbed.

Malleus rushed to explain himself, while Lilia handed Silver a notecard.

"No! I'm not…I'm not reading this!" Silver exclaimed.

"Just do it! It's fun!" Lilia laughed, completely ignoring the sobbing Grim, and terrified Malleus.

"No! Fa-Lilia, how does this not seem weird to you in any way? How are you okay with any of this?"

Lilia stared at him blankly, before understanding dawned on his eyes. "Oh, right, see because I raised you so well, I sometimes forget you are human. But we do this all the time back home. I've hosted three of these for you already." 

Lilia shrugged, totally ignoring Silver's jaw dropping. 

"Obviously, no one has been worthy of my precious Silver, but I figure if anyone is it's Y/N. See if you win, you get Y/N, and I've raised the perfect son. If I win…well your odds are high of also someday finding a kick ass person."

Silver would have yelled at his father about the Insanity of his thought process, except he collapsed back in his chair and was asleep.

"That's it!" Grim shouted. "I'm clearly not enough for you! It's over!"

Malleus started sobbing. 

"For seven's sake," Vil groaned, before standing up, and stepping around Malleus' fetal positioned body. "Darling, I decided we're finally going to go on that vacation we've always dreamed about. And Grim will obviously come too, with all the gold and food  he could ever wish for. Happy anniversary, my apple blossom."

"Oh Vil, how romantic!" The betrayal from earlier completely forgotten, Grim sighed happily.

"But how are we able to afford it?"

"Sorry?" Vil choked.

"Your manager called this morning. She says no one wants to cast you anymore because you're too old."

"Excu-!"

"Vil, you're almost 25 now," Grim said pointedly. "You're practically dead in the industry, and those looks are only going to hold up for so long."

"I bought you an island!" Idia shouted over the table.

"Oh?"

"I bought you an island, and the ocean around it," Azul said with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? And how is Y/N supposed to get there, if I bought all the yachts, and patented all travel technology for myself?!" Idia shouted, hair turning a deep crimson.

"I will turn Y/N into the siren they were always meant to be, and they will swim to our island and oceanic home, far away from the dystopia of you running everything!" Azul hissed.

"Capitalist dipshit!" Idia yelled, before launching himself at Azul, both of them soon wrestling on the floor.

In the chaos, Rook, had snuck over to Grim and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Mon amour, let us escape this room to explore parad-"

Leona yanked him by the collar, looking him right in the face.

"Back away from my mate, hunter."

"Oh Rois des Leones. I shan't surrender to you."

And now Leona and Rook were wrestling.

"Look, darling, I meant to get last year's anniversary off, but-" 

"Save it, Riddle," Grim somehow managed to get his sniffle to carry over the fighting. "All you care about is work!"

"It's the only way to afford the lifestyle I want to give you! I want to clothe you in finery the Queen of Hearts could only dream of!"

"If only I could believe that was true, you're only doing this to please your mother."

"I'm not old!" Vil suddenly shouted, as one of the wrestling duos hit the table too hard and caused it to collapse.

Grim pushed back a lock of Vil's hair, and smirked. "Is this a gray hair I see?"

"What?" Vil panicked and pulled out his mirror, before tripping over the still sobbing Malleus.

"Little bat, our romance is forbidden,"Lilia whispered into Grim's ear. "But now that you know Malleus is cheating on you, we can run away together! Start our own kingdom elsewhere! We'll be so happy together!"

"Lilia, I am flattered, but I think I should try to make it work with Malleus…"

"What? After all he's done to you? He tore out your heart and gave it to Silver!" Lilia shouted, before pointing at the seat Silver was passed out in. Or used to be passed out in.

"Where did Silver go?" It was the last thing Lilia got out before getting knocked over by a wrestling duo.

….

Silver wandered aimlessly through the NRC halls, trying to clear his head. 

"Silver?" He heard from behind him. He turned and saw Jamil, holding a bag of ingredients.

"If you're looking for, well, everyone, they're baking in Heartslaybul. I'm headed there right now with more flour of you want to come."

Silver nodded, figuring some baking would help him relax. When they arrived he saw you, the first years, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Kalim and  Ortho, all baking in harmony.

"Trey, I brought Silver and the flour you texted for- Kalim! What are you doing here!" Jamil's calm voice turned into panicked yelling.

"What do you mean?" Kalim's asked, all confused. But Jamil was already shoving him out the door.

"You're supposed to be at…that thing. Remember? We talked about it?"

"Oh yeah! The thing where grikahzj" Jamil covered Kalim's mouth as they both stepped out the door.

"Well, since Kalim is gone, you can help me with kneading the dough, Silver," you said with a bright smile.

Silver smiled softly, and nodded, before joining you at your station.

….

Epilogue

One week later 

"Darling! I'm the headmaster, I can't just take off because our anniversary happens to be in the middle of a school week! You said you understood that when we got married!"

"You told me you were fine that I had a career in fashion! You know I think you are more beautiful than any model, why are you jealous now?"

Grim simpered in his seat, taking a sip of his apple juice, before saying in his Y/N voice, "I think we should see other people. Happy anniversary."

"No!"

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog

[chastiefoul]

valentines gone wrong ft. childe, scara, and neuvilette

a/n: yes. you read that right valentines work on september!! this is just something random i wanna write one day when i'm lying down and ofc i can't wait until february next year (also how is it alr almost 2 months since i posted something???) tags: just fluff, light-read, and everything in-between, modern au (?) just don't think too much abt it hehe - summary: it's valentines and of course you have plans to give sweets to your lover. however because one thing and another, you had to entrust it to someone else in hope it will be handed safely to them. what happened when it didn't?

childe

you went home excited, anticipating his reaction to your handmade sweets, however what greets you at the door was a sulky childe, who avoided eye contact as if his life depended on it as he limits himself to a a sentence everytime you ask him something.

“something happened today, babe?” you asked him worriedly, the chocolate was the back of your mind seeing the state of your boyfriend in. “oh something definitely should have happened,” he quipped, his lower mouth sticking out slightly. “that sounds like a dig at me, did i forgot something?” you asked as you follow his gaze to what he thought must be the most interesting flower vase ever. he shrugged, refusing to give you more.

frustrated by his rejection to tell you what’s wrong, you held his face with both of your palm, turning his face to yours. although the move met no resistance, childe still refused to look at you in the eyes and only now his childish grumbles turned into such a sad expression.

“baby? please tell me what i did,” you were gentle with it, rubbing your thumb below his eyes. “...late.”

“what?”

“chocolate. where’s mine? i saw you gave your friends one so i don’t think im crazy to expect one too, especially as your boyfriend.” he pouted and you swore it looked so adorable and so out-of-character of him that you wanted to kiss him—wait.

“huh? but i did give you one!” you claimed, confusion rose inside you. “huh? but i didn’t get it...” childe’s face matched your expression. “well technically i gave it to scara to give it to you.. did he not... give it to you?”

“i wouldn’t be this insufferable if i got one, you know that, but no he didn’t say anything—and also really babe? scara? the guy who hates and made fun of me every chance he got?” he crossed his arm, raising an eyebrow, as he questioned your questionable decision-making. “hey give me a break, i was in a rush there thinking i couldn’t give you the chocolate in time. and he made me say please three times before he said he would consider doing it-oh i see how i was wrong there.” your line of ramble humbled you, the silence was loud.

“maybe he just put it in your bag or something?” you offered. “you really think he’s someone who’d do that?” he asked. “in desperate times i’d give even scara the benefit of the doubt,” you stated, opening childe’s bag. and there it was, put nicely at the very top, your chocolate for your lover.

you smiled, for all the shit-talk scara gave everyone on a daily basis you knew you could count on him. “see? i knew he’s actually a big softie for stuff like this.”

childe practically runs to your side. “my chocolate? aw babe so you really didn’t forget me!” he peppered kisses all over your face, then clasping the sweet to his chest like it’s a new-born baby. “of course i’d never. but maybe next year i’ll just give it directly to you.”

“yeah? please do, today’s event just wasn’t great for my heart.”

neuvilette

“welcome home, dear.” you greeted him cheerily as he just arrived home. it was quite late, and you had entrust the chocolate you were supposed to give to him at a reasonable hour so he could enjoy it instead of giving it to him at home.

he kissed your temple in return, a smile you’re still head over heels for on his lips. but it doesnt quite reach his eyes. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked carefully. “nothing is wrong,” he replied, somehow looking nervous. “yet it’s strange for you to be looking so fidgety. tell me?”

“well,” he paused a little, stroking your hair as he pondered the best way to approach the sentence he’s about to say. “i saw you today giving chocolates to navia and wriothesley.. i couldn’t talk to you because i was in a rush to deal with an urgent case,” he said, not looking at you on the eyes. “oh, did that bother you? it’s just they’re such good friends of mine and it’s only friendship cookies-“

“no, dear of course not. i know you’re a loving person who always appreciate those around you, it’s just..”

“just?”

neuvilette looked like he didn’t hear the rest of the words after that you did make some for the white-haired male. a smile bloomed on his face as he shook his head. “no problem i will ask them about it tomorrow. i’m just delighted you kept me in your thoughts.” a gentle expression was loyal on his features. “well of course neuvillete, you hardly ever leave my thoughts, don’t you know?” he chuckled. “i’m familiar with that you see, considering you never leave mine as well.”

the next sentence was almost audible as he spoke. “do i not get one..?” he asked ever so softly sounding a little sad, his calloused hand ran across your arm, tracing along your vein as it touched your fingers and you're sure there's something wrong in your head because all you could think about that second was how adorable the usual charismatic man was being. yet you held your smile.

“of course you do! did it not reach you? i asked the guard in front of your door because i afraid i’d bother you at work hours. sorry neuvilette, i promised i made some for you, and i was so proud of it too...”

scara

“no i’m not.” he said, with the worst frown you’ve seen on him for a while and that’s saying a lot.

“you’re definitely sulking,” you said. “shut up,” he grumbled. “hey i was supposed to be one who’s doing the sulking. we’re nearing the end of the day and you haven’t even mentioned about the chocolate i gave you today!” you retorted out of frustration but most of all confusion because you had no idea what made your lover fall into such a bad mood.

“what.”

“what?”

“say that again,” scara said, “that i gave you chocolate?” you asked. “no you didn’t, you liar!” he complained, his frown deepened if that’s even possible. “wait what? i swear i asked childe to give it to you earlier today! i was ambushed by customers today at the shop so i was scared i couldn’t give it to you on time so i asked him. did it not get to you?” you explained.

“i came home empty-handed didn’t i? also really, that dense fool?” his displeasure was obvious upon the new information you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “don’t look so disgusted, he’s not that bad.”

“sure, although you know what’s bad? that i don’t have my chocolates right now.” he crossed his arm, fuming almost looking like a child who got their toys taken. “alright enough of your pouting. we’ll interogate him later. for now, i seem to have leftover ingredients, i’ll make you a new one.” you approached him, combing through the back of his hair as you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. he replied by pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. “it better be good,” he mumbled.

at the end you didn’t even make it to 5 minutes before scara followed you to the kitchen, insisting that he made it together too because he was ‘watching over you so you don’t mess up’ but personally i think he just felt bad because you need to make a new one and wanted to help you any way he can. that’s something he’d never admit even if there’s a gun pointing at his head, though.

[love-belle]

you got me thinking nonsense !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which heartbreak led to her real love and she'd be damned if she didn't make sure everyone knows that.

or

for when they're everything to you. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - light as a feather ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - posting this i simply couldn't resist!!! i'll try my HARDEST to post carlos' version of shout out to my ex tonight but if not then tomorrow fs <3 thank u so much for reading, i love u <3

taglist - @marsdreamworld @eviethetheatrefreak @22yuki @incoherenciass @bb-swift @willowpains @lordperceval-16 (tagging all those who asked for part ii <3)

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, f1updates, exwagsclub and 79,726 others

paddock.club y/n y/l/n and charles leclerc spark dating rumours as they were seen out on a "date", which were further confirmed as the couple shared a kiss. for weeks, y/l/n and leclerc have been having coy and not-so-platonic interactions on social media and fans have speculated that these two are more just friends. this news comes after y/n's break up with a fellow driver of charles and while neither y/n or her ex have commented on this, it's clear that they didn't have a clean break up as there were rumours of cheating surrounding the ex. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

tagged charles_leclerc yourusername

589 comments

username LMFAOAOOA THE WAY LANDO ISN'T EVEN MENTIONED HERE

username "the ex" ur so right he's not worth mentioning 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

username olivia was talking abt lando when she sang "some weird second string loser who's not worth mentioning"

*liked by oliviarodrigo*

username my true parents fr ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username she looks sooo happy with him im so happy for her

username love how none of yes are surprised like we all saw this coming

username the way l*ndo isn't even mentioned ONCE like that's what u get for cheating babes!!!!!!!!!

username CHARLES AND Y/N FUCK YEA

username she genuinely looks so much happier with charles like this is the type of relationship she deserved ❤️

username IM ❤️ SO ❤️ HAPPY ❤️ FOR ❤️ THEM ❤️

username no bc there was no way they thought that they'd be able to convince us that they weren't together

username istg i see one person comment some out of pocket shit im SWINGING

username l*ndo's crying rn like i can Feel it

username no bc HOW'D he pull 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username fr like u put him near y/n he starts malfunctioning

-> username no bc that one interview where he forgot his own team's name js bc y/n walked past him is LIVING proof

username i know the driver's gc is WILDIN rn

username see now idk who to be jealous of

-> username the only correct answer is both

username no bc IMAGINE THE SONGS SHE'LL WRITE ABOUT HIM!!!!!!

username pretty people (y/n and charles) ruining it for the ugly people (me) by getting together

username oh so he got GAME

username everyone bffr y/n was probably the one who took the initiative

username guys stop with all the l*ndo slander comments i can't like them all

username charles leclerc i will never forgive u for taking my wife

username im sooooOOOOooo normal about this. ha fucking ha.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 2,792,712 others

yourusername nonsense is now yours!!! i wrote this song on my very close friend's bedroom's floor and i can officially say that this is the most unhinged song i have ever written :) i love u all sooo much i could cry <3 (charles_leclerc be my personal photographer pls ❤️)

15,628 comments

username HELLO?????? PLEASE IM CRYING WHAT IS THIS SONG AND WHY IS IT MAKING ME CRY AND HORNY

username IM TALKIN OPPOSITE OF SOFT?????? Y/N?????????

username nah she's unhinged

username "on my very close friend's bedroom's floor" BABE WE KNOW

username how quickly can u take ur clothes off pop quiz 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

-> username oh she's wild for adding this

username IN LOVE WITH THE OUTRO

username PLEASE touch some grass and meditate

georgerussell63 wish i never heard it but cool beats x

-> yourusername i too wish u never heard it but thank u russell george x

username i know sebastian texted her after this

*liked by yourusername*

username okayyyy so at least he's winning off the track

-> username OH UR SO WRONG FOR THIS

username at least my girl's getting some good dick y'all leave her alone

username im a changed woman after hearing this song

username u gotta keep up with me!!!!! i got some young energy!!!!!!! i caught the l-o-v-e!!!! why do u do this to me!!!!!!!

username i know charles is blasting the SHIT out of this sin anthem (encouraging)

-> username PLEASE NOT SIN ANTHEM

lilymhe when will you write a song like this about me :/

-> yourusername if u would like i can show u????

-> lilymhe i'm On my way!

-> alex_albon STOP I'M STILL HERE

-> yourusername alex look away

-> charles_leclerc i'm

-> yourusername u too babe look AWAY

-> username BABE

-> username DID SHE JS CONFIRM IT FR FR

username said u like my eyes????? AND u like to make them roll??????

-> username if someone said that to me i would be AT the altar in most white dress ever

username charles won at life fr

username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABT HOW GOOD SHE LOOKS IN THESE PHOTOS

-> username my heart stopped she's so barbie coded

charles_leclerc nice song

-> yourusername thank u

charles_leclerc any particular muse behind this?

-> yourusername js this cool guy i've been seeing

-> charles_leclerc "cool" huh? 😏😏😏😏🤪🤪🤪🤪🤗🤗🤗🤗🫡🫡🫡🫡🥶🥶🥶🥶😩😩😩😩🤧🤧🤧🤧☺️☺️☺️☺️😘😘😘😘🥰🥰🥰🥰😚😚😚😚

-> yourusername yes charles u are cool

-> username MY GOD SOMEONE TAKE AWAY THIS MAN'S PHONE

-> username y/n be honest does he blush and giggle when u call him a pet name????

-> yourusername what do u think

-> username I KNEW IT OMG

charles_leclerc if the person in front of the camera is you, i will gladly be behind the camera for the rest of my life.

-> yourusername the most romantic thing u have ever said to me

-> charles_leclerc that's not true

-> yourusername u called me a chameleon yesterday

-> charles_leclerc because you wear a different shade of eye colour everyday

-> yourusername eye shadow* baby

-> charles_leclerc okay :D

-> username WHO IS THIS MAN

-> username nah he's GONE for her

≡;- ꒰ twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ ��instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 1,538,976 others

charles_leclerc she wrote a song for me and while it wasn't the most romantic one, the sentiment is still appreciated. y/n, i adore you completely, even if you spend more time with my mom than you do with me. mon cœur ❤️ ( my heart )

tagged yourusername

12,629 comments

username im

username js gonna leave yeah (ABSHDHDJSJJSSJ)

username what do u MEAN charles is in love and what do u MEAN that it's not with me (i love them both sm)

username okayyyy she wrote how much she loves u and ur little thing that's the MOST romantic thing ever

-> username nah bestie given the way she wrote the song im not it's *little*

*liked by yourusername*

-> username GIRL PLEASE WHY ARE U LURKING

username i love them both so much

carlossainz55 you two make me nauseous but it's been a long time coming 🤍 happy for you both !!

-> charles_leclerc thank you for your approval <3

-> carlossainz55 had to make sure you'd treat her better 🤷

-> username "treat her better" is speaking VOLUMES

-> username i love carlos so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username y/n being the grid's favourite is my aesthetic 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

username I LOVE THEM SOOO MUCH THEY'RE MY PARENTS LIKE AJSJSKSKSJKSKKS

username "mon cœur" can u hear me SCREAMING 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username they genuinely deserve all the happy things in life like im SO fr

username ferrari better get their shit in order bc i know that if they fuck up again y/n is fr gonna destroy them and idk if that's gonna be by words or by a song or she's straight up gonna fist fight them

*liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and carlossainz55*

danielricciardo at least she writes you songs, she writes me threatening messages

-> yourusername U CALLED ME THAT MCDONALD'S CLOWN

-> charles_leclerc i'm not gonna intervene

-> danielricciardo BECAUSE YOU LOOKED LIKE ONE

-> yourusername THAT'S JS CHARLES NOT ME

-> charles_leclerc i am going to intervene

username im so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ about them

username i just fell to the floor what the fuck

username IM SOOOOOOOOO *cries*

lewishamilton 🫶🏼

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username i KNOW lando is pulling at his hair rn

username THAT NOTE OH MY GOD

username pls god when will it be me

username im so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

yourusername wdym "u said u like my eyes and u like to make em roll" is not romantic

-> charles_leclerc the most romantic thing i have ever heard in my eye

-> yourusername ❤️

yourusername i love ur mom

-> charles_leclerc i know

-> leclerc_pascale mon ange 😘

-> yourusername MAMA LECLERC ❤️❤️❤️

-> charles_leclerc and i'm right here...

yourusername cannot wait to write songs for u my entire life

-> charles_leclerc cannot wait to compose piano pieces for you 😘

-> username IM SCREAMING

-> username WHAT DO U MEAN HE COMPOSES PIANO PIECES FOR HER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username they're so

username i would give anything to have a love like that 😭😭😭😭😭

username im crying.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl, lilymhe and 2,975,327 others

yourusername looking at u got me thinking nonsense!!!!!!!!!!! also special thanks to landonorris bc if not for him i wouldn't have met the love of my life so thanks dude even if ur a prepubescent piece of shit

tagged charles_leclerc

18,629 comments

username IM HOWLING WHAT THE FUCK

username THE TAG THE CAPTION

username prepubescent piece of shit will forever be engraved in my brain ❤️

username LMFAOAOAOAO

username y/n y/m/n y/l/n u will always be famous

username IM CRYINF WHAT THEBFUCK

lewishamilton both of you 💕

-> yourusername we love u lewis <3

username she will never let l*ndo live in peace and i love her sm for that

username i just cackled out loud why is she so funny

username SHE'S SOOOO UNSERIOUS

username i js know charles is MADLY in love with her bc HOW can u not be

username she's so unhinged. i love her.

username screaming

lilymhe i thought we were something

-> yourusername babygirl u own my heart and 4ever will

-> alex_albon wow.

-> charles_leclerc oh my god

username they're so adorable 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username THEM

username no bc charles deffo manifested this shit like imagine having a crush on someone for YEARS and then they date ur friend but the friend cheats on them and u end up together like woahh wildddd

-> username and then they write a song about u

-> username AND THEN THEY WRITE A SONG ABOUT U

oscarpiastri a scream just erupted from *his* driver's room

*liked by yourusername*

-> username target audience reached 🫡

username stop with the l*ndo hate comments i seriously CANNOT like them all

username i would do anything to go to a driver's meeting ANYTHING

maxverstappen1 nice caption

-> yourusername thank u :) an angry dutch proof read this

username max proof reading this caption is sooo funny like omg

-> username they're truly destroying his peace and i respect them so much

username i truly cannot wait for the next race

username NO BC DID SOMEONE SEE THAT CLIP WHERE NONSENSE PLAYED IN THE PADDOCK WHILE LANDO WAS THERE AND HE LOOKED SO 😒😒😒😒😒😒

-> username LMFAOAOAOA THAT WAS HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY

-> username truly a cinematic piece ❤️

charles_leclerc was the first photo necessary

-> yourusername absolutely like look at my man ❤️

charles_leclerc looking at YOU got ME thinking nonsense

-> yourusername stop im blushing

charles_leclerc i thought we'd be nice

-> yourusername no YOU'D be nice i'd be mean

-> charles_leclerc okay amour ( my love )

charles_leclerc i love you ❤️

-> yourusername i caught the l-o-v-e

-> yourusername i love you more ❤️

username IM SOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username charles and y/n ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username me when.

[muchosbesitos]

la apuesta

pairing: college!miguel x fem reader

warnings: miguel being a bit of an ass, face-sitting, oral (i probably forgot smth 🧍🏻)

author’s note: thank you for all the support for friends with benefits 🥹 anyways i got this idea from c.ai miguel using me as a bet LMAOO (he was supposed to be my roommate only 😖)

word count: 3037

You were the bane of his existence. He hated everything about you, from the way you smiled at everybody but him, to the way that you carried yourself, with kindness and respect even if it wasn't reciprocated. He hated the determination you had towards beating him at everything academically, putting in late hours at the library and studying for tests weeks in advance. What he really hated the most about you, though, was the way he could never find himself to truly hate you.

Which is how he found himself agreeing to a stupid bet that Peter B. Parker had brought up mid smoke sesh. Miguel had spent the last thirty minutes ranting about how you annoyed him today, about your test score and how he was so sure you cheated, and mostly about how you faked being nice with everybody when Peter interrupted him with the proposition. "What if we made a bet?" he started off, getting Miguel's attention as he passed him the blunt. "Let's say you can make her fall in love with you in two months for a hundred bucks," Peter added when Miguel took a hit from the blunt, a cocky smirk on his face. "Let's do a month for two hundred, yeah?"

The next Monday, Miguel found his gaze going to you during biology, the wheels in his head turning to figure out how to win you over. Would you like flowers? Grand gestures? Just the thought was starting to make his head hurt. He decided to start off slow, choosing to sit next to you before the class started. "Good morning," he offered with a small wave, which you returned with a smile on your face. He spent the class period looking at you through his peripheral, handing you a pen when he saw you digging your bag and giving you his notes when the professor moved through the slides too quickly.

"Go to lunch with me," he said after the class ended, watching your eyes flicker with surprise, a bit surprised himself by the offer. He wasn't one to go on casual lunch dates or even pursue someone, people usually pursued him and he didn't do much to find someone to sleep with him. "Well my daily ramen budget thanks you," you replied with a small chuckle, walking next to him after the class ended to the cafeteria. He found himself willingly laughing at your remarks, asking more questions about you, before reminding himself that this was all part of the bet. he refused to be a cliché and be the idiot to fall in love.

"Pickles and mustard? We might have to end this lunch date right now," you remarked, watching as he now added hot sauce to the mixture. It was odd, having lunch with Miguel O'Hara since you were pretty certain he hated you and he only had lunch with his close friends, but you still enjoyed his company and hearing his point of view of how he saw the world. "Oh c'mon, you can't say anything until you try it out," he protested you, handing you a pickle slice, the look on his face practically daring you to eat it. You took a tentative bite, your face morphing into a grimace as you spat it out, taking a sip from your water bottle. You looked up to see Miguel fighting back a laugh, tossing the pickles to the side as he looked over at you. "I can't believe you actually thought I eat that," he remarked with a smirk on his face, laughing as you hit his arm playfully.

The next week had been spent like that day, from trying out new food combinations, exchanging class notes, to spending time in his dorm room and studying. He had taken a break from studying, looking over at you reading the biology textbook and biting down on the pen in your hand, the small action emphasizing how pretty your lips were. He pushed a strand of hair away from your face, an easy smile on his face as you looked up at him. "It's such a shame that the test won't be covering me," you teased, seeing his closed textbook on the floor. "Such a shame indeed, I'm sure I'd be getting top grades," he replied with a smirk of his own, his fingers trailing the back of your neck. He watched you for a little bit, taking in how pretty you looked when you were concentrated and how much he seemed to enjoy your company without giving much thought to the bet. "Go on a date with me," he blurted out after a couple minutes of silence, watching you carefully for your reaction.

He found himself Googling best date ideas and even going as to making a Pinterest board full of things he deemed would be fun for both of you. He ended up going with a classic picnic date, buying sandwich making materials and a small Lego set. He arrived at your dorm room a couple hours after he confirmed you were free, fighting back a smile as he saw you open the door. You were wearing a yellow sundress that complimented your curves perfectly, pairing it with white flats. He stumbled over his words as he took you in, spitting out something that resembled, "Te ves hermosa." Your laughter was like a soft melody that reverberated through his ears, unable to keep his gaze off you. You closed your dorm door, walking next to him to his car. (you look beautiful)

He stopped in front of City Hall Park, claiming that it was underrated by Central Park's attraction. He set down a checkered blanket on the grass, sitting down as he took out the contents of the basket. You two fell into easy conversation, talking about your friends, school assignments, and just personal details. You two started to make your sandwiches as you took sips of the cheap wine he'd picked up, your past suspicions about his intentions dissipating with every passing moment. He pulled out the Lego set, a Star Wars battle ship, and felt himself grow even more comfortable in your presence when he discovered that you were also a fan.

The date had ended with Miguel dropping you off at your dorm room, his hands wrapped around your waist as he tried to prolong your leaving. You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you pushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. He leaned down, his hands practically moving you closer as his lips gently brushed yours. "Is this okay?" he murmured, his hands gently brushing the back of your neck before you leaned in, your lips enveloping his. The kiss started off tentative and gentle but soon, your hands were wrapped around Miguel's neck as you pulled him closer to you and your lips moved in tandem with his, the taste of him and the wine dizzying. Both of you pulled away a couple seconds later, just taking a moment to take in the moment before he kissed your forehead. "Buenas noches." (good night)

Most of the month had passed by with you two continuing to go on dates, making out in his room, and studying for your biology tests together. The fair had come to town recently and Miguel had gotten you two tickets for today after some relentless begging from your part. He took out the two tickets after he picked you up from your last class, a small grin on his face as he saw the way your eyes sparkled from excitement. "I'll pick you up at eight, chula," he said, leaving you at your dorm as he gave you a kiss on the cheek before walking away. (pretty)

Your jaw dropped when you opened the door, seeing Miguel ditch his usual hoodie and sweatpants apparel for a button down tee with some jeans. He gave you a lopsided smile, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he smelled the crook of your neck. "What if we ditch the fair and stay home?" he murmured, his lips ghosting over your neck before he kissed it. "Very funny, but I did not spend two hours looking at youtube makeup tutorials to stay home," you said, laughing a bit before walking off to your closet to finish getting dressed. You and Miguel had changed in front of each other, made out, and cuddled but you never had sex together. Partly because you were a virgin and you were worried he'd be turned off by your lack of experience given his past and another part being to just general fear of how big he was, how much it would hurt.

You and Miguel walk into the carnival a couple minutes later, looking around at some of the rides before your eyes settled on a My Melody plushie by the ball toss. You ran over, blindsighted by how cute it was and paid the attendant before tossing the balls at the bottles. Miguel walked over, his arms folded as he watched you, the look of determination on your face to get the stupid plushie. He couldn't help but feel bad as he saw the small pout on your lips when you'd missed one of the bottles, deciding to try it out for himself.

"Thank you!" your face practically lit up as he handed you the plushie, a smile forming on his face as he looked at you. He would be willing to do a hundred more of those ball tosses if it meant he got to see you smile like that again. He wrapped his arm around your neck, guiding you towards some rides he'd thought you'd enjoy. He took in every single one of your expressions, basking in how excited you seemed to be even with the most boring rides.

The last ride of the evening had been the ferris wheel, he realized it was a little corny, but he wanted a couple minutes just to have you to himself. He found himself looking at you rather than the view of the city, grabbing your chin so you'd look at him and he dipped his head down, meeting you in a kiss. "Te amo, hermosa," he whispered, his lips moving towards your earlobe as he nibbled slightly. You took a minute to let the words process, and even though you had never really experienced what being in love was like, you found yourself coming to the realization that you were in love with Miguel O'Hara. "I love you," you said, your hand on his cheek as you looked at him before meeting him for another kiss.

You and Miguel had ended up at his dorm after the carnival ended, tongues and mouths clashing as he pinned you against the wall. He took off his shirt and you finally snapped back to it, looking up at him nervously. "Miguel. I'm a virgin," you said, breaking the silence in the room and you saw his eyes flicker into something.. darker. "We don't have to anything you don't want to, chula," he assured you, taking in note of your reaction as he rested his hand on your waist. You took a moment to think about this, really think about this, before looking up at him with a ghost of a smile on your lips. "Can we just try oral for tonight?" you asked, rubbing the back of your neck.

He swore he could've came right then and there with the way you asked him, nodding mindlessly as he went to his bed. He cleared some of his biology books off it, laying down as he looked over you at you. "Sit on my face, princesa," he said, nonchalantly, as he saw the redness start to creep up on your cheeks. You started taking your clothes off, looking at him from the edge of the bed as you nibbled down on your bottom lip. "Are you sure I won't crush your face?" You asked, letting out a little yelp as Miguel pulled you onto the bed. You rested on his lap, his hands settled on your hips as he looked up at you. "You won't hurt me," he reassured you, drawing small circles on your thighs with his fingers.

You slightly hovered above his face as he began to lick a stripe down your pussy, letting out a muffled moan as his hands pressed down on your thighs. “I thought I told you to sit on my face, not hover,” he said, slapping your ass before he pushed your hips down. You fell down to his expecting face, your hands immediately gripping the headboard as you felt his tongue plunge into you. His hands grip on your thighs as he continued to lick and suck on your pussy, your juices coating his lips in the most delicious way possible. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands gently and he let out a moan, the vibrations making you grind against his face.

He encouraged you to grind on his face, moving your hips against his face as his tongue continued to lick in your pussy, plunging in the most delicious angle possible. He replaced his tongue with his fingers, scissoring them to work his way in as his mouth closed around your engorged clit. His tongue ran small circles around your clit, his fingers working in tandem as he curled them, hitting that spot inside of you. You moved your hips against his fingers, moaning out incoherent strings of his name as you felt something building up in your lower stomach. "Miguel, I feel like I have to pee," you moaned out, but he continued with his ministrations, only intensifying them after you said that. Your back arched as you released into his mouth, looking down to see him licking his lips and the side of his mouth. "Que deliciosa," he said with a small chuckle, getting you off of him. (how delicious)

You looked down at the obvious bulge in his pants, seeing his almost pained expression and he was about to reassure you that you didn't need to return anything, but you got down on your knees rendering him speechless. You slid off his boxers, picking up some of the precum with your finger and licking it off. "Tell me if you want me to something different, okay?" You told him before you brought your mouth closer to his reddening tip. You started off sucking it slowly, his hands making their way to your hair while one of your hands started to pump his length. You took more of him in your mouth, getting adjusted to how big he was before you started to bob your head. He let out soft moans and whispers of your name as you continued, feeling in complete bliss as you did so. You looked up at him, your doe eyes almost making him come right then and there as his hand worked on guiding your head, never forcing you.

He felt himself coming closer to that edge as you licked on a vein, feeling goosebumps forming on his skin. You took all of his cock in your mouth, feeling your eyes water as you adjusted to having him in so deep. You looked up at him and he let out a raggedy moan as he came in your mouth, maintaining eye contact with you. He helped you get up from the floor, dipping his head down to meet you for a kiss.

He cleaned in between your thighs with a warm washcloth, cleaning himself off as well before walking over to his dresser. He took out a shirt, handing it to you with a small smile. "Stay the night," he offered, looking at you expectantly. You nodded, taking the shirt from him and putting it on, the material falling over you like a dress. You both laid down on his bed, your breathing in tandem as you laid on his chest. "You're not pissed off we didn't have sex right?" You asked out of the blue, not wanting this thing you had going on with Miguel to end. He let out a small laugh, his hand stroking your hair as he answered, "Claro que no, mi amor. Even if it's not with me, don't let anyone pressure you into something you're not ready for." You couldn't help but feel your heart melt a bit as he spoke, your legs tangling with his. "When I do feel ready.. I'd like for it to be with you," you whispered, kissing his cheek. (of course not)

Peter had seen the events at the fair, shocked to say the least, at how obvious Miguel was being with his feelings towards you. He decided to give Miguel a wake up call tomorrow, remind him that this was all part of the deal, that he wasn't meant to be going out and falling in love with you. He knew how it ended with his last girlfriend, Xina, and how detached he had been from everything, a shell of his former self.

You walked over to Miguel's dorm, about to knock on the door when you heard him talking with Peter about something. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, obviously, but you were also curious to know what his friend's opinion was about you. "Dude, don't lose track of what we're doing here. you're not supposed to actually fall in love with her," you heard Peter say, your eyes widening a bit as Miguel let out a chuckle. "As if I could actually fall in love with her. she's nothing but just another bet, man."

The words rung through your ears, but you blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out as you forced yourself to knock on Miguel's door. you saw the surprise flash across his face for a split second, exchanging a look with Peter before looking back at you stoically. You wanted to cry, you wanted to beat yourself up for being so stupid and falling for his charms the same you'd reprimanded your friends, but you swallowed that all back and simply said,

"I left my biology textbook in here."

[livingemkayde]

en route

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 3.5k

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f!recieving, light choking, dom!joel, a mild enemies to lovers mixed with sunshine!reader and grumpy!joel miller. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: hey guys...heres a little one shot in a followers/blog milestone celebratory fashion (!!!!!!!). this sort of turned into a one shot from the scrapped ideas regarding my new series. its also helping me gear up for taking on the task of beginning to write a new dynamic (i am definitely putting off completing chaser because i have an emotional attachment to that story BUT itll be out sometime this week). i love you all so, so, so much. you have no idea. thank you for everything (can you tell i live for a flashback fic).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize.  He takes a step toward you. You take a step back.  “You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.” Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you.  “Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

You can’t stand him. 

You really can’t stand him. Hate is a strong word. Maybe not one you use often. But the disdain you feel for Joel Miller hinges to the breaking point each time you run into him. 

What a fucking asshole — you finally willed yourself to believe after weeks of kindness. It was practically seeping from your skin but it seemed to brush off his worn leather winter coat onto the fresh powder. It died there, and so did your hopeless attempts. 

“Hi,” you breathed out, that first fateful time. It was a surprisingly clear winter night. He had just moved in. The women were fawning over him, ogling, jaws dropping in the town square. You just observed and tried to keep your face neutral. As neutral as you can be. 

But Joel stood in front of you and just grunted in response. 

It made you try harder. 

“I brought these — made these for you,” you said, extending a pack of sandwiches for him and the girl you happened to see by his side. You figured she was with him. You traded a hell of a lot to get the meat for the sandwiches. But kindness and new neighbors seemed to fare well. At least in your very limited experience. 

“What is this?” he questioned. He didn’t take them from your hands. His fingers—big and rough and calloused, picked at the skin of its own. He didn’t take a step outside the threshold. You were suddenly unwelcome. You felt the weight of the sandwiches grow tiresome in your outstretched arm. 

“Sandwiches. Thought I’d say hello since you’re new around here,” you smiled, sort of shaking the pack, here — fucking — just take them, jesus. 

But he didn’t, and your arm grew tired, and so did your smile. 

“‘M good, thanks,” he mumbled in response, and shut the door in your face. 

And yes, of course he was handsome. He was — rugged — and you can see the wired muscles stretch the cotton of his shirt on patrol sometimes. In those especially unfortunate circumstances where Tommy has the nerve to pair you two up together. 

Handsome, yes. With a hulking bounding step over snow, and menacing shadow when he towers over you. A southern drawl—something so pitch-deep and honey-like, something you’ve never heard before. Not until you met him. And you were nursing a stupid hopeless crush over a guy you hate, but not really. And that drove you insane. 

Because he was fucking, rude, yes. Definitely. 

But you lost it. That last time you saw him. Because what’s worse was he wasn’t even being Joel Miller, his usually brooding self. He was being — nice? Kind? Funny? Maybe. You weren’t sure. You couldn’t hear much over the piercing ringing in your ears. 

“You like this route, Joel?” you said, peering over your shoulder at him on horseback. 

You tried to keep it up, the kindness, the fucking — benefit of the doubt bullshit. You really did. He seemed keen on it sometimes more often than not. 

“‘S fine,” he replied back in a rumpled, annoyed way. 

“You gotta see my favorite part,” you say, almost to yourself, almost forgetting about his dark drawl, only thinking about the meadow half a mile from the checkpoint. 

 He just snorted at that. You just tried to keep a happy face on. 

The songbirds twinkled around in the surrounding trees. The winter snow was receding, making the small dribble of water a full stream. You followed it, straying slightly from the beaten path, earning a couple protesting growls from Joel, but you ignored his pleas, and surprisingly, he just followed you. 

You got off your horse. Joel followed suit. You trudged across a little bend of water. He let out a scoff sounding more like a complaint each time he let one echo in the silence of the forest. 

“C’mon,” you said, smiling, that time, a real smile. Maybe this would make him smile too. 

You reached the crest of the small hill, hiked up your sleeves over your elbows, and bent down to touch the soft petals of the flowers beneath you. 

“Look,” you said, sending him a sideways glance behind you. He was still clamoring to the top of the hill. 

“Yeah, alright,” he groveled. You ignored him. 

Joel joined you at your side, his chest puffing slightly out of your skewed peripheral vision. 

“‘S beautiful, isn’t it?” you said to no one in particular. He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him to. 

You bend down, picking a strewn orange flower blossom from the floor. Something broken off with the wind. 

“This what you do all day? Pick flowers?” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you grinned, maybe you were finally getting him to crack, too. “And what do you do all day?”

“Not this,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Really?” you said, “Enlighten me. What does Joel Miller do everyday?”

“Joel Miller minds his business,” he replied, snarky, but he smirked. 

It made you a little scared, you remember. Maybe you were under some sort of falsehood that made hating Joel Miller easy. So when he actually talks to you, teases, follows you through the meadow, it seems a little intimidating suddenly. 

It’s different. 

It’s fucking weird. 

“Which one’s your — favorite,” he whispered, gesturing out to the field in a vague sort of motion with open palms. 

“Lilies,” you replied, tense. You pointed down at a brighter purple lily plant to your right. Joel’s eyes followed your hand. 

You wouldn’t dare look at him, but you could feel him moving beside you. He was in front of you suddenly, his indomitable presence made you turn your head and look up at him through the sunlight. 

He lifted his hand, in line with your ear. Your head backed away from it instinctually, but you kept a keen gaze on his eyes. 

Your brows knit together. So did his. Your mouth parted, almost speaking into the soft mountain air. But he moved his hand again, closer to your face. And you saw a flash of something orange. Like the little flower you picked up. He brushed those big calloused fingertips on your cheek, and slipped the orange flower between hair atop your ear. 

You were so confused, you didn’t know what to say. But it was bad. He was risky. You tried not to think of the fact that maybe, if he wasn’t so fucking rude, and you didn’t hate him so much, maybe that small little schoolgirl crush would blossom into something bigger. 

Because that’s all it was. A small, fucking stupid crush. He teases you. Pulls at your hair. Shoves you off the monkeybars. You put on a kind face anyways. 

And you hate him for that. Decidedly. 

“We should go,” you whispered. He dropped his hand. You both rode back in silence. 

That put you in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. And when you went to sleep and woke up this morning still in a horrible mood, you know exactly why. 

Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this. He can’t make you hate him and then pull the rug out from underneath you. Especially not with something as low as putting a fucking flower behind your ear.

You show up at the patrol meeting in an equally sour mood. 

And maybe, yeah, you are being irrational. But at this moment you couldn't care less.

You find the assignment board for next week and see your name card slotted under Joels.

“Perfect,” you huff, already moving quickly out of the building, saving your usual chit chatting for another time. Maybe when you’re less pissed off. 

“Hey,” a voice calls after you and you know. You could pick that voice out of a hundred recordings. It pulls you back, and you fight hard to keep moving forward. You’re close to your house already so you continue walking. 

He calls your name this time. 

You don’t falter in your huffing steps. 

“Stop,” he says, grabbing at your arm, pulling you around towards him. When he sees your face, he hesitates. Though the air seems a little humid and sticky, you wrap your arms around yourself. A shield. 

“What, Joel?” 

“You—left,” he breathes out, looking down to your body slightly. It’s unnerving, him making you squirm. 

“Yes. I’m leaving,” you roll your eyes, turning around again, but he locks hard onto your arm and pulls you back to him. 

“What’s—” you shake out of his grip, “what’re you doin’?”

“I’m going home,” you say, and then under your breath, “Obviously.”

“What’d you say?” He's a bit defensive now, maybe falling back into old habits. Back when things were so perfectly hostile between you two. 

“I’m going home, Joel,” you say, annoyed. “Is that okay with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth parts in confusion. You start walking again, this time, he lets you, falling in time with your steps next to you. 

“Are you alright?” he says, almost worried now. Your footsteps fall faster as you see your mailbox sneak into view.

“I thought Joel Miller minded his business,” you grumble under your breath. But loud enough for him to hear. You know it. You reach your porch, stepping onto it. The morning dew springs to life from the vibrations of your rough boot. 

“So you’re gonna throw a tantrum?” he growls, following you up, reaching the first step, you, on the top one. 

“Real mature,” you say, turning around, hands on hips. 

“Right,” he nods and looks down to his feet, “Ignoring people is mature?” 

“‘M not!” you say, looking down at him, throwing your hands out at your sides, “You’re right here talking to me!”

“Yeah ‘n I had to chase you down the fuckin’ street,” he extends one arm towards the road. 

“No one asked you to,” you bite, the venom sneaking past your lips. 

He doesn’t even flinch. 

“You wanna play that?” he mumbles. An empty threat at best. You hope. 

“No,” you say. Tears are already in your eyes. “No, I don’t wanna — fucking — do this anymore, Joel,” you whisper while unlocking the door and walking inside. It doesn’t shut behind you, not all the way. And you hear his boots follow you in. 

“The hell is your problem?” his voice echoes. He follows you in your house, to the skinny hallway which leads to your room. 

You spin around, pushing at his chest with a pointed finger. 

“You are my fucking problem,” you affirm. 

You crane your neck to look up at him. His hair is pushed back, like he just got out of the shower before attending the patrol meeting. His chest puffs in time with your rapid heartbeat. 

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize. 

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. 

“You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.”

Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you. 

“Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

“You’re —” your breath accidentally catches in your throat. He places his palm on the cold wall next to your head, leaning down closer to you. He’s fucking intoxicating. You’re drunk off his lowbrow and the curls that form at the base of his neck. What you wouldn't give to run your fingers through them right now—

“C’mon,” he chastises. His mouth is so close to yours, you keep switching between his eyes and his lips. 

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble. 

“Yeah?” you nod. “You already said that, baby.” 

Baby.

“Don’t stop,” his lips get closer to yours, “What else?” 

“You’re…” you look at his lips. He gets so close that his chest brushes up against yours. “You’re mean…and you’re arrogant.” 

You find it in you to put your open palms gently on his chest. You don’t find it in you to push him back. It’s not like you want to push him back though, not when all you need is to bring him closer. His breath punches gently on top of your nose. 

“Can I tell you what I think?” he grumbles, you shudder. He snakes his head down to whisper in your ear. His beard brushes the delicate skin on your neck. 

“I think,” his lips brush over the spot right under your ear. You breathe so hard you might get light headed. “You’re a pain in my ass,” the hand on the wall catches on your waist. You squirm against his body.

“With your distractions, and your sandwiches, and your little flowers,” he’s so close, he’s almost kissing you. He slots his thigh between yours. 

“Shut up,” you say, because that’s all you can say right now. The dark hallway encases him in the shadows. Even when he picks his head back up and looks into your eyes. 

“Careful,” he warns. 

You stay there, silence filling the air. Your shoulder blades dig into the wall there. 

“You need to learn some manners,” he mumbles, shaking his head, looking down at your lips. 

“I have manners,” you breathe, admittedly a little shaky, “just not for — fucking —”

“Not for what?” He smirks. 

“Not for you,” you push against his chest again. He doesn’t flinch. 

“Yeah?” something in his tone makes you fight harder, “You gonna be a bad girl?” 

“Shut up,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself. You brace yourself against the wall in a desperate attempt not to whine. He’s making you slip. You silently chastise yourself. What happened to ‘Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this’?

You suppose all rational thought flies out the window when his roughed hands land on you. 

“You can be a bad girl,” he said, pushing his fingers under your shirt. They’re surprisingly warm. You fight the urge to groan. Your eyes flicker down to your bodies touching and drag them back to his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to be a good girl, too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, half under your breath. Joel’s eyes dance with yours, flickering from your lips to your left eye, to your right. Your nose, your eyebrows. Then back down to your parted mouth. You’re fighting a losing battle, you both are. You had no chance of winning it. Not even in the slightest, not at all. And you both know it. 

So, fuck. 

You kiss him. You learn forward, as much as the space between you will allow, and kiss him. He smells like pinewood, and fresh soap, and something smokey. He almost tastes sweet. His fingers splay across your waist. You feel the tips of them dig in there. You fight the urge to groan when you shift on top of his thigh slotted between your legs. 

He hauls you into your bedroom, you sink down on the bed. He takes off his flannel. He’s slow, in his movements, almost like he’s teasing you.

Punishing you. 

“Joel,” you say. You hate how you sound so whiny, so desperate. But after all, maybe you are desperate for him. 

“Sit back,” is all he says, in that honeyed drawl. 

You do. 

Joel stands in front of your slightly open legs, playing with the hem of your shirt in his fingers. 

Contemplating. 

“You gonna be a good girl?” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t look at you, just raises your shirt up slightly. 

And you know what? You don’t have an explanation for it. But you just say it—

“Yes,” while looking up at him. The salt and pepper on his patchy beard. His hardened brow and quirked lip. His fingers drift from the hem of your shirt up, up, up. Until his thumb grazes your nipple and you moan at the feeling. 

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb playing at your chin, your bottom lip. Your hands dig into the comforter at his words. Your bottom jaw slowly falls under the weight of his singular thumb. 

He pushes in, tugging your mouth open. You suck his finger obediently. 

“‘S good—baby,” he whispers so low under his breath you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. 

You look up at him through your lashes, he pushes you back with his hand in your mouth until you’re laying flat on the bed. 

“Take off your clothes,” he says, pulling back his hand. While he shucks off his shirt, you undress frantically. 

You snap your legs shut when your panties are finally off. The cold air bites at your ankles. 

He nudges them apart until he’s slotted in between your open thighs. Your cunt stares back at him, glistening. 

He runs his hands along your frame, kneading at the skin on your thighs. His fingers, big and rough and calloused—but it feels fucking good. 

“Fuck—” you puff out, reaching for him, “I—”

He puts his finger up to his lips. Quiet. He says. 

You listen. 

“Just let me—” he says, drifting off when his fingers brush over your cunt. “Jesus—baby,” he mumbles, running his thumb through your slick. You moan and whine against his hand. 

“Joel,” you say again. Pleading. 

“I know,” he is all he says before twisting his hand and slipping a thick finger into your cunt. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and at the cotton beneath you. His free hand comes up near your neck, resting there. Not really doing anything.  

“You’re loud,” he points out, pumping out, adding a second because you’re so wet. You moan, gasp, whimper.

“’N you never fuckin’ listen.” he mumbles, looking at his fingers pumping out of you. 

“I do—” 

He shuts you up with a strong hand wrapping around your neck. Not enough pressure to really do anything, but enough pressure to cut your words short halfway garbled into an excuse. 

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, straining against his boxers, rutting up against your thigh. “Needed someone to tell you what to do?” 

You’re close. You moan. He thumbs at your clit. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering into his ear. His hand finds yours, pinning it back to the gray cotton there. 

“You needed me, baby?” he drawls.

Just when you’re about to come, he stops. Your eyes widen, he’s breathing heavily, his fingers are statues deep inside you. 

“Joel—just, fucking—” you whine. He starts pulling his fingers out, receding away from you. “No—fuck, please, I—please,” you reach for him. 

He looks at you. You whimper. 

“I—fuck—I needed you,” you whisper. And you think to yourself that it’s true. “I need—you.”

His face goes soft. 

“Okay,” Joel breathes, pulling out, but reaching down to take himself out of his boxers. Your legs part silently. “Fuck, angel. Okay.” 

He guides himself through your folds, you squirm underneath him. He mumbles something into your ear but you can’t focus on anything besides he dull stretch when he pushes past your walls. He’s stretching you out already, just the tip. But the pain feels surprisingly good. 

“God, Joel,” you whine. He goes slow. Excruciatingly slow. 

“You—” he eases into you. He groans against your hair. “You’re — fuck.”

“Shit,” you curse out, he slips into you all the way, until his hips are flush with you. “Shit—you feel f-fucking good.”

He stays like that for a bit, letting you mold around him. He pants into your ear. You scratch designs into his back. Memorabilia for when he returns back to his house and gets a good look in the mirror. You grasp at the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re soft. Just like you thought they might’ve been. 

He pulls out—almost all the way. And then thrusts back in. You both gasp into each other’s mouths. 

“Goddamn — tight, fuck,” he says, finding a pace that elicites the most unintelligible moans from you and sets it. He’s rough—but not too rough. And he’s hitting that spot that inches you further to a pulling blinding light. 

“Good, fucking girl—” he moans, he holds himself up above you with a strong hand next to your head. “You’re doin’ so—fuck—so good, pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the pretty girl. Or his praise, or his cock punching deep inside you, so deep that you can feel him in your fucking stomach, but you get closer. Tighter around him. He can feel it too. 

“Joel—gonna—ngh—” you whimper. He hikes your leg over his hip, hitting something deeper. 

“C’mon, angel,” he groans, “lemme — ah — lemme f-feel you.” 

He drags it out of you, your muscles pull taut and your vision pulls white and he keeps going through it all. You moan, whimper, maybe even yell. But he keeps up his relentless pace. You dig your fingers in his back, marking him with little crescents to go with all the rest of them. 

“Fuck—fuck,” he pants, his hips stuttering while you clench around him. 

He thrusts into you, one, two, three more times, your aftershocks sending towards his release. 

He lets out a broken groan spilling into you, rocking his hips with each pulse of his cock. “Shit,” he says, gripping your waist, “You — jesus, fuck.”

Joel collapses down next to you. He cleans you up, too. You both drift off to sleep. He kisses your forehead in between a floating, dreamless slumber. 

Somewhere between then and dinner he leaves, mumbling in your ear. You’re too tired to wake up and walk him to the door. And when you wake up, and make your way downstairs you spot it, sitting pretty on your front porch through the glass. 

A little makeshift bouquet, with fraying string wrapped around two stems.

Lilies.

[postersofleon]

Wrong Age For A Babysitter

It's winter break. You went to visit your parents after a long time of seeing them. To your surprise, a guy who is your age says he needs to babysit you.

content: fluff and smut

notes: afab fem!reader, mentions of drinking alcohol, reader drinks it with leon. leon and reader are in their twenties. cute sex. second point of view to not have y/n, before the events of raccoon city, no mentions of holiday just winter. non canon lore of leon; this was suppose to be published in december, but I forgot about this.

taglist: @argreion

It was the winter holiday after a long time studying for finals, you went home to your parents home to visit them. At least for a while, but unexpectedly, your parents weren't home. You took off your shoes before entering, the house was dark with very little light. "No even a voice mail." You muttered bitterly. Your eyes looked around to see what you'll respectful steal from your parents. Cookies. Hell yeah. You grabbed from the selection and took a bite. The silent house only heard were the munches of your teeth eating the cookie.

That's when you saw a note from your parents on the fridge.

Hi, we went to dinner with a couple of friends. Sorry we couldn't be with you.

Your eyes narrowed, "But couldn't call." You didn't mean to sound so damn bitter, but how much it hurt to call in. You grabbed a beer and cracked the can open. You steal more cookies from the tray, and your eyes found the thermostat and made it comfortable heat. You grabbed your beer and sat on the couch of the living room.

You attempted to find the remote, but nope. This was getting more and more annoying. You put the beer on the coffee table and put the cookies on top of the fizzy beer. Your hands patted down the couch over and over, your fingers were shoved inside the edges of the couch. You found pocket change and put in your pocket without thinking twice.

But the small lived silence stopped when you heard a knock. Your head snapped to turn to see who it could be. Was it those Christmas singers? No. There's was silence, and those people were loud. You carefully grabbed a cookie and ate a bit of it before walking towards the door.

You checked the peep hole and found a sandy blond guy in the other side. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "Hi?" He began, "Um, I'm Leon. The babysitter." He knocked again.

Maybe it was a dumb action but you opened the door immediately. "Sorry, wrong house. I'm twenty." It wouldn't make sense why your parents would send a babysitter.

Leon shook his head, "Impossible." He took off his glove and pulled out a piece of paper that read your address. You ate another piece of your cookie before looking at the paper, "You got the wrong house." You knew so. You stepped a bit out of the comfort of your home, "Over there." Leon turned to see, "My neighbors have a daughter. You are probably her babysitter."

Leon shook his head, "I don't mess up my addresses." He exhaled deeply. His eyes almost intimidated you, he looked so damn determined, and with that you felt a bit of second hand embarrassment. You took another bite of your cookie, "Can I see some ID?" You asked him with small levels of impatience. Leon automatically gave you his ID.

What a handsome guy. "Leon Scott Kennedy." You read out his information, "Happy early birthday." You smiled politely at him as you continued to look at it.

You knew your parents were careful around you, but not to give you a babysitter at your age. "Listen," You began, "You seem a nice guy, but I don't need a babysitter. I just got out of college to enjoy the winter break."

Leon sighed softly, the exhale was that looked like that fog, "Listen, I don't break my promises," His blue eyes were focused, "If your parents put me as a twenty year olds babysitter. I'll do it."

"Fuck it. Fine." You pulled away to let him enter. You were being stupid and ignore all the possible red flags of this situation. Once Leon entered, he took off his snow boots and his coat. He turned to see the living room, hoping at least there was children to actually take care of, but it was only you and him.

"Wanna a beer?" You asked him with a tiny awkward smile.

Leon didn't drink beer in his babysitting job. But what is he gonna protect you from? "Yeah, that would be nice." He sat down on the couch and looked around. It was nice and toasty. You looked at him for a second before going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer. "Here ya go." She walked back and handed it to him.

He gladly accepted it. "Appreciate it."

You sat on the other side of the couch. You needed to see why this guy was going to be your babysitter. It was dumb. You are still convinced Leon got the wrong address, but for now, you will just stayed quiet and took a drink.

Your babysitter took a drink of his own beer.

Your head leaned on the couch to see Leon properly. It was unacceptable that this guy was hot. He looked cute and lovely, and unfortunately, it wasn't enough to flirt with him. Leon turned around to see you. He had a small smile, "I'm sorry. I know I seem like a red flag." He whispered.

Without a second, you nodded your head, "Yeah, it hard to think you are... y'know... normal?"

Leon chuckled softly, "I'm going to be a cop." You snorted a laugh, "That doesn't prove anything." A gentle tease.

Leon laughed a bit louder, "I guess you are right." He took a small drink of his beer. "But I wanted to become a cop to protect people. I grew up poor with my grandma after my parents died so..." Leon brushed his hair behind his ear. "I want to be good."

"It's a noble wish." You whispered softly.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be chosen to work for Raccoon City." Leon leaned on the couch as he looked at your eyes. He swallowed, "It's... it's a nice place to start." You nodded your head as you listened to him speak; he had a lovely voice.

You two took a drink. You leaned closer to him, "It's nice." You confirmed.

Leon sighed softly, his cheeks redden from the warm place, "Listen," Leon rubbed gently his wrist, "Maybe I was... too stubborn." He couldn't even look at your eyes from the simple idea of him being wrong. Thinking his stuff more clearly, Leon sighed again, "I was wrong. Maybe you are right."

A small laugh appeared from your lips, "No way? Really?" You finished your beer and placed it between your thighs. Leon scowled, "I, I know." But he didn't seem offended by it. Immediately, he laughed softly, "I'm sorry." A small pause between you two, Leon looked down your thighs.

"Sorry." He whispered again.

Yeah, your own thoughts were infected at the idea so quickly. It was amusing that you first thought this dork wasn't worth it until his eyes traveled down at your thighs.

"It's, um," You cleared your throat, "Fine." Your hands grabbed the can of beer and put it on the coffee table. Leon's cheeks were redder before leaning completely forward. His lips were still a bit cold, but your warm lips didn't mind it. Gently, Leon got on top of you. His knees were side to side of your thighs, his lips tasted awful with the beer and the coldness. Yet it didn't stop you. Your lips moved with his, your lips gently sucked on his, and slowly, your tongue was inside of his mouth.

Leon's hands grabbed your hips against his, pulling them ever so gently. Leon's hips gently began to hump against you. You dropped the kiss, "L-leon..." You mumbled weakly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he continued to hump you.

His humps were desperately slowly in attempts to get his erection, and certainly, you began to feel the bulge. Leon looked at you shyly.

God, who is this guy looking shy after grinding against you? "Are you wet?" He asked you.

Your cheeks burned up, "Um, a bit," You admitted softly, "But, I'm..." Your eyes were finally full-on focused into Leon. His cheeks were red, his bulge continued to grind against you. What kind of one night stand is this?

"Need more?" Leon whispered softly.

You nodded. Leon nodded his head and slowly got between your legs. "May I?" Leon asked. You nodded your head, "Yeah." Leon pressed his nose against your crotch, gently licking you. You gasped very weakly. His hands grabbed your hips so gently, holding you tightly. Even though you had pants on, you could feel how his hot breath felt.

"I'm ready." You whispered softly. Leon looked up at you, "You sure?" You knew it was too fast, but it was definitely worth it already. Another nod.

Leon sat up and undid your jean's button and slid them down. His eyes were focused on your thighs and your face, darting them up and down, "I, okay." He took off his own jeans. Your cheeks burned even more when you saw his dick. Your hands covered your face, "Um, I-" You laughed nervously.

"Don't laugh at it." Leon faked a pout.

His hand gently rubbed his dick and pumped it gently, "It has feelings." Slowly, the tip brushed your clit, you chewed on your lip as it slowly went inside. "Oh, fuck..." You muttered so ever weakly. Leon groaned weakly, his hips gently pushed more and more until he was completely in. His blue eyes met yours for a second and laughed, "I, I-" His dick twitched happily, he leaned close and began to kiss you. So gently and kindly. You followed behind him. Small pecks of kisses that slowly, little by little grew.

You held him tightly, his hands caressed your cheeks, "Mm, I, I could ask you on a date..." Leon mumbled against your lips. His hips slowly began to move, small little thrusts, "I don't, I don't usually do this..." Leon groaned weakly, "In the first date-" Leon rested his head on your neck and his hips went faster.

His tongue licked your neck and bite on your skin. Trying to be quiet. You gasped weakly as you felt him enter you in and out. His hands gently grabbed your breasts through your shirt, squeezing them gently.

Another weak whine, "L-Leon..." Leon lifted your shirt and shoved his face between your breasts as he thrusted deeper and deeper. He kissed your breasts gently and sucked your nipples.

Was this really all the attempts to keep quiet? To make you feel that you'll be loud. He gently nibbled on them, he growled weakly as he thrusts went faster and faster. "I, I need to..." Leon mumbled softly.

He groaned weakly, trying to hold in his release. You pulled him away from your breasts, his lips were covered with drool- his eyes were empty. He looked so pretty. You leaned weakly towards him and kissed him. He whined weakly, "Fu-Fuck, fuck..." Leon's hands travel down your lines, holding your thighs.

You were making this harder and harder for Leon.

Leon kissed your jaw as he continued to groan. His thrusts went into a bit harsher pounding, "C'mon, c'mon..."

He needed your release more than ever.

You felt how his cock just twitched over and over. His length moved in and out, the desperation in the two of you grew. His fingers found your clit and rubbed it. He whined. He finally whined with those grunts, it was just a mix of him rubbing it over and over.

You cried weakly, "Leon!"

His thrusts turned a bit sloppier, Leon groaned louder as he focused only, only in your pleasure. Soon enough, his cum exploded inside of you. Leon cursed softly as he felt your cunt hold him, your warmth was so nice. Inviting. Leon held your face. Giving you more and more kisses around your cheeks and lips. You gasped softly, trying to catch your breath, "Leon..." You mumbled weakly.

Leon pulled out of you and his cum slide down. His heart fluttered. He should have worn a condom, but all he could do is look at your face.

Leon laughed softly again and kissed you over and over, "I'm- I'm sorry." He was even more lovable. You laughed weakly, "Stop, stop it." Leon's eyes were so bright, and it made your heart melt even more.

Your hand gently held his, sharing a small moment until you heard your parents open the door. You two attempted to fix each other up, it was fast, but the smell of sex ruined the lovely winter joy. You fixed Leon's hair, his cheeks were still red, and he was met with another kiss. "I owe you the date." Leon whispered softly. He caressed your cheek before kissing you again.

"Oh, hi," It was your dad, "Um, who is the guy?" You gently pulled away, "He's.. he's my boyfriend." Leon blushed heavily. Babysitting isn't as tough, but Leon did have to remember he accidentally forgot his job. "Um, well," Leon forced a smile, "Hi."

[piedinthepiper]

You owe me (pt. 2) ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader x mafia!Taehyung (slightly)

Summary: His efforts seem pointless. But when it comes to jealousy, anger and you, he just can’t help himself. And neither can you.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dubcon, stalking?, breaking and entering, mention of murder, mention of other types of crimes, angst, weapons (a knife), cursing, male m, descriptive smut, angst

Wc: 7.4k

A/n: Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on this fic. Since so many wanted a part 2 I made a part 2! Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

Your back felt a sudden relief as you finally laid down in bed. It had been a long day. A very long day. A new patient took up almost all you time. Taehyung Kim. He was being charged with robbery and murder, and his lawyer had hired you to potentially give him a diagnosis that could help him in court.

You had to assign some of your other patients to a few of your coworkers, just to make time for him. But this is what you love doing. You wanted to help. Especially now, after what you learned about your entire career. You wanted to prove yourself. You knew you were good.

You turned off you lights and put your phone on the nightstand. Finally you were in the comfort of your own bed. Ready to fall asleep and dream the night away. Trying not to think about how early you had to wake up tomorrow. You had finally found a comfortable sleeping position after squirming around a bit. You felt all your muscles relax, starting to recognise the slow fade of sleep.

But suddenly a loud noice filled the room. Your body tensed again, jumping at the sudden sound. You rolled your eyes as you turned around, annoyed at yourself that you forgot to turn on ‘do not disturb’. Your phone screen lit up in your face, you squinted at the bright light hitting your eyes. You managed to decipher a message from an unknown number. You didn’t open it, writing a mental note to check it out tomorrow. If it was one of your patients they would have to wait until the morning. It was almost unprofessional to answer a text at 1 am.

You entered the doors to your workplace, expecting to see Erin behind the counter smiling at you.

“Good morning, Erin.”

You said like you always do. You halted once you saw her sitting there, not smiling, not saying anything. She just looked at you with a concerning look. Before you could ask her what’s wrong you looked over at the waiting chairs. You had seen a person in your peripheral view, something that was odd considering the office wasn’t even open to patients yet. You quickly understood what was going on once you saw who was sitting there.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

His familiar voice filled the dead quiet room. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. He had not contacted you after the incident in your office. You had almost, almost, forgotten him. But there he was, looking the exact same as you remembered him.

“Mr. Jeon.”

You stated. Not really knowing what to say. You were caught off guard by the whole situation. Some naive part of you thought that he had gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone. Forever.

“I thought you had stopped calling me that. Aren’t we more intimate at this point?”

You sighed at his question. Looking over at Erin for a second to see if she understood what he meant.

“He said he wanted to see you. I told him we wer-“

“It’s fine Erin, Mr. Jeon can be quite persuasive.”

You interrupted her as she started to apologise for letting him in. You looked back to him. His classic smirk was plastered on his face.

“I have an hour before my first patient arrives.”

You said and looked quickly at your wristwatch, before starting to walk down the hall towards your office. You heard his footsteps following behind you.

Once inside your office you took off your jacket and hung it up before sitting down behind your desk. He was quick to sit down on the sofa. A sense of deja vu washed over you.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?”

He looked confused by your question.

“You didn’t see my messages? Or my voicemails?”

It was your turn to look confused, as you couldn’t remember getting any texts or calls from him.

“Maybe you were asleep, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. You remembered the message from last night. The one you didn’t bother to read. You picked your phone up from your bag, turning off ‘do not disturb’. Hundreds of notifications from the same number appeared on your lock screen.

“You were the one that messaged me last night?”

You asked as you opened your phone.

“So you did read them?”

He asked in excitement. You shook your head at his question, too focused on your phone. You opened iMessage and hit the top notification. A series of long paragraphs of text appeared.

“I didn’t think it was you.”

You mumbled as you scrolled upwards trying to get to the start of what he had sent you.

“Listen, I’ll just tell you. It feels weird to watch you read something I poured my heart into.”

You looked up at him, before you put the phone down on your desk. Crossing your arms over your chest.

“Be quick.”

He thought for a second about where to start and what the most important things to tell you were.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m ready now.”

The room went quiet as you waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

You asked confused.

“That’s the brief version of it. You told me to be quick.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think I need a little more than that.”

He smiled at you like a child telling a joke for the first time. He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve seen another psychologist. He’s helped me a lot. I’m doing well, I’m not some self absorbed dick, I’m not so angry anymore. And I’ve gotten to know your father as well. I’ve done my end of the promise, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

He got serious at the last sentence. Shifting his eyes from the innocent doe, to the man you remembered from your last meeting.

“You went to my father?”

You asked in shock, not caring for whatever he said after that.

“Yeah. Might as well get to know my future father-in-law a little better while I fulfilled my promise.”

You let your head fall down to your hands, and let out a long sigh. Visibly showing him that you were upset.

“I’m happy you’re doing better, I really am. But I did not promise you anything. Definitely not to marry you.”

His eyes changed again. You could tell he was upset.

“Don’t you think you owe me that?”

He asked slyly, cocking his head slightly to the side. You shook your head.

“You can’t hold that over my head forever. It’s not fair!”

You answered strictly.

“I’m not holding it over your head, baby. I’m asking you.”

“Well, then my answer is no. I don’t owe you shit. Now get out of my office.”

You answered quickly. Wanting him to leave so you didn’t get too upset, and started making bad decisions again.

“We don’t have to get married right away, or not at all if you just want to be my girlfriend.”

He offered. You suddenly stood up from your chair, pointing angrily towards the door.

“Out.”

You said.

“I don’t care if I owe you. I don’t care if you’ve gotten better. You’re still a mobster, you’re still a murderer and you’re still a sociopath. I could never date you. I could never even be friends with you. Don’t you understand?”

You ranted when he didn’t leave the sofa. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor.

“It’s him isn’t it?”

He asked, still not looking up at you. He was frightening like that. You felt the same fear, you felt the first time he talked to you like that. He was showing his true colours.

“Who?”

You asked carefully as you sat back down again. He looked up at you with anger and jealousy in his eyes.

“Your new patient. The jailbird, you spend a lot of time with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and? He’s nothing but my patient.”

“Are you sure? I’ve seen him on the news, he’s quite attractive. Just your type.”

You scoffed and gave him an offended look.

“Yes I’m sure. Who are you to accuse me of having an affair with a patient?”

“Because you had one with me.”

You sighed.

“We did not have an affair.”

You stated, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Then what do you call it?”

The room got quiet. To be honest you never thought about what you would call it. You didn’t want to think about it at all. It went against everything you stood for.

“Please, just leave.”

You said, you felt your eyes getting watery for some reason. Maybe it was because you were scared, or surprised. Or maybe even sad to see him again.

“I can tell you’re upset. We still need to work things out. Can we talk sometime? Not here, somewhere not so formal.”

You looked up at him again. His eyes were soft, he seemed to really care that you were affected negatively by this. For some reason you found it endearing.

“You can come to my place, we can talk and-“

“There’s no way I’m voluntarily going to your place.”

You interrupted him. He looked down in defeat for a few seconds.

“Please, y/n. I just want to show you that I’m better. I want to show you all I’ve done for you. I don’t want to argue with you.”

He said softly. His eyes were also teary now. You hated yourself for getting affected by his feelings. You hated that you thought this was a tender moment.

“Do you promise that we’ll only be talking?”

You asked. Not knowing why you were agreeing to this in the first place. Maybe you were naive, but it seemed that he actually had changed. Even if he still was delusional and obsessive.

“Of course, I would never do anything to harm you. I love you.”

He said, slightly excited. The room got quiet once again. You had silently agreed to meet him at his place.

“I’ll send you the address. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He said, before getting up and walking out the door.

“Wait-“

You tried to say, but he was already gone. You wouldn’t be able to make it on Thursday.

You sat down at the table, waiting for the guards to bring in Mr. Kim. This week had been stressful. Not only because of your case with Mr. Kim, but also because of all your other patients. It was hard having time for them while handling such a big case as his. You had to work overtime the entire week, and you were exhausted.

“Good afternoon, y/n.”

He said as two guards brought him in. He had learned your first name quickly, and refused to use your title or last name.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. How are you?”

He smiled, and waited to answer until the guards had chained his legs to the table and left the room. You never felt unsafe being alone with him, even if he was a convicted murderer. His hands were always handcuffed, the same with his legs, so he couldn’t reach you. You knew the guards watched you from outside the big tinted glass. It allowed you to lower your guard, and treat him like you treat your other patients.

“I’m doing amazing now that you’re here.”

He said and smirked. Like Jungkook said, he was attractive. His hair was always combed back, and the all grey clothing actually suited him. He had some kind of lightning tattoo that went up his neck, due to his clothing you didn’t know if he had any more of them.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

He asked back. Still keeping intense eye contact with you.

“We did talk about not calling me anything but my name, do you remember that?”

You asked him strictly. He chuckled.

“It’s hard not to call you something you are, don’t you like compliments?”

You started taking off your coat. It was cold when you entered, but with two people in the little room it was too warm to keep your wool coat on.

“We’re not here to talk about me. I’ve given you permission to use my first name, that’s all.”

You said as you draped the coat over your chair. You looked back at him, he wasn’t looking you in your eyes anymore. This time his eyes were focused on your exposed cleavage. You hadn’t worn low cut tops with him yet, only oversized jumpers due to the weather. You suddenly became very aware of yourself and pulled your top up, trying to hide more of your cleavage. His eyes went back to your face, and you decided that you would wear something less revealing next time.

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

He put extra pressure on your name this time. You gave him a small smile, before you looked down at your notes.

“Why don’t we start were we ended things? Do you remember what I told you I wanted us to talk about?”

He sighed, but nodded.

“My teenage years?”

He asked. You nodded back at him.

“I was a good teenager, I didn’t do drugs, I came home before my curfew, did well in school.”

He memorised.

“But I did like girls. I really did. It was my weakness.”

He said, quickly flickering his eyes down to your cleavage again.

“Why do you say it was your weakness?”

You asked, writing it down in your notes. He started smirking again.

“Since I was such a good teenager, I stayed home a lot. After I did my homework or studied for tests I didn’t have anything to do. Until I found porn.”

He let out a groan, almost like he was in pleasure just by the thought.

“I would spend all day just jerking off to random girls online. Whenever I saw a pretty girl outside I would go straight home and jerk off to her too.”

You felt yourself getting a bit uncomfortable at his bluntness, but didn’t say anything to let him continue. You focused on your notes instead.

“It would take up my entire day, I felt crazy at times. And now that I don’t have anything to do, I find myself doing the same in my cell.”

You nodded, still looking down at your notes. Not wanting to look at him while he talked about something so intimate.

“But the only one I can think about is you.”

He said almost as if he was out of breath. You finally looked at him. And saw that one of his hands had slid under the waistband of his trousers.

“Come over here and sit on me, baby.”

He moaned. You didn’t know what to do or say, you froze. The door opened and two guards came in.

“No- please! Y/n! Please fuck me! I need you. I fucking need you so bad!”

He yelled as he was practically carried out of the room. You sat there speechless, in the now empty room.

“I think it’s best for him to have a male psychologist, I can no longer treat him.”

You called Mr. Kim’s lawyer the minute you sat down in your car. You told him what had happened.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He said back.

“I’ll send all my notes to the man you’ll appoint.”

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Y/l/n.”

You said a small goodbye, before you hung up. While you were driving home you started to think about what happened today. You felt useless and it felt unfair. Why did you have to end up in all kinds of mess. First it was Jungkook, and now Mr. Kim.

Jungkook. You had completely forgot that you were supposed to meet him today. You sighed. Meeting him was the last thing you wanted to do. Maybe it was better to just say you forgot if he contacts you again. Since your session ended earlier than expected, you would actually have time to eat a proper meal and go to bed at a reasonable time. And with Mr. Kim’s case being transferred to someone else, you could finally use all your time on your normal patients. Even if the day had been horrible, you still had a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

You walked up to your door, struggling with your keys to find the right one. Once you found it you put it in the keyhole and twisted, hearing the familiar click. You reached for the door handle and attempted to open it. But it didn’t budge. Did you not lock your door this morning? You twisted the key the other way again, and thought that it must be the exhaustion taking a toll on you.

When you finally were inside your own house you took off your coat and hung it up with your bag. You took off your shoes and looked at yourself in the big mirror you have in your hallway. You looked down at the white low cut top. It wasn’t even that low, but a part of your cleavage did show. In what felt like a fit of rage you took it off yourself. Hurriedly lifting it over your head and throwing it on the floor. You never wanted to wear that top again. You stormed over to the kitchen. You needed something to drink, you were so thirsty. So thirsty that you failed to notice the man sitting in your sofa. You swung the fridge door open, grabbing a carton of orange juice and downing what was left of it.

“Rough day?”

A voice emitted. You jumped and your heart started raising. You looked over at the sofa where the voice came from. Jungkook? Jungkook. You quickly ducked down behind the counter, remembering that you were only in your bra.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

You yelled at him. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you were so confused. What was going on?

“Y/n, calm down! Please.”

You heard him get up from the sofa, taking hasty steps towards you. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you suddenly jumped up again and grabbed a knife. Pointing it towards him. He quickly halted, putting his hands slightly up in front of him.

“Come on, it’s just me.”

He said, leaning his head to the side.

“Exactly!”

You said, slowly moving away from him.

“Why are you here? How did you get in?”

You yelled at him, firmly holding the knife between the two of you.

“Baby, please calm down.”

“How can I calm down?! You broke into my house!”

He sighed, and went quiet for a moment.

“Put the knife down, you know I won’t do anything to you. Please, let’s just talk. That’s why I’m here.”

He said in a calm voice. You shook your head, you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. This was all too much for you. You threw the knife onto the kitchen counter and covered your eyes. You started crying. You were so overwhelmed. From the situation earlier today, to Jungkook suddenly appearing in your life again, to just the pure exhaustion. You needed to cry. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You couldn’t put up the facade you usually do. And suddenly you felt two arms wrapping around you. He hugged you. And for a moment you leaned into it. You felt safe in his arms. It comforted you. It reminded you of when your father hugged you after your first boyfriend broke up with you. It was like knowing that someone cared for you when you felt as if the whole world was against you. Until you remembered who was hugging you. Because it definitely wasn’t your father. And the reality of you standing in just your bra with someone that broke into your house hit.

“Get off of me!”

You suddenly screamed, and started pushing his strong chest. Tears still streaming down your face.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, Jungkook! My life has been a nightmare since the minute I met you!”

You screamed at him with all your lung capacity. Your throat got immediately sore.

“You’re fucking crazy! And I’m tired of playing your fucking games!”

He took several steps away from you, but you walked after him. Pointing your finger in his face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you?! How can you be so fucking awful?! You’re an awful person!”

He continued to stay silent through your fit of rage. Letting you ride it out.

“I hate you.”

You said, calming down but still crying.

“I hate you so much.”

You said taking a deep breath. You wiped your tears. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Speechless. You adverted your eyes to the floor.

“Please leave. Can you please leave me alone? Please, just-“

You started, continuing to wipe your tears. You had resulted to begging him to leave your life.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook. I can’t.”

He grabbed your chin softly, raising your head up to meat his eyes. He was also crying. He silently kissed you. And you let him, too exhausted to do anything else. He pecked your lips, before walking away. He left you there, all alone in your kitchen. As you heard the door close behind him you fell down to the floor. Continuing to weep.

After a month of silence from your former patient you felt content. It had been a month, and there was no sign of him. Your life had gone back to normal again. It was definitely a good thing to tell him exactly what you meant. This time you had been harsh on him, to make him understand you were definitely not interested.

After three months you started thinking that maybe you had been too harsh on him. Maybe you should’ve eased him out of your life. Not gone all crazy on him. But he didn’t contact you, and you were definitely not going to contact him. So telling him that you were sorry was out of the question.

On the fourth month you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to contact him. Just to tell him you were sorry for being mean of course. He was really attached to you in his own weird way. Getting rejected by someone you had planned out your entire life with must be hard. What if he had gone back to his old ways? What if your rejection caused him to live in agony? To fall into depression?

On the fifth month you found yourself standing in the lobby of his hotel. If you were going to apologise, you were going to do it in person. That’s way more genuine rather than over a text. You definitely didn’t want to see him again, but anything for a real heartfelt apology!

“I’d like to see Mr. Jeon, is he here?”

You asked before the receptionist could say anything. He smiled at you.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?”

He asked in a costumer support voice. You shook your head.

“No he isn’t.”

You answered short.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you access to his suite if he’s not expecting you.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew you had to lie.

“He’s not expecting me, but I’m his psychologist, ok? I need to talk with him, it’s important.”

You said in your serious voice. Shoving your business card in his face like you were a cop.

“I’m sorry-“

“You will be sorry if you don’t help me out here.”

You hit your palms onto the counter before you. The man slightly jumped at your action.

“Look, I’m not asking for the fucking key to his nightstand, I just want to know his room number for gods sake!”

You were starting to get annoyed at the poor man just trying to do his job. He looked quite frightened at your outburst. He thought for a second, before he nodded.

“717.”

He simply said. You thanked him and hurried over to the elevator. Once you reached his door you stopped yourself. Was this really the right thing to do? Maybe you should just leave, he wasn’t your concern anymore. Why weren’t you happy he was out of your life? Why? Why? Why?! The door suddenly opened, and you were sucked out of your thoughts. A man stood there, a familiar man, but not Jungkook.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He said with a smirk on his face. He quickly pulled you into a hug. Letting his hands drop dangerously low on your waist. He took a deep inhale of your hair, letting out a small groan. It gave you instantly chills in all the wrong places. You tried pulling away from the incredibly awkward hug, but his grip on you was tight. He decided when the hug ended, but stayed close to you. Resting his hands on your hips.

“Let go of me! What are you doing here?”

You asked him and tried to get som distance from him, pushing at his chest. But his strong grip on your hips didn’t loosen.

“What are you doing here is the real question. A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be in a hotel like this.”

“Get off of me!”

He smirked and leaned in closer to you again. Whispering in your ear.

“Why don’t you come with me to my room? I still can’t get you off my mind, sweetheart.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly next to you. Taehyung reacted immediately. Jungkook. You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. His eyes were focused on Taehyungs hands, planted on your hips.

“She said ‘get off’.”

He almost growled. Taehyung smiled, but removed his hands. Putting them defensively up in the air.

“Sorry, boss. Just had to catch up with my psychologist. She’s the girl I told you about.”

Taehyung started. You were in shock. They knew each other?

“I know.”

He answered and looked at you for the first time. There was a sort of a melancholy feeling in his eyes.

“You know it all, man. I’ll just-“

“Leave.”

Jungkook finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah, leave. I’ll leave. Nice seeing you again, y/n. We have to meet up sometime.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You answered quickly, not taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“I won’t take no for an answer, baby.”

Taehyung said and stepped closer to you again.

“Yes you will, now leave.”

Jungkook said strictly.

“Okaaay, I’ll leave. Whatever.”

He said and walked away. You followed Taehyung with your eyes, watching as he disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. When you looked back at Jungkook, you discovered he had been staring at you the entire time. You felt anger building up inside you.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

You said, you almost sounded hurt.

“It’s not like that.”

He answered. You rolled your eyes at him. He didn’t exactly sound convincing. You had no intention of apologising to him anymore.

“Let me guess, you didn’t hire Mr. Kim to ruin my case so I could run back right into your arms? It was just a convenience that you were waiting for me when I came home, right?”

You asked in a sarcastic tone. He went quiet. You scoffed and turned to walk away. He grabbed your arm harshly so you couldn’t leave.

“I didn’t, I promise. Let me explain, please.

You sighed.

“Let me go.”

He shook his head.

“Y/n, just come-“

“Let me go.”

You interrupted him. After a few seconds he listened to you, and let go of your arm. You stood still, contemplating if you should leave for good this time. Instead, you slipped passed him into his room. His suite was huge, it was more like an apartment really. Modern with expensive furniture and paintings scattered around the room. He had a lot of money, you knew that, but you didn’t know it was to this extent.

“You better explain-“

You were suddenly caught off guard by his strong arms turning you around and embracing you in a tight hug.

“You came back to me! I knew you would! Oh, I’m so happy to see you again, baby!”

He said in a boyish tone. It was a sharp contrast to his interaction with Taehyung. You weren’t able to immediately react, getting lost in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you once again.

“Stop it, Jungkook. I’m still angry with you.”

You said and wiggled out of his hug. He looked at you with hurt in his eyes as he saw you brushing off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“I understand. Sit, I’ll get you something to drink.”

He said and walked out of the room. You did as you were told, sitting down on his white cashmere sofa. He came back with two cups of tea, placing them carefully on the glass table before sitting down beside you. You didn’t say anything, you waited for him to say the first word.

“Just uh- please just listen to me ok?”

He asked and looked at you. You nodded.

“I didn’t exactly plan this. Taehyung was stupid enough to get caught and ended up in prison. I told my lawyer to get you on his case. I knew a case like that would be amazing for your career.”

You shook your head disappointedly.

“I’ve told you I don’t want your help. Why-“

“Listen, y/n. Please just let me explain.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, but you stayed silent.

“Anyways, after a while he confessed to me that he was in love with you.”

You watched his entire body go stiff at his statement. He clenched his fists in jealousy.

“You know I’m willing to go lengths for you to succeed, baby. But- I had to stop him. I refuse to let him have you like that. Especially when we weren’t even talking to each other. So that night I sent you all those messages.”

He unclenched his hands and put his hand carefully on your knee.

“I knew he would do whatever I told him to, so I said if he got you out of the case I’d get him out of prison.”

“So you asked him to jerk off in front of me?”

Jungkooks face changed drastically. He did not seem pleased about the new piece of information you just gave him.

“He did that?”

He asked, his tone had changed from apologetic to dangerous. You nodded. His grip around your knee tightened. You put your hand over his, to show him that he was hurting you.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He said looking you straight in the eye. Another set of chills ran down your back. You knew he meant it. It was not a loose threat.

“This isn’t about him, Jungkook. You pushed him do it. And then you broke into my house, expecting to be treated like some kind of hero.”

You pushed his hand off your knee. He started staring into the air. A million thoughts running through his head.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that your behaviour is insane?”

You stated. He was still being quiet.

“You need to stop.”

You said a little calmer, trying to comfort him.

“I did.”

He said and looked at you.

“I did stop, because that’s what I thought you wanted. But now you were the one that came to me.”

He caught you off guard. It was your turn to be quiet this time.

“I’ll always do what’s best for you, because I love you, y/n. I don’t care how insane I sound or look to you. But why are you here if you think that of me?”

You looked away from him, knowing you had no rebuttal.

“You called me an awful person, you told me you hated me. And I can take it. But I can’t take another rejection from you! I just can’t!”

He raised his voice now. He was getting emotional.

“I’m sorry.”

You said so lightly it was almost a whisper. He stopped ranting and the room got quiet.

“That’s why I came here. To tell you that I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him again. His eyes were big and filled with so much love. You had never seen him like that before.

“I’m sorry I said I hated you, and that you’re crazy and an awful person. None of it true.”

He nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. You became quiet again.

“Is that it?”

He asked carefully. You nodded, shifting awkwardly in the sofa.

“Yeah, I should probably leave.”

You said, taking his hint. Preparing to walk out and never seeing him again.

“No.”

He said, and shifted towards the end of the seat.

“No, not like that.”

He said in a hurry, and took ahold of you hands. You looked confused at him.

“I didn’t mean for you to leave. Don’t leave.”

He sounded almost desperate, clinging onto your hands. You nodded and gave him a short smile.

“What I meant to say is, is that the only reason you came here?”

You thought for a second. Was saying sorry the only reason you came? That’s at least what you told yourself. But at the same time you felt like you owed him more. You didn’t know what you felt. You had been an emotional wreck for months now.

“Yes.”

You answered. Trying to keep cool and not overthink the entire situation. You didn’t want to see him, you had to. Because you’re a good person. That’s all. That’s it. But it didn’t feel like it. It definitely didn’t feel like it. It felt like you longed to see him.

“You’re lying.”

You were ripped out of your thoughts by his statement. You shook your head defensively.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You opened your mouth to argue back, but he spoke first.

“If it was a clear ‘yes’ you wouldn’t have to think about it. I know you better than you think, y/n.”

He repositioned himself so he could look right at you.

“Come on, ask me anything about yourself and I’ll tell you.”

You looked briefly at your wristwatch.

“I don’t know, maybe I should leave.”

“Just give me a chance, y/n.”

He said.

“If I don’t get it right I’ll let you leave.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but still turning more towards him, accepting his offer.

“What’s my mothers name?”

You asked. He gave you a knowing look.

“Come on, that’s easy. Give me something that isn’t on Google.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You didn’t say her name though.”

“Christina, now give me something good. Something deep.”

You smiled, but had to think for a second.

“When did I loose my virginity?”

His smile turned to a smirk.

“You were 16 at Mae’s birthday party. You were drinking, and her boyfriend August hit on you. He took you to her bed and fucked you right there. No wonder Mae isn’t your friend anymore. You’re a bitch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. Deep down it was scary that he knew something so intimate in great detail, but for some reason you were having fun with his little game.

“Ok ok. But now it’s your turn, when did you loose your virginity?”

He let out a nervous laugh at your question.

“This quiz isn’t about me.”

He stated and pulled his hand through his hair. You tilted your head slightly downwards and looked at him through your lashes and with a pout.

“I think it’s only fair that I know your story, since you know mine so well.”

He smiled at you, but looked away for a few seconds. Contemplating if he should tell you or not. When you saw him shy away, you suddenly felt as if you were digging into something he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You said, and placed your hand on top of his. Your fun voice was toned down to your regular speech again.

“No, I’ll share it. No worries.”

He said and looked back to you. You nodded and turned completely towards him. Crossing your legs and resting your arm on the backrest of the sofa, ready to hear his story.

“My first time was around one and a half year ago, in your office, with the girl of my dreams.”

He said dead serious. You snickered at him, thinking he was joking. But he didn’t laugh.

“You can’t be serious.”

You stated, he nodded proudly.

“Why wouldn’t I be, like I said you’re my dream girl. Why would I waste my time on others when the only one I want is you?”

He asked rhetorically. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion.

“You’ve never had sex? Ever?”

You asked in shock. His image did not fit the virgin title whatsoever.

“Once. With you.”

You smiled, but shook your head in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. You probably have girls throw themselves at you.”

His hand found your knee again. This time it was placed a little further up.

“The only one I want is you. I waited for you because I knew you would be worth it. Because I love you.”

He said in a low tone, slightly stroking the inside of your thigh. The two of you were close, so close that you were aware of the proximity. The tension in the air got thicker and thicker from the power of his last words. His face started moving slowly towards you, and you gave in. Meeting his lips. The kiss started slow, but he was quick to rush it. Grabbing your neck to deepen the kiss. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what you were doing, and pulled away.

“We can’t do this.”

You simply said. Focusing on your hands on your lap. His hand went to push a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Why?”

He didn’t sound angry or impatient. He sounded like he cared. It was so much different from the first time the two of you shared a moment like that. He had really changed, and that was the problem.

“I’m not your patient anymore, y/n. I don’t want anything from you.”

You looked up at him again, and he caressed your face in a loving matter.

“Except for you of course.”

His face got closer again, but this time you didn’t kiss him. You abruptly got up from the sofa, and opted for looking down at him instead. You took a deep breath.

“You’re not doing anything wrong by having sex with me. Again, I’m not your patient.”

He said a little bit louder, trying to calm you down.

“I can’t have sex with you because I’ll fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You had been in denial this entire time, but you knew yourself. This would not end well. You couldn’t bare to fall in love with someone that would ruin your image and reputation. You just couldn’t. He looked at you like you were some kind of god. Like all his wishes were finally answered.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

He asked, you shook your head.

“I can’t let that happen, Jungkook. It’s going to ruin my career.”

You sat back down, leaning your elbows on your thighs and your head in your hands.

“I have done nothing but help your career. Why can’t you just trust me?”

He put his hand on your back, stroking you lightly. You looked at him again.

“Please, trust me y/n.”

Fuck it, you thought, before you caught him off guard with your forceful kiss. He was quick to get the memo, kissing you back with the same hastiness and lust. You found your way onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Once you were straddling him, you felt his already hard cock grinding against you. He was desperate for you. A muffled groan escaped his lips when your hand went down to remove his belt.

“Wait.”

He said as he pulled away from you. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were wet and plump.

“Let me taste you.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. His whole aura was so different from the needy rough man you remembered from the last time.

“Please.”

You got off his lap, taking your top off slowly. Watching him as his face turned in awe of the sight of your tits. His eyes were only on you as you shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool on the floor. You laid down on the sofa, spreading your legs for him. He quickly removed his shirt, before getting on his stomach. His hand ran slowly down your abdomen, before he reached your slit. He split your lips with the same hand, before he dove right into you. You could tell he was inexperienced, but the rapid use of tongue on your clit sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. You let out extra pound moans whenever he would hit a good spot, and luckily he was a quick learner.

Once he had the hang of it, his hand moved down to your vagina, pushing two fingers in. Your back arched at the speed of the overstimulation. Feeling your orgasm approach quicker than usual. You grabbed his hair, pushing him deeper into you, preparing for your release.

“Don’t stop, Jungkook! I’m close.”

He moaned by your words, the vibrations making you tip over the edge. Your legs closed in on him, locking him in place. As you rode out your high. Once you had calmed down, you let go of his hair. And his face popped up from between your legs. He climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. You tasted yourself on his lips.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

He said in between kisses and moans.

“I almost came just from eating you out.”

He started fiddling with his belt, but you stopped him. Placing a hand on his chest carefully.

“Let me.”

You simply said, before he moved off you. He sat down again, and you crawled onto the floor. Seating yourself between his legs. You looked up at him as your hands slowly traveled up his thighs. He was even more flushed now, his hair sticking to his forehead. You could tell he was impatient. Flicking his eyes between your hands and your eyes.

“Please, y/n.”

He uttered with a heavy breath. You smirked up at him, finally reaching his belt. You took your time with it as well. Once it was open, he was quick to pull down his pants and underwear. Letting his cock spring free. You got on top of him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He jerked up the second he felt your pussy on him. His thick cock stretched your walls out, and a moan escaped both your lips.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you this time.”

You said in a low voice, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands went straight to your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze. You kissed him gently before you started riding him. His head fell back in pleasure once you started your movements. Bouncing up and down his cock. His hands dug deeper into your skin. He filled you to the brim, and every bounce felt amazing.

“Fuck! I’m not- gonna last long.”

He moaned and looked back at you. You then leaned your hands backwards onto his thighs. Your head fell slightly back as you moaned at the new angle.

“Y/n, slow down!”

He moaned as his hands moved to your thighs. Trying halfheartedly to stop you. But you didn’t stop. And suddenly you felt him coming inside you. His hips lifted you up, as he released himself. And when you felt like he was finished you stopped. You rapped your hands around his shoulders as you fell onto his chest. The room got quiet, the only sound being your heavy breathing.

You weren’t able to think about the consequences of your actions at that point. You only felt satisfaction and lust. And maybe even love…

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[lesservillain]

—iii. the smoke, and who's still standing when it clears

cw: some slight implied sexual thoughts?

an: i had to cut a part from this or else it was going to be way too long. see ya in the next one, reefer rick.

“So, how did it go?”

Tonya sits across from you looking perfect as always, such a beautiful light in your life. Even when she’s antagonizing you.

“It was…really nice actually.” A small, shy smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your mind recalls the night before.

Your date with Sam went way smoother than you had anticipated. He picked you up on time, even coming to the door to get you which you knew Tonya was going to bring up today. He did everything right; held open all of the doors, pulled your seat out for you, paid for your food, actually listened to what you had to say and didn’t interrupt you. He was extremely charming and funny, and the two of you had a lot more in common than you expected.

“Sam sounds pretty perfect, doesn’t he?” Tonya says with a teasing tone, eyebrows raising suggestively. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m making him sound that way, huh? It makes me wonder how bad his faults are going to be.” 

“Unless he’s got bodies in his basement I’d say keep him around.” Tonya raises her hand to count on her fingers, “He’s hot, he’s got a good job, good manners—I’d say baby trap his ass.”

“TONYA!” You lean in, whisper yelling at your friend’s suggestion, the two of you breaking out into a fit of giggles. “I am absolutely not doing that. But…I did agree to a second date.”

“I guess I can take that for now,” Tonya shrugs, taking a sip of her mimosa. “Oh, speaking of dates, I almost forgot. Charlie and I are going out of town for our anniversary. He’s taking me to Chicago!” Her giddiness warms you. Even if you aren’t a fan of him, you have to admit seeing your best friend happy brings you your own kind of happiness. 

The sharp sound of the phone ringing makes you jump, almost dropping the plate you were cleaning into the soapy water. You look at the stove clock reading just a little past 8 pm. In the few weeks that you’ve been here not once has the phone ever rang. Walking over to it, your hand hovers over the plastic as you debate on if you should answer it. It’s not like it's your house, but who else is going to answer the phone? 

A sigh of relief comes from you as the phone ceases it’s ringing on its own. The quiet takes over again, and you think you’re in the clear until the ringing starts again. 

Grabbing the phone, you quickly bring it to your ear with a, “Hello?” 

There’s a pause, and you repeat your greeting into the receiver. Suddenly you can pick up some whispering, at least two voices talking to each other on the other line. 

“Sorry, wrong number.” Click. Dial tone.

You look down at the phone before shaking your head and placing it back in place. But only a single step is taken before the phone begins to ring again. Annoyed now, you pick up the phone once more.

“Hello?” You say again, tone reflecting your temperament.

“Ugh, not again,” you hear the voice from the other end groan. “Sorry, miss.” Click. Dial tone again.

‘What the fuck?’ you think, putting the phone back on the hook again. You hover around it for a moment, and sure enough it begins to ring again.

“Listen, kid,” your start, tone firm, “If you keep calling here to bother this family I will call Chief Hopper.”

“You know Hopper?” The younger boy's voice says from the other line. No, you don’t know him. But Wayne told you to say that in case this exact scenario was to arise.

“Yes, I actually have his personal number right here—”

“So do I,” the boy quips back, striking a nerve. You’re about to give this kid an earful before he continues on. “I just saw him earlier today, actually. But that’s not the point. I’m just trying to get a hold of my friend and this is the number his uncle gave me to call and—”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, uncle. I don’t see how out of all the information I gave you that him having an uncle is what caught your attention.”

“Oh, my god, you are so annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is your friend’s name Eddie?”

“YES! Yes! His name is Eddie—”

“Dude, don’t tell her his name—”

“Chill out, Mike, it’s fine—How do you know Eddie?”

“Well,” you draw out, returning some of the attitude back to the other end of the call, “I think me telling you that depends on who is asking?”

There’s a bit of muffled deliberation between the boy on the phone and whoever Mike. You wait patiently, foot tapping against the kitchen tile. After a moment you hear a sigh come from the other line, followed by a throat clearing.

“Okay, fine. My name is Dustin Henderson,” the boy starts. “I’m calling looking for Eddie Munson. He is my friend, and myself and some of his other friends are worried about him. I’m assuming you’re in his house for some reason, and I am asking you if we could talk to him. Please.”

“Dustin Henderson, huh?” You repeat, attempting to keep a bit of sass in your tone. In reality, the name instantly rings a bell. Wayne told you a little about Eddie’s friends, and along with the guys that Eddie was in a band with, the name Dustin came up a lot. Wayne said Eddie looked at Dustin like a little brother he never had. 

It takes everything in you to keep your composure right now. Eddie’s been feeling much better these last couple days, so you’re sure he’ll be delighted to talk to his friends. “Okay, Dustin Henderson. Let me go ask him if he’s up to taking a phone call. Hold on.”

You set the phone down on the kitchen table and jog down the hall to Eddie’s room. Knocking on his door, you push it open slightly before calling into the room.

“Eddie? Are you up?”

“Hmmm…I am now,” the groggy, sleepy voice from the other side of the door sends an unwanted chill down your back. Quickly shaking it off, you enter the room to Eddie sitting up in his bed, hair in every which direction and arms outstretched as he lets out the most unnecessarily loud yawn you’ve ever heard. You give him an unimpressed look to which he returns mockingly.

“Can I help you? Or did you just come in here to stare?”

You roll your eyes, “You have a phone call. From a Dustin Henderson, who seems like he very much would like to speak with you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, an excited expression on his face. Though, it’s a fleeting one, as his features become downtrodden and he starts to sink down into himself.

“Tell him I’m asleep.”

“What? Why?”

He huffs. “I don’t want to talk to him…”

“Eddie, he’s called the house at least four times. Can you just—“

“No.”

You watch him sink under the covers again, back into the safety net of his comforter. You stand there for a moment, dumbstruck. Eddie’s can definitely be an ass, but Wayne told you before that Eddie’s friends mean a lot to him.

Leaving Eddie behind in his room, you make your way back to the kitchen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you can hear the boys on the other end having a conversation between them.

“—aybe it’s his girlfriend,” the other boy says teasingly.

“Eddie? With a girl? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Dustin scoffs.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver with a giggle.

“Yes, hi, we’re still here,” Dustin says with urgency.

“Hi, um, so I went to check on him and he says he’s not really feeling up to talking today.”

“Oh, okay…” Your heart aches hearing the disappointment in the boy’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Try again tomorrow, okay? Maybe a little earlier. I think his medicine makes him sleepy.”

“Alright, will do,” Dustin perks up. “Thank you ma’am.” 

You give him your name before giving your goodbyes.

Dustin and Mike call every day for the next 4 days. One time with their friend Will, who apparently has never met Eddie but wants to meet him so they can all talk about dungeons and dragons. 

You see, Eddie was their dungeon master in their high school club, which also includes the guys in Eddie’s band. All of them have been playing a new campaign, and they want to give Eddie all the details of their first get together without him.

All of this you have learned against your will, mostly because every time Eddie turns down their phone call, you can’ help but lend an ear when they get going. And, boy, do they get going.

“So we told Will to cast a fireball, but he wanted to save his spell slot and—”

“What's a spell slot?” You sit at the dining room table, flipping through a car magazine Wayne left sitting out.

“It’s, like, the amount of spells you’re allowed to use per day in the game.”

“Ooooh, so he only gets so many?”

“Correct.”

“Well, then yeah it would make sense that he would want to conserve them.”

“See,” Mike stresses from the other end of the line, “She doesn’t even play and she gets it! Quit picking on Will! It’s not like we lost anyway.”

“Yeah, but we would have gotten through the hoard a lot quicker if he had at least tried.”

The sound of Eddie’s bell pulls you from the boys’ banter. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you say, placing the phone down on the table. 

Sprinting down the hall, you knock quickly before entering the room. Eddie still doesn’t call for you often, so when he does you can't help but worry a bit. “Everything okay—oh shit!” 

Instead of hiding under his covers, Eddie sits back against the headboard of the hospital bed. His covers have all been kicked to the floor and the middle of his bed sheet is drenched. Upon further inspection, you see that his shirt and boxers are soaked as well. 

“Eddie, what happened?”

“What does it look like?!” His tone is full of frustration. “I dropped my fucking cup and the lid popped off and spilled all over the place!”

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly, “I can fix this. Why don’t you get in your chair and I’ll strip the bed?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbled, face wincing in pain as he slowly moved his body to sit on the edge of the bed. You moved to the side of the bed and offered a helping hand, which he ignored but at least you tried. Once he was properly sitting on the edge, you grabbed his chair and positioned it before raising the bed. 

“Okay, just put your hands on my shoulders…” you start, instructing him like you would one of your patients. “And I’ll just—“ 

Your hands hover for a moment as you fully process that he is only wearing boxers. Wet boxers that, when in close proximity, don’t leave much to the imagination when left wet and sticking to his body.

Not wanting to let your eyes wander, you preoccupy yourself by placing your hands on his hips and grabbing the hem of his undergarment. 

“On the count of three, we’ll pivot. Ready?”

Eddie gives you a nod, placing his hands on your shoulders and holding tightly. You keep your eyes on his foot as you count down, shifting him into his chair in one swift motion. He grunts as he gets adjusted in the chair, a little winded from all the movement. 

“You good?” You ask, taking a step back. 

“I’ll live,” he says with cynicism. 

“You better. Won't look good on me if you die on my watch.

It’s fleeting, but you swear that you see the corner of his lips curl up into a smile before he turns away from you. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, “I’m gonna get in the shower.”

You perk up at his declaration. “Really? Okay! Let me go hang up with Dustin and the guys and I’ll get my stuff for you.”

Eddie’s hair flies everywhere with the way his head snaps in your direction. His head bows, eyes squinting as he speaks, “What do you mean hang up with Dustin and the guys…?”

“Oh, they called again so I was talking to them.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been talking to my friends on my phone…?”

“Well you’re not doing it,” you shrug. “They were just telling me about the game you guys play, I guess Will didn’t cast a flameball because he wanted to save one of his slots or something—“

“Okay, first of all, it’s fireball, not flameball. And second, why the hell are they telling you about this stuff? Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Sorry, fireball,” you apologize with sarcasm. “And, they would be telling you all of this if you would just talk to them.”

His face scrunches up, head shaking before he turns away from you completely. You notice for the first time that he pushes the wheels with the palms of his hands rather than using his fingers to grip them. Having helped set up his dinner for him a few times, you’ve seen that with the tissue damage to his right hand that he doesn’t have much mobility in it. 

The temptation to offer some physical therapy for it sits in your mind. But, you’re not sure how he would react to your offer, so you’ll hold off until you can chip away at him a little more. He pushes himself slowly into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. With a sigh you leave him be and go to hang up the call with the boys. 

After grabbing new bed sheets, you reenter Eddie’s room and begin to strip his bed, piling everything onto the floor. You're about to take off the pillow cases when a sudden clatter has you rushing to the bathroom door. 

Pushing it open, you peer inside to see Eddie sitting at the sink. From what you can see of his reflection, it looks like he’s trying to shave the scruffy, uneven hair that's grown on the non scarred parts of his face. 

“You’re quick, huh?” He comments as he reaches into the sink for his electric razor. 

“Well, can’t blame me after the other day, can you?” You tease, referring to his fall last week. He doesn’t respond and turns the razor back on to continue shaving. 

As you stand there and watch him, your words come out like word vomit. “You look good like that.”

His eyes flick to meet yours in the reflection in the mirror. “What's that supposed to mean?” He asks with a clipped tone.

“It means what I said.” 

And you could leave it at that. You often wonder if he had been bullied even before his scarring with how often he questions any praise you throw at him. But, instead you decide that doubling down and talking more is the proper thing to do. “You look very nice clean shaven. Very handsome.”

Big, brown eyes blink slowly at you. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up for you before now. I’ll do my best to make myself easier to look at from here on out.” He gives you that same tight lipped smile that you’ve begun to notice whenever he gets an attitude like this.

Your jaw drops and you scoff. “Eddie, that is not what I meant and you know—” He cuts you off by turning on the razor again, the loud buzz muffling your words as it echoes off the bathroom walls. 

Your shoulders slump in defeat. You want to just turn tail and take care of his bed, but decide to get the bathroom set up for him while you’re in there. You place towels on the floor and on his shower chair, leave a couple of washcloths on the built-in handrail, and set the shower head down so that everything is within reach for him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot—“ You were expecting Eddie to still be fidgeting at the sink, too preoccupied with setting things up for him to notice that he was watching you run around his bathroom with amusement. 

“I, um…” his unmoving glare was tense, making you feel like you were being evaluated. “I brought some stuff for your hair to, uh, help with the knots and stuff. Let me go grab them for you.”

The first step you take is slow, expecting some form of protest from him. But, when he remains silent you rush through the door and across the hall to grab the supplies you’ve stowed away in it. Detangler, a pick comb, and some shampoo and conditioner that should help with the curls. 

With full arms you reenter Eddie’s bathroom. He’s moved closer to the shower’s edge and looks to be in the process of removing his shirt on his own. The limited mobility along with the tightness of his scars make it difficult for him to move his arms up above his head, but his stubborn ass seems to be a glutton for punishment.

“Here,” you say, setting everything on the shower shelf. Tugging his shirt up for him, his head disappears inside of the shirt and his fluff of hair reappears as you pull it off completely. You still can't get over how his back is almost completely void of scars when compared to the rest of body. 

“Thanks,” he says without much thought. You hum in return, tossing the shirt on top of his bed.

“Anything else I can help you with?” 

No response. You look back at him and see that he’s completely still. “Everything okay?” You ask, noticing the troubled look on his face as you round his chair. 

“I…” he says quietly, eyes concentrated on the tiles on the floor, “I can’t stand up on my own and take my underwear off…”

Oh.

At this point in your schooling, seeing someone naked wouldn’t normally bother you after all of the saggy boobs and flat butts you’ve washed during your nursing assistant training. It’s a necessary skill to be able to detach the naked body from inherent sexuality in the medical field. 

And Eddie’s body shouldn’t be any different. Just because he’s close to you in age doesn’t make him any different from your previous patients. So why is your face heating up thinking about it?

“I-I see,” you say, trying to not sound as flustered as you are. “Let me think…Oh! Why don't we get you on the seat, we’ll lay a towel across your lap, and then you can shimmy your boxers off under them?”

Eddie mulls it over for a moment before reluctantly shaking his head. You move in front of him to get into position and make another quick transfer onto the shower chair. Eddie hisses in pain next to your ear, most likely due to the stiff plastic of the seat that he’s not used to pushing into his back and butt. 

Placing a towel over his lap, you stand by as he wordlessly slips his hands under it and begins rocking back and forth. You keep your eyes above chest level, not wanting to look away in case he were to start to fall. 

“Shit!” Eddie says, making you look down instinctively. The towel must have caught on his boxers as he was pulling them down, and you watched in slow motion as the towel slipped lower, getting dangerously close to exposing him. 

Thinking quickly, you grab for the towel and hold it up against his skin. Eddie’s hands flail as he tries to get them out from under it as fast as he can. His boxers fall unceremoniously off his thigh and pool around his single ankle. The two of you stare at them, then at your hand that is pressed firmly into his lower abdomen. You have a firm hold on the towel, your hand the only thing keeping it from joining the dark blue boxers on the shower tile as it’s fully fallen off of his lap, draped down to cover his…

…is that his…against the heel of your palm?

Pushing back the inappropriate thoughts starting to form in your mind, you grab the ends of the towel and lay them on Eddie’s lap again. He doesn’t say anything as his hands do their best to hold the fabric in place as you adjust it. You’re almost afraid to look up at him, not wanting to acknowledge that you may or may not have accidentally grabbed your patient by the dick.

“Okay,” you say with as steady of a voice as you can muster, “I think you should be good now. You grab his boxers from around his ankle and quickly make your exit from the shower, pulling the curtain behind you. “Just shout if you need me!”

The hard spray of the shower turning on is the only response you get.

“Ow!”

“Eddie, if you want me to comb out these knots you’re going to have to complain less.”

“I can’t help I have a tender scalp now.”

“Now?”

You can see Eddie’s scrunched up expression in the mirror’s reflection as you spray detangler into his curls. The conditioner had done quite a bit of loosening of his tangles and mats, but there was still a fair bit that needed to be combed out.

“Yes, now. I used to be able to just take a brush through it at the end of the day and be fine. But no one really took care of it when I was in the hospital.”

“Wayne never tried to do anything with it?”

Eddie gives you an annoyed look in the mirror. “You’ve seen my uncle, right? He’s not exactly the person I would go to for my hair care advice.” The shine that comes from the head of the older Munson is definitely prominent. 

“What about the nurses?” You ask as you comb through another successfully detangled section of his hair. He doesn’t respond right away, a distant look in his eyes as he stares at his own reflection.

“No, they couldn’t help me either.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t mind doing your hair for you. My best friend is a hair stylist and can give me some tips to help you keep it manageable after my time with you is done, too.”

“What do you mean after your time is done?” He asks after a moment.

You tilt your head at him. “Like when my volunteering program is done? I think it goes until the end of the semester. So like the first or second week of December.”

“You’re a volunteer?” There was an angry lit to his tone.

“Y-yeah? I’m sorry I thought you knew—”

“No, I thought…I thought my uncle was paying you to be here.”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m doing this as part of my schooling. My class is working with the VisitingAngels to get more help in Hawkins. It’s totally free and I don’t make any money, just some extra credit for school.”

Eddie’s face changes as he processes your words, before visibility softening as he looks at you. “Well, I guess you must have pulled the short straw to get stuck with me then.”

There was a complete change in his attitude all of the sudden. The normal agitation in his voice was gone, making his statement sound lighter than anything he’s ever said to you before.

“I picked you.”

His eyes meet yours, dumbfounded. 

“Well, kind of,” you start. “Sa—I mean, they told me that you were a…special case. A lot of information was redacted in your sheet, and, well, you know, with everything else…”

“I’m sure I wasn’t anyone else’s first choice.”

“But, I didn’t think that was fair, so I said I would take care of you. Glad I did, even if you give me more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you laugh as you continue to work through his hair. 

Your lower back ached as you climbed out of your car. School was out for teacher’s meetings so you switched with a coworker to have all of Saturday off. Sam asked to take you to the movies for your second date and you both decided to do ice cream after so you wanted to be able to sleep in and lessen the chance of falling asleep during the movie. But you paid the price today, forgetting that your coworker is normally the one who puts inventory away. 

“Hey there, little lady,” Wayne says as he walks out from the backyard. It’s not as hot as it had been, colder weather on the horizon as September was coming to a close, but the older man had a dark gray ring of sweat around the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, Wayne,” you waved to him with a smile. “Getting some last minute yard work done before the rain comes in?”

“Yeah, wanna get this grass seed down so come spring it’ll start to grow. Tired of havin’ta clean mud off m’truck all the damn time.”

“Do you need any help? I used to work all summer in the garden with my grandma as a kid. I’m sure I still have a little bit of green left in these thumbs.”

Wayne’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, the lines looking deep with age. “That’s alright darlin’, I’m done for the day. Preciate ya askin’. Better get inside and get ready fer work.”

You follow him into the house where you’re met with the sound of heavy metal all throughout. You look at Wayne confused, but he just shakes his head and starts heading down the hallway. He pushes Eddie’s door open and your hands fly to your ears with how much louder the music gets before it abruptly stops. 

“What the hell, Wayne!” You hear Eddie whine. 

“Look, I get you’re excited kid but I don’t think your Uncle Ben would appreciate you using his gift to make yourself go deaf.”

“Uncle Ben?” 

Both pairs of Munson eyes land on where you stand in the doorway. They look as if they’ve been caught and you wonder if you should have stayed in the living room. 

“Sorry, I—“

“No, it’s fine,” Wayne says, giving Eddie a look. “Ben is a friend of mine. S’known Eddie since I got custody of em and Eddie’s just always called em Uncle ever since.”

“Oh okay,” is all you said. It seemed like such a normal thing, but the sketchy way they were acting made you not want to press further. “I guess you must have gotten a new toy then, huh?”

Sitting where Eddie’s nightstand was is a cabinet stereo system, decked out with a record player on top and shelves to put cassettes and records underneath. You couldn’t say for sure but it looked brand new, either way it would have cost Uncle Ben a pretty penny to buy it. 

“Yeah,” he says with an airy giggle, the empty cassette in his hands. It catches you off guard to hear him so excited, and when you look up at him, you have to do a double take. 

He’s smiling. 

For the first time in the two months that you’ve been taking care of him, he’s genuinely smiling. 

“Who are you listening to?” You ask, leaning in to get a better look at the case. 

“Megadeth,” he says with a grizzly voice, nodding his head to a song in his mind. 

“Ooohhh cool,” you say with genuine fascination. “I’ve heard of them but I’ve not actually sat and listened to them.”

Eddie’s hair flies as he looks up at you with a quirked brow. “You’ve heard of them?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think the record store where I live has been playing them though. They’re putting a new album out or something.”

“Yes! This!” He says, shaking the cassette in his hands. “It came out two weeks ago. I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to hear it.”

  “And you better give Uncle Ben a nice thank you card for it. I wondered what he’d been picking up so much over time for.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, do my best to do that.”

“So, Eddie, what other music do you like?” You ask, wanting to give him a distraction before he slips into a bad place. His ears perk up at your question and the look he gives you makes you feel like you’re going to be standing there with him for a while. 

And you did. Long enough that Wayne was able to take a shower and get his lunch ready for work. By the time he came in to let you know he was leaving, he figured he’d find you looking bored to death and shuffling awkwardly as his nephew droned on about his music knowledge. 

But, what he found instead was you sitting in Eddie’s chair, leaning into him intently as he animatedly speaks about whatever band he’s gotten started on. Wayne knows how Eddie can get once he gets started. But you don’t look bored at all like he probably has at times. 

In fact, Wayne would dare to say you have a bit of a sparkle in your eyes as you gaze up at his nephew. 

“Hey, kids, I’m heading out,” he calls into the room, grabbing both of your attentions instantly.

“What?” You ask, turning to look back at the clock on the dresser. “Oh my god, it’s been an hour and a half already? Eddie, you still need to eat dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne waves a hand, “I have a pizza on its way.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie looks at Wayne with a pinched brow. “You gave someone our address?”

“Boy, just trust me, okay? You know I wouldn't let just anybody bring a pizza to this house.”

Your mind instantly goes to Hopper. You’ve heard Wayne and Eddie talk about him before a handful of times but you’ve never actually seen him. He’s brought things to the house for Eddie before when you’ve not been there, leaving you very curious about him.

“Okay, if you say so.” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. 

Right on que, a knock raps against the door with a rapid urgency. It makes you jump, something the younger Munson notices but doesn’t comment on.

“That must be the delivery boys,” Wayne says with a sly smile before leaving the room. Eddie looks at you with a quirked brow, wording ‘boys?’ at you with confusion. 

As you go to inspect what Wayne is up to, you hear the loud voices of boys as they begin to file into the house. The entryway fills with 6 or 7 bodies of all different ages and sizes, all of them wearing the same baseball style tee shirt with a red devil face on the front. 

“Hellfire…” you say to yourself, reading the shirts before letting out a gasp. Your feet carry you down the hall where you look amongst the group.

“Bring the pizza in here boys,” hear Wayne say from the kitchen, “Jeff and Grant, come n’help me get this table setup for ya.”

You watch as two of the older boys go into the kitchen followed by the one still carrying the pizza, leaving the younger ones to finish kicking off their shoes. One of them finally notices you and straightens before turning to grab the shirt of a taller boy behind him. 

“Oh shit, it’s you!” You recognize his voice. Mike Wheeler shoves another boy with curly hair next to him, who curses and turns to face you as well. He says your name like it’s a question, sussing you out before getting excited.

“In the flesh,” you say, gesturing towards yourself. 

“Hell yeah,” he says in his giggly voice. “We didn’t know if you were gonna be here or not.”

“I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here at all!”

“What really?” Mike says with a scrunched nose.

“That would be cause’a me.” Wayne leans through the threshold, that sly smile still on his face. “I didn’t tell ya in case ya told Ed. Sorry, hope this is alright. Dustin told me he’d been callin’ and that Eddie wouldn’t talk to em, so I figured he couldn’t ignore em if they was already here.”

Eddie’s bell rings from his room, and Eddie and Mike visibly perk up.

“Is that him?” Dustin asks excitedly.

“Yeah, he’s back in his room. Come on,” you say as you turn on your heel. Giddy with excitement, you couldn’t wait to see Eddie’s face when he got to see his friends. Them being here on top of getting his stereo system? It’s almost like it’s…his…

“Is today Eddie’s birthday?” You quickly stop to face the boys that had followed you down the hall, causing them to almost run into you. 

“What, no?” Dustin says confused, “His birthday’s not til May.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Okay good. Sorry, he’s right in here—”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eddie’s slightly strained voice called from the other side of the door. You could hear a tinge of panic in his tone, and it hit you that all he could hear was loud noise with no context while he’s stuck in his bed.

“Wait right—”

“EDDIEEEEEEEE!” Dustin shouts, stepping past you and pushing the bedroom door open. Mike follows behind and the quiet boy with him gives a soft sorry as he files in behind him.

“Wait, where’s that bastard at?!” The older boys come running out of the kitchen, pushing each other until they stumble into Eddie’s room as well. 

Eddie’s bed has a living wall around it, bodies blocking your ability to see his face. Before you can go in to check on him, Wayne calls for you from down the hall, a pizza crust in his hand. 

“Hey, he didn’t get his pain meds for the night yet. Figured he would be too tired and end up being grumpy by the time they got here, so I held off on it. Obviously if he needs em he can have him, but he seemed pretty distracted with his cassette to notice any pain.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say with a nod. “I’ll probably have him take them after they eat with his other meds.” You pause for a moment, putting a hand on Wayne’s arm. “If I had to take a guess, he’s probably going to be grumpy anyway, but…he’ll thank you for it eventually.” 

He gives you a nod before gathering his lunch and heading out for the night. A chorus of guffaws from down the hall had your interest piqued. But, as you made it to the doorway, you felt like your stomach was in your throat as you watched the boys trying to get Eddie into his wheelchair, one arm around the shoulders of two of his friends while another was holding onto his ankle.

“Woah, woah, pump the brakes there guys,” you say running to them. The boys all look at you collectively, then look to Eddie. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine!” Eddie laughs. His eyes were creased from how hard he was smiling and his laugh filled you with a fluffy feeling. 

“I can tell you’re fine, but I don’t want you to get hurt and have to send these guys home.” Just as quickly as they had tried to lift him, they sat him gently back down so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Sorry to be the party pooper, but once he’s in the chair he’s free game.”

“So, are you gonna introduce us or what, dude?” One of the boys finally asks as you get Eddie situated to put in his chair. He lets out a sigh, avoiding your eyes, saying your name to the group of boys. “She’s my…caretaker.” There was a bit of hesitation in that last word, but you ignored it. 

He said your name again as if speaking to you this time, “This is the Hellfire Club. I guess you know Dustin, Mike, and Will already,” he says gesturing to the three younger boys who all wave and smile in their own way. “And these boneheads double as my old band members; Jeff, Grant, and Gareth.” The older guys nod and give their hellos, still giving Eddie a knowing look.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Finally.” Eddie gives you a deadpanned look before you lift him to pivot in his chair, making you almost fall into him as you do. He plops in his chair and unlocks it, and you step aside so that he can back away from the bed. 

“Oh, let me push you!”

“No, I wanna push him!”

You roll your eyes, and watch as the boys file out of Eddie’s room and into the hallway.

“Man, we really need to get you some decorations for your room,” the last boy calls as he looks around. That gives you an idea, and you grab the one named Gareth by the arm. He looks at you with wild eyes, standing nervously in front of you. “W-whats up?” He attempts to ask with a slight shake in his voice.

“What kind of things does he like?” You ask the nervous boy, looking him straight in the eye.

“W-what?”

“For his room. I want to get him some things but don’t know what to be looking for when I’m out.”

“Oh, um…He likes metal music. And he used to have a bunch of band shirts. Mostly Black Sabbath, Dio, Metallica…But he also likes Dungeons and Dragons. But I guess that’s obvious. Oh, and The Hobbit series.”

“Like Lord of the Rings?” You ask. 

He nods, “Yeah. He carried a copy of The Hobbit with him everywhere. It was practically falling apart, b-but he loved it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you think. “Thank you, Gareth,” you say, and he takes that as the OK for him to go, sprinting out the bedroom door.

“Oh, man, dude,” Dustin says from the table, mouth full of pizza “Wait until you see what Jeff’s got planned.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, “Jeff has been keeping us on our toes. We’ll definitely need your help to get through this session.”

“I don’t know,” Jeff says, loading his plate with pizza and cheesy bread, “what I have on the agenda for tonight might be the end for this group of folly.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jeff. Just because I’ve been out of commission doesn’t mean that I don’t know all the tricks in the book.” Eddie says from his spot on the table. 

You maneuver around the boys as they get their plates and drinks. Someone had already gotten Eddie a plate and a cup full of a fizzy drink, which, thankfully, was way too dark to be one of the beers that you see sitting on the counter. It was in a regular solo cup though.

“Eddie,” you call from across the counter, and he looks up at you carefully. “Do you want a straw?” You ask, opening the counter above you. Looking out of the corner of your eyes, you see the boys have stopped talking, eyes looking everywhere except for Eddie as if trying to gauge his reaction but not make it obvious.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Um, yes, please.” He says quietly, hands in his lap as he leans in to look at the paper sitting in front of him. Grant sits on one side of him, leaning in and pointing out something about his character sheet which in turn breaks the silence among the table. 

When you round the table to bring his straw, you place it in his cup and he gives you a quiet thanks again. You nod, but can’t help to notice that he hasn’t eaten any of his pizza. 

Not wanting to draw too much attention to him again, you lean into his ear with a low voice. “Do you need me to cut up your pizza?” He doesn’t move at first, but subtly shakes his head enough for you to notice. You take your lip between your teeth and nod, backing away.

Once their game gets going, you grab your pizza and head into the living room, putting on your headphones and cracking open your textbook. You can’t help but look over at the table for every loud noise that they made, which was a lot, but you didn’t want to be too distracted in case Eddie needed you.

Things seemed like they were going well, until out of the corner of your eye you saw Grant jump up from his seat looking down between him and Eddie. The paper plate and Eddie’s pizza slice were both face down on the floor. You pulled your headphones off quickly, scrambling to your feet to clean the mess.

“Woah,” Grant says when you appear from behind him. “I can get it. It’s no biggie.”

Eddie’s face looked forlorn, still staring down at the place where Grant was wiping the red sauce with a paper towel. 

“Let me get you another slice,” Dustin said, rising from his seat.

“No,” Eddie said, voice almost panicked. “It’s fine, I don’t—I don’t need any.” 

“You barely even got to eat this piece,” Grant said with a questioning tone as he tossed the dirty piece away. 

“I’m getting you another piece.”

“Eddie.”

His panicked eyes met yours, and you could see the breakdown bubbling inside of him. His head was shaking, mouth opening and closing but the words weren’t coming out. Tears rolled down his cheeks. You’d never seen him get this upset before. 

You put a hand on either cheek and made him focus on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. No one here is upset with you. It’s just a slice of pizza. There’s, like, two more whole pizza’s over there. Dustin is going to get you another piece. Do you want me to cut it up for you? You should be able to pick up the smaller pieces.” He looks between your eyes before nodding finally. You give him a reassuring smile and take your hands from his face. 

“I’ll get you a refill, too,” you say, ignoring the tension in the room and continuing on like nothing happened. Dustin handed you the new plate when you walked by, trading it for the cup you had to refill. Grant took his place back next to Eddie and the table started to talk again. 

“Here you go,” Dustin says, reaching across the table to set Eddie’s drink back in front of him. “And here is an extra cup to roll your dice in.” You watch Eddie eye the cup before pinching it between his fingers. He gives a small thanks and the table moves on, becoming so engrossed in the game once again that no one even notices when you place the new plate on the table. Eddie mindlessly picks at the cut pieces as Jeff gives a speech about a cave having a hoard of something inside of it.

A hand waves in front of your face, pulling your attention from the textbook. When you look up, you see Dustin, Mike and Will peering over you. And out of the corner of your eye you see Jeff, Grant, and Gareth pushing Eddie’s chair down the hall.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, pulling your headphones down and around your neck. 

“Bathroom break!” Gareth shouts.

“Do you need my help?” You call back.

“Nope!”

These boys are going to kill you.

“What are you studying for?” Will turns his head to try and see the contents of your book.

“Oh, this is my medical terminology book. I’m in nursing school.” The three boys give a collective ‘ooooohh’ that makes you laugh. “It’s pretty interesting, but I don’t think you guys would like it all that much.”

“Hey, we like science stuff,” Dustin says.

“Yeah, he goes to a science camp every summer.”

“To see my girlfriend!”

“Yeah that’s totally the only reason,” Will chimes in with a roll of his eyes.

“Wow, Dustin has a science camp girlfriend, huh?” You say teasingly.

“She’s not just my science camp girlfriend. I talk to her on my ham radio, too. She lives in a different state.”

“And she’s Mormon.”

“Yeah, her dad doesn’t like us talking so we have to be sneaky. Mike has a girlfriend, too.”

“Does she also live in another state where she can only be accessed via radio?”

“No, she lives with Will just a little bit away from here,” Mike says, jutting his thumb back at Will. You tilt your head at the boys, confused as to what they mean.

“How far is a little bit?” You ask.

“Like, I don’t know, five—ten minutes by car?” Mike says looking at Will and Dustin who nod in agreement. “El—I mean Jane’s dad is Chief Hopper. And he’s dating Will’s mom. They live in a house that they built out here.”

Every sentence was like whiplash. That would explain why Wayne asks the chief to come out here. It would be easier if he’s so close by to come and check on Eddie. But, obviously he has a family so he can’t be here all the time. 

“Back from the bathroom! No one died!” Gareth shouts as Grant and Jeff push Eddie back into the dining room. The three younger boys rush back into the dinning room as well taking their places at the table once again.

It was almost pitch black dark when you opened your eyes, the only light coming from the clock on the stove. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. When did you fall asleep? And who put this blanket on you?

You could make out your textbook on the coffee table, and when you looked around, it seemed like the boys had cleaned up and put the table back against the wall. You jumped up from your seat suddenly, about to take off down the hall to check on Eddie when a voice from beside you made you scream.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie shouted in reaction to your shriek. You pulled the lamp cord on the table next to you and the room was lit with a low light. Eddie’s form came into focus where he sat in the recliner, eyes squinting from the brightness.

“What the hell, Eddie!” You whisper shout. “Why are you out here and not in bed?”

“I…” he stuttered, “I didn’t know if you’d hear me if I needed you. So, I just had the guys put me here. That’s all.”

You blink at him, not awake enough to fully understand, but also not fully awake enough to argue. Rubbing the sleepies from your eyes, you look at him better. He looked like he had gotten a clean set of clothes on and even had his drinking cup next to him in the chair. 

“Guess they got you set up pretty good, huh?”

He nods, shimmying in the chair as he gets settled again.

“Eddie?” He looks over at you, puzzled. “Why were you so against seeing them? Or even just talking to them? They seemed really happy to see you.” Eddie turned away from you and was quiet for several moments. He took a deep breath in and sighed.

“I was…Some of them…Some of them haven’t…seen me since…since before…” His voice was shaky. You were about to tell him that he didn’t have to explain himself, but he kept going, voice leveling out a bit when he cleared it.

“Dustin, he was there. One of the ones who…found me. But the rest of them, they haven’t seen me since before break. Since before…everything happened. And none of them have seen me like this. I’ve changed so much that…I was worried they would see me and freak out. I don’t think I could have handled that.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t seem too bothered by any of your changes. They’re a good group of friends.” Eddie nods in agreement. “Did you guys have a good time?” A big, cheesy smile spreads across Eddie's face.

“Yeah, we did. Totally kicked Jeff’s monster hoard’s asses,” he said with a laugh.

“What time did everyone leave?” You ask, looking at the clock where it reads 3am. Thank god you switched shifts.

“Dustin, Mike, and Will all left around 10:30 or 11. Hopper came and picked them up. Guess they’re all staying at Mike’s.”

You let out an exasperated grunt, throwing your head back onto the couch.

“What was that?” Eddie laughs at your dramatics.

“I missed Hopper, again! I’ve been hearing about this guy but haven’t seen him yet!”

Eddie snorts, “You’re not really missing much. He’s just this really tall dude with a bunch of scars now from being imprisoned by the Russians.”

You look at him with shock. “He was what?”

Eddie shakes his head, “After they left, my other friends stayed until like one. We talked outside for a bit. They said they want to start coming here to do Hellfire meetings every other Friday, but I told them I’d have to ask you first.”

“Why do you have to ask me?” You look at him with a furrowed brow. “If you have to ask anyone it would be Wayne.”

“I know you like to study and stuff, and I don’t want them to be a distraction for you while they’re here. Or for you to have to worry about me or whatever.”

“Oh, well, that’s really thoughtful of you Eddie. But I’m okay. If I really need to study, I’ll just go sit in your room or something.”

He nods his head, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Did you guys talk about anything else?”

Your words caught him off guard, you can tell by the blanched look on his face.

“Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I thought it was pretty boring,” Sam said, taking a bite from the sundae he’d ordered for the two of you to split. You couldn’t decide what you wanted, so he ordered it as a way to get a little bit of everything. It was huge, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to eat it alone.

“I wouldn’t know considering you had my attention most of the movie,” you said, referring to all the stolen kisses and brief make out sessions that kept you pulled from paying attention to what you were watching. The movie was kind of boring, though, so you really couldn’t complain.

“That was my way of saving your sanity,” he says with a smirk.

“My hero,” you say with a roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, hey you got something—”

“Oh, what—”

“It’s right there,” he says pointing at your lip, “like a little hot fudge or something.”

“Did I get it?” You ask, licking your lips where he pointed.

“No, no. Here let me—” His hand cradles your face and he plants another kiss on your lips, making you squeal and giggle at his antics.

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” you say when you pull away. He looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes for a moment, before looking down with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I just really like doing that.”

“What, being a dork?”

“No, kissing you,” he says seriously, “It’s nice. You’re nice.”

Heat hits your cheeks at his words. Sam has been nothing but a gentleman to you since you met. Sometimes he comes out to your car and will walk with you to your class, carrying your books for you the whole way. Other days you’ll bring him a coffee to his office when you’ve had time to stop in the mornings. 

He’s always asking questions about you, and he genuinely seems interested when you talk about yourself, not tuning out like some guys do when a girl talks about themselves. 

And when you ask questions about him he always seems to have an interesting answer. Whether it’s about his well off parents who have a summer home in Scottsdale or how he played varsity football for his high school, there was always a story within a story for him to tell you all the details about. 

You did have to admit though, that, yes, he was really nice and interesting, but maybe he really wasn’t your type? Tonya told you that it’s just your brain’s way of telling you that you can’t have anything nice. But, you just…can’t quite put a finger on it.

Still, it wasn’t enough to turn down a third date.

thank you for reading.

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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[vinsmokesangio]

"are we on a date?"

pairing: tom blyth x bestfriend!reader x actress!reader

summary: you and tom met not long ago, but the connection you have and affection for each other turns into something more. tom is three years older than reader, she’s initiating in acting.

genre: only fluffy - at least for now

warnings: english is not my first language | no proofread.

N/A.: Hi! I really want to turn this into a series, but I need reader engagement to know if it’s worth it! Don't forget to comment, reblog, and tell me what you think <3 read my social media au here!

word count: 954

It was a cloudy and cold Friday, and you’re feeling completely tired. After several classes and auditions throughout the day, all you wanted was to be at home watching your favorite movies and rest with your comfy pajamas. Picking all of your stuff at the restroom to finally go home, your cellphone rings with a message from Tom, your best friend. Suddenly, there are some butterflies in your stomach… looks like the universe heard you.

It was a wonderful idea, right? Tom’s busy as hell since he got important roles and projects, and despite feeling really happy and proud of him, you miss him a lot and all of your quality times.

Something about the nickname gave you so much comfort and warmth in your heart. Tom was picking you up by car at your drama school in a couple minutes and you couldn't help but feel anxious in a good way.

"Hi pretty boy!" - you grinned while hugging him and putting on your seatbelt. 

Tom was wearing a gray sweater matching wonderfully with his pretty blue eyes. Smiling at you, he responded:

"I’ve missed you a lot, honey. How’s your day going by far?" - He said and headed on his way to the nearest coffee shop. 

"I’m just exhausted. We're in the final stretch of the Christmas play and I've never felt so tired. It’s like, I don't know, but my mind needs a break." - You sighed, staring in front of you, looking at the light traffic on the busy avenue.

"And I’m here to make your wish come true" - he chuckled. - "We can grab some coffee and watch silly memes on the internet like we used to do, whatcha think?" - Tom is always so gentle and lovely. 

Your friendship was really a very healthy, comfortable thing... and every time you saw each other, it was as if you never had any problems in the world. It was just you and him, inside jokes and comfort. You wished you could say how important he is to you, but instead, you simply nodded while you both entered on the drive thru and took your order. 

Tom parked the car at the coffee shop and you spent hours updating each other on your busy routines, laughing over tiktoks, singing... There were also moments of comfortable silence between the two of you, the calm you loved and needed so much. 

He looked different this time. You didn't know if it was because you hadn't seen each other for a while, but you could feel that something inside you and the way you looked at him was different. A few sparks every time he smiled at you, and you swore you could feel the same coming from him too.

Her cell phone rings, breaking her out of her reverie, showing a call from your mother. You realize that you forgot to tell her that you would be coming home later today, but all you had to do was tell her that you were with Tom and her worry would disappear. She loved him. Sometimes it seemed like she loved him even more than you, her own daughter.

“Enjoy your date tho”, your mother said cheerfully on the other side of the line. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your cheeks burn, as you looked at your friend who had a confused expression on his face. Before you could answer, she hangs up the phone.

"What does she said? Why were you laughing?" - Tom asked with a funny expression while taking a sip of your already watery iced coffee.

"It’s nothing! Curious boy." - you poke him.

"I don’t believe you. But I know you enough to know that one day, when you least expect it, you'll tell me like it's no big deal." - He teased as he pointed at you between each word.

"I want to show you a video that I forgot to send you." - you tried to change the direction of the conversation, wanting to avoid confessions that might come out too soon. Your mother was always right, and it made you wonder if you were actually on a date with Tom. 

After a burst of laughter, you find yourself in a awkward silence trying to catch your breath. “It’s time”, you thought.

“Enjoy your date”, my mom said at the phone. - you finally confess, avoiding his gaze.

Tom looks at you with a surprised, but fun and provocative expression:

"So… are we on a date? Kinda looks like one to me." 

You can't hide your smile mixed with an expression of surprise and doubt. It's really impressive how Tom always found it easy to confess things, to be direct, but his goofy personality - which you loved - always confused you about whether he was being serious or not.

"I wouldn't mind if we actually were in one." - You said in almost a whisper, but he clearly listened.

Finally you find the courage to look into his eyes, and notice his calm smile looking into yours with admiration and affection.

"I thought you would never say that. You're a bit slow to even ask me on a date, frankly, buttercup!" - He scowled at you, making you laugh nervously. You're so lost in his "confession" that you can't even notice his hands on your thighs.

The comfortable silence that existed between the two of you suddenly became a little awkward. You take a deep breath, and slowly lean over him to join your lips in a calm kiss, with all the accumulated affection. He reciprocates by taking one of his hands to your face and stroking your hair with the other.

If there was any doubt about his feelings towards you before, it disappeared at that moment.

[beiasluv]

Hii can you write how the sully boys would react when the reader calls them by a cute pet name for the first time? Thank youu

sully boys react to pet name

a/n: yessssss, your order is served / no proof reading because I am a potato / enjoy! 🤍

masterlist

jake (2009)

pet name? what’s that? he probably never heard of one, or should i say no one ever called him something 😭 (well, probably except a loving one from his mother and a not-so-loving from his twin brother)

but anyways, jake wasn’t use to a pet name AT ALL (plus the fact he probably haven’t found a love on earth 😭)

well, we are here to break the curses

it all happened in a one loving night. the stars are shining and your love is blooming under the starlight

you cuddled close to him, resting your head on his chest, while feeling it rise and fall in a repetitive pattern.

until you saw an unusual manner in the shrubs next to both of you. his light blue ears twitched but his mind still laid unaware.

“jake…jake,” you whispered into his ears.

“hm…?”

“wake up, please…sweetheart, i am going to see what’s over there,” you whined softly in his embrace.

“huh…? what did you called me?” he held up his head and a shocking gaze met your eyes, while is arm tightened its grip on your waist.

“huh? i was saying there’s something in the bush,” you replied.

“what did you called me?” he smirked as he pulled you close. “you worry too much, gorgeous, it’s probably a little pup or something.” “now tell me, what did you called me?”

“well, i apologize, mr. perfect, i forgot, i am going to sleep now,” you turned against his face.

“nope, not until you call me that again,” he swooped you up easily onto his lap.

“fine, sweetheart, i am going to sleep now.”

“thank you, gorgeous, i’ll be your knight in shining armor and protect you tonight, m’kay?” he tucked you in his embrace.

a teaser 100% GUYS HE IS A TEASER! smirking to himself the whole night after the first time you willingly called him that.

loves hearing your pet names, it reminds him of what he is to you, being something more than a ‘jake’ to you is his honor.

he knows how you are too shy to express yourself but he never gave up. I guess hard works pays off for jake sully.

he loves coming up with new nicknames for you and love seeing your red face every. single. time.

definitely jealous of your personal pet names.

“NO, you can not call y/n, sweetie, she’s mine.”

“son, I am literally her grandma” (jokes aside, we love a slaying grandma! show him who’s the real boss!)

jake sully case closed. amen sis

neteyam

neteyam, neteyam, proving that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree everyday. preach.

he is a teaserrr, loves making you blush everyday. however, something unlike his dad is he is so much more expressive.

he’ll sneak a hand around you, wrapping his tail, or to the intertwining legs thing. *internal screaming* adding one more point with calling you pet names with a seductive voice.

first time is always hard, but you’ve managed to make your boy blush asfff

“nete, can you help me with something?” your shout caught his ear twitching towards your direction.

“yes, my love? what do you need your hero for?” he ran towards your body and embraced you from behind.

“i need to hold this up but i can’t get the another piece to stay, hold this please,” you shoved it into his hand.

“yes, my love,” he smirked at the sight. neteyam always love to watch you work on something you love, your marui is filled with your loved projects. ranging from a small figure of you two or a personalized cabinet for his weapons.

“okay, you ready? hold still.”

…

“good job, y/n, I’m proud of you,” he hugged your back against his chest.

“thank you, handsome, my knight,” you giggled in his chest.

“what? did you just called me handsome?”

“yeah…? oh!”

“HA! i knew you had it somewhere!” he spun your body around. “don’t need to remind me that I am handsome, while i am seeing you everyday.”

“hey! put me down! or i’ll stick to the basic ‘nete’,” you poked his chest with your finger.

“oh, my love, i apologize, my greatest weakness is you,” he faked fainted onto the sand and receiving a tackle from you.

a lover boy 100% we adore him.

jumping up and down, got him blushing, swinging his legs and tail and throwing up crying, screaming and everything in the recipe.

he loves you to shower him with pet names everyday. and loves getting surprised with new pet names you’ve managed to muster up.

definitely flexing it to lo’ak and, poor lo’ak, he is dying of cringe. “guess what she called me today…uhuh…”

definitely gets so proud if especially if you use it in front of his parents. *insert jake’s proud father moment*

will definitely trick you into saying some of his favorites.

“oh, princess, my leg is hurt, it can only be heal if you call me your prince,” he fake pouted.

“if i call you that would you stop clinging on to my legs?” you messed with his locks.

“oh, I’ll look into consideration, giving you 75% chance,” he does the puppy eyes he could do.

“fine, my prince, love ya, now let me go.”

lo’ak

*AAAAAAAAAAAA* do i have to explain?

although he isn’t as expressive as his dad or brother, he isn’t much less loving than them. no, no, no none of the sully boys will give up so easily on this topic. (the blood is strong people)

this boy love language is definitely touch but he isn’t too bad with words of affirmation.

a certified lover boy, he shy asf, and we love that. amen

loves to make the first move but froze up, which i think is so cute 😭 but this time wasn’t so similar

“y/n, i was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” he entered your marui and made his way over to your bed.

“hm?” you answered half awake.

“want to go out tonight? i’m free, I’ll take you anywhere you want,” he chuckled at himself.

“what do you have in mind, my lo’ak?” you said with a voice in your neck, not coming out properly as a word but it managed to swoon lo’ak every time.

“i am guessing we could go out to the reefs and spend time watching the stars tonight?”

“my darling, having you is enough for me,” you replied softy turning to face him.

“hm? my darling?” his face becomes redder and redder.

“yeah, my, and my only, darling,” you claimed his face within the palm of your hands. tracing down from his locks to his nose, his pouty mouth, and down his chin.

“i like that,” he chuckled. “then you are my darling too,” he returned the act.

he is internally screaming, crying, throwing up, curling up into a ball, throwing himself off the floor. he is so flusteredddd

his breath hitched up in his chest and his face reddened. he wants to inject you into his vein and it is so painful that he can’t.

definitely attacks you with physical touch and everything. he became so needy to a new thing that he never had before, and now that he got a taste of it, he wanted more and more.

he would beg you to shower him with pet names everyday AND YOU WILL PROVIDE

showering him with pet names in the morning when you wake up, lunch time, swimming, flying, or even cuddling together

loves calling him your darling 100% he loves to call you his darling as well 🥺

will 100% hiss at anyone who makes fun of you calling him pet names or anyone who dares to call you something theirs.

jealous boy for you only. of course, a little sprinkle of childhood trauma, because he just needs a little bit more love. you assured that he’ll never starve for more love, keeping his cup full everyday. BUT he is so hungry for more of your love 😩

loves to stick to ‘darling’ but sometimes sprinkle some spice for you, because he is your favorite chef *chef kiss*

“honey bear, how are you doing, my darling”

“my pumpkin, are you okay?”

case closed for the sully boys, amen.

today’s a great day to treat yourself 🤍 take care as always!

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @loudcolorwolfgarden / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I just discovered your blog and OMGGG I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE!!!

Sooo is it possible a part 2 of your William fic "unemployed" please? I can't sleep without knowing what happened next !!!

Have a nice day/evening! 🫶

Thank you!! I’m glad!! (: and I’d love to

𝒰𝓃ℯ𝓂𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓎ℯ𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ

Warnings- yandere themes, drugging, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, William is enforcing gender roles…(kinda..?) read at your own risk

Part 1

“William?”

He nodded, he liked the sound of it coming from your mouth.

You were scared, not sure how to respond.

He sighed at your face, he could see you were terrified.

“We’ll have so much fun.” He said, standing up and making his way behind you.

“You want coffee? I know how you like it.” He locked the door, and picked up two mugs.

He handed one to you, which you shakily took and then he sat back down. He smiled as he took a sip, staring at you and waiting for you.

“Drink it.”

“I’m fine. I actually-“

“Drink. It.” He said, serious this time.

Your hands trembled, as you put the cup to your mouth and drunk it.

“Good girl.” He purred out, his eyes turned to something sinister, looking like he had more sinister intentions.

It didn’t take long for the drugs to set in, soon, you felt sluggish. And nauseous.

You tried to get up, which he ‘tsk’d at. He stood up in front of you, and your body fell to the floor. He watched you as you crawled at his feet, as you reached up to him before your body fell limp.

“Sweet dreams, darling:” he mumbled, taking another sip of his black coffee.

———

“Oh, you’re finally up.” He said. He checked his wrist watch. “Been a couple hours.” He sat with his legs crossed on a chair in front of you.

You looked down and saw yourself tied up into another.

“Steve, what the hell!-“

“It’s William. Not Steve. But I guess you forgot that.” He sighed. “What do you remember?”

“I remember… I went to your office, and we…” images flashed in your head.

“That was last week. What do you remember from today?”

“You drugged me. In the coffee.” You realized.

“Now you’re getting it! Alright. So, let me start off by some rules. I already have stuff for you in your room, I will choose out clothes. You won’t leave this house, I have cameras all around. Every room, and in the shower.” He smiled at the mere thought of watching the water run over your body.

“You will cook, clean, other wifely duties. If you break any of my rules, there will be punishment. You got it?”

You started to cry, was this really gonna be your life now?

“Oh, don’t cry.” He mumbled, giving you a pout. He went over to you, untied you, and just as he had hoped, you fell into his arms. Sobbing into his shoulders, gripping onto him for dead life.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He rubbed your back soothingly, his plan was already in motion, and you were already falling for it.

When you calmed down a bit, he looked at you. You were so beautiful when you cried.

He put a hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing it. “Don’t even worry about a thing with me, love.” He laid a kiss on your forehead, and disturbingly enough, a small part of you loved it and wanted more.

—————————————————————-

That night, he’d picked out a nice dress for you to wear, it sat on the desk. You woke up with his face buried in your neck, his arms around your waist. It felt disgusting. It felt wrong.

He breathed in your scent. Today, was his day off. He wanted to relax with you all day, he wanted you to realize that he loved you more than anything.

Experimentally, he moved his hands on your waist further down. You tensed, and he realized. So he took them away. The last thing he wanted was for his darling to feel uncomfortable.

That made you relax some more again, you made yourself more comfortable now, wiggling around slightly.

He held you closer, tighter, now. He was scared that you would try to leave on him.

He kissed the back of your neck.

“Good morning.” He mumbled against your skin.

[sonicslushie]

Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask. 

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b) 

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader 

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds, 

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no. 

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman. 

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream. 

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice. 

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo? 

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.” 

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream. 

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line. 

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.” 

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.” 

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.” 

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out. 

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up. 

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office. 

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed. 

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed. 

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up. 

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots. 

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands. 

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy. 

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot. 

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.” 

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again. 

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time. 

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air. 

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him. 

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?” 

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car. 

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-” 

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous. 

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?” 

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat. 

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that. 

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features. 

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.” 

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations. 

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax. 

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you. 

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both. 

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit. 

You type back. 

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message. 

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift. 

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower. 

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.) 

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension. 

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head. 

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid. 

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up. 

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask. 

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck. 

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!” 

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.” 

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh? 

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker. 

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.” 

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment. 

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air. 

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?” 

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century. 

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?” 

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.” 

“When I’m better?” 

“Sounds like a date.”