#like seriously just ask for help. but i just keep laying on the floor crying

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark but Just a Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: your dad’s associate and friend, joel miller, finally tires of your constant teasing

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption & drunkenness; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (intoxication, power imbalance); age gap.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka that’s bestfren

word count: 3.7k

no use of y/n in this fic.

Click to read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Click to read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman

ahhhh this is my first time writing for joel so any and all feedback is super appreciated. i was slightly inspired by the amazing dbf!joel drabbles that @anchoeritic writes (seriously, if you enjoy this fic, go read them). as always, my requests are open !!

—

THEN,

It started out so innocently.

Your dad often helped Tess and Joel smuggle contraband in and out of the QZ, sometimes by keeping the right people quiet, other times by offering the pair a place to lay low at. You got accustomed to the sight of them passed out on the floor, the glow of the sunrise illuminating only their sleeping faces, or else a murmuring trio of hushed voices in the middle of the night.

Soon, however, you began to notice the way Joel’s eyes seemed to trail on you, often catching his hardened gaze in yours. Still, he rarely spoke to you and when he did, he mostly just grunted a “hullo” or asked if your father was around.

But you suspected that he noticed you.

Especially when your old clothes got too tight, hugging your skin and leaving little to the imagination. You observed his breath hitching the very first time he saw you in a skirt.

So, naturally, you played into it. You started sneaking downstairs in the morning wearing only a t-shirt and your underwear, feigning innocence at the way (you imagined) he tried, hard, not to look at your ass as you sauntered back up to your room.

Sometimes, you bumped into him on the streets of the QZ. You’d loop your arm around his broad bicep, wide-eyed, gazing up at him through your eyelashes and asking why he hadn’t dropped by to say hello recently. Causing him to tense beneath your hands always felt electrifying; the restraint in his grumbled “soon” always felt like a victory.

When it was dark out and he, Tess, and your dad shared a drink together on the dusty-old-living-room-couch, you made sure to lock eyes with him, taking in the danger lurking in them. He’d look away, leaning back casually and adjusting his jeans.

But—it was always innocent.

It was a game you played with yourself; one you weren’t even sure he was in on. Life in the QZ got dull, and there were only so many good-looking men your age that your dad’s work allowed you to see.

Sometimes, when business was good, your old man got his hands on an extra shipment of liquor, inviting all of his favourite bandits in the Zone and throwing a “party” in one of the run-down, less monitored buildings. You did yourself up as best as you knew how to, shared a flask with your friends and flirted with young smugglers.

It was seedy, but it was fun.

Joel was always there, usually asking around for parts or looking to cut deals. Usually, he drank and stayed out of your way.

Once, however, after being extremely irresponsible with your consumption, you found yourself alone with Andy, a young FEDRA guard (working for your side, of course), slurring your words and stumbling on your feet. He was good-looking in a boyish way and handsy to high heavens. You vaguely remembered his insistence on taking you back to his place and the feel of his wet lips against yours. You clearly remembered hearing a gruff, “Get off,”—Joel’s baritone echo taking you both by surprise. Andy’s head swung to find Miller’s looming form in the doorway; he immediately tore his hands from your body and scampered off. You were alone with Joel, his expression a mask of rage and contempt tinged with—could it have been—jealousy?

After that, it was all bits and pieces of blurred images and sounds. Big hands pulled you into strong arms; your feet were lifted from the ground. You retained flashes of drunken faces smiling and jeering at you as you were carried away from the festivities—then it was dilapidated hallways, the jangling of keys fumbling with a lock, and finally, the ceiling above your bed as Joel gently set you down. Even now, you could clearly picture the way his eyes traveled along your exposed skin as he stood, arms crossed, at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, fixing your drunken, playful eyes to look deeply into his, you slurred, “Got a bit jealous?”

He said nothing. He only held your gaze and crossed his arms, the muscles beneath flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the motion.

“C’mon Joel,” you teased him, “so serious, all the time. I was fine.”

Now that had an effect.

He growled, “one more minute with that asshole…” and shook his head, his words trailing off as he fought the urge to take your bait. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He turned, heading towards the door. Perhaps the excess liquor made you reckless or Andy’s kisses left you wanting—either way, you needed to push the limits with Joel. You needed him to stay, to turn around and play your game.

“I could thank you now, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to the side. Your blood burned in your veins, both from the alcohol and from the tension pulsing between you and him in that darkened room. He paused for a moment and it felt like a lifetime—laid on the bed, watching his shoulders move with every breath he took. He flexed a hand, something he often did when he was around you.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

And with that, he shut off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

So, you decided it was probably all in your head. Maybe the looks and the tension and the teasing were just part of a one-sided game you played with yourself. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the strain in his voice when he ordered you to bed or the anger that went beyond disdain and contempt at the sight of Andy’s hands exploring your body. You regularly reminisced about the events of that night, most often without meaning to. Most often alone, between the hours of one and three AM, sneaking a guilty hand down between your thighs.

That was the last time Joel had interacted with you.

At least before tonight.

—

NOW,

Joel stands between Tess and a seedy looking short guy you’ve never seen before, clearly not paying attention to whatever the two of them are hashing out. Tensions are low, which makes Joel look comically out of place. He lifts a silver flask to his lips.

The chatter of people talking and laughing fills the narrow, dusty space—from somewhere down the hall, you hear your father’s booming laugh. You’re finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on whatever your peers are gushing on about. The warmth in your stomach and the buzz under your skin from whatever liquor finds its way into your cup brings you back to the last time you’d seen Joel at one of these get-togethers.

“Can’t believe Miller comes to these things,” one such peer—a bandit in training, your good friend Emma—remarks. “Weird seeing him… well, not relaxed but… not stressed.”

You laugh. “I know, right. When he’s passed out, I don’t even recognize him. Looks completely different without his signature scowl.”

She turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on you. “Right,” she says, “I forgot him and your dad…” She trails off, her expression changing as her interests do, as well.

Emma suddenly smirks at you. “Does he sleep naked?” she asks, mischievous. This piques the interest of the others paying attention to your conversation, who subsequently tune in to hear your answer.

You smile, shaking your head. “No,” you respond, keeping your voice low. “Fully clothed—with his gun in hand.”

Emma’s eyes settle back on Joel as her smile fades. The other delinquents go back to their respective conversations. “Such a shame,” she says, wistfully. “I’d bet a month’s rations that his dick is huge.”

You giggle at that and she passes you the flask. You take a big swig, heat blooming across your tongue as the whiskey burns down your throat.

He catches you staring—his eyes darken when he notices the drink in your hand. Smiling innocuously at him, you wave your fingers in an extremely girlish greeting gesture. He raises his thick eyebrows, unimpressed.

A familiar figure interrupts your silent conversation.

“Hey,” Andy says, his voice unsure and subdued.

“Hey.”

He looks rumpled and flushed, as though recent weeks had not been kind to him. Andy’s not-brown-not-blonde hair hangs limp around his crown, mirroring the defeated air his stature gives off. Despite the near foot he has on you, he seems ironically small.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look,” he tries, awkwardly stuffing his fingers in his pockets, “I’m sorry about last time. I was really drunk and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t cool.”

You scoff. “I don’t really think it was so much what you said, Andy,” you respond playfully. After all, you know he meant no harm. Drunk people get horny, and you had both been very drunk. “Don’t worry about it. No hard feelings,” you add.

That’s when, from over Andy’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s expression. Pure disapproval. Cold, ruthless contempt burns in his eyes.

“At least not from me.”

Andy turns around slowly, following your eye-line. By the time he clues in to who you’re referring to, Joel’s already looked away, turning his attention to the still-ongoing conversation between Tess and the stranger.

“Right,” Andy says, wincing. “He’s been giving me a hard time on the streets.”

“Don’t sweat over Miller,” Emma interjects casually. “He gives everyone a hard time.”

Once again, you find yourself distracted from the conversation, focussing on a different man in the room. Why should he get to decide when you get to be wild? What business does he have protecting you from other guys? After all, Joel Miller is not your father.

It frustrates you that he keeps pretending not to notice your stare. It frustrates you that he keeps his head ducked, feigning interest in the deal being made beside him. Taking in his size, the salt-and-pepper of his hair, and the fierce angle of his jaw, you steal another swig from the flask, wiping the excess off your lips.

It emboldens you.

Leaning up on your tippy-toes, you muster up your most sensual tone, whispering softly in Andy’s ear: “Let me make it up to you.”

You pull back to catch his look of disbelief, his pouty pink lips parting slightly as he struggles to locate his words. Grabbing his hand in yours, you nod your head to the right, wordlessly encouraging him to take you down the hall. He obeys without a sound.

You quickly shove the flask back into Emma’s hand.

“Save some for after,” you plead, and she shakes her head, tossing you an exaggerated eye-roll.

You lock eyes with Joel momentarily before you’re pulled down the hall, satisfaction leaking from your gaze—you’re not quite sure why. You break away, ignoring the non-verbal warning in his stare.

Who cares what he thinks, anyways?

You wind up in a run-down, dim-lit room, empty save for an old desk. Andy pins you against the wall as soon as the door creaks to a close behind you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy, tipsy kiss. His hands travel south to grab your ass and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Things heat up—his clumsy fingers brush the fabric over your breasts and you dig your hip into the bulge beneath his denim.

It’s not that you want Andy. Frankly? It could be anyone. None of the boys you hang out with really interest you beyond being potential partners for youthful experimentation—which is exactly what Andy is to you. In all likelihood, that’s not what you are to him.

Oh well. Those are morning thoughts.

Andy’s hands snake under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips creeping up to your breasts.

The door slams open.

Andy basically leaps off of you, a horrified expression settling on his features as he registers the identity of the intruder—as history repeats itself.

“Out,” Joel orders through gritted teeth, holding the door open for the boy to walk through. Andy practically sprints free—without risking a goodbye, without uttering a “sir, yes sir.”

You sigh once you and Joel are alone, adjusting your clothing and casually leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, Joel,” you say, exasperation coating your words. “What’s this all about.”

Wordlessly, he closes the door and locks the handle. His movements are slow, precise, and calculated—butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He approaches you, leaning one hand against the wall behind your head and using a pair of thick, callused fingers to tilt your head up. He smells like sandalwood and hard liquor; he smells like a man. Electricity crackles throughout your entire being.

The touch of his hand on your face drains every last drop of your boldness.

“I think,” he grumbles out, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous, “You know exactly what this is about.”

You swallow, focussing all your energy on holding his severe gaze. Between your thighs, your nerves begin to pulse, responding to his proximity with enthusiasm.

“No, I really don’t,” you respond, mustering up some confidence from god-knows-where to render your tone convincing.

He scowls. “S’lil’ game you’re playin’,” he mutters softly, coolly. “Comin’ downstairs half-naked, clingin’ onto me in public when you know I can’t do anything…”

He shakes his head, his grip on your jaw tensing slightly.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is hoarse. “What are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

A smile creeps onto your face at the anguish in his voice.

So you hadn’t imagined it. Joel had been in on it from the start.

You look up at him with big, sultry eyes, taunting him. There’s no point in avoiding the truth anymore—you want joel. And you’ve never really been the type to not go for what you want.

In this moment, you’re willing to risk anything to have Joel do something, anything to you.

Wicked innocence drips off your every word as you purr, “Whatever you’ve been dying to give me, Joel.”

You watch your answer take effect. A vein in his jaw twitches—lust floods his eyes.

In a flash, you’re facing the wall with both hands pinned above your head by one much larger, much stronger hand. Joel’s weight presses against you, pinning you in place.

“That right, angel?” Joel challenges under his breath as his other hand explores your chest, grabbing roughly at your breasts. “Want me to show you what I’ve had in mind?”

His hand travels towards your underwear, sliding down your front in a tantalizing motion; you moan before his fingers even brush your most sensitive spot.

“I do, Joel,” you moan, desperate for his touch. The feel of his chest against your spine is intoxicating, your mind goes blank at the sensation of his cock pressed against your ass.

Joel’s index and middle fingers find your clit, rubbing torturous circles around the throbbing bud. His thumb presses into your skin, anchoring his hand in place.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans. “Wonder what your dad’d say if he knew his lil’ girl was soakin’ wet for this cock.”

He slips a finger inside you, curling it up, making your mouth gape open in a silent ah and your eyebrows crease together. “You think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” Gasping and struggling against his hold, you nod enthusiastically, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, wanting more, more, more.

“Manners,” he growls, tightening his grasp on your wrists. “Please, Joel,” he corrects, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, his palm flattened and working against your swollen clit.

“Please-please, Joel,” you gasp out, throwing your head back against the crook of his shoulder. He leans forward, laying a soft kiss in the delicate nook of your neck. Then, he’s releasing you, pulling his fingers out and taking a step back.

He gestures to the desk.

“Facedown, sweetheart.”

You obey, stumbling over to it and laying your chest against the cold wood. It stings and you shiver.

Joel fumbles with his belt and then he’s behind you, unzipping his fly and pulling his length out. With your cheek laid against the desk, you get a perfect view of him towering over you, a dark God, holding his cock in his hand.

Emma had been right.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns, before flipping up your skirt. He groans at the sight of your ass, roughly grabbing one cheek and squeezing it—hard.

“I will be,” you whine, desperate to take him in.

He chuckles, pulling down your dripping panties, letting them fall to your ankles. His tip runs between your folds, teasing your clit in tormenting strokes. You whine and moan, “Joel-s’good,” responding to every brush of his tip.

“You’re needy,” he says, gruffly.

He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, settling every inch of himself inside you.

“I like needy.”

You gasp at the sting and the pleasure and the fullness, unable to control yourself. Joel is huge—your walls wrap tightly around him as he pulls out near-completely before snapping his hips against your ass, filling you up to the brim again. You cry out as he holds your arms in place, setting a rhythm, grabbing you just as roughly as he fucks you.

“Joel,” you moan loudly before a large hand slaps over your lips.

“Shut up,” he growls.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you give yourself to him entirely, cravenly grinding against his hips.

“Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my cock,” he taunts. “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room, dirty and filthy and hot.

Joel’s fingers muffle your moans of abandonment, every “fuck,” “yes,” and “thank you,” coming out simply as “mmm.”

“This what you fuckin’ wanted?��� he asks gruffly, leaning a hand next to your head and bending forward to loom over you. “Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age?”

The angle allows him to push even more of his length inside you, causing you to squirm pathetically against his hips. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he adds, “That right, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes growing heavy, filling with abandon.

He looses a hollow laugh. “Needy lil’ thing,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in your hair. “With a needy lil’ pussy.”

Freeing your mouth, he throws his head back, straightening out and bringing both hands to your circle your waist. Now, he fucks you fast and brutally, his breath coming heavy and hard. With every stroke, Joel’s tip grazes your inner most sensitive spot, causing sheer ecstasy to radiate throughout your core.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg. “Come in me—please.”

Joel groans sinfully. “Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

Fluttering waves ripple from your cunt down your legs, threatening to take you over the edge.

“Joel,” you half-sob, “I’m gonna-”

He slows down, thrusting into you in great, harsh strokes, well-versed in the art of bringing a woman to climax. You cry out as your orgasm tears through you, unable to form words or thoughts or anything beyond “Joel,” “Ohmygod,” and “yes-yes-yes.”

“S’it baby,” he coaxes. “Come aaalll over my cock.”

Your walls clench around him, your pussy just as desperate as you are to keep him tucked inside you.

He exhales shakily, grabbing fistfuls of your ass in his hands.

“Fuck it,” he groans, thrusting faster inside you. “M’gonna fill you up.” Your eyes are still rolled to the back of your head, your hands desperately searching for something to grasp onto. His cock swells inside you, tensing up between your walls as his seed spills out between them—he comes with an “oh fuck” and a final, brutal stroke.

You lie still for a moment, listening to the sound of your ragged breathing harmonizing with Joel’s. He runs a massive hand along your arm, his touch suddenly delicate, revering.

“You’d better fuckin’ pray I can find the pill for you tomorrow,” he says finally, his husky voice both amazed and amused.

Lifting your chest off the table, you slowly flip around, perching on the edge to face him as he reorganizes his clothes, pulling his boxers up and tugging at his fly. He looks so handsome between your knees, with his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt all rumpled.

“Get extra,” you coo, your breath still uneven, your thoughts still bungled. You run a slight hand devotedly down his plaid shirt, marvelling at the pleasure the proximity brings you.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “S’was a one-time deal, angel,” he says with a smile. He finishes doing up his belt and leans both his hands on the table, his nose just centimeters away from your own. “Can’t be caught fuckin’ my associates’ daughters—bad for business,” he adds, pulling your underwear back up your thighs. You adjust yourself and pout at him, playfully.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, pretend-innocence soaking your tone.

He smiles softly. “I liked it too much,” he responds. “S’why it can’t happen again.”

You raise your eyebrows defiantly. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy on you, Miller.”

He slowly straightens up, offering you a hand as you scoot off the desk. Your legs feel shaky, but his hold anchors you in place.

“M’countin’ on that.”

With that said, he gestures for you to leave the room, following closely behind you. He opens the door and you peer into the hallway, making note of its emptiness before stepping out. Joel exits soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. You catch him looking back at you, a dazed, hungry look still lingering on his expression.

It makes you smile.

Later that night, you find Emma and Joel finds Tess. You’re back to your side of the divide and he’s back to his.

It’s as though nothing ever happened.

“Hey, check it out,” Emma remarks. “Miller actually looks, like, chilled-out,” she slurs loudly.

You smile knowingly, nodding in agreement.

“‘Guess he found a way to blow off steam.”

She gives you a quick, faded nod before becoming absorbed in something else. It doesn’t bother you. You’re also absorbed in something else: lost in thought, consumed by the lingering echoes and traces of Joel’s skin on yours.

When you catch his eye from across the room, you can tell that his thoughts are haunted by the very same thing.

This was no longer an innocent game.

It was a dirty secret.

—

Read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman (Let Me Hold You Like a Baby)

[shu-porang-porang]

Bunny In Heat

(Cat In Heat sequel)

Read Cat In Heat and you’ll know what to expect 😊

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Very Explicit!

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: It's just pure filth, I have no shame, sorry! soft dom reader, sub minho, toys, butt plug, spanking, edging, overstimulation, pet names, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), (and as usual, I keep some elements of surprise!), not proofread

Word count: 3 k

“OMG!! What’s this?!” you scream.

“What’s what?” he turns his head towards your direction.

You show him the vid from the fan meeting where Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin are dancing with tails attached to their coats.

“Oh that! Yea it turned out to be such a popular clip among fans, you saw it just now?”

“If you ain’t on it I’m not watching, I’m that loyal!” you bat your lashes looking at him with a fake smile.

“You mean I won’t find any pics or clips of other members in your gallery?” He called your bluff.

“uhmm that’s irrelevant! Now tell me more about this clip!! Is there a longer version? Maybe one with you in it?”

“No, I’m not in it, but the idea was mine, thanks to you!” he says with a smirk.

“You didn’t… tell me you didn’t talk about our sex life with your members!”

“What if I did?”

You freeze, just stare at him with your jaw dropped on the floor. When his words sink in, you hide your face in your hands and shout: “MIN-FUCKING-HOE, WHY?”

He laughs at your reaction: “I can’t help it that you’re so mind-blowingly awesome that I wanna brag about you all the time.”

“It’s so embarrassing! How am I ever supposed to look them in the eyes again?” you shake your head as if you could shake the embarrassment off too.

 “Oh calm down, it’s okay. They’ve known for a while; you’ve already looked them in the eyes plenty of times.”

“Oh fuck! You’re so shameless, I’m done with you.” you cry out, punching him in the chest.

He grabs your wrists with one hand and with the other puts the hair messily covering your face from all the attempt of shaking off the embarrassment, behind your ears.

“Awe cute! Look how red your ears got.” He’s not taking it seriously, it’s obviously not a big deal to him, but you’re still pretty mad and don’t even look him in the eyes.

“Come on princess, I promise you they don’t even care.”

“Well, with that clip I’m sure they at least have a very solid reminder.”

“How does it feel to be the reason of a key moment in skz history?” he jokes but you’re not having it.

“Oh, fuck off! Just know that you owe me one.”

“I owe you as much as you say, no arguing that.” He cups your face and seals his words with a kiss.

“Then wear a tail for me.” You demand.

He looks confused but plays along: “Okay? Do you want me to sneak one from the company?”

“No, I don’t want those crappy ones, and is there like a room full of furry accessories at the company or sth?!!”

“I don’t think there is; I shouldn’t’ve offered that!”

“I’ll take care of it then.” Poor thing doesn’t know what’s gonna hit him. You already forgot about the unveiling of your sex life, if anything, now it’s just an excuse to get what you want from him.

Two weeks later, when you finally gathered all the items you needed, you present him his little outfit. A bunny head piece and a matching tail, choker and cuffs, all adorned with frilly fabrics and little jewels. You didn’t wanna cover his beautiful body, so you kept the items to a minimum. He gulps as he eyes the shiny plug poking at the end of the tail.

“You asked me to wear a tail, not a plug” He complains.

“But the plug is attached to the tail, how else did you expect to wear the tail?”

“Attach it to my shorts or sth?”

“But that would look off and ugly” you reason. “Come on baby! I promise it’s not that bad, and you would look so delicious. Pretty please?” you pout and wait for his answer, as much as you wanna do unspeakable things to him, you wouldn’t lay as much as a finger on him if he wasn’t okay with it. Same goes with wearing the plug.

“Okay I’ll do it” he finally gives in. “but why is it so girly?” he points to the cute decorations.

“Says the guy who wears red bows and tiaras for a living!!” you raise and eyebrow giving him a “you’re full of shit” look.

“fair point” once again, he surrenders. “So is that it? I’m just gonna fuck you wearing these?”

“Why don’t you go change and wait for me on the bed, I’ll tell you how it’s gonna be” you give him a smack on the ass sending him towards your bedroom.

“Ouch!” the smack caught him off guard.

“Oooh baby, you gotta toughen up if you wanna survive tonight” he roles his eyes at you words and disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

After a few minutes, you tiptoe and press your ear to the door, you can hear him still shuffling around, and when you hear him curse you realize he must be trying the plug. Arousal is pooling between your legs already. You wanna barge in and give him a hand but you think it’s better for the sake of his dignity if he gets through this part on his own, considering the rest of the events you’ve planned.

“I’m ready” he calls out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest with excitement. You open the door and peek in. He’s kneeling near the edge of the bed, back facing you so you can see the tail, neck craning to see the expression on your face. “You look so pretty baby boy” you say as you approach him in awe. You notice the blush creeping up to his cheeks at the compliment and he turns his around to hide it but you can still see his crimson ears.

Standing behind him, your fingers dance on his toned back and travel down to pet the fluffy tail. You don’t even touch the plug but playing with the extension of the tail alone earns you a few airy whimpers.

“Aweeee! Is my bunny’s tail sensitive?” you ask, twirling the tail around your hand. He doesn’t answer, probably too ashamed to admit.

“Baby if you don’t answer me, I can’t make you feel good” you coo at him lovingly “what if you don’t get to cum at all?” you give the tail an experimental tug and he winces. “So, tell me baby, does it feel good when I play with your cute tail?”

“Yea… it feels good…" he admits in a low tone.

“Now turn around baby, I wanna see that pretty face”

He complies and shifts around on the bed while you rid yourself of your clothes and reveal the lingerie you’d bought for this special occasion.  

“God, you’re breathtaking!” he exclaims. You crawl on the bed and he watches you with blown pupils. You straddle him and his arms are quick to circle around you and pull you closer. He starts nibbling at your collarbone but you push him back. He looks at you confused, trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“Do you trust me baby?” you ask, giving him a quick peck on his lips.

“I do” he answers, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

“Then no touching or kissing without my permission, okay?”

“But..” you put a finger on his lips to shush him. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I might have to tie them up” you bend down over the edge of the bed to take a box you put under the bed earlier, giving him a good view of your folds barely covered by the piece of lingerie in the process.

You show him your hidden inventory, with handcuffs and satin ribbons and a few other unfamiliar stuffs. You notice his semi-hard cock twitching. You grab an item from the box “do you remember our safe word?” you ask as you stroke his cock slowly.

“Ye… yes..”

“Good boy, now remember, you can end up cumming inside, or not cumming at all, so behave” you warn him one last time as you message his balls before putting them inside the loop of a pink cock ring and then roll the other loop to his base. He watches in disbelief; he did not see it coming. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, open an app and set the vibration to the lowest setting. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, enjoying the excruciatingly slow buildup of the pleasure. He leans back on his hands, slightly arching his back, his chest heaves up and down, bringing the pointy dusky nipples to your attention. As much as you enjoy the view, you still need to ravish him.

“Get on fours baby” your voice snaps him out of his trance. He complies and you position yourself behind him. If he could he would wag the tail at your face, showing you what a good boy he is for you.

You kiss his thighs, marking him here and there, then give his cheek a little squeeze, his ass goes higher in the air, needing more attention from you. You twist the plug around and his face goes further down to the mattress, muffling his moans.

“You know what we never tried? Milking your prostate” without a warning you yank the plug out and replace it with your fingers. He hisses at the sudden action.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good” your fingers message his walls in search of the bundle of nerves and you know you found it when he suddenly goes: “Aaaaah…”

“What happened?” you decide to mess around a bit.

“There…”

“Where? Did I find it?” you miss it on purpose just to press harder the next time you “accidentally” brush over it. He fists the sheets and lets out another high-pitched moan.

“Right... there”

“Oh! Here?” you rub it again and he squirms. You pick a steady pace thrusting your fingers in and out, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His little “ah… ah… ah…” makes your own core throb. You land a spank on his ass that ripples through it beautifully, jolting his body forward a bit.

“Please…more…”

“More what bunny?”

“Sla …. Aaaah…” you give it to him before he can even say the word. You give him a few more till your hand print is burning bright red on his cheek.

“Cum…. Hurts…” he’s such a mess he can’t even form sentences anymore.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me?” you say as you brutally press harder on his prostate and set the vibration to a higher speed.

“I do…. Please…. Hurts” he cries out.

You stop your ministrations on his prostate and guide his hips to roll him on his back. He whines at the loss. He’s such a sight to see. Hair sticking out in all directions, tears spilling from his closed eyes, his aching shaft rock hard, the tip red and swollen, begging for release. Your mouth waters, you kiss his erection from base to tip, lick the head and wrap your lips around it. He jerks his hips as your tongue pokes under the slit.

“Pleeeeeease…” he arches his back off the bed, his toes curling at the climax that just won’t hit.   

You release his cock with a pop:“Open your eyes bunny” you hover above him; he looks at you with glossy eyes.

“I’ve been ...good … please…”

“Okay sweet baby,” you kiss his teary eyes “but you should get it up again, okay?” he nods his head “yes”.

You kiss him and reach your hand down and fumble with the ring to pull it off. He lets out a guttural moan as he shoots up, his load getting everywhere. You pump him till the last drop is spilled and his cock starts to go limp in your hand. You tug at it a few more times just to tease and hear his tiny annoyed voice asking you to stop.

“We can’t stop now baby, not after you got me so turned on by your needy pleas and all” you grind down on his sticky member, mixing his seeds with the arousal leaking through the thin fabric covering your soppy pussy.

You reach for the box and feed him the last piece of the aphrodisiac chocolate: “Here’s a little treat for a good bunny”.

“Can I touch you now? Please” he asks, still being a good boy even though had had his release. You look at his hands, the lacy cuffs around his wrists make his dainty fingers a thousand times more delicious looking. You grab one hand and bring it to your lips, kissing its knuckles, then guide it to your pussy. “See what you made of me?” his fingers slip through the gap in the fabric and get sticky with your arousal. You bring the hand back up to lick the fingers clean.

“You can touch me love, and kiss too” hearing this, he sits up to properly hold you and kiss you, his hands rubbing the smooth skin on your sides, running up and down your back, squeezing your breasts, suddenly they’re everywhere. He’s kissing you like a man starved, pulling at your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue, you pick up the faint taste of chocolate still lingering in his mouth. You let him have his feast, kissing you and marking you everywhere, your fingers pulling at his damp hair encourage him to leave darker marks you know will last for at least a week.

He sucks at the exposed skin of your breasts while cupping and kneading the clothed part. You stop him and lift his chin up to look him in the eye. God, he looks like such a mess! Saliva smearing on his mouth, his eyes a bit red and still glossy, his cheeks flushed. You kiss the tip of his nose: “do you wanna suck on my tits?” you ask and he nods. “Then take this like the good boy you are” you instruct him to get on fours again. You circle his rim with a finger and he shivers with excitement, You insert a finger in, it’s still somewhat loose, then unbeknownst to him, you insert a small vibrator and turn it on. You see his dick twitch between his thighs, followed by a series of muffled moans.

“Aweeee! Look you’re getting hard again! What a slut!” you tease and then enter the plug so it’s pressing the vibrator harder against his prostate.

“Turn around bunny, I wanna ride you.” he does as ordered. Meanwhile you take your lingerie off, and straddle him as soon as he finds a somewhat comfortable position with the vibrator and the plug still invading his hole. You rub your core on his semi-hard dick: “what got you hard again my little slut? Was it the chocolate or the vibrator?” you ask as you brush his hair away from his eyes.

“You, you did it” he says before pulling you in for a kiss. You smile against his lips, he’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. You kiss some more till you feel his erection poking at you, so you line it with your entrance and slide down. He rests his head on your shoulder as you take him in, huffs of hot breath tickle your bare skin. As you start to move your hips, his lips travel down to take the reward you promised him. He sucks on your tits like his life depends on it. The wet noises he makes mixed with his moans and groans every time you drop on his cock a bit too hard, get your juices flowing even more. Your thighs are burning and from the way they shake, he notices you can’t go like this for much longer.

He stops your hips: “let me fuck you”.

“Please do” you let go, you don’t wanna be in control anymore, you just need a good fuck and he’ll make sure you’ll get it.

He flips you around and enters you from behind. Holding back all night practically made him feral. He pulls the vibrator out but keeps the plug in, that was the main point after all, fucking you while looking like a bunny! His hips snap into you, firm and strong. Your moans hiccup with every thrust of his hips.

“So good…. So tight…” he picks up his pace yet he never fails to hit the spot that makes you see stars.

“Minho-ya….” his name falls off your lips as you clench around his cock, one of the telltales of your nearing orgasm.

“Fuck baby…. cum for me” and you fall apart. He gives you a few slow thrusts to help you ride your climax before He goes back to grabbing your hips tighter and pounding into you despite your squirming. The over stimulation makes you whimper and whine.

“You’re doing great…. Just a bit more…. It’s okay….” He encourages you till he finally shoots his load up your pussy. “Fuck…. so good…” he collapses next to you panting. You roll on your side to face him, he’s still recovering his breath, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, sweat shining on his face. You kiss the hair stuck to his temple. He opens his eyes, giving you a crooked smile.

“You were such a good bunny” you pat his hair and take the headpiece off that somehow managed to stay there the entire night. Your hand travels down his back to gently take the plug out. You massage over the rim, trying to soothe any discomfort that might be there.

“I almost can’t believe all we did tonight” he says in a low tone, his voice is evidently sleep weary.

“Well, now you have another unbelievable story to tell your friends” you joke.

“I wonder what punishment that would earn me”.

“I’m afraid next time I won’t be so nice!”

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, slight NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, dementia, hospital death, abuse

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I COULDN'T RESIST 😭 Their chemistry is TOO GOOD

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar {You Are Here}

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Scott was frantically searching his bedroom for his phone, arguing with Stiles along the way. “The Argent’s plan was to use Derek to get the Alpha. They’re not gonna kill him.”

Stiles sways in a swivel chair, blatantly not helping. “Alright, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!”

Frown growing on his face, Stiles picks at the weathered wood of the chair, “You know this wasn’t why I came over.” He waits for a reply that doesn’t come – Scott is under his bed, throwing socks and crumpled papers out of the way. Stiles huffs, “We’ve had a major (Y/N) development… hello? Earth to Scott! (Y/N) slept in my bed last night!”

He grinds his teeth at the lack of a reaction, “And she asked me to take Allison to the formal, which is stupid because we could get Jackson or another lacrosse meathead to do that. I should be taking (Y/N) to the formal!”

Scott bangs his head on the underside of his bed, scrambling to get out, “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!”

Scott hushes him, “I hear voices in the driveway.” He cocks his head to the window and squints his eyes in concentration.

“Who is it?”

“My mom coming home from work… and she’s been crying,” Scott deflates, sinking in on himself. “And (Y/N)’s with her.”

Stiles wheels the chair towards Scott, looking ridiculous with his legs spread out and paddling against the hardwood floor. “What are they saying?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to cheer her up. She’s asking to see me. She’s worried.” He doesn’t even have the energy to groan his sorrow as he sits on the bed, void of dramatics.

Stiles takes a breath, hearing his friends anxiety without needing the words. “Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

The beat that follows is short and tense, resignation in Scott as he says, “I have to.”

“Well, we’re going to have to put a pause on that because (Y/N) is probably coming inside any second now.” Stiles straightens his jacket, “And she doesn’t want to be involved in any werewolf stuff, remember?”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to be friends with her and keep her from all that,” Scott sighs, laying on his back and covering his face with his hands.

“Like it or not, she may be the eventual love of my life, meaning you have to suck it up and deal with it.” Stiles chokes on his breath as you knock on the wall before entering the open door.

You wince at the coughing fit Stiles is in, “Good morning.” Your eyes fall on Scott, “I hear something went down last night,” you fold your arms, “Melissa just told me outside. She’s seriously torn up about it.”

Scott finally is able to groan his frustrations, “Everything is going to shit.”

“Someone’s down in the dumps,” you smile, but stop upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm on Stiles’ face. “Any updates?” You play with your fingers, worry evident in your stance as you look between the boys. “Look, just because I don’t want to be there for the werewolf crap doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it afterwards.”

“Derek took Jackson to the Hale House and drew Scott out,” Stiles resigns, “It turned into a giant werewolf battle that ended with Scott being shot by the Argents and Derek going missing.”

You whip your head to Scott, lines of worry in your brow, “Are you okay?”

Scott lifts his shirt in a silent reply – no bullet wounds in his torso. He rolls over onto his feet and grumbles, “Deaton patched me up.”

If it was possible, your brows arch even closer to your hairline, “Deaton like your vet boss Deaton? He knows about all this too?”

“Evidently,” Stiles shrugs his shoulders.

“And Peter showed up to threaten Allison’s safety. He thinks the Argents have Derek and now I have to be on guard 24/7 to make sure she’s safe. Not to mention my mom went out with the maniac last night and you are the number one first target should a werewolf want to kill my pack…” Scott was tangling his fingers in his shaggy hair, “And with not going to the dance I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

You walk to stand in front of him, “Scott,” you say softly, “Noone expects you to be a guard dog for all your friends 24 hours a day. That’s impossible and too high an expectation for yourself. You’re just a sophomore in high school.” You raise your arms to grab Scott’s wrists, easing them from his head, “You shouldn’t have to be worrying about all this – it’s why you’re failing your classes.”

He lets you hold onto his arms between you, “But I have to worry; it’s all my fault. And I’ve screwed myself in the long run because now I’m banned from a whole night where anything could happen to you guys.”

You listen, eyes soft and sad, “I wanted to talk to you about who you think should take Allison to the dance, just so you feel more at ease about it.” You finally let go of his arms, returning to your finger picking. “Any ideas?”

“Jackson,” he says, ignoring the silent cheers coming from Stiles behind you. “He likes her, and they have a decent friendship, even if he won’t admit it.”

You nod, “Sounds good. Do you need me to help in any way?”

“Are you going to the dance with Andrew?” he asks, checking all his boxes.

“I don’t know,” you say, “He hasn’t asked me yet, but I have a feeling he might after our date tomorrow.” The smile on your face says it all and Scott again ignores the despair hitting Stiles – the poor boy banging his head into his crossed arms on the chair.

“Let us know,” Scott says, now fixated on finding a way to protect his mom, “We still have a week until the dance.”

You smile, but your eyes are pinched with empathy, “I’ll try to have as many sleepovers as possible with Allison and Lydia this next week,” you say determinedly, “I know you were thinking about stalking her house at night.”

“Only to keep watch,” he says with a slight upturn of his lips.

“But you need your sleep,” you pat his shoulder, turning around, “Doctor’s orders.” You spy on the last remnants of Stiles’ despair as he wipes his face of emotion. You grimace at the terrible unevenness of his hoodie strings. “And have you figured out someone to ask to the dance?”

You move to pull on his hoodie strings, evening them out as you adjust the fabric around his neck. He gulps and takes a second to respond.

“Not yet,” he gasps out a laugh, “We’ll see.”

“There’s always Lydia,” you smile, flattening the fabric against his wide shoulders. “Or you could just go stag.”

~~~

You drive with Lydia that night. It had been so long since the two of you hung out that it was almost awkward visiting the strip mall together – the same one you went to on your first date with Andrew.

The white fairy lights were just starting to turn on as you enter a beauty shop. Lydia goes right for the latest face serums while you follow along. “Don’t you already have every skincare product alive?”

“You can never have too many,” she says, holding up something pink and shiny.

“Actually, too many products can mess with your skin barrier and…”

Lydia holds up a finger, “That doesn’t stop me from having them sit pretty on my vanity.”

You giggle, running your eyes over the pretty packaging of various bottles. They really knew how to draw your attention. “I need a new lip gloss,” you say, encouraging Lydia’s shopaholic tendencies.

“Let me show you some of my favorites,” she says quickly, purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

Shopping with Lydia was fun, especially when she made you feel beautiful and offered to buy things for you. She had you holding a few things for herself, but also a couple products for you that she refused to let you buy.

“Have you found someone to go to the formal with?” you ask nonchalantly, checking Lydia’s mood.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a couple lacrosse players. We’ll see who asks me by tomorrow.” She purses her lips and leads the way to the checkout line. “Do you know who Allison is going with?’

You hum your response, “Um… I think Jackson might ask her.”

Lydia takes a deep breath, “Sure. Why not.”

“Are you not okay with that?” you ask quietly, “I’m sure Allison will say no if you want her to.”

“I’m not going to control what that conceited little man wants to do. He was a moron to let me go – clearly I’ve been doing better than him since. You know after every lacrosse practice he just goes home? I haven’t seen him at a single after practice party.”

You pull your card out to pay for your things and she smacks your wrist. “How often does the team meet after practice?”

“Like once or twice a week,” she shrugs, “Jackson never liked to go, though. He doesn’t like doing things for popularity’s sake.”

“I’ve noticed he kind of just does things that serve his own best interests.”

“Exactly,” she says a little exasperatedly, handing you the shopping bag. “He’s so full of himself. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

You hold open the door as Lydia storms out, shoulders tense at the thought of him. “Hey, crazy thought…” you say with a giggle, “Do you want to go spy on him?”

Lydia stops on the cobblestone sidewalk, giving you a dose of skepticism. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on, we could just drive past his house,” you say, still smiling, “It’s what girls do after a hard breakup.”

Consideration fills her gaze, slowly starting to walk again. The click of her heels builds a rhythm as her confidence grows, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what he does on a weeknight. I swear he’s become so boring now.”

You laugh, linking arms with her and going for the car. You think about what Stiles said at the hospital. Jackson was focused on getting the werewolf bite. He was becoming an obsessive recluse in his hunt for power. It was no wonder that he avoided people that wouldn’t help him with his mission.

The drive to the upper class part of town was fast and full of loud music. Lydia looks determined as she turns into the neighborhood, headlights blinking off. You turn down the radio and look upon the grand estate that was the Whittmore house.

It looks renovated in comparison to some of the other houses on the street.

“They sure like a clean and modern look,” you remark at the plain white walls and geometric windows.

Lydia scoffs, parking across the street a little away. “He was always so proud of his money. Like it made him something he’s not.”

You feel a twinge of pity. “The poor thing. His Porsche is here – I bet he’s brooding in his bedroom.”

Pointing a finger, Lydia picks the window to Jackson’s room, “He’s up there; the lights on.”

The pair of you deduce what the reclusive boy might be doing. You were just laughing about anime porn and edibles when a loud voice starts yelling within the house you’re parked in front of. Lydia stops her laughter, looking to her right to peer out your window.

“Someone’s having a fight inside.”

You wince at the persistent yells, “Sounds pretty serious.” There was a crash and a boom. It made you jump being the closer of the two to the house. “Oh my god, what are they doing? Breaking things?”

A breath catches in Lydia’s throat when another bellowing yell seems to shake the windowpanes. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Your mouth falls open when it sounds like someone slams into the front door. “Maybe we should call someone for help.”

The front door opens and a teenager falls out onto his side. He scrambles to get away from whatever was happening within. He trips down the concrete stairs of the front porch and finally makes it to his feet.

You audibly gasp, recognizing the teenager as Isaac Lahey. “Holy shit, I know him!” You go to open the door and Lydia cries out.

“Wait! We should…”

“Lydia…” you spot something bleeding on the side of Isaac’s face, “He’s hurt and he needs help.” You don’t even let her begin a retort as you leap out of the car at Isaac’s retreating form. “Isaac!”

He flinches, turning around in a frenzied motion. He looks wild with fear, holding his hands out like he was going to stop whatever was after him. In a second he looks even more uneasy, “(Y/N)?”

“Get in the car,” you say, keeping your distance, “We’ll get you out of here for a while.”

He looks at the slightly open front door and the look of desperation on your face. He swallows hard and seems fidgety with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, taking a step forward. “I can help, Isaac. I work at a hospital – I can fix you up. Let’s go take a break somewhere else. Somewhere safer.”

Isaac looks to be choking on something – whether breath or words, you weren’t sure – but you feel a drop of relief as he follows your lead into the car.

Lydia looks petrified as she faces forward, two hands on the wheel. “This is not how I expected tonight to go.”

You put on your seatbelt and ask her firmly to drive to your house. “Is that okay, Isaac? My dad is at the firehouse and my mom is probably napping on the couch. She always does after having some of her tea.”

“Um…” Isaac wraps his arms around himself, trying to hide just like he did in the computer lab. “Yeah, sure.”

In those few seconds you look over your shoulder, you check the bleeding to the side of his face. The skin must’ve split open from some kind of force. In another second you notice the bruise around his eye.

It was yellow and green with age.

It’s quiet as Lydia tensely drives the car to your house. You try to silently thank her for going along with your plan. You were concocting scenarios in your mind as to why Isaac was so hurt. The yells, the bruises, the crashes and bangs, the fear as he scrambled away.

You think, sadly, of how alone Isaac always was. You realize that there wasn’t a single instance you could think of when he was with anyone. There was just that one time you spoke with him in the computer lab.

What was he actually dealing with at home?

Lydia was curt as she drove away from your house, no doubt brewing a passive aggressive text for you. Isaac, though extremely tall, seems to shrink beside you. He doesn’t look up as he follows your footsteps.

“Is this okay?” you ask gingerly, stopping at the door. “I just want to take you upstairs and have a look at that cut. It’ll be a quick bandage and then we can do whatever you like. We’ll take a break for a while.”

He seems to stew for a few seconds, not daring to look you in the eye. You suddenly wish to see them bright blue with the smile he got from laughter. The one you complimented him on. He finally speaks in a quiet tone, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Good,” you say, opening the door and going for the stairs. Peering over the banister you see just as you predicted. Your mother is fast asleep with a book resting open on her chest, and an empty mug of tea on the side table. “I swear that chamomile one she has puts her right to sleep.”

You walk upstairs and to the hallway bathroom. You put the toilet lid down and gesture for him to sit. Under the sink, and next to an array of things that sometimes help you when you feel faint, is a first aid kit.

Isaac looks wary as he holds his hands in his lap. It seems pretty plain what was going on. Something to do with an angry dad at home. You suddenly remember how apprehensive he was when you mentioned asking his dad for permission to go on the spring retreat.

“What was it that split your cheek open?” you ask gently, just a few inches taller than him as he sits.

He looks fearful to admit the truth. “I uh… fell.”

You nod, knowing it was a lie. “Pretty hard fall,” you give him a sad smile as he appears relieved you don’t question further. “I’m just going to clean it and put a butterfly bandage on, okay?”

He swallows again, wringing his hands, “Sure.” He winces as you swab a disinfectant wipe along his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“It’s okay,” is his reply. He continues to be on edge as you pinch the cut closed and place a butterfly bandage on it. You let the silence continue if that is what he wants to do.

You’re throwing away the used wipes now, “Is that what happened to your eye?” you ask, “Another bad fall?”

He looks at you and seems to soften at the understanding in your gaze. It was warm and safe. He takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Another fall.”

“Would you consider yourself pretty clumsy?” you ask vaguely, stating the obvious without saying it out loud.

He catches on pretty quick, “It depends. Some days are better than others.”

You nod again, “Would you like something for the pain? I’ve got some ibuprofen or Tylenol.”

He agrees and follows you down the stairs again to find your mother groggy on the couch.

“Oh, hello sweetie,” she says, rubbing her eyes, “Who’s this?”

“This is Isaac,” you introduce, filling a glass with water. “He lives by Jackson Whittemore.”

Angela smiles though her eyes are droopy, “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” She suddenly squints, “What happened to your face, dear?”

He freezes as you open the medicine cabinet, “Oh, just lacrosse practice.”

He looks grateful, adding quietly, “I uh… got tackled without my helmet.”

“Boys,” Angela says funnily, “Well, hopefully it heals fast.”

Isaac gives a half smile before accepting the medicine from you, “Thank you.”

You’re still gentle as you reply, “You’re very welcome.”

~~~

The next night turns into a better one as you go on your second date with Andrew. He takes you to a Barnes & Noble, buying you a book and a coffee inside. Sitting in the little indoor café, sipping hot drinks and nibbling on pastries, you discuss your favorite genres.

Andrew listens to you with bright eyes, a sweet smile on his face. He takes you back to his house after that, turning on a Disney movie like you agreed on the last date. It only took about twenty minutes before he was pulling your chin towards his.

The night ends with a long-winded makeout and a winter formal proposal.

You were fit to burst with the information the next day, wanting to talk to the girls about the whole thing – but Allison had been off the radar the last couple of days and Lydia was attending after practice parties with the lacrosse team.

No doubt scouting for her next boyfriend (and date to the formal).

The next best option was Stiles. He picks you up and takes you to the nearest gas station for drinks and treats. You grab all your favorites, including peach rings and a large orange creamsicle.

The perfect summer treats to remind you of your favorite season.

Stiles insists on paying for the load, throwing his gummy worms and sodas on the counter. “I’d slip you cash anyway if you tried to pay.” He’s amused by your sweet smile as you open the creamsicle.

He even opens the jeep door and holds all the packages before dumping them on the floor between you.

“You’re going to step on them as you drive,” you cry, reaching down to shove all the snacks towards your feet. You almost lose a line of melting orange from your creamsicle. You lick a long stripe up the cold pop, “Should we just stop at the park?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure,” he says, putting the jeep in gear. “You enjoying that popsicle?”

Your lips kiss the tip of the pop, embarrassed when it makes a slurping sound, “Of course, it’s the best desert besides cheesecake.” The park isn’t far from the gas station, Stiles parking in front of the field and playground, turning off the engine. You continue to kiss and lick the creamsicle until orange and white ice cream is coating your lips.

Stiles wonders what it would taste like to kiss it off.

“My mom used to take me to this park when I was little,” you say, settling against the door and kicking your feet onto the seats.

Stiles does the same, one leg bent onto the seats and the other off the edge, able to bounce if needs be. “My mom did too,” he adds, a finger at his temple and thumb at the beginning of his jawline. He considers you, “I can see you just dying to tell me what happened.” He says it with convincing eagerness, but his face is placid as he says it.

He chooses to focus on how you lick the last remnants of ice cream off the wooden stick. It made him squirm within five seconds.

“Well, Andrew did ask me to the winter formal,” you say in hushed tones, “But that isn’t the best part. We kissed again and not just a goodbye on the doorstep kind of kiss – like a on the couch with a movie in the background kind of kiss. It must’ve been like forty-five minutes before his parents got home.”

And before you knew it, you were delving into the details of the entire night, focusing on the exciting kiss at the end. You start to compare the kissing with other boys you’ve been with before, critiquing the skill level and any corresponding downsides.

You open the sugary peach rings, chewing on them as you say, “Overall, I’d give it a solid B or B-.”

“You’re kidding!” Stiles retorts, stretching a gummy worm between his fingers, “You just went off about how great it was.”

“Yeah, but…” you shrug, sticking a peach ring on the tip of your finger like it was a life preserver for it. “… his technique was a little much.”

Stiles bites the head off his gummy worm, “What do you mean?”

“He was kind of abrasive, I had to keep telling him to slow down.” At the look of confusion on Stiles’ face, you keep going – you forget that he’s never kissed anyone before. “From the first kiss it was like he was eating my face. They were very open mouthed, and he kept trying to use tongue. I finally told him to slow down after I felt our teeth knock a couple times.”

Stiles grimaces, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I didn’t peg him for being the aggressive kisser,” you shrug, “It might’ve been nice if I wasn’t so surprised – like I could’ve matched his energy a bit better.”

“So, you… wait – what kind of kissing do you like?”

You ponder the question, eating the peach preserver on your finger, “I like it slow at first, you know – like you hold a cheek and draw each other in. Then it should get heavier, like more firm kisses, and you usually start moving at that point. Like… you get closer and I might sit on his lap or something.” You pull apart another peach ring, playing with the sticky gumminess between your fingers, “Then I like it when… oh my god, this was another thing! He never left my mouth.”

Stiles was only able to listen because of (1) his feelings for you and (2) the possibility that he could get some pointers on how to charm you. He had to listen to your previous encounters – a very real knife of white hot pain stuck in his collarbone and digging down his sternum – but he was getting a front row seat to your kissing preferences.

“I thought that’s how kissing works?”

You throw a candy at him, and he chases it down his chest. “Yeah, one type of kissing. But that gets boring after ten minutes. I like it when they start to kiss my neck and chest. How did you think people got hickeys?”

Stiles grumbles, head drifting to not just your ice cream lips, but the warm pulse at your neck, and the beauty marks on your skin below that. He quickly understood the desire to kiss other parts of the body.

“I get it,” he says, taking another sip of his soda. He kept finding his throat going dry, “So start slow, get more intense, and don’t forget to kiss other areas.” He nods to himself, “And the tongue thing?”

You grimace, “It can be nice if they know what they’re doing.” You sigh, slouching against the car door, “Easton from down the street was a heavy tongue guy. Like he saw one couple frenching on tv and decided that was the best way to kiss. It was like… so so wet. My chin was covered in drool by the time he left.”

Stiles was already hot around the collar, skin splotchy with red and pink. But he was starting to get an awful anxious feeling in his stomach, “There are so many things to remember.”

You look endeared as you lean forward, “But when you’re with the right person, it just feels natural. You click like all the puzzle pieces fit between you. You stop thinking about all the details and just go with what feels good.”

He tilts his head, and he looks so nervous and curious, “Was that Adam from San Fransico?”

The breath catches in your throat for a second, “Nearly. It was like a first love. It did feel natural with him, but our puzzle pieces didn’t all fit right.”

Stiles bites at his lips, “I think I had something similar to that. Never to the point where we kissed, but… I kind of obsessed over Lydia for a couple years.”

Your eyes widen, “You’re kidding, our Lydia?”

He nods, embarrassed, “Our puzzle pieces didn’t fit right either. Come to think of it, it didn’t really feel natural either. I guess that’s a pretty crummy first love, huh?” He smiles like he pities himself.

You frown, so entirely endeared by him that you feel a warmth enter your chest at his somber expression. The desire to hold him and show him what it feels like to be natural and wanted came on hard and fast.

“You can always learn to be a good kisser,” you smile, “But yes, having your puzzle pieces all fit makes all the difference in the world.”

“And how did you learn to be a good kisser?” he asks, crumbling his candy wrappers and throwing them in the back.

“That’s a bold assumption,” you laugh, “I never said I was a good kisser.”

He shrugs, playing with the hem of his shirt now, “I can just tell. There’s no way you’re a bad kisser.”

You feel rosy at those words, “I just learned from trial and error. I never had a teacher or anything.”

“I bet you’d be an excellent teacher,” he mumbles. His eyes go wide, clamping his mouth shut, biting his tongue.

You’re giddy as you laugh, “There’s only one way to find out, I guess.” Your eyes trail around his mole-dotted skin, guiding you to his slightly chapped lips and the cupids bow that leads to his perked nose. You love how red and flushed his skin is.

“What are you implying, Miss. Westbrook?” His eyes are bright, but he is deadly still.

“I don’t know,” your hands go to your temples, laughing a bit breathlessly. “Must be a sugar rush, don’t mind me.” There is something hot and heavy filling the space of the jeep, and you suddenly want to open the window to let in some cold air. You feel Stiles’ eyes on you like a deer caught in the headlights.

The silence is deafening as you turn your peachy gaze to his. He is flushed and breathing heavy and…

You consider it.

“Friends can kiss.” You pout adorably as you reason, “Scott and I kissed.”

“Not willingly,” Stiles says in his breathless voice, a small smile curling his chapped lips.

You wave a hand, “It’s purely a teaching moment.”

“Exactly…”

“But we did already make a kissing pact.”

“We can null and void the whole pact. Make it invalid based on… new circumstances.” He looks deep into your eyes before snapping out of it, shaking his head. “Wait… no, I… kissing you (Y/N)…” he was really struggling, fidgeting in his seat. “I want to but… what if I’m a terrible kisser and you’re so nauseated by it that you never want to kiss me again? I don’t wanna – I don’t want to mess it up.”

You try to decipher the speech, fogginess entering your brain as you focus on the shadows dancing across his skin.

“It’s a chance you have to take,” a smile on the tip of your words, “I did say I would help you get your first kiss out of the way.”

He struggles for breath, “Does that mean the offer still stands… to happen right now?”

You inch across the seats, in the middle now and loving how Stiles was having such a visible reaction. He goes rigid, his mouth open and eyes turning desperate. He looks scared and wanting. It looks conflicting… and hot.

“If you really want a lesson right now.” You whisper it like a newfound secret, “Only if you want to.”

“If I want to?” he sounds disbelieving, “Of course I… I mean, I don’t think I could ever say no to you, (Y/N).”

Something blossoms in your chest and it’s warm and addictive, you chase after it – prompting you to get closer, “C’mere,” you say gently and smile at how responsive Stiles is. He moves forward like a puppy searching for a treat.

You raise a hand and pause right before touching his cheek, “You sure?”

“Positive,” he says immediately, nearly leaning into your hovering hand.

You smile, touching his face and winding your hand to under his ear, your thumb in the perfect position to rub along his cheekbone. His eyes flutter close and an inaudible sigh escapes his open mouth. With the tips of your fingers reaching the back of his neck, you pull his face closer to yours. You position him at a slight angle, and he responds to your direction instantly.

He opens his eyes to find your noses nearly touching. You’re both breathing shallow, sharing the air between you, feeling it breeze and dry against your lips. He smells like candy.

And you… you smell like orange cream and peachy sugar.

“Put one hand here,” you direct his hand to your waist. Your heads stay close, gazes flickering between eyes and lips. “And another here,” you put his other to the side of your neck. His hands are so large – his fingers so long – you feel them shake as they engulf the space between your neck and shoulder. His thumb rests on your jawline while the side of his pinky sits on your collarbone. “Do what feels natural,” you whisper. “It’ll come to you.”

One hand shakes on your waist, testing a light pressure while his other hand rests very warm against the side of your neck, afraid to move.

You tilt your head to match his and find his dark honey eyes illuminated by the park streetlamps. They were still slanted in nervous desperation. He didn’t dare move, but you can tell he wants to – wants to badly.

“Close your eyes,” you say quietly, and your lips barely brush against his as you speak.

His lids close instantly – he is so pliable under your hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nervously twitching his fingers against your skin.

You smile, still looking at his eager expression as you brush your nose against his slightly upturned one. And then you slot your mouth on his bottom lip. You hold it there as he tenses, his hand gripping your waist suddenly – the other digging his fingertips in the soft skin of your neck.

You pull away a few inches and say, “There… you’ve had your first kiss.”

His lips search for you, leaning forward until his eyelids fly open, “What? That’s...” his throat bobs and he clenches his teeth so you see the muscle bulge on his jaw. “Any more things you can teach me?”

You lick your lips, giggles falling out of your mouth until he cracks a small smile. You put your forehead to his, smiling wide, “The night’s still young.” You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You need to relax. You’re super tense, mischief. I’m giving you permission to move your hands to whatever feels natural.”

At his quick question of hesitance, you continue, “I would tell you if anything made me uncomfortable. As long as you do too.”

He nods frantically, eager to go again with less nerves this time. Winding a hand to the back of his neck and into the short crop of his hair, you pull him towards your mouth. You kiss him softly but curiously.

You peck and move. Lip lock and switch sides. Press firmly and repeatedly. And slowly the tension falls from Stiles’ shoulders. He grips you with less anxiety and with more curiosity. A hand drags up your side, feeling the dip of your waist up to your ribcage and the line of your bra beneath your shirt. His hand drags down the same path, feeling all the same things before landing on your hips, thumb feeling the edge of your jeans.

His other hand finally relaxes, long fingers winding around your neck until his thumb is resting right on your artery. The pad of his thumb tickling under your jaw. He was being light and soft near your face, only using the pads of his fingers – while his other hand was searching with more pressure.

He was just going down to put his hand on your thigh to squeeze when your breathing hitches. He pulls away instantly, lips pinker than before and eyes wide with worry. His hands are off you in a second and you almost… almost… whine in protest.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You take a calming breath, slumping your shoulders, “No, in fact you’re taking my advice beautifully. You relaxed and started exploring – that’s one of the best parts about kissing someone new.” You brush a few strands of hair behind your ear, made loose when Stiles moved his hand to the back of your neck.

“Then why did…”

“I…” it was your turn to be shy, “I liked when you gripped my leg.”

Stiles widens his eyes with wonder now, “I made you make that noise?”

“Like I said, you take advice beautifully… and it works.”

He smiles wide, his turn to laugh at your endearing shyness. “Can we keep going?”

You match his smile and reply by going in for more kisses. This time you cup both his cheeks between your hands and Stiles squeaks in surprise. Both his hands land on your thighs, squeezing them under his larger palms.

You take a sharp intake of breath instead of making a noise, and Stiles fucking smiles against your lips.

Your hands touch his abdomen, and he sucks in taut, probably never having been touched there before. You quickly move up to his chest to find the expanse of his pectorals. Like you expected, Stiles isn’t rippled with worked muscle, but there’s a kind of lanky natural muscle beneath his shirt. You trail your hands up past his collarbones and around his shoulders. With your arms there you can pull him even closer.

He has to move his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. He’s able to press you into him from that position.

Your hands search for his shoulder blades, fingers applying pressure there. His fingers were spreading wide against your lower back, thumbs wrapping around your waist while his fingertips touch your spine.

Your lips still fall into an easy pattern of firmly pressed kisses, switching sides and from top lip to bottom lip. Some are quick and rapid, others are longer and deeply felt. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you struggle for air at times.

“When can I…” he kisses you, “…move from your mouth?”

You smile, kiss him, smile again. “Whenever it feels like…” you kiss again, “…the right thing to do next.”

He hums deep in his throat, moving his hands up your spine beneath your shoulders. Then he moves his lips. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there.

“Is this good?”

You breathe with your chest pressed against his, “You see how my head fell back? That means I like it and I’m giving you more access.”

He makes another low sound and it sends tingles of pleasure down to your core.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, supporting yourself while the other hand scrapes against his head, short hair bristles tickling your palm. You love the sound it pulls out of him.

“Open your mouth a little more,” you say, “Bigger kisses.”

He responds eagerly, excited to see what the change will do to you. His mouth opens more, leaving big, wet kisses under your ear and down your neck. A shiver runs through you, making your shoulders tense a little.

Then your watch starts to blare with an alarm.

Stiles flies off you like he was killing you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cries, backing away to assess you. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

You steady yourself by gripping the back of the chair, realizing too little too late that your breathlessness was catching up to you. Your heart was working overtime. You lift your free hand, eyes scrunched as it gets harder to force air into your lungs.

“God, shit…” Stiles mumbles, coming closer again. He puts one hand on your chest, over your sternum. And his other hand holds the side of your face, thumb resting at your temple. “You feel my hand? Do you see it moving with your breaths? You need to move your breaths to your belly – your belly should move with breaths, not your chest. Try to make my hand stop moving.”

You look at him with watering eyes, your heart beating erratically in your ears. Stiles was counting the seconds until you start belly breathing – breathing with your diaphragm.

“There you go, that’s better.”

You slump into his neck and his hand wraps to the back of your head, the other to your back.

“That was unexpected,” you say quietly, lips tickling his neck.

He laughs, “I’m guessing you liked the other kisses more than the grabbing the thigh thing?”

“Maybe just a tad bit,” you say, “I told you I liked it beforehand.”

“You did,” he says, pulling you back to get a good look at your face. “You’re okay.”

You smile, “I’m okay.”

He starts to get this giddy look, “We kissed.”

“That we did.”

“Like a lot.”

“It was a lesson in many things.”

He screws up his lips, “And you liked it.”

“You take direction well.”

“I don’t know why guys don’t ask more,” he marvels, “It would make every makeout exactly what you want.”

“You are a rare breed,” you bite your lip and his eyes dart to look. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it.”

His quick answer pulled a laugh out of you. And once you start, you can’t stop. Stiles finds it cute and finds himself laughing too. Just two friends giggling in the car after an impromptu round of kissing. It was warm and light and felt… good.

“I don’t think you need to worry about messing things up with the next girl,” you say, scooting back to your side of the car, “You’ll do just fine.”

His laughing stops abruptly. “The next girl?”

“Yeah…?” you smile with a furrowed brow. “You wanted to learn to be a good kisser, right? To have your first kiss out of the way for any future girls?”

He looks put out, slightly angry, and… defeated. “Right, we had that pact.”

“Right,” you say, wondering what was miscommunicated between you two. “Maybe we should… head home for the night.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, looking for his keys, “Andrew will probably be sending you a goodnight text any second now.”

You scrunch your brow, lips resting in a frown as he turns the jeep on. You’re quick to notice the steamy windows from your hot and heavy kissing. You would’ve laughed at it if you didn’t feel like something was off in Stiles.

With the air conditioning and heater broken, you roll down the windows and Stiles tells you to stay in the car as he wipes down all others outside.

You watch him with a finger between your teeth. Did you just mess up?

~~~

You spend the next couple days trying to convince yourself that kissing Stiles was simply practice kissing. There wasn’t anything past friendly feelings between you two. It was a no strings attached kind of makeout.

It had to be.

You didn’t have feelings for Stiles. You were going out with Andrew Wickstrom for gods sake.

And again you feel guilty. If you acknowledge any interest in Stiles, then kissing him was a betrayal to Andrew.

But it’s not like you were seriously dating Andrew.

But maybe to him you are.

You hadn’t found a reason to talk to Scott and Stiles outside your friendly conversations at school. Scott didn’t usually text you, but Stiles? If he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to climb the garden trellis, he would text you about the most random things.

Facts about honeybees, star wars memes, updates on a Dateline investigation you were following, werewolf puns, and links to things he thought would make you smile.

Recently? He hasn’t texted you at all. While he wasn’t avoiding you at school, he sure as hell was when you were home.

You are currently in the mall with Lydia and Allison, picking out dresses for the winter formal. All three of you are acting distant and suspicious of each other, which is not a good look for the pretty girls club.

Getting onto an escalator, you question Allison about her frequent absences.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

You wonder if there’s been a recently discovered secret in her family – maybe like a kidnapped werewolf?

“But Jackson’s taking you to the formal,” you say, “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, just two recently broken up friends supporting each other by going to the school dance,” Allison says with smiling sarcasm. “And what dumb, roided-up jock did you say yes to?” she asks Lydia.

“Ben Manley,” Lydia sighs, “More of a himbo if you ask me, but he’ll look good in the pictures.” She drags you two towards the prom dress section, quick to pull dresses to try on. She’s four hangers in by the time you find one you like.

“Advice,” you say to Allison, “Do I care if my surgery scars show, or do I go with a collar that climbs up to my neck?” You hold up one deep blue dress that has a lower heart-shaped neckline and another soft purple dress with a small v-neck shape that stops just under the collarbone.

Allison considers for a second, “The blue is more flattering, and you’d look great in that color. I’d say screw whoever doesn’t like you for your scars. They’re the reminder that you’re still alive.”

“Damn, okay,” you smile, “I’m going to try the blue one on.” You fling the purple chiffon dress onto a mannequin display and head for the dressing rooms.

Lydia is there with a small pile of dresses she’s already said no to. You talk to her loudly between the dressing cubicles.

“How’s it looking?”

“The cream chrome one is promising,” she says, “Hey, are we hanging out after this? I’ve got a new foot soaker I want to try. We can do mani pedis before the dance.”

You shimmy into your blue gown, loving how it flairs at your waist in beautiful night sky sparkles. “Yeah, I’d love a sleepover! It’ll be the perfect way to get ready for the dance.” There are two thick straps of the same dark blue fabric that go over your shoulders. The neckline falls lower in a heart shape, outlining the curve of your breasts and revealing your arms and chest.

The scar from your heart defect correction is less raised, less discolored, and less noticeable – but you see it run down the center of your chest. The small, three-inch incision scar from last summer is newer and still red and raised above your heart. And finally the four deep claw marks that dig around your left shoulder and arm – they leave actual divots in your flesh, and you can’t help running a finger over them. They went up and down like tiny rollercoasters.

“Get out here, Westbrook. I want to see if it’s a keeper.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your fingers through your hair to give it more volume. You step into the hallway and find Lydia in a shiny cream colored dress, complete with a black flower in her hair.

“You look amazing,” you say, smiling, “And the dress really shows off your legs. You gotta pair it with a heel.”

“I look amazing?” Lydia gawks, “Look at how flattering that one is on you! It doesn’t flair out like a ballgown, but enough to give you an airy look. And the top is stunning, it fits your figure well.” She doesn’t even mention the scars.

You grin, “I think that settles it. We’ve got our winners.” Lydia goes to change, and you agree to show Allison since she picked the dress for you.

You walk out barefoot, lifting your dress a little to give you easier access to walk faster. You find Allison holding a funny feathered dress to a mirror. It takes you a second to realize that she isn’t alone.

A man is there holding a silver dress to her figure. A man you recognize at a second glance.

It was Peter Hale, one of your long-term patients at the hospital – and the Alpha.

You run over, calling for Allison’s attention, “What do you think?”

She looks grateful to be rescued, “Absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). That’s the one for sure.”

“(Y/N)?” Peter says, “Ah, yes – you look stunning.” He goes to shake your hand, “Peter.”

You hesitate. He’s playing the ‘never-met-you-before’ coverup. “I think I’ve seen you before. Maybe… at the hospital? That’s where I work.”

He has a clever smirk on his face as he retracts his hand, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Somewhere else maybe…” you stare him down. “Like the local video store perhaps.”

“Never been much into movies,” but he does look at your exposed skin to admire his handywork to your shoulder, “You’ve got quite the collection there.” He smiles, “Wearing them like badges of honor.”

“Like a friend said,” you say, chin held high. “They’re a reminder that I’m still alive.”

He still has that subtle smirk, otherwise very rigid and unsettling, “Yes, you are.” He sounds like he would add, ‘not for long’ to the end of that.

The PA system comes on and a fuzzy woman’s voice says, “Attention, shoppers. The owner of a blue Mazda, your car is being towed.”

“What?” Allison says, “That’s my car!” She runs to find the front desk or the car outside.

You’re left with Peter, barefoot and in a pretty starry dress. He looks to you with a plain expression that held sinister notions regardless.

“Well played,” he mutters, “Scott.” You don’t dare look away from him as he talks to the thin air. “Just remember… you can’t be everywhere all the time.” He looks to you with roaming eyes, “It’s been nice seeing you, (Y/N). I’m glad you like my addition to your complexion so much. It makes me think you may want more to add to this masterpiece.”

You hate the way he stays there to gauge your reaction. You stand firm, but your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress.

“You really do look stunning in that dress,” he smiles, “It’d be a shame if it got shredded.” He walks away, leaving you feeling strangely violated and targeted. You feel angry and unsafe.

Scott was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arms, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You take a shaky breath, “He’s a persistent bastard.”

“Yeah, and he’s just threatened to attack you – probably at the dance judging by how he complimented your dress.” He stands straight, listening for Lydia or Allison. “Listen, I heard how you’re having a sleepover tonight. That’d leave me free to…”

“I’ll look after the girls,” you smile, still cold and shaky from the encounter. “You look after your mom and the boys.”

He gives you a look, clearing his throat, “Right, course.”

You squint your brow, “What has Stiles told you?”

Scott scratches at his head, looking anywhere but you, “Nothing much, he’s been quiet these days.”

“Impossible,” you snort, “You may be a super cool teenage werewolf, Scott – but you are a terrible liar.”

He looks defeated, “Look, he told me how you guys kissed and he’s… he’s kind of hung up on it.”

“In what way?”

He bites his lip, looking painfully awkward, “He doesn’t want you thinking it was a mistake. He’s… scared you regret it.” Scott shoves his hands in his pockets, “He realizes it might be weird trying to be friends, and you with Andrew… he’s trying to keep the friendship civil.”

“Civil?” you scoff, “It was a no feelings kiss.”

Scott keeps his mouth shut, nodding his head and backing away, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Your mouth is left hanging open as he walks away. Did you feel regret for the kissing? You put one hand on the silken fabric covering your hip, the other hand going to rub away the worry lines in your forehead.

Did you feel guilty because you had been going on dates with Andrew? Had you ever set clear expectations with Andrew before? If he felt like this was taking a direction into serious relationship territory, you would definitely feel guilty.

And Stiles not being completely himself…? Was that really because he was worried you thought the kiss was a mistake? Or was it because of some other unknown reason.

Returning to the dressing rooms, you knew one thing was for sure. You were in desperate need of a girls night.

~~~

In the second story living room of the Martin house, you three spend hours into the night pampering yourselves and raving about whatever came to mind.

When Harry Met Sally plays quietly on the tv in front of you, Allison leaning onto the couch and painting her toes a white color.

“I hope I don’t smudge these before they dry.”

“Here’s a fast drying topcoat you can put on them,” Lydia tosses a small clear polish. She was stuck in the armchair beside the couch with her feet bubbling in the new foot soaker. “I think I’m going to go with black for my toes. Maybe black French tips with my fingernails.” She admires her hands as you place the black polish bottle near her for later use.

You sit between the two, your toes drying an inky blue color while you prepare to paint your nails. You unscrew a pretty sapphire blue. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Please,” Lydia pouts, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you consider Andrew and I in a serious relationship?”

Allison frowns, focusing on her brush strokes, “Um… maybe? You guys have been dating exclusively, right?”

“Only two dates.”

“No,” Lydia clicks her tongue, “You guys have had two dates and a few noncommittal kisses. I don’t think that means you’re dating seriously.”

Allison dips her brush again, “But if you’re not seeing anyone else then people will think you’re exclusive.”

“But what if I have seen someone else,” you shrug, “I guess that doesn’t matter if Andrew thinks something different.”

There was a splash, “Hold the phone. Are you saying you’ve gone out with someone else recently?”

You pull an indecisive face, “Well, no – just maybe had a… makeout.”

Allison gasps while Lydia giggles, “Oh my god, with who?!”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.”

“Well, if you’re kissing other boys then you definitely don’t think you’re seriously dating,” Allison shakes her head, “Does Andrew?”

Your shoulders tense as you focus on your nails, “I don’t know. We never had a ‘what are we’ talk. And I never told him I didn’t want anything serious.”

“Ouch,” Allison grimaces, “I think he really likes you.” 

Lydia has her arms folded tightly, “Was it Josh Arnett?”

“Gross,” you accuse, “Absolutely not.”

“Tanner Humphries?”

“No, Lydia,” you huff, “What do I tell Andrew?”

Allison stretches her legs out and wiggles her newly painted toes, “You tell him the truth. At least, you tell him you don’t want anything serious.”

“I bet it was Lucas McCrary,” Lydia muses.

“Should I do that before the dance?” you ignore Lydia. “I think it’ll hurt him.”

Allison fishes in the bucket of self-care on the couch cushion, “It’s better than leading him on further.” She extracts an avocado sheet mask.

“Was it at least someone on the lacrosse team?” Lydia interjects.

You give a tired smile, “Because those are the only boys you know?”

“The only boys I care about.”

You finish one hand and ask Allison to help with the other, “What if Andrew decides he doesn’t want to take me to the dance anymore?”

“Then…” Allison takes the sapphire blue from you, “You go stag and hangout with us. I have a suspicion that Jackson isn’t going to be the most enjoyable date.”

“Oh! Please tell me it was Tyler O’Connell – no girl can get her hands on him.”

You laugh and faceplant into the couch, “Tyler O’Connell is gay. Danny has had a little crush on him for months.”

“Huh,” she huffs, “I’m usually good at catching those things.”

“I think I’ll talk to him after school tomorrow,” you rub your worry lines with your free hand. “If anything Allison, you and I could just be each other’s dates.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be abandoned by the end of the night with how Jackson’s been acting,” she sighs, doing a second coat on your nails. “I wouldn’t mind a sweethearts dance with you.”

Lydia is having an existential crisis in the armchair, confined with her feet in the soaker. “Well, it can’t be Cameron Sanchez because he’s going with that Brittany girl in homeroom. It’s not Henry, is it?”

“What’s with the tone?” you giggle, “I like Henry Greenburg even if Coach is a little harsh with him.”

“What about…” she widens her eyes, “What about dork #2?”

Allison freezes with the paintbrush still on your nail. You take a moment to decipher what Lydia just asked.

“Who is…” you clamp your mouth into a thin line.

“Oh my god!” Lydia stands with her feet still in the soaker.

Allison flinches, “Holy shit.” She looks at your nails, “Oh, shit – I’m sorry, (Y/N).” She takes a cotton swab to fix the smudge of blue going down your ring finger. “I just… I mean…”

“What was that dorks name?” Lydia squeals, waving her hands frantically and snapping at Allison. “He’s – god, what’s his name!” She looks ridiculous being rooted to one spot but moving her upper torso like a madwoman, “He’s the little weirdo… the idiot in love!”

Your face is positively blooming red, it’s scorching, as you bury your face in a couch pillow. Allison is quick to correct her mistake to your nails, replying in a much calmer and heartwarming voice. “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Stiles!” Lydia cries in triumph before frowning, “That’s his name?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “Yes, Stiles. And it was another noncommittal kiss. It was absolutely no feelings. I was just helping him out.” In your embarrassment you slap your free hand to cover your mouth, “God, don’t ask me why,” you mumble.

Allison waits for Lydia to ask – like she knew she would.

“Why?” Lydia says, still standing in the foot soaker.

“It doesn’t matter,” you pat at your flaming hot cheeks, “What matters is that I did kiss him, and I need to clarify with Andrew that I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“I knew he was going to grow on you,” Allison mumbles with a sweet smile on her face. She finishes doing your nails and sits back on the couch. “He’s been obsessed with you for months now.”

You shake your head, “Stiles is just… very enthusiastic. He was just excited about getting a kiss.”

“From you,” Allison smirks.

Lydia is jumping out of the foot soaker and toweling her feet, “At least he’s on the lacrosse team.”

You blow out a breath and hope it calms the redness in your face. “It’s not like that. He’s…” you hesitate. “He’s a good friend.”

Allison grimaces, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

~~~

You wring your hands as you pace at the end of the hall, next to the vending machines. You wait for Andrew to leave his last class, the bell having just rung. It was eating at you thinking of a way to talk to him without hurting his feelings.

But there was no way around it – even if the dance was in two days, you weren’t going to continue playing with Andrew’s feelings.

The tall, dimpled boy comes out and sees you instantly. He smiles and jogs to reach you, excited to see you waiting.

Shit.

“Hey,” he gives you a hug and a kiss to the cheek, “How are you?”

You swallow hard, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You pick and pull at your fingers, looking up at him with a face that scares him.

He furrows his brow, nodding his head toward the empty ceramics classroom. There weren’t any art classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Then let’s go talk.” He guides the way and opens the door for you.

You have a terrible guilty feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had to let someone down before.

Among the desks with spinning wheels dusted with dry clay, you stand in the middle of the room. “Andrew… I wanted to ask what you see between us… for the future.”

He still looks skeptical, but there’s a smile enveloping his face. “Well, I’ve liked how our dates have been so far. And I really like you, (Y/N).” His dimples are out full force, shadowed by the dim lighting. “I want to see where this goes. I think we could get serious. I’m – I’m looking for something serious. But… I want to hear what you have to say first.”

You pinch your fingertips, “Um… well I’m glad we’re having this talk.” You swallow thickly and the smile on Andrew’s face dips. “I… I’m not looking for something serious.”

“Oh,” Andrew says dryly. His face is in full shadow now. “I see, uh… have you always felt that way?”

You nod while you try to find your voice again. The look of hurt on his face was making the guilt in your stomach flare tenfold. “I don’t want a boyfriend in high school.”

He nods slower, looking to the ground. “I wish I knew that sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve been more clear in the beginning. I thought we were just having some fun.”

“Fun,” he laughs sardonically. “No, I should’ve been more honest with what I was looking for.” His eyes were sad, but he put a smile on his face. “I’m glad you told me.”

You nod, desperate for his words. “I totally understand not wanting to see each other anymore…”

“That would probably be for the best,” he runs a hand through his curly hair.

“And… and we can go separately to the dance,” you say quickly, “I don’t mind.”

He looks at you with slight concern, “I don’t want you to go alone.”

“I have some friends I can go with.”

The room feels smaller, colder than you remember. It was an awful feeling telling someone you don’t like them in that way. You did not like hurting people.

Andrew was nodding to himself in agreement, “Then I hope you have a good time with your friends.”

He was being so kind to you when you felt you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault he was sad. Your fault that he didn’t have a date for the dance. Your fault that his feelings were being hurt now.

A stinging was building behind your eyes. “Thank you. I hope you do find someone to be serious with. You deserve it.” A lump builds in your throat, “You’re a good guy, Andrew.”

He sighs deeply, “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, voice being overtaken by emotion. And you’re left in the dark, cold room. Guilt eating at you and shame whispering terrible things in your ear. You almost wish he had blown up about it; yelled at you for not being completely honest in the beginning. It hurt worse hearing his quiet acceptance of the rejection.

You’re grateful the classroom is abandoned when a tear falls from your eye.

~~~

“Why didn’t you stop by Lydia’s house?” Stiles accuses, arms in the air, “That was prime time to overhear girl talk!”

“I wasn’t going to spy and eavesdrop,” Scott scolds, leading the way out of their last class of the day. “That wouldn’t be right when I still need to keep you and Jackson safe.”

Stiles rubs harshly at his face, silly noises of outrage spilling out, “But how else am I going to hear how (Y/N) feels about the whole jeep-makeout thing?!”

“I don’t know, talk to her?” Scott deadpans.

“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffs, “I’m such an idiot. How else is she supposed to feel about it? She told me she doesn’t date seriously, and she told you how it happened with no feelings…” A white hot pain stabs his sternum, his heart roiling excruciatingly. “I just… I wanted it to be real.”

Scott sighs, pulling at his too long hair, “Listen, if she is seeing you in a friends with benefits kind of way, I don’t see why you can’t give it a shot.”

For a few moments Stiles dwells on the thought of having all the benefits of a relationship without commitment. It was tempting but... “I want more than that.”

“Wow,” Scott raises his eyebrows, “I’ve never heard such mature words leave your mouth before.”

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, “I just wish she’d talk to me!” He goes for one of the back doors by the vending machines, “She does this thing where she tells me the truth without the whole truth.”

“You mean with her heart?”

Stiles rubs hard at his eyes, “It’s got to be the reason for everything. I tried to get my dad to tell me about it and he pulled the ‘doctor-patient-confidentiality’ thing on me.” He grumbles, letting his backpack drop from his shoulders, “I’ve never… I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on like this.”

Scott sits on a hallway bench, watching his friend wallow in his self-pity and broken heart. “It starts out that way. But it gets easier.”

“What do you know about unrequited love, genius?” Stiles puts his hands on his hips, “You got to be Allison’s boyfriend with the dating and the kissing and the feeling her up…”

“Watch your mouth,” Scott points a finger.

Stiles slumps to the floor and against the stone wall. “And now we’re all targets in a major werewolf operation. How do you think the dance is going to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m still going to be there,” Scott says with a sad smile, “Even if Coach is up my ass.” He stands from the bench, “I should probably find a suit before my shift at the vet clinic.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles, lifting a few fingers in a goodbye, “I’m gonna grab a snack before I go – see you later.”

It took another minute before Stiles could get off the ground. Thoughts of you swirling permanently there. The feel of your warm, soft skin. The pressure of your lips on his. The thrill of hearing you react to the things he was doing. He could still smell the sweet fruity scent of your hair, your lips sticky sweet with sugar.

Had it all been a dream? You sure acted like it with how the whole night was yet to be a topic of conversation.

But the feel of you, as dreamlike as it had been, was grounded in his mind like a chain to a wall. He would never forget how your head fell back, how your fingers went through his hair, how your lips fit so well between his own. Fit like a puzzle piece.

He thought that the kiss would lessen his ache of unrequited love – that he would have at least gotten a taste. But sitting there with the deep ache beating a little stronger in his chest – he knew it was going to be even more painful to be around you and not spout what he was feeling.

Like he told Scott, he wanted more. It was more than the sugar left on your lips. It was the way his dad smiled at the homecooked meal. The way he felt he could mention his mom around you. The fact that you were the first girl he could be alone with and not feel completely at a loss.

He rubs his forehead again, standing as though lead was in his stomach. He felt nauseous. It was making him sick how much he wanted you.

Then an empty classroom door swings open and Andrew Wickstrom walks out, head down and expression bleak.

He walks right out the back doors into the late afternoon light. And the slump in his shoulders made Stiles curious. All thoughts of a snack out of his mind, he stands, abandoning his backpack, and inches toward the empty classroom.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but seeing you standing there, holding yourself as tears fell from your eyes was not it.

The deep ache in his chest pulses like it yearns for you. Having you in his vision was enough to make the roiling in his heart pucker with hope. But the lead in his stomach becomes heavier as he pushes the door open.

“(Y/N)?”

You snap your wet eyes to him, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

He continues to inch forward, eyes never leaving your face, “I was just going to stop by the vending machines before heading out.” He stops a few feet from you, “What happened?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes that just continue to stream. “I told Andrew I don’t want anything serious.” Your brow is furrowed into permanent lines, face screwed up like it’ll stop whatever emotion is trying to get out. “And he was pretty hurt by it.”

Stiles takes another step forward, fingers twitching at his sides. Was it okay to touch you? “Andrew doesn’t seem like the type to get real upset by a breakup.”

“He was being so kind to me,” you hiccup as you continue to hold back, “And I was hurting him.”

“But you were being honest, which is better than leading him on,” Stiles says quietly. He’s now just a foot away from you.

“I’ve never had to turn someone away like that,” more tears were cascading down your face, much to your chagrin, “It did not feel good.”

Stiles lifts one of his hands, meaning to touch your shoulder, but you accept it as an invitation for a hug. He almost sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you tightly, keeping you pressed to him like it would staunch the ache in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your strawberry scented hair, “If it had to be with anyone, though – I’m glad that it was Wickstrom. He is a good guy.”

You sigh and it stutters with emotion, “It’s all my fault.” You nuzzle into his shoulder, “If I was braver I would’ve kept it going.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was holding your waist with one hand and rubbing up and down your spine with the other.

“If I was braver, I’d get into a relationship.” You let the tears run from your cheeks and soak into Stiles’ shirt. “I’m a coward.”

Stiles runs his fingers down your back in a soothing motion, “It’s okay not to be ready for a relationship.”

“That’s not it,” you pull away, wiping at the tears making your skin itch. “I’m sorry, I’m talking nonsense.”

“No! No, wait…” Stiles was getting desperate, “You don’t have to stop there. (Y/N), I want to know what’s wrong. I want to know why. Please don’t brush it off like it’s nothing – I can see how it bothers you.”

You shake your head, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. “Trust me, this is not the time and place for that conversation.”

Stiles pinches his lips together, finding it more difficult to be patient. “What could be so terrible that you avoid it this badly?”

There’s a heavy silence and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something. He can see it on the tip of your tongue, eyes shiny and cheeks raw. It looks painful for you to say it out loud. He feels instant regret for trying to force it out of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, walking over to pull you into a quick, but firm, apology hug. “I’m sorry, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

You gulp, “I… I think I’ll be able to tell you soon. I just… right now with… it’s not the right time.”

He nods quickly, “I get it.” He puts some space between you, watching your face carefully, ready to catch you should your heart give out. He puts a thumb between your brows and wiggles it around like it’ll ease the tension enough to remove the lines of worry.

You melt a little, a smile curling the sides of your mouth, “I’m sorry you walked in on that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not sorry at all.”

You take a deep breath, remembering to fill your belly with it and not your chest. “I guess I’m going to the dance without a date now.”

There’s a leap in his chest and Stiles wonders if his heart was the one about to give out. “I can take you!” he says before you even finish your sentence.

You smile wide this time, “I probably shouldn’t go with another boy after just breaking things off with Andrew. I am going with Allison and Lydia, though.”

His leaping heart crash lands, “Sure, right – that makes sense.” He’s grateful for the dimly lit classroom keeping his embarrassment blush in shadow. “I’ll still be there though, for a dance or two.”

“I’d like that,” you grin, eyes bright but no longer tear-filled. “Could I get a ride?”

“Always.”

~~~

Melissa trades patient files with you at the newly refurbished nurses station. You exchange some words of note about certain patients on the floor. She reminds you to drink more water and you remind her to take a break.

She smiles at your avoidance, “How are the dance preparations going?”

You show her the shiny blue nail polish on your fingers.

She squeals and admires them, “Ah, I miss dances. And the dress?”

“Like starlight,” you breathe, taking a twirl around the hall, “But with flats because I am not venturing into battle in four-inch heels.”

Melissa sighs, “Dances are so much more fun with girls. Scott refuses to show me his suit and he’s never home anymore.” She leans against the counter, “I hope he’s okay.”

You give a thin smile, “He’s doing his best. With Allison and lacrosse and his grades… he’s doing his best. Trying to do more than that actually.”

“He expects a lot of himself,” Melissa nods. “I’m glad he has friends like you with him.” She checks her watch when she asks, “And the Andrew thing?”

“Over,” you shrug, a day after the breakup and still a little tender. “We wanted different things, and I thought it best not to drag it out.”

“Man, better than just ghosting him,” she says with a bitter tone, “How mature of you.”

You remember the terrible date she went on with Peter Hale. Jackass. “It was the right thing to do. And I’ll just save a few dances for my friends. It’ll still be a nice night.” You sit in a swivel chair, arms folded, “There’s no way I’m going to miss my chance to go to a school dance.”

Melissa gives you a soft, sad smile, “Well, kiddo – I’m off to make my rounds. Mr. Hendrickson has been calling my button for the last ten minutes. I swear I’m going to take his tv away if he keeps asking me how to change the channels.”

You laugh, saluting her off, and returning to the rest of your charting. You were just marking when you administered medications when a soft tap to your counter caught your attention.

Standing there was Scott and Stiles.

“Hello,” you say cheerfully, “How are my boys?”

Both lift their hands to reveal brown paper bags. Scott grins, “We might’ve brought you guys dinner?”

“Greasy takeout,” Stiles corrects, “But edible enough for dinner.”

You sigh, heart warmed, “Well, your mom just went into room 18 down the hall,” you point, “But we can take our break when she gets back.”

“No, I’ll wait for her,” Scott says quickly, already down the hall, “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Stiles shrugs at your look of suspicion, “Where do you usually eat?”

You lead Stiles from the elevators to the hospital cafeteria. There you find a round table by the windows to sit. It was dark outside with the perfect view of the moon over the mountains. Stiles seems a little uncomfortable as he follows you through the building.

He keeps looking behind his shoulder and peering into patient rooms with big eyes.

“Burgers and fries?” you ask hopefully.

Stiles lays the meal out on grease stained napkins, “Bon Appetit.”

You lean into him, “Thank you, I wasn’t planning on dinner tonight.” You start with your fries as he looks at you with contempt.

“Because that’s a great idea with your prone to fainting condition.”

“Why did you guys really stop by?” you always start with your fries, saving the main meal for last. You focus on them as Stiles thinks of something to say, eating his hamburger like it was his first meal in days.

He gives a funny half shrug, “Scott needed to check on his mom with his whole ‘patrolling-the-pack’ schedule. He asked if I wanted to come, and we came up with the excuse of getting us all dinner.”

“Brilliant,” you say, finding that the drink he brought was filled with your favorite soda. “Any news from the Alpha?”

“Not since you guys went dress shopping,” he wipes at his mouth with his sleeve. “Which, by the way, I would’ve loved to come to.”

“No you wouldn’t of,” you laugh, “Helping girls carry their dresses and waiting forever to critique every outfit with the same indifferent words… sounds terribly boring.”

He takes a deep breath as he downs his drink. “Sounds like fun. Helping you pick out a dress? I’d run out the red carpet so you could practice your model walk. We’d play montage music with different colored lights. We can make trying on dresses fun.”

“I don’t know how to model walk,” you giggle.

He nods in mock seriousness, “You just have to look like you’re about to sneeze and the thing you’re wearing is giving you a massive wedgie.” He moves his shoulders around in a pretend walking motion, his face slightly pinched like his nose was itching.

You were laughing by the time he coached you into making the same ridiculous face. Then he flinched when a group of resident doctors walked in loudly, ready for their dinner. He looks uncomfortable again, picking at his fries half-heartedly.

You consider him for a minute, “You don’t like hospitals, do you?”

He huffs a laugh, “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re being more twitchy than usual.”

He eyes you, “I’ve been here plenty of times, you haven’t made that observation before.”

“You’re really thinking about it today,” you press, “Is something wrong?”

He ticks his jaw, playing with his fries. “I used to eat in here a lot… when my mom was here.”

Your chest goes tight. Of course it has something to do with his mom, “Stiles, I’m…”

“My dad used to leave me here when he went to work,” he keeps going, “The nurses were all my friends, and I ate dinner in the cafeteria all the time. They would save an extra chocolate pudding for me sometimes.” He smiles in painful fondness, “I was alone when… when she…”

He couldn’t say it.

You scooch closer to him, letting him talk without you interrogating him. He looks at your eager expression with a soft smile, “She had frontotemporal dementia.” He leans closer to you subconsciously, enjoying the security he felt near you.

“It started with little things like she couldn’t pick up her keys and she wouldn’t sleep at night. Then she couldn’t function at her job, so she stayed home. Then she started to get… scary.” He takes a deep swallow, “She started seeing things – hallucinations – and became paranoid sometimes. We had to hospitalize her soon after that.”

You knew the symptoms of frontotemporal dementia. Some of the long-term patients at the hospital had dementia. But you let him continue to talk without your input. You could guess that he didn’t talk about his mom very often, especially her death.

You put a hand on his arm as silent support.

He takes a breath at your touch, “When I’d visit, I didn’t know if I’d see my mom or the patient dealing with dementia.” His eyes look a little glassy as he continues, “It was hard spending so much time here. I knew she wasn’t going to come home. And then one night when my dad was on call… it was just me at her bedside.”

You rub your thumb into his forearm, “How old were you?”

“Eight,” he says, sniffling as the emotion burns his throat. “Seeing her deteriorate that fast… it was awful.” His lip trembles, “That was my mom, you know?”

You move your arm around his back, resting your head on his shoulder. It was a hug you could give while sitting at a table. “I know.” You squeeze him tight, “It must’ve been horrible.”

His breathing was shaky, “It was,” he rubs roughly at his eyes, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even Derek Hale.”

“What about Mr. Harris?”

He makes a considering face, a smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

You pinch him, “That’s terrible.” You trail your fingers across his back, looking for more tears, “Why tell me?”

He watches you wipe away a tear before it reaches his chin, “Because I wanted you to know.” He shrugs, eyes a little redder, “I like you, and I trust you.”

You watch him with rosy cheeks. An immense feeling of pride was swelling in your chest. Stiles chose you, out of dozens of people, to talk about the death of his mom. A horribly sensitive subject for him. He had gone out of his way to be in an environment that reminded him of uncomfortable things to bring you dinner. He opened up to you and gave you a large part of his heart.

He was doing it partially to tell you things he wanted you to know – things you needed to know to be close to him – but also to partially tell you that it was okay to open up about horribly sensitive stuff.

He wanted to hear your story too.

But how could you now? You feel a pang in your chest. How could you explain to Stiles that you would reach a similar end before too long. An end like his moms.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's S/O notices a car following them as they walk in the street. Suddenly, the car speeds on them with the clear intent of knocking skeleton over. S/O pushes Skeleton out of the way and Skeleton can't do anything but watch as the car rolls over his partner. For the main 10.

I swear I answered a post like this before, or I asked a similar thing on Ratsoh's blog I don't know xD Anyway, here's your angst.

Undertale Sans - His soul stops beating briefly as he watches his S/O get hit and fly several meters away. Sans quickly recovers from the shock and runs to rescue his S/O. He doesn't care about the car and teleports the both of them to the nearest hospital, screaming for help. The next hours are the scarier of his life as he has no idea how bad are the injuries, and he has to call his brother, his S/O's family, and then Undyne to report what happened. He's quite shaken, but luckily, his S/O got out of it with only a broken leg which could have been way worse. Sans refuses to leave their side while they're recovering, and he's going to have nightmares of this for weeks.

Undertale Papyrus - In a vain attempt to save his S/O, he summons a barrier of bones in front of the car. It didn't stop the car but slowed it enough to prevent his S/O from being seriously injured. By doing that, however, he injured seriously the car driver as a bone pierced the front window and impaled them. Papyrus quickly calls for an ambulance before sitting with his S/O to comfort them. He doesn't give a shit about the man crying for help in the car. Other people are already helping them. Papyrus is just glad you're more or less ok. You get out of here with only bad bruises.

Underswap Sans - He tries to grab your arm to pull you above his head and slams you into the floor behind him, but got too slow. Blue got dragged along with you, still holding you, and he heard several of your bones break. He's horrified and struggles to keep his calm as you're screaming in agony. He calls an ambulance for you and the driver, in a good state still. For now. Blue is enraged and drags him out of the car. When the rescuers come, the man is in a coma, and Blue is compressing his S/O's wounds, covered in blood. He doesn't care if there are consequences. His S/O is severely injured but will heal after long months of recovery.

Underswap Papyrus - He gasps in shock as his S/O is violently thrown into a wall. Honey meets the eyes of the driver, who is quickly not done with them, and he just reacts instinctively, running to protect his S/O with his own body. He takes the second hit bravely as a lot of people starts recording the scene and calls the cops. Poor Blue arrives right to see the man going for a third hit, but he doesn't have time to do it as Blue absolutely destroys the car with blasters. Honey has a few broken ribs and just lays unconscious on his S/O's unconscious body. They both survived with serious injuries, but the doctors said him putting his body in the way definitely saved his S/O so he doesn't care.

Underfell Sans - He goes full protect mode and jumps in front of his S/O with hundreds of bones ready to attack and two huge blasters. Red is eyes in eyes with the guy and he's furious. If the man makes any threatening gesture, he attacks and kills them. Once sure they're not a danger anymore, he goes to check on his S/O and calls an ambulance. He's extremely protective during their recovery, nervous and jumping at any sound.

Underfell Papyrus - He's horrified and immediately feels guilty. He should have been the one protecting you, and yet here you are. Edge has a strong healing magic though so he can quickly relief your pain while the ambulance arrives. He never leaves your side, not even one second. However, as soon as he's sure 100% you're alright, he's leaving for a few days to hunt the man who hurt you down and kill him. An eye for an eye.

Horrortale Sans - He's in shock and triggered by all the blood. No one can approach his S/O as he's attacking on sight, completely distressed and panicked. Despite the pain, S/O slowly manages to calm him down and convince him to let the rescuers get close. He's growling at any suspect gesture, but he lets them help you. He's so worried he even comes to the hospital despite how much he hates the place. The doctors try to make him leave the room sometimes but, uh, that's not going to happen. He's protective during your recovery.

Horrortale Papyrus - He fell on his back and got stuck there, watching in horror as the car hit you. He's crying and screaming your name, unable to move to help you. He's more and more distressed as he sees the blood, and even though kind people try to help, Willow can't calm down. He's freaking out completely and eventually starts to have hallucinations of the Underground because of the pain. The rescuers had to sedate him to calm him down. He's so relieved when he wakes up next to you, alive and fine despite your broken legs. Toriel is already helping to heal them faster with her magic, so you're in safe hands. He goes back to sleep with a light sigh.

Swapfell Sans - No hesitation, he attacks the car with all he has to defend his S/O's life. He empties all of his magic on it actually, before collapsing, panting heavily. He then crawls to his S/O to check on their injuries and calls an ambulance. He then takes off his jacket to put it under your head and talks to you to keep you awake and comfort you.

Swapfell Papyrus - He jumps on the car to avoid you being hit. You manage to get out of the way, but Rus gets carried away at a scary distance before the car violently crashes into a tree, making Rus fly in the air. Luckily, he ends up in a big pile of leaves and doesn't even have a scratch. He's the luckiest bastard ever and he can't believe he's alive. S/O still insists he goes to the hospital for a check-up. The guy of the car got the most serious injuries, but who's going to cry for them.

Fellswap Gold Sans - As the car tries to flee, Wine shoots in the tires and watches coldly as the car rolls over down a hill. He then sits next to his S/O and starts to heal them waiting for an ambulance. He doesn't tell them about the second car, pretending the guy ran away. Once S/O is taken care of, he walks calmly to the guy who hit his S/O, then drags them to his home, never to be seen again.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's completely paralyzed with shock, staring at the blood. His hands are shaking as he tries to wake his S/O up, more and more distressed. He eventually starts to scream for help, not even realizing he's doing it. Some people passing by quickly come to help him. Coffee completely breaks down and calls his brother for help, because he has no idea what to do. Wine quickly joins him to calm him down, then asks Coffee to explain what happened. Of course, knowing someone tried to kill his brother is not going to please Wine, who immediately starts to hunt the driver down. Someone is not going to have fun.

[herofics]

Hey was wondering if I’d I can have soft Headcannons for Gojo and Nanamin?

Their s/o comes back from long and brutal and their s/o trying to hold back tears and then slowly starts to break down in from of them?

Take your time with this or skip if want too.

Heheehheh, I do love me some fluff. Feel free to send more JJK requests, even though this is mainly an MHA blog

~Nanami Kento~

•You knew being a jujutsu sorcerer was a hard job, you’d lost a lot of friends and faced death many times, and you’d seen a lot of horrific things

•But this time, it was just so much at once, the kids you were supposed save were dead, you got seriously hurt and you were sure you were going to die

•You had to spend some time in the infirmary at Jujutsu High, because of the severity of your injuries and Ieiri had a lot of work to do with you and she made it clear you needed a lot of rest

•Nanami of course came to see you while you were recuperating, since you weren’t allowed to leave the infirmary

•Nanami sat down on your bed and you were just laying there, on your side, staring at nothing

•You didn’t say anything, you just felt numb and like you never wanted to get out of bed again

•Nanami put his hand on your leg and squeezed it in an attempt to comfort you

•You just absolutely broke down, you tried to pull the covers over your head

•He just said “Come here love” and pulled you up to sit next to him

•He wrapped his arms around you and just held you while you cried

•”I thought I was gonna die” was all you could get out between your sobs

•Nanami could feel you shaking while he held you, he had never seen you so upset, so hurt

•He tried to be very careful when touching you, because you were covered in bruises and cuts, but you just kept clinging to him for dear life

•Nanami just held you, until you cried out all your frustration and pain

•When you calmed down you apologized for crying into his shirt and getting it wet

•He tells you not to worry about something so insignificant and asks if you’re feeling better

•You tell him: “Not really, but at least I’m not crying anymore” with a chuckle while wiping your cheeks dry

•Nanami places a hand on your cheek and brushes his thumb over it, you lean into his hand and tell him you’re sorry he had to see you like that

•He tells you to stop talking nonsense and places a kiss on your forehead

•You thank him for being there for you, but he’s a bit surprised you would say that, because what else would he do

•He loves you and he wants to remind you of it everyday, that no matter what happens, he’ll always be there for you

~Gojo Satoru~

•Gojo basically teleported to you when he heard you were back from your mission

•You didn’t seem like yourself, you didn’t say anything, you just walked past him into your shared apartment and stumbled past the threshold, before losing your balance

•Gojo caught you before you collapsed to the floor and you just started muttering

•”I couldn’t help anyone, goddammit…”

•Gojo knew what it was like, not being able to help people, agonizing over it

•You knew you were supposed to put your emotions aside for the job, but sometimes it felt impossible, sometimes you just couldn’t

•But this time was the first time you had broken down so badly

•Gojo picked you up bridal style and you just cried into his jacket

•”It’s okay baby, just let it out, I’ll keep you safe” he said as he held you

•You knew you would be safe with him, he would never let anything happen to you, so you could just let yourself be vulnerable

•Gojo would take good care of you, he always did

•So you just cried, while he whispered sweet nothings to you and assured you it was all going to be okay

•Gojo honestly didn’t like seeing you like this, not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he hated seeing you so upset

•He’d like nothing more than to take your pain away, but he didn’t possess that kind of power

•It was one of the only things that made him feel weak, not being able to help you

•All he could do was hold you and help you feel better

•He wouldn’t leave you before he knew you were feeling better, so you would be stuck with him for at least the next day

•You would have to listen to a lot of dumb jokes and deal with him constantly giving you affection, but he means well and just wants to comfort you

[sweetly-dream-writes]

Puppy dog eyes

Bot!Rodolfo "Rudy" parra x Dom!fem reader

Warning: 18+ content, praise kink, sub!Rodolfo,office sex, riding, Spanish petnames, no use of y/n.

Summary: You're just obsessed with Rudy's big puppy dog eyes that you wonder what it's like for him to look up at you like that in absolute pleasure.

Note: first Rudy fic ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

It all just started when you were fixing his wound, during another sparring match outside the base the sergeant major ended up getting himself hurt after training a couple of rookies, Rodolfo is always careful about himself and sometimes his reckless. Thankfully you were there to tend his wounds.

Both you and Rudy were inside your office, he sat down on one of the clinic beds as his left leg was rested, while cleaning his knee you couldn't help but scold him for not being careful. Thankfully he only scarred his knee.

"mi corazón...I am fine it's just a little scratch.." Rodolfo chuckles as he watches you dressing up his wounded knee.

"still..you seriously have to be careful out there" you replied as you continue to aid his wound, this would already be taken care of if you were at the battlefield with them, unfortunately you are stuck in your office all day taking care of the papers That Alejandro "forgot" to give you. As you gently rub the cotton ball on Rudy's cheek he suddenly let out a soft whine before gently grabbing your hand.

"mi corazón..por favor se gentil.." Rudy asked as he looked up at you, giving you those big puppy dog eyes of his that made you crazy and feral every time, even with just a simple glance you couldn't help but feel your breath feel heavy because of his soft gaze.

"Rudy.." you softly spoke as you leaned closer to him to catch his soft lips, both your lips pressed together as Rodolfo wrapped his arms around you're waist as you leaned closer to him, you placed down the cotton down as you cupped Rudy's face, avoiding to hold on the scar on his left cheek. Sooner the soft kiss suddenly turned into a heated make-out scene with Rudy laying down on the medic bed and you on top of him, your hands started trailing down Rudy's body starting to unzip his gray hoodie exposing his toned body.

"mi vida... please be gentle, so we won't make a sound.." Rodolfo pleaded, not wanting the other vaqueros(especially Alejandro) to hear what kind of scandalous activity they were doing.

"don't worry amor.. I'll be gentle with you" you replied before pressing your lips on Rudy's tender neck, he gasped throwing his head back for you so you'll get more access, your hands trailing down on his sides before landing on his hips feeling the fabric of his pants, gripping on the waistband of his pants you slowly slips off his pants same goes as his underwear, dropping it on the floor before you looking down at Rudy's perfectly sculpt body, tiny separate moles on his shoulder and on his back as he seems to be embarrassed by your presents.

"Mi amor.. please don't look too much.. you're making me embarrassed.." Rodolfo commented as he bashfully tried to cover himself up again, but you stopped him and planted a kiss on his temple.

"Rudy.. don't say such a thing, you are the most perfect and the prettiest boy I ever seen.." all your praiseful words were true spoken as you stared back at Rudy, he couldn't help himself to bring a tear in the corners of his eye.

"don't cry Rudy.. I'm just telling the truth that's all." You chuckled before you started removing your own clothes, taking off every inch of fabric that was on you as your boyfriend watches in silence, Rudy feeling the blood rushing down to his cock the more he stares.

After taking off the last piece of fabric you placed your hand on your hips as you stared back at Rodolfo as he laid on the bed, your eyes trailing down and observing every inch on his body till you landed on his hardened length. "Seems like I don't have to do anything to get you this hard." You joked as Rudy laughs with you.

"come on mi vida.. please don't keep me waiting.." Rudy begged as he gave you those big puppy dog eyes of his, you couldn't help but whine before climbing on the bed and soon on top of him. Opening the small cabinet next to the bed grabbing a bottle of lube.

"ah- have you always kept that there?" Rudy questioned as he stared at you. "Just in case." You replied before clicking the cap of the bottle, squirting the cold liquid on his cock making Rodolfo whine from the coldness. Stroking his length till his covered up before slowly lowering yourself on him.

"Ah! Mi vida-! So..tight!" Rudy growls as his hands land on your thighs, gripping firmly as you rock your hips back and forth making the bed creak. "That's it Rudy..moan for me.." you breath out as you throw your head back moaning with him.

"mi amor please! More! Please baby..!" Rudy cried out as he looked up at you, your breast bouncing as you ride him. He couldn't help himself to move his hands on your tits giving them a squeeze. "So soft...ah.." Rudy whines as he pulls you close.

The more you rock your hips the closer Rudy gets to coming, you could tell. That's why your hips increase placing your bare hands on his shoulder as both of you moan in pleasure. "Amor.. I'm close.. please more.."

As you continue to buck your hips back and forth the tighter Rudy's grip on your waist, you moan softly as she feels his nails slowly digging on your flesh. The sound of both your moans mixing together as the heated atmosphere also increases in the room, after a while Rudy finally came inside you, you felt relief before flopping on top of him.

Both you and Rudy couldn't help but laugh it off before sharing a loving kiss.

"that was amazing mi vida...let's do that again..but next time.. somewhere private.."

Taglist: @lucyisdoingfine

[gunilslaugh]

Honestly the highlight of my day is seeing your new posts your such a good writer keep it uppp omll-

But can I request bf XH catching the reader crying but they push XH away cuz they are insecure about there “ugly cry” , I have an ugly cry myself it’s so discouraging cuz I feel like most ppl don’t look as ugly as I do when they cry~ (can the reader be crying cuz of similar reasons too? I’m in a very angst mood)

Take your time seriously you work rlly hard :)

Aww thank you so much! Don't worry I'm an ugly crier too.

All members π - π

Summary: Xdinary Heroes reaction to significant other not wanting them to see their ugly cry.

WC:~1.3k

Warning:grammar, talks about family members in hospitals.

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil

Today has just become a horrible day. You had just gotten off the phone. One of your family members was currently in the hospital. You felt like your heart dropped to your stomach. Tears began to flow from your eyes. You slowly dropped down onto the floor as your legs began to give out. Curling up into a ball you brought your knees to your chest and cried. Gunil arrived home and found you in your current state. You quickly tried to wipe away your tears. Not wanting Gunil to see your ugly crying face, but your tears wouldn’t stop.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, very concerned. He approached you putting his hands on your shoulders, but you tried to push him away looking down. “Why are you pushing me away?” Gunil was hurt by your actions. 

“I look really ugly right now,” you sniffled out, bringing up your hands to hide your face. Gunil sighs. He approaches you again, but this time he wraps you up in a hug, hiding your face into his chest.

“There I can’t see you. Now what’s wrong?” he asked. He wants to argue with you about how you couldn’t possibly look ugly to him, but you’re clearly upset, so he’ll save it for another time.

Jungsu

You couldn’t stop crying since you received the news. One of your grandparents had been moved into hospice care. They had been in the hospital for awhile now and your family saw it coming, but it was still hard. You were laying in your bed, buried under a blanket as you cried into your pillow. Jungsu came back home after practice and at first thought that maybe you were out since you were normally in the living room when he got back. After finding you in the bedroom and hearing your cries from under the covers his heart broke. 

“Y/n what’s the matter?” he questioned coming over to where you laid. You pulled the blanket over your head to prevent him from seeing what a mess you looked like. You were not a pretty crier and very insecure about it. “Y/n, don’t hide from me. I don’t care what you look like when you cry. I just want to comfort you.” he tried to pull the blanket from your head. You still don’t budge, so Jungsu climbs into bed behind you. He spoons you from behind, soothingly stroking your head from the outside of the blanket. After some time you came out from the blanket, only to hide your face in Jungsu’s chest, but it was progress and Jungsu was more than happy to take it.

Gaon/Jiseok

One of your family members was just rushed to the emergency room. They are gonna be ok, but they still need to stay in the hospital for a few more days. The whole situation had really shaken you up, it was really scary. Being overwhelmed with emotions you began to cry it all out. Sitting on the couch while clutching a pillow that was being dampened by your tears. Jiseok had come back home, finding you in your distraught state. He rushed over to your side asking you about what was wrong and are you alright. However you didn’t answer, you shoved him away with one arm and used the other to cover your tear stained, red face with the pillow. 

“How come you're pushing me away! I want to help you.” he said. 

“I look really ugly when I cry,” you explained. It came out mumbled since you still had your face pressed into the pillow. Jiseok actually laughed, finding what you said ridiculous. 

“Y/n it can’t be that bad.” He tried to pull the pillow from your face, but you resisted. “Even if it is, I won't love you any less because of it,” Jiseok says. That’s what you needed to hear as you dropped the pillow from your face. Jiseok pulls you in for a hug.

O.de/Seungmin

A family member of yours just received some bad news regarding their health and now they have to decide if they want to get treatment for it. This was very stressful for you too and the news of it has caused you to have a little bit of a breakdown. You were in the kitchen making lunch when you received the news. That’s why you're now, sitting on the hard tile floor, crying your eyes out. Seungmin arrived back home and saw the abandoned ingredients sitting on the counter. Then he heard your sobs. He walked around the counter discovering you.

“Y/n what happened?” he questions. He approached you and you brought your knees up to hide your face, even turned away from Seungmins direction. “Why are you avoiding me?” You could hear the hurt in his voice as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m a very ugly crier. I don’t want you to see me like this,” you told him. 

“Y/n how you look when you cry doesn’t change anything. I just want to be here for you, but if you really don’t want me to see you then I’ll close my eyes.” You peeked your head out and sure enough Seungmin was there with his eyes closed. Even if he thinks you're being a bit ridiculous he doesn’t want to make you anymore upset.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

One of your grandparents was currently in the hospital and you were still waiting to get some results back, but things weren’t looking good and you feared for the worst. Everything about it was completely nerve wracking. You couldn’t help it as the tears cascaded down your face. You were under so much stress and it broke you. You sat on your bed with a tissue box just letting it all out. Hyeongjun was immediately put off by the sounds of your sniffling when you came back home. He rushed to the bedroom to find you. Upon seeing Hyeongjun enter you shied away. 

“Y/n, why are you so upset?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt his heart twinge as you avoided looking at him. 

“I look really ugly right now Hyeongjun, don’t look at me,” you told him. 

“Come on y/n you know I don’t care about how you look. I love you no matter what.” You still don’t face him, but you don’t shy away from him either when he places his hands on your shoulders. He gently turns you to face him. You don’t meet his eyes. He wipes your tears with his thumbs then pulls you into a hug.

Jooyeon

News about someone being in the hospital was always sad. Of course it was even sadder and harder news when it was your own family member. Someone that you care very much about. You sat in the middle of the living room floor as you cried. The seemingly never ending tears streamed down your face. You have gone through, you don’t even know the amount of tissues. When Jooyeon returned home from practice, worry instantly consumed him as he saw your state. 

“Y/n what happened? What’s wrong?” he rapidly questioned. His concern only grew as you pushed him away, looking away from him. Did he do something? He panics.

“I’m a severely ugly crier Jooyeon. I don’t want you to see me like this,” you say. Jooyeon almost feels relieved. He thought he messed up. He can’t help the chuckle that escaped him. 

“Y/n you see my ugly side all the time and don’t judge me for it. I’m not gonna judge your ugly side either,” he consoles you. You still feel too insecure to face him. Jooyeon sighs, placing his hand on your face making you look at him. “I don’t see what ugliness you're talking about. I see a very sad y/n and I don’t like it.” 

[shoto-chann]

Hi there! I've been reading your stories for a while, and they're absolutely adorable 😍 if you're taking requests, and since you're writing for HoO, I wanted to request a lee! Leo and ler! Piper or Jason or any of the Seven tickling the shit out of him for pulling nonstop pranks on April Fool's. Thank you so much hehe

This idea sounds absolutely beautiful! I finally get to write for my favorite book series! My Percy Jackson Era has started! There seriously needs to be more PJO/HoO tickle fics out there with characters like Leo, Frank, Hazel, or any other characters, but I'm fine with any cause they're all so wonderful. Here ya go, friend 😁😁

There's Always A Limit

Heroes of Olympus

Lee! Leo

Ler! Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Frank, Hazel

Description: Leo keeps pulling April Fool's pranks on everyone, and after daring to get Annabeth, she and the rest of the Seven teach him why he shouldn't test people's patience

*Warning: Contains tickling

Leo silently giggled to himself as he finished setting up his next prank. "This is gonna be so good," He said quietly as he tiptoed out of the room he was in. Turning to the semi opened door, he waited for that person to wake up. He didn't have to wait long cause that person woke up five seconds later, rubbed the sleep out of their eyes, and screamed bloody murder. Leo laughed out loud and entered the room, witnessing Annabeth screaming and crawling away from what appeared to be the scariest thing in the world: spiders. Annabeth's eyes turned to Leo as she trembled in the corner. "LEO! KILL THEM! KILL THEM!" She screamed. "PERCY! PERCY!" "April Fools!" Leo said as he fell to the floor, cackling. He picked up one of the spiders and showed it to Annabeth, who only screamed louder. "Calm down, they're not real spiders" Leo said as he revealed what it actually was. "It's just paper, Annie. Oh, I can't believe I got you. Everyone said it was impossible, but I just proved them wrong. Coach Hedge, better pay up!" Leo said as he bolted out of the room with a chuckle and an evil smirk.

Later, everyone except Leo met up around the dining hall. Unfortunately, everyone had fallen victim to Leo's pranks. Percy's food was dyed red, which made Percy cry. Jason, who hardly got any sleep, was holding a now destroyed alarm clock that went off and played Jason's least favorite song at random times. Piper's wardrobe was swapped out with fancy and elegant clothing, something she hated with a passion. Frank's face was written in marker with the message saying "Leo Da Best," and Hazel had fake minerals laying around her room and around other people's rooms, scaring her almost to death. But the only one who was the most angry was Annabeth. To say she was pissed would be an understatement. One look at her made the Underworld feel like a tropical vacation. "I'm going to kill Valdez," Annabeth said through gritted teeth. "I'm not sure we should go that far," Jason said. "Don't get me wrong, I feel like flinging him off the ship and blasting him with lightning, but we should-" "I want to hurl hurricanes at him" Percy said angrily. "Maybe I can charmspeak him into jumping off the ship as it flies." "Maybe I should throw a gold bar in his face." "I can shoot him in his legs." Everyone started naming things they could (and wanted to) do to Leo for his pranks, and it was starting to get out of control. "EVERYBODY, SHUT UP!" Annabeth shouted. Everyone immediately stopped talking with fear that Annabeth might hurt them instead. "Look, we all want to hurt Leo, but there's a better way to deal with him besides breaking his bones and killing him" Annabeth said. "What do you have in mind, Wise Girl?" Percy asked. "Glad you asked, Seaweed Brain. I'll demonstrate. Get up here." Percy hesitated to move, but he did as he was told and walked up to Annabeth, who immediately judo flipped him onto his back and tickled his belly button without mercy. "GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHANABEHEHEHETH! WHYHYHY!?" "This is for not coming to help me when Leo put fake spiders in my room." Annabeth said as she continued her assault for another twenty seconds before letting Percy go. "And just because I needed to let off a little steam," She said as she kissed Percy on the cheek. Annabeth stood up and sighed. "Everyone get what I mean now?" Everyone nodded at the idea of teaching Leo a thing or two.

Later that day, Leo was rummaging around for more materials he could use to get another couple of pranks in. He had the brilliant idea that involved fake snakes and a voice changer. He had almost finished creating his voice changer when all of a sudden Piper came in. "Leo, that big angry bird is back." Leo looked up at Piper. "Really?! Finally, I get to pay that stupid bird back for taking my food!" Leo got down and rushed out to the main hall to ready the weapons, only to find the bird inside and resting on a table. Leo locked eyes with the bird and smirked. "Ready to get turned into dinner, you stupid bird?" He stepped closer to the bird, but before he could make a move, the bird flew at Leo full speed. Leo was about to catch the bird, but was surprised when the bird grew arms and legs and was reaching out to-

"What the-" Leo was tackled down by what was now an angry looking Frank. Frank pinned him to the ground with one hand, his eyes looming over Leo with hatred and a small hint of a smirk. "What was that for, dude?! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Leo exclaimed. "Oh no, the horror," said Annabeth with an annoyed yet satisfied sarcastic tone. She and the other demigods walked in behind her and approached Leo. "Guys, w-what's with the sudden-" "So you think it's funny to prank everyone here?" Annabeth asked in a demanding tone. "Well...yeah. It's April Fools Day. How can I just pass this opportunity up?" Annabeth glared at him, but it wasn't her usual annoyed or angry glare. She had a smirk on her face. Leo was even more afraid of this Annabeth than angry mom Annabeth. "Well, Valdez, you have to be punished for what toy did to everyone." Everyone had already positioned themselves next to Leo, which made him a little nervous. "L-Look, we can talk about this like civil people hehehere" Leo giggled nervously. "It's a little too late for talking" Annabeth said. "I wonder how quickly you can hit your limit."

"Please, Annie-" "Only I get to call her that!" Percy said as he started tickling Leo's hips. Leo bucked his hips as he giggled loudly. Soon, Jason joined in and tickled his sides, Piper went for his ribs, Annabeth and Hazel targeted his feet, and Frank just held him down with his arms above his head. Leo was cackling right off the bat with 10 hands tickling almost every spot. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GUHUHUHUYS, STAHAHAHAP! THIHIHIS IHIS TOO MUHUHUCH!" Leo begged. The others just ignored him and continued to tickle him. "Hey, Frank. His armpits are extra sensitive, especially if you're a little rough with it" Jason commented. "JAHAHASON, YOU TRAHAHAHAHAITOR! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FRAHAHANK! NOHOT THEHEHEHERE!" Leo's laugh increased once Frank started tickling his armpits. This shocked everyone for little bit. Frank was one to never tickle anyone without their permission and was too nice to tickle anyone for long. Apparently that didn't apply to Leo cause he was tickling him like crazy, even going as far as to tickle the spot between his ribs and armpits. Leo started screaming at the top of his lungs, but no words could come out. It only made it worse when Frank used his free hand to tickle Leo's belly. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Okay guys! Rotate!" Annabeth said. Momentarily, everyone let him go so he could breathe while they rotated positions. Leo was trying to steady his breathing so he could actually get some air. "Plehehease. Noho mohohore," He begged. "Oh, Leo, Leo, Leo, you poor dumb boy. You're not even a quarter of the way done with your punishment" Annabeth said with a chuckle. Then she and the others started tickling Leo again.

For nearly an hour, everyone had taken turns rotating and tickling every tickle spot Leo had. Halfway through his tickle punishment, Leo stopped squirming and just accepted his fate. He still squirmed every now and then, but he knew he couldn't escape and he couldn't change their minds. Tears trickled down his red cheeks as he laughed harder than he ever did in his life.

Eventually, Annabeth had decided that Leo had had enough and told everyone to stop. So everyone let up and gave him space. Leo could hardly breathe while he curled up into a ball to get rid of the tickly feeling all over his body. Within seven minutes, he could form words again. "I hahate you ahahall" He said with a grin wider than the grand canyon. "Now, what did you learn from today, Valdez?" Annabeth asked. "Dohohon't mess with yohou" "Good. Now do you promise to never pull stunts like this again?" "Noho" Annabeth glared at him again. "Excuse me?" Leo sat up and looked at Annabeth. "Thahat's impossible. I can't just give up pranks." "You have one chance, Valdez." " I. Said. No." Leo crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at Amnabeth. Percy stepped up to him like he wanted to throw him, but Annabeth held him back. "It's your funeral." "Why say it like tha-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!" Leo jumped a foot into the air and wiggled around as if there were something in his shirt. "GEHEHET OHOUT OF MYHY SHIHIHIRT, FRAHAHANK!" Leo demanded as he fell back laughing and holding his torso. Frank, who had shapeshifted into a mouse, responded by going to his weakest spot. Leo shrieked and rolled on the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum as he tried to grab Frank. "PLEHEHEHEHEASE! PLEHEHEHEHEASE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!" "Only if you promise to-" "OKAHAHAHAHAY! I PROHOHOHOMISE! I SWEHEHEHEAR! JUHUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! I'M GOHOHONNA PEHEHEHEHEE!" "Frank, you can stop now" Hazel said. Frank immediately crawled out of Leo's shirt and scampered next to Hazel before shapeshifting back into Frank. Jason and Piper helped him up off the floor while he was recovering from hyena-itis. "You better hold up to your promise, Leo. No more going overboard with your stupid pranks, or else your punishments will be worse than what you got today" Annabeth threatened. "I promise" Leo nodded as he freed himself from Jason's and Piper's grasp and immediately bolted to the bathroom. Everyone laughed and continued talking about everything that happened.

Leo never ended up keeping that promise. He only lessened the frequency of his pranks, but they never truly went away. But he always made sure to never prank Annabeth again. He did not want to suffer under her devil fingers ever again.

The End

I hope you enjoyed my very first Heroes of Olympus tickle fic. I will write a lot more for this series because it's my absolute favorite, and the characters are so interesting and cool and everything. And of course, I have an O/C for this as well, but I'm not quite ready to reveal him yet. If you loved reading this and want more, requests and dms are always open.

That's all for now. Until next time,

❄️🔥shoto-chann🔥❄️ out

[run2min]

I'll be there at 7 ~ 𝐁𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 886

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cheating (not Gyu), slight mention of sex and swearing

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! 𝐁𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐗 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"Yeah don't worry I'll be there at 7,"

It's now 7:45 and as expected Mr. Choi is nowhere to be seen! Typical Beomgyu, he is always late! You two have had a movie night every thursday for the past 4 years, and although he's late you know he'll turn up as neither of you have ever missed it. Not even sparing the thursday Beomgyu got his appendix removed, you watched coraline on your laptop in the hospital ward. Ever since Beomgyu got a girlfriend though, he's been getting later each week.

A loud knock brought you out of your thoughts, you stood up and made your way to the door which was being rapidly beaten by a certain Mr. Choi. You sharply swung open the door and snapped, "you're late, again!". Beomgyu tugged on his bottom lip and his nose slightly twitched as his eyes stayed fixed on the floor. "I know," he mumbled under his breath. You rolled your eyes at his bad attitude and walked into your apartment. You heard him shut your door and then slump onto your couch. You grabbed some snacks and then went and sat next to him, keeping your distance though as apparently it makes Yuri uncomfortable when you even slightly touch Beomgyu!

"Any reason you're rocking up 50 minutes late or...?". The boy let out a shrug and slumped further into the couch. Something was up with him, he hadn't even looked you in the eye since you'd opened the door. "Ya, seriously are you alright?" You questioned whilst leaning a little closer. "I.. I ugh. I... Never mind I'm fine, come on what are watching?" The boy sat up and looked at you, that's when you noticed his face was red and blotchy, as if he'd been crying.

"Beomgyu I'm not stupid, just tell me what's wrong up, I'm sure I can help, or, you know Yuri could?" You mumbled the last part and took hold of his hand. "I.... It's about Yuri, actually". You're eyes slightly squinted and millions of possibilities entered your head. "I was on my way to the store to pick up some lychee for you because Bin said that they had them and I know that you like them," You slightly smiled at the boys caring tendencies, "Then I saw that they had honeydew melon and I remembered that Yuri really likes them so I got her some and went to her apartment, I heard music on so I knew she was in but she wasn't answering the door so I waited a little longer. I heard voices coming from in there but I thought it was the TV. After a while I just got out my spare key and opened the door and she was there, with Jiheon, on the couch." Your face dropped and you could feel the anger bubbling up inside of you. "I obviously was like 'what the fuck?' and everyone was shouting and I just told her we were done and walked out, she was shouting at me asking where I was going and I just said ' it's thursday' so she said ' oh yeah go back to your weird little friend it's obvious you're sleeping together anyways, can you even blame me?'. I just ignored her and came here so yeah I'm sorry for being late."

Your heart sank at Beomgyu's sad little face. You noticed a tear fall from Beomgyu's eye so you wiped it away with your thumb. "What are we watching then?" The boy perked up. You let him choose and of course he chose some dumb comedy!

After a while the boy layed his head in your lap and you could hear his breathing steady slowly. You stroked the boys hair and when you could tell he was asleep you lent down and placed a kiss on his head then whispered,

"I love you".

2 weeks later~

"Yeah don't worry I'll be there at 7,"

It's now only 6:45 and Mr. Choi is already sat on your couch eating raspberries and honey yogurt out of a coco pop cereal bowl you've owned for 14 years. You were on minute 52 of Ponyo and Beomgyu's head sharply turned to look at you. He lightly shoved your side to get your attention.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes slightly widened at the boys question, you then let out a slight laugh, "are you drunk or something Gyu?"

"No, I just really want to kiss you, I always have."

"Even when you were with her?"

"Yeah I think so, not that I would have but I've always wanted to,"

You slightly nodded and Beomgyu lightly grabbed hold of your face and brought it to his own. Your lips connected and you felt as though you'd instantly melted. Beomgyu pulled away quickly and you both stared at each other for a while as you sub consciously synced your breaths. You then lent back into each other and met lips once more.

Your hand found it's way to Beomgyu's hair and his to your waist as he pulled you onto his lap. You lightly tugged the boys hair and he let out a low grunt while tightening his hold on your waist. As your kisses peppered down to his collarbone Beomgyu whispered,

"I love you too,"

Sorry for not posting for so long :)

[elslittlestories]

How I feel being in a relationship with Tech would really be like

Disclaimer : I held absolutely no grudges against writers describing Tech's romantic behavior a little too neurotypical to my taste.

Once Tech figures he likes you too, you'll become his new l'hyperfixation. He'll study you and gathered as much data as he can without actually have to ask any questions. If you have a friend or relative that loves to tell stories about you, they'd be Tech primary source of information.

In the first weeks, maybe months of your relationship, he might spend a LOT of time with you. He enjoys your company but mostly, he's looking for more data! He wants to know everything about you, from your favorite ice-cream flavor to your piloting skills (if you have any)

If one of your passions peeks his interest, Tech will also hyperfocus on that (side quest!!) . You might end up spending hours talking about the subject together, which is great. Until he becomes more knowledgeable than you and starts correcting you with his usual bluntness. I hope you're not too susceptible...!

He'll make a list of things you've talked about and rely on it when looking for gifts ideas. You might get a bunch of stuff you wouldn't have bought for yourself, since Tech can't really tell the difference between small talk and something you actually like a lot.

There most likely won't be much sweet talk and romantic metaphor coming from Tech. Don't try telling him you love him to the moon and back (or whatever the Star Wars equivalent is) and don't expect him to do it neither. Subtle allusions to cuddles will lead you nowhere. If you want a kiss, grab his by the neck or just ask for it! He'll do the same to you.

If one day he feels comfortable telling you he loves you, it won't be a serenade. You'll have to learn how to read the emotions behind his words. Maybe he'll tilt his head a certain way, or he'll squeeze your hand or your thigh but it will be a simple 'I love you'.

If forced to it, he might ramble about why he loves you. It'll be messy, sometime incoherent like starting a sentence but changing his mind midway and going a complete opposite direction. It's cute, though.

He won't celebrate any anniversary and will most likely forget your birthday. He'll k ow the dates, but when the day comes, he won't connect the dots. Partly because his brain doesn't work like that, partly because this kind of stuff means nothing to him. If you ask him to take you on a date or do something special for the occasion, he will do it gladly though, as a chance to spend time with you. But to him it'll be just another Tuesday.

As time passes by, his hyperfocus on you will pass and this is when it might become difficult to maintain the relationship. Tech will still love you, but there'll be another fixation on his mind that he will dedicate a lot of time to. Which will lead to less time together...He'll come home late, forget about date nights, and might not listen to you as much, even intterupt you to infodump.

His gifts might become even more random. Or he'll buy you stuff related to his l'hyperfixation and might have trouble understanding why you don't find it fascinating.

He most probably won't be of any help with chores from day one. He'll do the dishes with you if it means keeping up with your conversation, but don't expect him to clean the floor on his own. If you confront him about it (rightly so!), he'll offer to pay for a house keeper. To avoid further fights, you might consider it seriously!

Tech's definition of a cuddle is him sitting on the couch with his data pad and you laying against him. He'll play with your hair and trace lines on your skin, which feels great, but the actual hugs makes him too uncomfortable.

He'll only initiate hugs in three occasions : when you cry, when you two reunite after spending a few days appart and when making out.

You might feel left out as time goes by, but getting him back to you will only take a good communication. Tech loves you, he just doesn't feel the need to show it as much as you'd want him to. Maintaining a relationship with someone like him takes work, from both of you, and a lot af talking. Chances are you're overanalyzing that thing he said or the reason with he forgot you were going out tonight. Talk to him ❤️

He'll die for you. Literally.

This is way too long but I can't help but give you these too extra treats 🙃

No cute couple photograph. The man doesn't know how to smile on picture and will look either like a retarded or a serial killer.

He'll. comment. the. movie. He'll suggest theories (mostly right so he's basically spoiling the damn movie) and point at plot holes. If it's too scientifically inaccurate, he might just leave.

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Tending Wounds (Obey Me!) fanfic

summary: While helping MC with putting dishes away, Retha gets seriously hurt. So the MC summons help for Retha for them to have a moment of support

characters: OC Retha (who is a hybrid of Demon/Angel/Vampire/Sorceress), MC, Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub, Leviathan

content: blood, injury, angst, comfort, support

Yes there is a serious injury in this fanfiction so if you do not like blood PLZ SKIP

Retha was helping her fellow exchange student with doing the dishes at the House of Lamentation. The two tag teaming with washing and drying as they chatted with each other. With Retha lifting the heavier pots for her friend to point to where they go. A seemingly casual moment.

Until they get to putting away a big ceramic bowl. With Retha picking it up while the outside of the bowl was still wet. Meaning it slipped right out of her hands and shattered onto the floor. Retha openly hissing in pain as a huge shard sliced across her ankle. Leaving a deep gash in her talon foot for Retha's knees to hit the floor. Her friend giving a shout to grab Retha by the arm as blood started to spurt from the gash in plenty. Retha hissing in air as her long tail swept back the shards to ensure they did not go anywhere near her friend.

The pool of blood was getting bigger by the second for Retha to squeeze her eyes shut. The scent bringing her Vampire aspects to the fore as her friend gripped their pact mark tight. Meaning that help all but popped into the kitchen for Mammon to sound confused. "What in the- OH FUCK!" Mammon soon rushed over to land on his knees in the puddle of blood. His hand grabbing a hand towel to grab Retha's talon foot and squeeze the towel into the gash. His growl of fear making his tone more flinted. "Retha. Lay down on the floor. Take slow breaths and do not move." Retha nodded to lay herself down and try not to black out as their human friend ran out of the kitchen to shout for Satan.

Mammon grabbed the first aide kit to give a few words in Latin. While Satan hustled into the kitchen to then wince at the sight before him. "Lucifer already left to meet with Diavolo. So unless you want me to freak him and Diavolo out, I am not calling him. Mammon. How bad is it?" Mammon huffed to shake his head. "Stupid question to ask. But it's down to the bone. Had to be right where Retha doesn't have scales to cover her weak point. She is also shivering. Either you get chewed on for blood, or I get to lose a pint."

Satan gave a huff to pinch his nose a moment. "Terrific. Okay. I do not expect Retha to use her angel healing magic like this. But I vote you be the chew toy." Mammon rolls his eyes to toss both his jacket and his shirt clean off. Leaving him bare chested to lift Retha up and hug her to his chest. While Satan knelt down to keep pressure on the gash. Retha gave a hard growl to turn her head away from Mammon's neck and huff, "No... Just sew me up... I do not want to take more from my family than I already do..." Both Mammon and Satan blink at the last part. But Mammon grumbles to then grab Retha by the back of the head and squish her face to his neck. "Shut it! You stubborn hybrid! You are gonna drink my blood and you are gonna get better! Family helps! So drink already!"

Retha gave a full body shudder as her nails lengthen. Hungry gulps of air taken before she makes her strike. Mammon gives a yelp as Retha's fangs pierce his shoulder to start chewing on him. Meaning his shoulder gets very torn up for blood to trickle down. Satan frowning as he notes, "Damn... I may have to stitch you up after this. But it's already working. Just hold still."

Mammon hisses in air to hug Retha to his front and not move. Steam rising from the towel as Satan shifts his grip on Retha's talon foot. His gaze serious as the steam continues to billow up. Retha taking great gulps from Mammon's shoulder for her to also cry. This once violet eyes now full on red as they shed tears. The kitchen door opening for Satan to call out, "Don't come in, love. Just tell the others we have things handled and get the bathtub filled up." The human nods for them to head out and speak with the others. Satan looking back for him to say with dry humor, "Water, water everywhere yet not a drop to drink."

Mammon gives a snort to glare at Satan. "Dude. You are not funny. Seriously." But Retha gives a huff of a laugh to then lick at Mammon's bloodied shoulder. Her healing magic washing over the wound she made for Mammon to lean his head back and huff at the heated sensation soaking into his chest. Until his shoulder is completely fine for Retha to rest her head to his heart and cry. "Sorry. I am so sorry, Mammon. I couldn't hold back." Mammon blushes at how close Retha is to just pat her on the back of the head. "It's okay. I'm a tough badass, remember? So this is nothing for the Great Mammon. Satan? How is her ankle?"

Satan finally removes the drenched towel to sigh. "Scarred over with a few open spots that are still dripping. But it's not nearly as bad as before. Once we get Retha to the bathroom, I'll donate my blood for this to fully close. Since you look pale and I am not going to let Retha have seconds of prime Mammon."

Mammon rolls his eyes to then lean himself against the kitchen counter as his head spins. "Shit... Yeah... I am zoned out. Like fuck, man. My hearts doing odd flip flops from all this. Adrenaline is not good for my ticker. But whatever. Maybe we can convince Lucifer to let me take tomorrow off from school."

Satan nods as Beelzebub walks in to go wide eyed. The Avatar of Gluttony paling to then shake his head and walk over. "I'll carry Retha. You grab Mammon. Asmodeus and Belphegor are helping to get the bathtub set up. Guess we get to bathe them in their clothes?" Satan nods for Beelzebub to gently lift Retha up and carry her piggy back style. Since her wings make it a bit difficult to carry her right now. Satan moves to lift Mammon up bridal style and stand back up. "Clothes will have to get changed out after the bath. Once we get these two cleaned up, I will text Lucifer to have him bring back some IVs and blood bags with him. Retha will need more than what we have here for her to juice pack drink after this. Plus... Mammon is not going to feel that great for a few days with how much he donated."

Beelzebub nods to nudge the kitchen door open with a foot. "Right. We should also call Solomon to see if he's able to deep clean the kitchen with magic. But that can wait. Retha? Are you okay?" Retha gives a sniffle to lean into Beelzebub as Satan walks out of the kitchen first. Her eyes streaming tears as Beelzebub shifts his hold on her. "I am so sorry... I didn't even think when I tried to grab that bowl... I am so very sorry..." But Beelzebub just shakes his head to actually bounce Retha up so she settles on his back better. "No Retha. It was an accident. Nobody is at fault. But you did make sure my pact human didn't get cut or hurt when it happened. So, thank you." Before Beelzebub can leave the kitchen to follow Satan, Leviathan is there to be on his phone. So Beelzebub stays still as Leviathan reaches out to place his fingers to Retha's neck. "On it. She looks really upset and slightly pale. But her pulse is steady and Beelzebub is carrying her to the bathroom. Solomon might want to come back with you to see to the kitchen. It's... half the floor is red now. Yeah. But we got Mammon and Retha and will take care of them. I'll call if that changes, Lucifer."

Leviathan hangs up to lace his tail in Retha's and take her hand in his. Giving it a squeeze to say, "Diavolo and Barbatos say thank you for keeping our friend safe. They will be visiting tomorrow to check on you. But until then, we got you." Retha nods to lift her head and gaze at Leviathan with tears in her eyes. "Levi. If it's okay with you. Would it be okay to have us all bunk together?" Leviathan nods to smile. "Already told the others. So Belphegor is tossing bean bags and cushions into his room. C'mon. Let's get you in the tub."

[sevicia]

My ugly notes app monster that sucks so bad and I will probz delete when I wake up tomorrow

It's okay if you don't understand. I know you're not the brightest, I'll dumb it down for you. So-

She starts whining about not being dumb. I grab her hair and yank her head back, making her look straight into the water-damaged ceiling.

I don't appreciate being interrupted, especially when I'm trying to be nice.

I'm sure you've heard this before, but you've always been more beauty than brains. Sadly, you're not much of a looker.

I sigh and let go of her hair.

Her face is all scrunched up now; puffy, wet, disgusting. She buries it into her knees.

She tries to hide, to look brave, but I can tell she's trying not to cry from the way her shoulders shake – as erratic as her breathing; she won't be able to calm down no matter how hard she tries. I know this because I know her. I know she'll keep trying, dumb as rocks; unable to see past her own nose.

The knots aren't that tight– I left them a bit loose on purpose, hoping she'd try to escape so I'd have an excuse to chase her, push her down, really scare her, but it turns out I overestimated both her intelligence and her will to live.

She was so pretty, so lovely just a few hours ago, when I was still having second thoughts about all this, when my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my glass, when she was still smiling and looking at me fondly – like I was something worth looking at. No one had ever looked at me with such affection – any affection! – before, and that's how I knew she was kind! Kind, and pretty, and lovely, and so, so devastatingly stupid; so perfect and so easy for me to take, to ruin and rebuild into something even prettier – something better.

I sit down in front on her. She looks pale; sickly. Is her skin cold and clammy, or is she running hot and sweaty from the adrenaline? I can see for myself now, I no longer need to wait or ask. I reach for her ankle, slowly, trying not to scare her.

Clearly, it doesn't work; she tries to kick me off with far too much force, flailing and losing her balance, making herself fall over and hit her head – thud! – on the concrete floor.

I lean over, placing my hands on the ground so I can look at her face – the parts not covered by her hair, anyway. She spares me a single glance, then shuts her eyes tight and starts shaking all over again.

I raise my voice, louder than she's ever heard it before:

You lied to me! You told me I looked just fine, all those times – all those times, you lied to me!

She flinches and tries to deny it, but her voice comes out weak, and her eyes are still shut tight.

I didn't think it'd actually work.

Don't you lie to me again, don't you dare lie!

I lower my voice back to its regular volume. I make sure to sound incredulous, offended:

You can't even look at me.

She takes a big breath, but doesn't say anything. I can tell she's trying to calm down using breathing techniques.

I stay quiet for a bit, still looking down at her, and wait until her breathing's calmed down enough that she's not on the border of hyperventilation anymore before speaking again, now in the low, pitiful whisper she's always known:

Am I really so unseemly? Tell me. Please look at me. Please tell me I'm not.

(END OF CHUNK. WHO CARES)

And now all I've got is a crumpled mess of a girl, clothes and hair almost as dirty as the floor she lays on– I haven't cleaned the place in weeks. I know how important hygiene is to her, after all.

(END OF CHUNK. WHO CARES)

Stop fucking crying, you're ruining your make-up. I'm not into the whole "broken" look with the running mascara anymore. We've done it so much I thought you'd also be tired of at this point.

Seriously?

Your throat's dry because you refuse to ask for help. I'm the only one that can help you, you know? I have no way of knowing what you need unless you tell me. You need to ask for it.

-----

Why should I bring it to you? Where's your manners?

Please, -----

Okay, that's better.

I'm not getting you anything, though. Why? Are you stupid? You keep crying and crying and whining until your throat hurts – and you think you deserve water? How do I know you won't just waste it again?

I'm leaving, I'm too tired to deal with such an entitled little brat right now.

Maybe you should learn how to play nice and be grateful– yes, GRATEFUL, and quit interrupting me before I beat the shit out of you again. I work all day, you know that? I work day in and day out so I can make you prettier – we both know you need it.

Beauty's expensive, are you kidding? Then again, I keep overestimating your cognitive abilities, so I shouldn't be so surprised.

I work all day, every day, and then I come down here to be happy, to relax by looking at something nice – and I find you a disgusting mess, make-up ruined, snot all over your face, and still I try to be nice to you. I might even be going a bit soft. I can tell you've been pulling your hair out again, but I still bring you the foods you like.

Spoiled? I don't see how that makes any difference.

I toss away anything that's gone bad – and yet I keep the ugliest, nastiest and most rotten piece of meat around, even though it fucking reeks.

I'm being nice. I'll only say this once.

I suggest you stop telling me what to do with my trash.

(END OF CHUNK. WHO CARES)

You'd be prettier if you knew how to behave.

[tinytinybumblebee]

Ed taking his big brother responsibilities very seriously and deciding he’s going to be The Helper in the house. He’ll trial after Stede and ask if he can help with everything which is great until Stede wakes up in the middle of the night and Ed has climbed into the crib next to Izzy and is trying to change him and there’s a bottle which wasn’t there before so Stede can only assume the gallon of milk has been poured over the counter and floor in an attempt to feed the baby (who wasn’t due a feed, doesn’t need a change, and is very grumpy that he’s been woken up) but Ed was being so sweet and trying to help that he can’t even be upset

Oh my g o s h xD

He just wants to be the best big brother!! Ed will help Stede out throughout the day by holding Izzy's socks or wipes during changes, keeping an eye on the baby while Stede is in the kitchen or washroom

So of course Eddie wants to show Mama that he is also great at these task at night! Mama needs sleep, so, what better way to have Izzy not crying at night than to be there before he fusses!!

Ed slips outta bed, sloooowly bum sliding down the stairs (100% more stealthy) and into the kitchen. He grabs one of the bottles and looks at the milk in the fridge. He's seen Stede pour the milk into the bottle all while standing up, Ed can do that!

He uh, definitely cannot do that and the milk basically goes everywhere, but he does get some in the bottle! Ed screws the lid on, laying some (read: entire roll) paper towels onto the mess before heading upstairs to his baby brother

Izzy's face scrunches up when the bedroom light suddenly flicks on, then hears padded steps that are definitely not Stede's xD

Stede wakes up to the static of the baby monitor- he sleepy grabs the monitor before going to slip his slippers on but pauses when he hears a familiar voice,,,and finds an empty space in the bed.

"I can't do thiiiis when you're squirming Zee!!" A voice whines over a /very/ unhappy baby.

"Oh goodness," Stede says to himself as he shuffles out of the room and doen the hall.

He walks in on Ed, halfway in halfway out of the crib (he couldn't figure out how to lower the bars), baby powder somehow everywhere, a bottle of milk dripping on the sidelines and a very very grumpy looking baby Izzy who is staring at Mama for help xD

Stede sighs softly, "Now, what have my boys been getting up to so late at night, huh?" He ask as he gently lifts Ed down from the crib.

"You were sleepin' and you've been busy with work so I didn' want you to haffta wake up to help Izzy, so I got up to do it!" Ed explains with that little grin and gleam in his eyes.

"Oh my sweet boy, you were just trying to save me some wake time? How kind of you," Stede coos.

He knows Ed ment well by his actions and well, it is rather cute to see what Ed assumes is what Mama does for Izzy xD

Stede helps Ed clean up the power and checks on Izzy- who doesn't need changed and it's not time for his bottle. Then, Stede reads the two a late night bedtime story, which, has the grumpy Izzy asleep in minutes and Ed very close to dream land.

He helps bring Ed back to bed, tucking him in and kisses his forehead. Stede knows for a /fact/ the kitchen is most likely a disaster but, for now, the three will rest, that's a tomorrow thing♡♡

[justariddleguy]

Ice Cream And Rejection

A colab fic with @strawberrymilk-boba!!! (Idk they might post their oc's pov or not) About our Spiderverse oc's!! (Also probably very ooc for Spot)

Angst

Word count: 832

The day was rainy, rain hitting hard against the roof as Achilles walked towards him, The Spot, or as Achilles knew him, Johnathan. They've known each other for years, initially bonding by both of them not being "good" spidermen. Achilles was a neutral force, wandering through universes messing with other spidermen, creating chaos. And well, everyone knows who the spot is. But now the two are true friends, and to Achilles, hopefully more than that. Achilles told Johnathan they wanted to tell him something today, but only Achilles knew what could happen if they did.

Achilles was standing face to face with him, their stomach churning, hands fidgeting with their clothes. Usually Achilles would joke about everything, pretty playful and silly. But they couldn't help their nervous demeanor as they thought about him potentially rejecting them, him hating them and never wanting to talk ever again.

Achilles has had feelings for him for so long, but they pressed it down, hoping it would go away. The only other person who knew was Scooter, Achilles's adopted brother. Scooter would tease Achilles about it, but never went too far, knowing they should be the one to tell Johnathan, not themselves.

Achilles gathered all the courage they could as they started to talk to Johnathan. "Hey John! Long time no see!" "Didn't we see each other yesterday? Did I just make that up?" He questions, his face turning concerned thinking he missed something. "No, yeah we did, running around with those shopping carts in the parking lot was fun." They mention their activities from the previous day, thinking about moments like those that could never happen again because of them stating their feelings today. "Well uh, I wanted to tell ya' something today. And it's not another history fact." "Oh? Not another history fact? But I love those!" Is what Johnathan responded, Achilles feeling a small bit of relief that he actually likes their history facts. "Well uh.. I uh.." They stammer, words failing them. "I really like you and you're such a good friend and I kinda have feelings for you and I hope you feel the same!" They blurt out, looking at him for his reaction.

As soon as Achilles saw his nervous expression, him starting to fidget with his own fingers, they took a step back. They quickly shoot one of their webs at a building, swinging out of the situation. How could they be so stupid? Why would he ever like them? They're just a clown, someone who shouldn't be taken seriously. They quickly swing from building to building, heading towards their flat, tears dangerously close to clouding their vision. They land in front of their door, fumbling for their keys as they wipe the tears from their eyes. They rush through the door and unintentionally slam it behind them as they dive into the couch. They curl up, their head against their knees as they lay on the couch, thinking that they should've known, even though they never even heard an answer.

After a few dozen minutes of crying their tears finally dry, their eyes feeling heavy as their emotions start to become numb. They finally get up just to get some ice cream from their freezer, returning to the couch to eat it out of the carton. That is until they hear a noise from their window sill, not even looking up as they start to hear someone speak. "Hey man, you okay?" Scooter asked, his voice quiet. Achilles decides not to reply, just to keep laying there watching cartoons to comfort themselves. The soft sound of feet hitting the floor could be heard as Scooter gets off the window sill. "Achilles? Uh, spot said you asked him something then ran off." They say making Achilles curl up tighter. "Why?" Is all they can whisper out, one that wouldn't be audible if it wasn't so quiet in the room. "He recorded his answer, wanted me to bring it to you." Scooter replies before Achilles jerks their head towards him.

"His reply?" Achilles questioned, worried what his answer could be, all their emotions of anxiety and racing thoughts returning. Was his answer going to be no? Does he not feel the same? Does he hate them? Scooter soon sat down with Achilles, phone in hand. "Yeah, he recorded his reply and sent it to me. Wanna see it?" He questions Achilles, only making their heart beat faster. "What if.. what if he rejects me?" Achilles replies, looking at Scooter with a worried expression, one of the few times they showed their worry in front of him. "It'll be fine, we can watch it together dude. Besides you'll always have me." He reassures them, offering them his phone to let them press play on the recording. "Alright, together.. heh, guess we're two clowns waiting on a ledge." Achilles jokes poorly, their nerves getting in the way of their humor. Achilles lets out a breath before finally taping on the play button.

EHEHE CLIFF HANGER!!! GET CLIFFHANGED >:DD

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[sophiewritesworld]

Dating Eddie would include ...

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader A/N: It's part of my grieving process.

Dating Eddie is a BIIIIG Adventure (Yes, capital A).

You had the biggest crush on him ever for the longest time possible but since you hang with the popular crowd, the only way for you to get close to him is through drugs.

At first, he thinks you're just making fun of him so he refuses but you insist, almost begging him to meet you in his regular spot. Thinking about it, you cringe at how desperate you sounded.

You buy from him. Once. Twice. Five. Ten times. Each time, you talk more to each other, you laugh more and just that makes you happier than ever.

You never use whatever you buy from him though. You hide the tiny bags in a metal box underneath a broken floor board in your closet.

It takes you a while and a whole load of courage to tell him the truth. Again he thinks you're messing with him, which lowkey breaks your heart because you thought you built some sort of trust overtime. And when you're sad, you get frustrated and just run away because you know you'll start crying. “You know what? Forget about it, I shouldn't have said anything.”

But it's Eddie and he is not the type to run away from things (we wish he did in volume 2). “Why would you like someone me?”

You find yourself sitting on the wooden bench listing every little thing you like about. From his insane hair to his incredible confidence. You do it in one go, you even gesture him not to talk when you see him about to say something, you don't want him to cut you off, you need him to listen. “You couldn't just talk to me like a normal human being would do, could ya?”

That's how it all started.

Eddie teaches you how to play guitar.

One afternoon while chilling in his bedroom, he grabs his guitar and starts playing one of your favorite songs of his.

“Teach me how play. Something easy though.” You say when he finishes playing.

So he does. Whenever you have a moment, he'd sit behind you on the bed, holding the guitar on your lap and guides you.

You're a fast learner and before he knows it, you also play songs he taught you.

And D&D.

Your interest in the game grows bigger each time you see him plan a campaign and be so invested in it.

His passion shows and you just want to share this with him.

So you ask him to explain the rules one day.

It surprises him that you even show the tiniest bit of interest in the game but as he explains, he clearly sees how interested you're in it.

He helps you create your character but you refuse to join Hellfire. “But why?” “I don't wanna make a fool of myself in front of the others.” “Seriously baby, they're the last people on earth to ever make fun of others.”

You eventually agree to one campaign.

One leading to another, so that you find yourself part of the group.

He makes you a Hellfire Club shirt.

You help him with school.

You take matter into your own hands to help him pass not only Ms. O'Donall's class but get better grades in the rest.

It is complicated to keep him focused for a very long time so you bribe him. “For each good answer, you'll get a kiss. How about that?”

It works like magic.

You are the one to say "I love you" first.

It slips out of your lips while you're both laying in bed, him mindlessly tracing random patterns on your bare back. You're half asleep against his chest.

Eddie doesn't register what you say right away. Neither do you.

“What did you say?” He asks after a moment.

You repeat yourself, this time looking at him.

It knocks him breathless to hear those words coming out of your mouth. He never heard anybody say these words to him.

“I know I'm asking for too much but could- ” “I love you Eddie. I love you so much.” He flips you over on the bed and smiles, the brightest smile he ever had on his face. “I love you too, baby.”

From then on, you make sure to remind him how much you love him every single day and every single moment of it.

Wearing his clothes.

Eddie melts whenever he sees you harbouring his clothes be it just around him or in public.

The first time you dared to put on his t-shirt, he swore his heart almost stopped beating. “You are never wearing anything else but my stuff, doll.”

At school, you often steal his vest or have his bandana wrapped around your wrist showing Hawkins High that Eddie was yours and yours only.

He doesn't wear your clothes, for many obvious reasons, but he always has one of your hair ties on his wrist.

Pet names.

He is so into giving you different pet names - depending on his mood really.

The more often, he calls you ‘sweetheart’ or ‘baby’.

When he is in the mood, it's often ‘baby girl’ or ‘doll’.

You call him ‘my love’ because you know it makes him all soft and sweet - which he is 101% of the time - but this just makes him extra soft and sweet.

You don't have to switch names, just tones.

If by any bad luck you're mad at each other, you never call each other by your full names but just nicknames.

Kisses and more.

Eddie pours his heart and soul into his kisses, they're always warm and full of love.

He either has his hands on your face or around your waist so he can pull you as close to him as he physically can.

Forehead kisses in front of the kids. “We don't want to traumatize them now, do we?”

But some of his kisses can be rough and extremely demanding. You're dating Eddie Munson after all.

He would kiss you until you're breathless.

He adores it when you moan against his lips, he feels so proud that he has gotten you to lose some self control by just kissing you.

Hear me out, Eddie is definitely an ass man. When you're making out, just expect him to grab your ass. And if he gets too carried away, the very next day, you'd find light bruises from his fingertips digging into your skin.

When Eddie kisses your neck, be certain that he won't go without leaving hickeys. He has a thing for marking you - not that you mind anyways.

He is so into teasing you to the point that you're a begging mess in front of him then he gives you what you want.

Eddie is an experienced man. He didn't have a real relationship but one night stands? He lived on that until you.

Hand holding.

Eddie won't take a step if you are not holding his hand. It's vital.

Driving, sitting, sleeping, cooking, whatever this boy is doing, he would be holding your hand in one way or another.

He feels safe.

Getting matching tattoos.

The idea comes many months after you start dating.

He is the one to say it, as a joke in case you find it too rushed or too much.

You agree under one condition. “We'll do it after you snatch that diploma from principal Higgins in a few months. Deal?”

You get something small and simple but meaningful to both of you.

Even if you don't last forever, this will always be a sweet reminder of the most beautiful thing that ever happened to you.

Movie nights are a ritual.

Every Friday, Steve sees you at Family video to pick a movie or two, alone or with Eddie.

It's often in his place since his uncle works at night most of the time but if your parents aren't home, you'll crash in your living room and enjoy your horror movie together.

When you get two movies, you'd either be asleep by half of the second or you'd be busy making out.

Listening to music together.

Music is a big thing for Eddie.

You knew it before even exchanging a word with him.

It's not surprising that your styles are polar opposites but again, you learn to enjoy what he likes and the other way around.

Going to every single performance of Corroded Coffins.

You're his number one fan.

He writes songs just for you which only make you fall in love with him even more.

Most of the time, you bring Dustin with you.

Eventually Mike, Lucas and the rest of the group start to come as well.

Late night drives and camping in his van.

Some nights are rougher than other, so Eddie drives you around Hawkins, music playing on the radio with the volume down until you're knocked out, snuggled in his leather jacket.

Some other nights you just like going on rides, singing your favorite songs on top of your lungs.

Eddie often takes you on week-ends in his van.

It's nothing luxurious but he does his best to make everything comfortable for you.

You sleep with the doors open, cuddled against him, stargazing and all that.

Meeting his uncle and him meeting your parents/siblings.

When Eddie brings you up to his uncle, the man can't believe his nephew has finally found happiness. Wayne can tell from the way Eddie's eyes are shining as he speaks about you and his inability to suppress the smile on his face even when he stops talking about you.

“Ready?” Eddie asks you before you both get in the trailer that you visited countless times before. You're nervous but Wayne is very welcoming and makes you immediately comfortable around him.

He even brings up some embarrassing memories from when Eddie was a kid. “You really have to do this, uh?”

You, on the other hand, have to tiptoe on your words to tell your parents you have a boyfriend. But the hardest part is to tell them who the said boyfriend is.

“Munson? Wayne's nephew?” Your father asks and you nod, looking straight at the vegetables in your plate. He doesn't say anything else.

It's only a few days later that your mother casually says “Why don't you bring Eddie over for dinner tomorrow honey?”

“What am I supposed to wear? I can't wear this to meet your parents.” Eddie is panicking.

But once he meets your parents, he relaxes. They welcome him just as warmly as Wayne - or uncle Wayne as he asked you to call him - did.

If you have siblings, they'll love him. Despite the look, Eddie is a big softie and he is amazing with kids.