#michael hoard x reader

[kassy-munson]

we need some new michael fics on here… just saying 🫣

[seatnights]

okay serious question, where are all the bunny outfit! or bunny!character fic for easter? where y’all at? what happened to that. we used to be a proper team here

[stardancerluv]

Petal and the Beast

Summary: You wake up in Michael’s bed after a night of drinking and flirtatious behavior.

Notes/Warnings: 18+ only, adult consensual flirting, drinking (be safe) F goes home with stranger (never do this!) adult language.

Had to write something with Michael from Hoard. There will be a few chapters for him and his F!Reader. How Joe looked in the clip I needed to write something! ❤️s are appreciated…so are reblogs! Feedback is also welcome! Wanna be tagged, just let me know.

*Oh, you’re awake.”

You blinked in the low light of the room. Glancing in the direction of the deep raspy voice, you gasped. You covered your mouth with your hand.

The night came crashing down on you.

You had been stood up. You had been nursing your fourth cocktail when he walked up. His dark curls, the hint of a chain laying against his chest under the black button down.

“What’s a pretty girl like you, leaning against my spot all alone?”

“Who said I was alone?”

He only chuckled, making his cynical mouth curl into a smirk. With a quick motion of his hand and a cold one was placed right in front of him.

He took a swig and brushed his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“So are ya going to tell me or will I have to start inventing stories?” His tone was brisk, almost bored it made you wonder why he even cares to ask.

You finally relented. You knew you couldn’t win against him. “Set up through friends. He never showed.”

“Fucking loser.”

“Hey, maybe his car broke down.”

He rose an eyebrow. “You’re defending him now, almost five drinks in?”

You pressed your lips together. “Alright, fucking loser.”

The curls on his head bounced as he threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Knew it.”

The night had crawled on. More drinks had been had, it wasn’t long before you longed to feel him, touch him. You knew he noticed and you welcomed, anything that came from him. You could practically feel yourself grow hungry for it.

At one point, he had grabbed you to stop from being a little wobbly. His large hands certainly knew how hold you in place. They did even a better job when he held you to him to kiss if it could even be considered that. More like devouring between two very hungry people.

“We only kissed. I like when my girls actually respond to me and my touch.”

His voice interrupted, your imagination. You were keen in wanting more to have happened the night before.

He finished towel drying his hair and drew close. You could smell the crisp scent of his soap, it made you tremble and the hunger you felt from last night returned.

“I have to head into work soon sweetheart. You are gonna have to run along.”

“But..but.”

A smirk curled his lips once again.

“Look darling, maybe some other time.”

You reached out and managed to tug on the white tank top he was already wearing. “Please?”

He looked you up down and grabbed your chin, tilting your face so your eyes met his.

“Now if we do, sweetheart. Don’t be catching feelings since I saved you from weaving and wobbling home by your lonesome last night, alright?”

“Yes.” You agreed in a soft voice, defeat in your heart.

“Yes, what?”

Your stomach immediately knotted furiously. You could taste your desire for him.

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, for the first time since you met him. “That’s my sweet petal. I like the sound of that.” And he let go of your chin. “Now be a good girl and take off my white t-shirt.”

[wheels-of-despair]

Can't Help Falling In Love Pairing: Michael (Hoard) x You Summary: You hit it off with someone else's date at a wedding. Contains: Instant attraction, horny thoughts, Elvis covers, ditched dates, and the beginning of a happily ever after. Words: 3.5k

Youths and ageless blogs, Do Not Interact. Writer WILL block you.

"Oh god, she's actually brought the bin man."

"Hm?" you hum, forcing your eyes to slide back into focus.

Charlie, your boyfriend of 3 months, has dragged you to a cousin's wedding. You're seated at a gaudy table in a venue that's probably bankrupted the bride's parents. You're bored, you're sick of smiling politely each time you're introduced to someone who won't even pretend they're attempting to learn your name, and you're seriously considering just walking out and catching a cab and blocking this guy's number. Why are you even here?

"My cousin Chloe," he says under his breath. "She's dating a dustbin man. Mum didn't think she'd be brave enough to actually bring him. But she's such a horrific bitch, perhaps the bin man is the only one who can stomach her. This should be fun. Hello, my darling cousin!" He stands and embraces her. Her date stands awkwardly at her side in an ill-fitting suit, looking almost as happy to be here as you are.

Polite introductions are made, and the couple joins you at your table.

"So Michael, what do you do for work?" Charlie asks. So much for subtlety. Chloe glares. Michael shifts uncomfortably.

"I'm a b--"

"He's a businessman," she cuts him off. Her date stares at the tacky centerpiece.

"Oh? What kind of business?" You wonder if your heel has the power to penetrate Charlie's fancy dress shoes and draw blood.

"Erm…" Michael bites his lip.

"Finance," she answers for him, giving her cousin a chilling glare before turning her icy eyes to you. "And you, dearie? What sort of business are you in?"

You hate these fucking people.

Before you can answer, someone makes a noisy entrance that draws everyone's attention.

"Oh, Aunt Margie's here, let's go say hi!" Chloe exclaims. She and Charlie get up and scurry away toward an old lady, leaving you and Michael at the table alone. After an awkward smile and a moment of silence, you have to break it.

"Been together long?" you ask.

"A few months," he mutters. "You?"

"Same," you answer.

Silence.

"Glad we weren't the last to arrive," Michael says. Good, he's feeling this silence too.

"I was worried about us being late too," you smile. "What's your excuse?"

"She couldn't decide which shoes to wear."

"That's probably a more socially acceptable reason than mine," you laugh. "Couldn't get my door to close."

Michael's brow furrows.

"It sticks sometimes, but today, it just would not close," you explain. "Charlie yanked and yanked and finally got it to shut. If I can't get back in, I'm gonna kick his ass."

"He hasn't tried to fix it for you?"

"Does he look like the rugged handy-man type to you?"

You and Michael both look toward your dates, who are giggling in a crowd of their finely dressed relatives in an attempt to secure their surely sizeable inheritance, then back to each other to share a smirk. He belongs here about as much as you do.

"Any idea what's causing it?" he asks.

"No," you answer. "I keep meaning to look closer, but every time I'm headed out, I'm usually in a hurry. And it works fine when I come home, so I say I'll do it tomorrow… and then forget about it until it sticks again."

"A vicious cycle," he smiles, warm and teasing. You laugh, feeling more relaxed now than you have all night. "I'd start by making sure the hinges and the strike plate are tight. Do you have a screwdriver?"

"The fuck do you know about home repair?" Chloe spits from behind him. The smile on his face fades, and his eyes drift down to the table. It's like she pressed a button and shut him down.

The cousins sit back down and talk loudly about their crazy aunt, but their words don't register. You can't take your eyes off of Michael. The look on his face makes your heart ache. How do you fix it?

"That's a really good idea, about the hinges and the strike plate," you tell him quietly. He looks up at you slowly, caution shining in his big brown eyes. "I'll check those out as soon as I get home. Thank you."

He gives you a tiny smile. You want to crush him in a hug.

Wait, what?

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asks.

"My door," you answer shortly, finally breaking eye contact with Michael to survey the room full of people you don't know.

"And Michael the businessman knows how to fix it?" Charlie asks smugly. Michael's face flushes red, his eyes downcast once again. Chloe glares at her cousin.

"He had a helpful suggestion, which is more than I can say for Mr. I Don't Know, Call A Professional," you quip.

That shuts him up.

"Would every one take their seats, please, so the ceremony can begin!" someone yells from the other side of the room.

Everyone returns to their seats and quiets down, and the ceremony begins. A song plays on an organ, a bride is walked down an aisle in the distance, old ladies dab at their eyes… probably. Your attention is on the bead of sweat rolling down Michael's thick neck.

What if you just leaned over and licked it away?

He looks over at you, as if he knows what you're thinking, and smiles. Now it's your turn to blush. You force your eyes in whatever direction you imagine the vows are being exchanged and hope he hasn't actually read your mind. What the fuck is wrong with you?

When the ceremony is over, everyone stands as the bride and groom leave the room together. Sweat still drips down Michael's neck. The collar of that stiff suit must be drenched.

"Charlie! Chloe!" someone shouts from across the room, snapping you out of it.

The cousins get up without a word, leaving you alone with Michael again. Normally you'd be offended by their rudeness, but right now, you don't mind at all.

"I'm sorry about him," you say quietly. "And her too, now that I think about it."

"S'alright," he mumbles.

"It's not," you argue. "They're both being dicks. And to the only person I even like at this stupid thing."

He smiles, showing off his dimples. Adorable.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," he complains, pulling at his collar.

"Want to go outside for a bit?" you ask.

He looks toward the cousins, who are laughing with a crowd of people you have no interest in meeting.

"I think they've already forgotten we're here," you laugh.

"Let's go, then," he grins.

You grab your purse and follow him out of the crowded building, staying close as you dart past all the mingling friends and relatives, until you reach a shady spot on the backside of the building.

"Thought I was going to die in there," he pants, fighting with his tie. "How do you get this stupid thing…"

"May I?" you ask. He nods. You step closer and begin untying his tie. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. He's pulled it tight, making it harder to get undone, but you don't mind taking your time. "There we go," you say softly, letting it hang loose. He reaches for the top button and struggles in his hurry to get it open. Your hands rise to his collar once more, moving his fumbling fingers aside and quickly unbuttoning several buttons to reveal a simple chain necklace and a smattering of freckles. He gasps for air dramatically.

"Better?" you ask, reluctantly dropping your hands back to your sides.

"My hero," he grins, glistening in the light of the setting sun.

God, what is this fucker doing to you?

The band starts warming up inside, and you both instinctively glance in the direction you came from.

"Should we go back?" he asks, suddenly nervous. "She's going to kill me for soaking this suit."

"What if we don't?" you ask.

His eyes flick to yours, and your heart stops. Why did you say that? He's literally on a date with with someone else! So are you!

"What if we don't?" he repeats slowly.

You stare at each other. Those big brown eyes have a hold on you. You feel like you're falling into them. Like Alice down the rabbit-hole. The smell of him swirls through your brain like a fog; he's sweaty, but not in an unpleasant way. It mixes with whatever cheap cologne he's splashed on to make something unmistakably male. It's intoxicating. You don't realize you're actually moving closer together until your lips meet his. They're so soft. They work with yours, not against them, in a dance that weakens your knees and makes your heart flutter.

A shrill laugh nearby brings you back to reality. You're suddenly aware that you're pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. You take a step back and glance around nervously, wondering if you were seen. You can hear other people talking around the corner, and smell the pungent flowers growing on the walkway nearby. The band is playing something vaguely familiar. You listen closer, and recognition dawns on both of your faces at the same time: "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Elvis Presley.

Without a word, Michael reaches for your hand. You slowly take it, and place your other hand on his shoulder; his comes to rest in the small of your back. You begin to sway with the song, just the tiniest bit, never taking your eyes off of his. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. There's something about the intensity of his gaze that makes you forget everything else. There is only Michael.

And his rock-hard erection that you just brushed against.

"Fuck," he groans and backs away, "I'm sorry."

Your eyes glance downward to the python he's trying to conceal, then back to his eyes.

"You want to get out of here?" you ask.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes wide and fearful. Did you blow it? Of course you blew it, you both came here with other people. They may be dicks, and you've been thinking about breaking up with him for weeks anyway, but…

"You're serious?"

Fuck it. You nod. So does he. And then you both laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"I, er… I rode here with her," he mumbles, chewing on his lip.

A wicked thought occurs to you, and you dig in your purse and pull out a valet ticket.

"Guess who shoved his valet ticket in my face while he was ogling a pretty blonde he's probably related to?"

"He did not," Michael says, taking offense on your behalf.

"It's alright," you smile. "It all worked out in the end."

Michael grins.

"Come on," you laugh, reaching for his hand. You take the long way around and eventually find the valet lot. You hand over your ticket and wait for your ex-boyfriend's car to arrive.

"Woah," Michael says when the ugly sports car comes into view.

"Daaaddy bought it for him," you roll your eyes. "Wanna drive?"

"What?" His eyes dart from the approaching car to you. "Really?"

You shrug.

"You serious?" he asks.

"I mean, you can drive, right? You've got a license?"

"Yeah?"

"Then what's the problem? Scared to defile two of Charlie's possessions in the same night?"

He seems stunned for a moment, then a grin grows on his pretty face as the car comes to a stop.

"No problem at all, miss," he smiles, darting forward to open the passenger door for you. You sink down into the seat, he gently closes the door. He thanks the valet and hands the man a few bills. You fasten your seatbelt to keep yourself from slipping and sliding all over the leather seat.

He gets in and looks around, trying to get his bearings in the strange little vehicle. He inspects the gear shift and locates the turn signals, then pets the steering wheel and looks at you with a child-like grin on his face. You lean back against the headrest and sigh fondly, never wanting to take your eyes off of him. He's adorable.

"Where to?" he asks, straightening and suddenly serious.

You point him in the direction of home, and he takes off. He's a little awkward at first, but he gets the hang of the car in no time. He even grows confident enough to drive with one hand, and rests the other on your leg. The feeing of his rough, calloused hand on your smooth thigh nearly drives you mad. The ride takes entirely too long, and you admire your self-restraint for not telling him to pull over and take you on the hood of this tiny, stupid car.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally parks near your building. He turns off the engine, takes a deep breath, and looks at you with uncertainty.

"You still want to do this?" you ask quietly, praying that he says yes.

"You have no fucking idea."

"Let's go, gorgeous," you order.

He leaps out of the car and rushes around to open your door for you. He helps you out and follows you into your building. You make it up the steps and fumble with your keys, cursing your stupid door that won't open. You're about to offer to let him take you in the hallway when he gently moves you aside, applies pressure on the knob with his hands, and pushes with his shoulder. The door pops open.

As soon as you step inside, his mouth is on yours. You drop your purse and kick the door shut, and he pushes you up against it. You moan into his mouth. You can't remember the last time you wanted anyone this bad. And that includes the entirety of the relationship you've just abandoned.

There's no time to walk all the way to the bed. Hell, there's no time to shuffle to the couch. He takes you against the door the first time, your dress rucked up and his pants unzipped. He ruts into you with such force, you wonder if it's going to break the door in half. And then he reaches a spot inside of you that you didn't know existed, and you stop caring about anything but him.

You lose the rest of your clothes and make it to the couch for round two.

You don't make it to the bed until round three.

That's when it happens.

You'd happily stare into those beautiful brown eyes all night long, but he hits a rhythm that has you both squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. All you can do is grip whatever's in reach and hold on tight as you feel your release build… and build… and build…

And then a blinding flash of pleasure washes over you. You've never felt anything like it before. Is this what writers mean when they say someone saw stars? Michael keeps pumping in and out of you, and the feeling doesn't stop. An ungodly noise rises in your throat, and he buries his face in your neck and comes with a grunt and one final thrust, his deepest yet.

Your ecstasy fades slowly. You can't move. You can't focus on anything but the way he makes you feel. You lie there, panting and sticking together for several minutes, until he finally raises his head to look at you. You both laugh when you make eye contact.

"You alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," you breathe, feeling weak and a little confused.

"Never had that happen before."

"Never had what happen before?" you ask.

"Made a girl squirt."

It hits you like a ton of bricks. You raise your head and see that you are indeed lying in a wet spot on the sheets.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you laugh as your head hits the pillow.

"I mean, I've tried, but…" he shrugs, looking embarrassed.

You reach a hand into his sweaty curls and pull him in for a kiss. He looks happy, but confused when he pulls away.

"I've never had a guy do that to me before, either."

"Seriously?" His eyes are ablaze.

"Yeah," you laugh.

"That was a first for both of us?"

You nod, basking in the excitement on his face that you helped create. He leans back down for another kiss, which you enthusiastically return. When he pulls back, you can't help but feel disappointed. You cup the side of his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb, not ready to be apart just yet. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. Will you ever be able to get enough of him?

"Wanna try for a second?" you ask.

"Oh fuck," he moans, coming back down to continue your kiss, already getting hard again.

While you're recovering from another blissfully successful round, someone starts banging on your door.

At 2:37 am.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you gripe, rolling out of bed and throwing on the first clothes you can get your hands on. Michael looks terrified. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about him," you tease, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "I'll be right back.

You leave Michael in bed and stomp to the door. You know exactly who it is. "What?" you snap through the door, reaching up quietly to engage the chain lock. Just in case he's grown a pair in the last few hours.

"You fuckin' left me, that's what!" Charlie roars.

"And it only took you all night to notice!" you chirp sarcastically.

"Is the fucking bin man in there with you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I fucking knew it! You nasty whores deserve each other!"

"You kiss your boss's ass with that mouth?"

"Open the door."

"It's stuck."

He groans loudly and kicks it.

"Yeah, that'll help," you deadpan. "What do you want?"

"I want my shit, you crazy bitch! We're done!"

"Ask me nicely."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

You laugh and leave him to his tantrum as you fetch a paper grocery bag and begin shoving his stuff inside: body wash, deodorant, razor, a few articles of clothing and a shirt that you'd definitely used to sop up some of the fluids you and Michael had leaked onto the mattress.

Michael sits on the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist, looking fearful. You give him a wink before you leave the room. You pick up some of the clothes you'd scattered across the living room floor, looking for the car keys, and finally locate them underneath Michael's pants. You toss the keys in the bag, fold the top down, and grip the knob. You open the door just enough to slide the bag through.

"There's your shit. Don't come back."

And then you shut the door in his stunned face, lock it, and return to bed.

Michael still looks nervous. You crawl into his lap and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Don't worry about him," you smile, "he's a spoiled brat who throws tantrums whenever he doesn't get his way, but he's harmless. Rich kids can't fight for shit. You, though? I bet you could scrap with the best of 'em."

Michael bites his lip and stares off to the side. You cup his face and stroke his cheeks, wishing he'd tell you what's bothering him.

"You know I'm not really a businessman, right? I'm just a bin man."

You laugh and capture his lips in a kiss, remembering to mumble an "I know, baby," at some point, which makes his whole body relax. You fall back onto the bed together, limbs tangled and mouths hungry.

You ride him 'til dawn.

The pair of you finally begin to wind down as the sun starts to rise. You lie facing each other, satisfied and sticky and too tired to do anything about it. You wish you could stare into those beautiful eyes forever, but sleep is calling you.

"If you want to clear out before I wake up, it's alright. I'll understand," you say softly. Inside, you're screaming and begging him to stay. But what if he doesn't feel the same?

He thinks about it for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "Would it be alright if I stayed?" he asks, almost like he's afraid of the answer. The feeling of relief that floods through you is so intense, you wonder if you're going to pass out. "I can fix your door in the morning," he adds quickly, like he needs a reason to stay.

"You don't have to do that," you smile. Worry clouds his face. "But if you really wanted to, I'm sure I could find some way to repay you," you smirk. His eyes widen. "Would it be alright if I made you breakfast?"

Now it's his turn to be relieved. He smiles and throws an arm over you to pull you closer.

"Would it be alright if I never, ever left?" he mumbles into your hair.

"Yeah," you sigh, getting comfortable in his embrace. "That'd be alright."

[catherinnn]

everyone is talking about this hoard audio and I CAN'T FIND IT ANYWHERE, IT'S GETTING REALLY FRUSTRATING

so if you have it PLEASE send it to me :)

[delicate-luv]

i am so very excited for Hoard! I can already tell this is going to show a new side of Joseph’s talent. (and I love when women direct🥰)

[pollenallergie]

in case you were wondering, yes i do still hc older!tom grant as looking exactly like michael from hoard and, if anything, the new picture(s) that were leaked/released have only further solidified that.

[lou-struck]

Made with Love Part 1

Obey Me Brothers and Datables x reader

Part 2 HERE

MASTERLIST !

~After Luke uses a bowl from Solomon's Lab to make some Cookies for the Valentines Day party. Everyone starts acting a bit... Love Drunk.

a/n: I hope you guys like this little Valentine's Day series! If you want to be tagged in part 2 Comment Below!

Introduction:

As the Angel reaches up on his tiptoes to reach an upper kitchen cabinet, Luke's little white beret slips from his white blonde head. The sweet smell of angelic sugar cookies wafts through the air around him from the dozens of batches he has made today. From what he has 'sampled' earlier, he can tell that if he were to wrap them up right now, even Barbatos would have seconds. But he wants to frost and decorate the little heart-shaped cookies with a whipped-cloud icing you like before bringing them to Diavolo's castle for his Valentine's Day celebration.

The party may be small, but it was planned especially with you in mind. 

Although he was up in the Celestial Realm running an errand for Michael, Luke heard all about the little prank that Solomon played on Simeon and the others about some evil, human-world monster called Cupid that was trying to steal you away. 

You were never in any real danger, but he and everyone else agreed that the prank made the day less enjoyable for you. Which is the last thing anyone wanted. 

Meetings were held, contracts were signed, and it was agreed that for this Valentine's Day, there would be no funny business. 

Today has to be perfect for you, so his cookies need to be frosted.

Fueled by his good-natured desire to make you something sweet, Luke is able to reach just a bit higher, his fingertips grabbing the ceramic mixing bowl by its patterned edge. 

This victory is short-lived, however, as it slips past his butter-coated fingers and thuds to the ground, the heavy bowl splitting in two.

The broken bowl in front of him causes the Angel to feel a bit distressed. Why couldn't he be bigger?

To clean up the fallen pieces.

But as his kitchen timer takes down slowly he realizes that he's running out of time. He has to get the frosting made soon.

"Where are all the other mixing bowls?" he wonders aloud as he looks through the other cabinets and dishwasher, finding none. 

He knows that there are more than just the ones he has been using for the batter. But where are they?

He puffs out his little cherub cheeks with a pout as he tries to think where they could've gone.

And then, it hits him.

Solomon…

The Sorcerer has a habit of 'borrowing' things from the kitchen, bringing them into his Lab, hoarding them, and not bringing them back for weeks. The batch of cookies in the oven only has a few minutes left, so he wastes no time scampering up to the Lab to retrieve the stolen mixing bowls.

Thankfully, the dark wooden door to the Lab is unlocked, and he slips inside. Every step is anxious for the little Angel. You never know what is crawling about Solomon's Lab. 

This time, the air is unusually sweet, like cotton candy and pomegranate seeds. 

The mouthwatering smell has the angeling giggling to himself, although Solomon can't cook an edible meal to save his life, some of the spells and potions he cooks up can be classified as tasty.

From the corner of his eye, Luke sees a small stack of his mixing bowls on the countertop. But as he gets close, he sees that they are completely filthy, covered in remnants of some experiment.

Luke knows not to try to touch those ones; after all, the last time he tried to clean some of Solomon's dishes, he ended up cursed with webbed feet for a whole day. 

As he shudders from the memory, he spots a light blue bowl on the edge of another table. 

It's his favorite bowl; this one would be perfect for him to use to make the frosting. 

The best part is it looks clean. 

BUZZ...

The sharp ringing of the kitchen timer causes the little Angel to jump as he hastily grabs the bowl and runs downstairs so his cookies won't burn. 

But in his rush to prevent what he thinks would be the day's biggest disaster, he fails to notice the small layer of shimmery glaze that has gathered at the bottom of the bowl.

~

There is Love in the dark, chilly air of the devildom as you make your way to the Demon Lord's castle. Your feet are not quite running, but they step with an embarrassed quickness, 

The Valentine's Day outfit that Asmodeus picked out for you earlier had caused a few delays, so now you worry you are running late to the party. 

How can one shirt have so many different types of buttons and zippers?

A part of you wonders if the Avatar of Lust had given you this particular outfit to distract you and prevent you from leaving for the party with the other brothers. 

Your hands pat the back pockets of your jeans again as you feel the solid outline of your DDD through the fabric and sigh in relief. Barbatos wrote on the invitations that bringing the device was necessary for today's events since he had planned a few party games that required them. 

It's then you notice a little figure dressed in white slowly making his way up the path just ahead of you. 

Luke's steps are as small as he awkwardly carries a large container. You are about to ask him if he needs any help, but the look of determination on his face tells you not to try and take it from him, so instead, you raise a friendly hand and call after him.

When he sees you, he stands up a bit straighter. 

"Mc, Happy Valentine's Day." he beams. 

"Thank you, Luke." you look down at the box curiously. "Whatcha got there?"

The little Angel's cheeks turn a bit pink as he looks shyly away from you. "I made angelic sugar cookies for the party.

Your grin is elated at his words. "Those are so good. That was very thoughtful of you, Luke."

He perks up like a little dog at your compliment. "It was nothing, I made that frosting you like too, but I didn't have all the ingredients I needed, so only a few were frosted."

"I'm sure everyone will love them." you smile purposely, making your strides small so the little guy can keep up with you. "Did you remember to bring your DDD for the party games?"

His blue eyes widen in shock, and he looks at you with an expression of pure distress. "Oh no, I knew I was forgetting something."

"Since you have that big box of cookies, I can just run back to Purgatory Hall and grab it for you." you offer with a kind smile. "Where did you leave it."

He looks at you gratefully, and his shoulders relax as much as he can with that huge box of cookies in his hands. "You would really do that for me? Thank you, you're the best Mc; I think I left it on the kitchen counter."

Sounds good, I'll see you in a little bit." you smile. As you turn around, you remember one more thing. "Make sure to save a cookie for me."

"Don't worry," he calls back happily. "I will."

~

The enormous doors part for Luke in an almost haunting manner as he approaches the castle door. He fights the shudder as he steps inside, clutching his box of cookies with a death grip as his ears pick up the faint sound of conversation. 

He follows it closer and closer to the banquet hall, where he was told the party would be held. 

As the sounds grow louder, he can make out the excited rambling of Leviathan, the loud and merry laughter of Diavolo, and the animated squealing of Asmodeus. 

Although they are demons, their happy chatter soothes his nerves as he pushes open the door with his shoulder. 

The conversation in the room dies as the door creaks open. And when he steps out from behind the wood, he notes that everyone has been staring at him. When everyone sees it's just him, they quickly return to their usual conversations. 

"I'm glad you could make it, Luke," Barbatos says with a polite smile, being the first one to recover from the momentary disappointment. 

Simeon approaches the smaller Angel friendlily, placing a hand on top of Luke's head and ruffling his hair. "It seems everyone heard you approaching and assumed you were Mc."

"It could've been." he mumbles embarrassedly, "I had forgotten something back at home, and they offered to get it for me so I could bring over the cookies."

"Cookies?" Beel says, his head snapping towards Luke with gluttonous intent.

Luke's fondness for the Avatar of Gluttony's interest in his sweets causes him to smile and place the box on the table.

He removes the first layer of beautifully frosted cookies for all to see. "Yeah, I made these for the party. That's why I was running late today. 

"Smells good," Beel mutters, taking a slow step toward the tray of cookies. Luke is so proud of the attention he garnered that he doesn't realize that everyone else is staring at the plate as well, enthralled by the sweet smell. 

"Ohhh, they're soooo cute." Asmodeus gushes, holding up the heart-shaped cookie with his freshly manicured nails. The little red heart decals stand out on the glossy pink background.

Lucifer clears his throat. "May I try one?" he asks, "I do not have the biggest sweet tooth, but since it is a Holiday, I may as well."

"S-sure." the Angel replies, as everyone reaches for a cookie. There are only a few left on the plate, so he decides to wait to have one himself until you get here.

"Thank you, Luke, these look delicious," Barbatos says, removing his white glove before touching the gooey sweet. 

Luke watches as everyone takes a bite of the cookies, his heart feeling full when he hears the sounds of approval as they chew. 

"Wow," these are really good," Levi says, being the first to try to take another cookie.

"Wait," he says quickly, snatching the plate off the table. "These are Mc's favorite; let's wait until they get back to eat another one.

Lucifer giggles and stumbles back clumsily. "Yay, Mc's coming…" The dreamy lift in his tone makes Luke's eyes go wide in alarm. 

Something is wrong. 

Are they drunk???

"Mc…Cutie Pie." Satan hums; the usual sharp intelligence in his expression is gone and replaced with giddy lovesickness.

There is a haze to the Prince's eyes and a ruddiness to his cheeks as he nods thoughtfully. "I'll bring this plate up to my chambers. I want to feed them every bite myself. 

"No way," Levi says way too confidently. "If anyone will be alone in a room with Mc. It will be me.

Barbaots stretches his arms out lethargically. "I'm… going to lay down in my room." he yawns. "Tell Mc to come to my room when they get here."

"You're tired, Barbatos?" Belphegor asks, the Avatar of Sloth looking wide awake."

"Yer not?" Mammon slurs, his pupils dilated. Luke turns and looks into the Avatar of Greed's eyes and sees that his pupils are now heart-shaped. 

"How could I be?" the youngest of the seven answers. "Mc is coming soon, and I don't want to waste my time sleeping when I can be looking at them. 

"Do you think Mc would give me a piggyback ride?" Beel hums absentmindedly. 

"Course they would." Mammon gushes. "Mc is super strong and pretty and smart. And….~" his love-sick rambling is cut off by a dark chuckle from Simeon. 

"No way," he coos. "You would crush them if you jumped on their back. You clearly don't know how to treat someone as special as Mc. 

"And you do?" Levi laughs.

Simeon's smile is sinful. "Let's just say once I had my turn with them, Mc won't be thinking about any of you."

"That's so inappropriate." Asmodeus gasps with wide eyes. "I-i can't have you speaking about Mc like that." he covers his ears with his hands to block out the sound. 

"Some Avatar of Lust you are," Simeon smirks, leaning in and using his writer's brain to get a bit descriptive with what he would like to do to you when you get to the party. 

"What is wrong with you guys?" Luke stammers as he tries to block out Simeon's sinful words. 

With everyone else thinking about nothing but you, Solomon shyly taps a rather distressed Luke on the shoulder. His cheeks are a soft shade of pink as he stares down at the floor, "I-i think I know what is happening…"

~Why was in those cookies??? Find out what happens next in part 2

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[spectersgf]

harvey specter x reader idk they meet in a book store (maybe the reader could run it?) never giving each other last names or smhting. but the reader is mikes sister and mike tells her all about harvey but no one manges to connect teh dots? idk you have free control i just thought something like that where the reader has nothing to do wiht his work life and is really soft and sweat .

— bookstores and brothers 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter × reader (+ mike ross & reader are siblings)

summary: a hotshot lawyer walks into a café bookstore and meets a pretty barista. the world is smaller than he thinks.

warnings: none! kinda suggestive but nothing crazy

wordcount: 3.7k (yikes!)

a/n: first request! sorry this was so horrifically late but hopefully the length makes up for it? but also not proofread OOPS. (more rambling at the end <3)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

Ever since your brother, Michael, started making the big bucks at his job as a fraud lawyer, he had decided to invest in you — your business, that is. With his investment, you were able to follow your dream of opening a bookstore-meets-café, with a small apartment atop the store. Your store was popular enough that you were able to live comfortably; you had a community of regular readers who came for your books (especially since you’d always fulfil requests) and a hoard of regulars that came for your coffee. Your coffee was easily the best in the area, and people even went out of their way to get coffee from you.

Someone who went out of their way for your coffee, though you didn’t know this, was Harvey. You knew very little about him; he was a very attractive man who came in at 8:30am, like clockwork, for his black coffee with vanilla and sugar. You were rarely able to converse with him for very long or in a lot of detail, but you had assumptions. He was maybe a banker or some kind of lawyer like your brother, but the only thing you knew for sure was his coffee order and the fact that he wore a three-piece suit every day. On particularly warm days, he’d forgo either the jacket or the vest, both of which were welcome options. On particularly cold days, he wore a scarf and gloves, and even a coat. His hair was always styled the exact same and he had the most wonderful crow’s feet and smile lines. 

This morning, Harvey took you by surprise by coming in earlier than normal. He came in at 8:17am exactly. It was a warm day so he was without his vest, but other than that he was in his normal attire. Since you were having a slower morning this morning, you started his coffee as soon as you saw him approach. By the time he was in the door and at your counter, you’d finished making his coffee and his cup was ready on the counter. You were feeling bold and flirty and had drawn a heart next to his name on the cup and it was visible to him when he stood in front of you.

“Good morning, Harvey.” You were feeling very cheery this morning, and even more so after seeing him walk in the door. 

“Good morning, Y/N. That for me?” He was eyeing the cup on the counter that was very obviously for him, typical smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eye.

“No, it’s a black coffee with sugar and vanilla for the other Harvey in my life.” You teasingly rolled your eyes as he picked up the cup. You weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you, but it seemed like he was being careful to not smudge your penmanship on the cup.

“Well, it’s a good thing this other Harvey isn’t here so I can have his coffee.” He took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the temperature and smiled. “Perfect as always. Crazy how this other Harvey drinks the exact same niche coffee that I do, hm?”

You bared your teeth in a cheeky smile. “So crazy,” you replied. “Did you want a pastry or anything?” You gestured towards the display case of freshly baked goods, pausing at your favourite. “This one goes down a real treat.”

“How about a rain check on the pastry, and you can bring it with you when I make you dinner tomorrow night at my apartment?” he asked, feeling equally as bold and flirty as you were. He supplemented his question with a warm smile, his entire demeanour oozing confidence. 

“Oh? The elusive Harvey idon’tknowyourlastname asking me on a date, I see?” you teased, though internally you were screaming: ‘YES! I would love dinner with you!’ 

“You’re cute. Is that a yes? Maybe I’ll tell you my last name when you come over.” He was reciprocating your teasing, which you thoroughly enjoyed. You always appreciated a man who could keep up with your humour. 

“I have a better idea. Come back after I close up shop and we can have a reading date. The best way to get to know someone is through the books they like to read.” You smiled shyly, nervous to be rejected, though Harvey didn’t seem like the type of man to rudely reject your ideas. 

His warm smile was all the confirmation you needed. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out the other half of your establishment for some time. I need some enrichment in my life.”

“Well, if by enrichment you mean a cheesy romance, I’m your girl. I have a bad habit of stocking my favourites and I am a romantic at heart, so that’ll make up a lot of what you find here. I have other stuff, too, but I just gravitate to a good romance book,” you rambled. You blushed when you finally caught yourself, smiling as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well, clearly I need some romance in my life. I’ll be here this evening.” He didn’t seem put off by your rambling which you were grateful for. Your stomach buzzed with excitement as you nodded.

“See you this evening.”

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

Harvey had just signed off for the day and was slipping his jacket over his shoulders when Mike Ross walked into his office.

“Haven’t we talked about you not barging in here unannounced?” He asked, only half joking with his associate.

“We both know you don’t care anymore,” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “And where are you going? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “5:30. Why do you get to leave but I’m stuck here late?”

“First of all, it’s none of your business where I’m going. And second, I did my time working 23 hours a day. And third, it’s none of your business.” Harvey made the decision to take off his tie as he spoke, wanting to feel more comfortable and casual while he was with you.

“Removing your tie, too? You have a hot date tonight. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

“Mike. Shut up.” 

Mike laughed at Harvey’s reaction. “Alright, have fun old man. Use protection!” He shouted as Harvey walked out of his office, no longer entertaining Mike’s discussion. 

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrived much earlier than close. You were unusually busy this evening and hadn’t even noticed Harvey walk into the store as you finished the line of coffees in front of you. You finally finished and swapped with your employee to take over as cashier when a familiar voice ordered a familiar, but niche, coffee.

“Can I get a large black coffee with vanilla and sugar? But can the pretty barista make it and sign my name with a heart like she did this morning?” he teased, smiling as he saw you.

“Harvey! You’re early, I’m not off yet,” you replied, brow furrowed with concern.

“I was finished for the day and thought I’d come in early and chill here. And by finished for the day, I mean distracted and eager.”

“And by chill here, you mean bug me until I’m done?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

“Something like that,” he replied, the look in his eye matching yours. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to hope you meant me when you said ‘pretty barista’ and I’ll bring your coffee over to you in a second.” A warm blush tinted your cheeks as you spoke, swapping places with your confused barista once again.

You quickly made Harvey’s coffee and signed his cup with a heart as he’d requested. After making a mocha for yourself, you spoke to your employees, asking them to take over for you now that the rush had started to slow down for the night. You removed your apron and took your hair out of its loose bun and found Harvey sitting on a sofa in the bookstore portion of your shop.

“Coffee for the gentleman.” You held the coffee cup out for him to take, the side with his name written on it facing towards him. “I would’ve made it in a mug but I had a weird request from the guy ordering it.”

You took a seat next to him and brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip and letting out a quiet hum of appreciation for your drink. He looked at you quizzically as you did so, expecting you to have to get back to work. 

“I managed to get off early. Perks of being the owner.” You smiled over your cup as you slipped off your shoes and got comfortable on the sofa. 

“I don’t think I ever registered that you were the owner here. It’s like, I knew but didn’t know. Does that make sense?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his regular coffee.

“It does. Kinda. My brother Michael helped make it happen, he’s a lawyer at some hotshot firm and invested in me and my little dream.” You gestured around the room as you spoke, smiling gratefully at the thought. 

“Did you know I’m also a lawyer at some hotshot firm?” he asked. His tone was light and playful, which you appreciated. 

“I did not. What’s it like, hotshot?” You tucked your feet under you and wrapped both hands around your cup, turning slightly so that your body was completely facing Harvey.

“Well, I’m the best closer in the city. I’m great at what I do and I love doing it. And I have an associate who is determined to become my mini-me. No complaints.” Deep smile lines framed his mouth like a piece of art as you admired him and took in his words.

“A mini Harvey, huh? Sounds like he looks up to you.” Despite your matter-of-fact tone, you were asking a question, curious to know his opinion on the matter.

“It seems like he does. I don’t ever say it but sometimes it feels like pressure. I’ve worked in the grey a lot and I worry about him following in my footsteps. I wouldn’t ever say that to him though.” He opened up to you, though neither of you had expected it. He was surprised by how easy you were to talk to and how quickly he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

“It does sound like a lot, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. My brother always tells me about his mentor; he says that despite making some questionable decisions, he’s great at what he does and he looks up to that. It’s probably a similar situation,” you told him sincerely, reaching out to place one hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. 

“His mentor sounds like a great lawyer. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” Harvey asked, obviously wanting to change the subject from his vulnerable state.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, I have the worst memory literally ever,” you reply, smiling shyly. “I’m good at remembering books, though! Shall we get stuck in?”

“Is this the part where you bombard me with a million love stories?” he teased, clearly amused but secretly excited. 

“God no. Just one. Or you can pick your own.”

“Do you like to reread books?” 

“Oh, I love to. I’ve reread almost all of my favourites.”

He looked at you smiling, amused once again by your answer. “How about this. Let’s read your favourite book together, and then next time we can read mine?”

“Oh? Next time? You’re that sure it’s going to go well tonight?” you asked teasingly, giggling to yourself. 

You stood up and walked to the shelving, immediately finding your current favourite book and pulling out two copies. You got comfortable on the sofa once again and handed one copy to Harvey. “This is a current favourite, but I haven’t had a chance to reread it yet. It’s a university-based hockey romance and the main character is a PhD student who’s half-Indian and vehemently hates hockey players. I loved it. If you don’t like it, please. Do not tell me. I can’t cope with that much heartbreak.”

You beamed at him and Harvey felt his heart melt at your expression. You were clearly passionate and excited to share this book with him, and he was looking forward to reading it; to seeing into a small piece of your soul.

The pair of you read together for about an hour. You kept to a similar pace and offered casual commentary and anecdotes from time to time. You had to resist the urge to spoil the plot, sometimes only offering quiet hums as opposed to full sentences. You gradually felt yourselves growing physically closer, until you were laying down with your head next to his leg and your hair draped across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. He was idly twirling a strand of your hair, only pausing to turn a page when necessary. 

You finished the chapter you were reading and made a mental note of where you were up to before snapping the book closed. “Okay, I think we should call it. I’m starving.” You looked up at him from where your head was resting and watched as he closed the book without his hand leaving your hair.

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Since you chose the book, I’ll choose the restaurant. Sound good?” he asked, looking at you with that smile. 

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” you replied, playfully teasing him.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

After the success that was reading and dinner that night, the pair of you went on another date. And another. And another. The pair of you got to know each other like the backs of your hands and became unashamedly infatuated with one another. Harvey told you about his brother, Marcus, and you told him about yours. You mostly focussed on childhood stories about your whizz-kid brother with the photographic memory, but you occasionally did update Harvey on your brother’s relationship with his mentor. All positive, but you sometimes did joke that he sounded like he could be a bit of a dickhead. 

After about a month of consistently seeing each other, you discussed meeting the family. You were in his apartment with your head on his lap, the pair of you laying in his big comfy bed.

“Well, I only have Michael. Our parents passed when we were pretty young and my grandma passed almost a year ago. So you only have to deal with my brother and my best friend. Super easy,” you told him, idly tracing his skin with your index finger. 

“I have my brother and his family; he’s got a wife and kids. And then my mother but we don’t talk. So a similar situation for you. Brother and some friends. I’d say you can meet my associate and colleagues but they’d grill me rather than you. So would Marcus, actually.”

You giggled at his words but stopped as the seriousness of your relationship started to set in. Talking about meeting the family was a big step for you considering how little family you had. Letting someone into that trauma felt extremely vulnerable but just as quickly as you felt nervous, you felt calm. You were ready for this. You wanted this with Harvey. You decided to mess with him regardless.

“So… You think you’re ready to meet the family, hm? That’s a pretty big step,” you started, pretending to be deadly serious.

“Oh? Is it now? You don’t want to meet my family?” he asked, tone playful but you could tell there was an undertone of nervousness when he spoke.

“Well, I don’t think two people engaging in a casual fling have any business meeting each other’s families. Don’t you agree?” you continued to tease, though Harvey couldn’t tell you were only teasing.

“Is that what you think this is? A casual fling?” The hurt was starting to show in his voice and you smiled, not at his pain, but at the fact that clearly the pair of you were on the same page with how serious your relationship had become.

“Is that not what you think it is? Do we need to have the what are we conversation?” The teasing lilt to your voice was obvious this time, which immediately eased Harvey’s nerves and put him out of his misery. He smiled at you, smile lines popping and his eyes sparkling once again.

“No conversation necessary, baby. You’re my girl and I’m your man.” He tugged on the piece of your hair that was wrapped around his finger, causing you to smile.

“My man? Too old for the boyfriend title, hm? Old man,” you joked, poking him in the abdomen. 

“I’ll show you old man,” he replied, flipping you so that you were pinned to the mattress under him. The pair of you were a giggly, smiley mess, both excited to have established what you were to each other. Both true romantics at heart.

The next morning Harvey left you in his bed, heading to the office after kissing you goodbye. You watched him get dressed and style his hair, finishing his process by skillfully tying his tie. You watched his hands move the whole time, thinking about how they were all over you the previous night, and you sighed contentedly. Once he left, you flopped back onto his bed, hair fanning out across the pillows as you inhaled your boyfriend’s scent. 

You spent the next few hours reading, gratefully taking advantage of your day off. You made yourself an at-home coffee and easily moved around Harvey’s lavish apartment whenever you wanted a change of scenery, taking full advantage of the space. At around midday, you placed a lunch order to pick up from your and Harvey’s favourite café and got dressed, opting for a pretty white sundress. You left your hair down in its natural form and quickly left Harvey’s building, picked up lunch, and headed in to his office building.

On your way to Harvey’s office you, surprisingly, bumped into your brother. 

“Mike? What are you doing here?” you asked, not expecting to see him today.

“Obviously I’m lawyer-ing, Y/N. What else?” he replied. His sassy tone was an exact mirror image of how yours sometimes was with Harvey, and the fact that you were siblings became extremely obvious if someone focussed on your mannerisms.

“You mean fake lawyer-ing?” you teased, tone matching his perfectly.

“Ha ha. What are you doing here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you, taking in your appearance in his place of work and the bag in your hand.

“Obviously I’m bringing lunch to my boyfriend, Michael. What else?” you mocked playfully, wide smile on your face.

“Boyfriend? Here? Who’s your boyfriend?” he started to ask, but before he could grill you, you spotted Harvey walking towards you.

“Hey, Harvey,” you beamed, greeting him with a warm smile as he walked up to you.

He leaned down to give you a quick peck, completely ignoring Mike’s presence. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled, smiling back at you. He finally turned to look at Mike. “Mike, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my associate that I’ve been telling you about, Mike-”

“Mike Ross,” you interrupted, smiling as the realisation set in. Harvey’s associate was your brother. Your brother’s mentor was your boyfriend. You threw your head back laughing once you realised, shocked that nobody had put the pieces together sooner. “Harvey, meet my brother. Michael Ross.”

The shared look on both of their faces was priceless. They looked at you as if you’d sprouted another head, which only made you laugh more. Both of them joined in once they realised the situation, with Mike being the first one to break the circle of laughs in the middle of the office.

“So this is the hotshot lawyer you’ve been basically ignoring me for?” he asked you, gesturing towards Harvey. “And this is the barista slash bookworm you’ve been dumping all your work on me for?” he asked Harvey, gesturing towards you. 

You both nodded and agreed with a perfectly in-sync, “Yes.”

Harvey looked between you both in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Your last name isn’t Ross.” He was asking a question without actually asking, as he often did.

“Very good observation, Harvey,” you replied.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mike chimed in, causing you to smile. The two of you had always been a sarcastic duo, irritating a lot of your older relatives in your younger years.

“Oh my god,” Harvey mumbled, “There’s two of them. Exactly alike. How did I not realise?”

“To answer your unasked question,” you started pointedly, focussing on your boyfriend and suppressing your giggles, “I took my mother’s maiden name as soon as I was able to. Y/N Ross just sounds ugly, and this way, I get to honour her.”

Both Harvey and Mike visibly softened at your explanation. Harvey snapped out of it after a moment. “You’ve been talking shit about me to your pretty sister?” he asked Mike, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“She was my sister before she was your girlfriend, man. That’s my right,” he replied, punching Harvey right back. “Speaking of, if you ever hurt her, I’ll-”

“What are you going to do? Fake lawyer him?” you jumped in at Harvey’s defence, keeping your voice quiet since you were still in a communal area.

“No, I was going to say I’d beat his ass.”

“Like you could. Have you seen his arms?”

“Okay, can you stop thirsting over my boss right in front of me? That’s disgusting.” Mike pretended to gag at your behaviour and you rolled your eyes in response.

“I can do so much worse, Michael,” you teased, pulling Harvey down by his tie to meet your mouth in a (relatively tame) kiss. Mike said nothing but walked away, muttering to himself about your ‘disgustingly inappropriate behaviour’. 

“Now that he’s finally gone,” you started after releasing Harvey from your hold and holding up the bag in your hand, “Lunch?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

oh my lord this was long. i wrote this in multiple sits. nonnie, i hope this was up to your standards. i hope i did your request justice. pls pls pls do give feedback. thank u so much for your request. there are more requests in my inbox which I'll be getting to in the coming days so send them in! for any suits characters, not just harvey! plus characters from other media! (warning, i know nothing about most things but if i can write for you, i will <3)

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

[tarjapearce]

Heyo, been a silent reader for quite the time, I was going thru x, right and find yum art of Miguel, from this user fangweaver . Find out they write. Checked the story attached But, gurl, I swear call me delulu but this is defo some stuff from OFAHB going on, Miorjah on A03 btw

Like, da tags,Miguel cheating on Dana, reader being Gabriella's mom, da fuck?

dis is yours and them

!!!!!

just letting u know.

Love ur works btw!

...

I don't even know what to feel about this?

Like... I don't wanna be quick into conclusions, but bad experiences in the past with my work being stolen and my ideas being cherry picked and tweaked are like... on full force right now.

That's definitely something of OFAHB. Specially the Dana cheating part and some parts of the premise, excluding the smut. (Yes, I already read it.) Even the span of time working in Alchemax...

Like... I don't know how many times I must say, That as long as you properly credit, we're good. But I truly don't hecking understand why people just do this. Fr.

The most ironic thing is that I was making some advance in the next chapter of it, cause I've been busy af with my job. But this is truly discouraging.

Like, what's the point of me writing shit if people just take my ideas and make them as own? Like... I don't wanna be that problematic user that hoards ideas and speaks up when things are happening. But how can I not when this keeps happening? Just because I don't update as frequently as I'd like, means this gives people the right to use my ideas at their whims.

This is my first time fully interacting with a fandom. Like actively creating and stuff.

But it's hard to keep it up when this sort of things keep happening.

First I got my fics translated without my permission on Wattpad. Then my Dr. Michael Stone gets this sort of treatment too. And now this?

Fuck. I'm done being nice.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Someone Special

(Steve Harrington x Reader) Fluff

Summary:Last minute Christmas shopping was not something that you had planned on, but neither was running into your high school crush. Can the festive period help bring you close together?

Word Count:2,630

This fic was written as a companion fic to the very lovely @slutty-thevampireslayer who has written her side as a Jonathan Byers x reader (which you should totally check out too!!)

Masterlist Steve Harrington Masterlist

It’s the day before Christmas Eve as you rattle down the road sitting next to your best friend in her car. It's a tight squeeze with the two of you and your suitcases packed into her small car, but it’s all a part of the holiday experience as you make your way into Hawkins.

“So, what have you got left to do before Christmas day?” Your friend asks you, above the sound of George Michael's smooth voice filtering through the car's radio.

“I've still got to do some shopping, try to find gifts for my parents.” You huff. Your parents were always tough people to get presents for, and although leaving it to the last minute wasn’t the smartest decision, you remained hopeful you would find the perfect gifts for them.

“Cutting it kind of close aren't you?” She laughed. She was right though, you only had one day to find the perfect gift for your parents.

“I know, I know” you cringe. “But I'm going to find something, I just know it.” You said confidently. 

“Well good luck with that!” she cheered. “I’ll see you on Christmas Day” she calls out to you as you make your way out of her car. This year you and your family were spending Christmas at her place, with both of your families coming together to enjoy the festive period.  

You rushed into the arms of your parents as you got to their house, hugging them tightly after not seeing them for a while. 

“It’s so nice to have my girl back home!” your mother gushed, cooing over you and instantly trying to push food on you, insisting that it was only her job as a mother to take care of you.

“It does feel good to be back.” you smiled. You looked around the living room, and everything was just how you remembered it, albeit ornately decorated with beautiful Christmas decorations and a tall, sparkling tree in the corner of the room.

You spend the evening getting settled and making yourself comfortable in your old childhood bedroom, as you get ready for bed. Knowing that tomorrow you were going to have to join the hoard of last minute shoppers in the mall.

You find yourself in the middle of the busy shopping centre, the bright lights and christmas music is slowly becoming overwhelming for you as you desperately sift through the shelves.You’d already found a nice sweater and scarf for your father, and now you were looking for a nice gift for your mother. 

Your attention is elsewhere because you’re so focused on finding something that you accidently collide into the broad sweater-covered chest of another shopper.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorr- Steve?” you begin to stutter out your apologies when you realise that you had accidentally bumped into the boy that you had had a crush on for all of your highschool years. 

He’s a little older, but that head of hair is no less luxurious as when you first laid eyes on it. His broad frame is snuggled into a deep wine-red cable-knit sweater that fits him to absolute perfection.

Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. That girl that had been the object of his affections all throughout his high school days, but had been too stupid and afraid not to ask out for fear of what it might have done to his role as ‘King Steve’ , was standing right in front of him. He cringes now, thinking back on how he used to be, always so concerned about what people thought of him, and in the end it never even mattered.

But now he’s here, in the middle of a crowded department store, quietly thanking whatever gods were up there, that he’s been given a second chance. A second chance to redeem himself, and show you that he’s grown up a lot since high school.

“So, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages?” he starts, keeping the conversation light.

“I’m doing well thanks, I’m back in town to spend the holidays with friends and family!” you smile “Just doing a little bit of last minute shopping. What about you, though? How are things with you?” 

“Things are good.” he nods, with a slight creeping flush rising to his cheeks. “Seem like we’re in the same boat with our last minute shopping trips though.” he chuckles with a pearly, boyish smile.

“Oh? Who are you shopping for?” you ask him.

“Robin.” he huffs. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great friend, but she is a hard one to nail down when it comes to gifts. Who are you shopping for?” he returns your question back to you.

“My mother. I just want to find something that she’s going to like.” you respond with a sigh. 

Steve’s eyes light up with an enthusiastic sparkle, like he's had a brilliant idea.

“Hey, how about we help each other find our gifts?” Steve offers. “Two heads are better than one, right?” that cheeky boyish smile gracing his features once more.

You smile, happily accepting his offer. Spending your Christmas eve doing last minute shopping was not your idea of a good time, but with Steve by your side, suddenly it didn't seem all that bad.

Steve had actually proved to be a great help in finding the perfect present for your mother, insisting that the dainty gold bracelet you had picked out for her was just the right thing. 

In turn you had helped him find a beautiful leather bound journal and pen set, as well as a book of poetry by Sappho that both you and Steve agreed that Robin would love.

With each of your successful gifts purchased, you and Steve had made your way to a little cafe in the centre of town. Sitting in a cosy corner of the cafe, each of you with your own mug of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate in your hands, talk turns to the big day tomorrow.

“So what’s happening in the Harrington household tomorrow?” you ask, sipping on your drink.

Steve looks a little sad all of a sudden, but he quickly masks it with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I was just going to spend it at home, dad’s away on one of his usual business trips, and mom doesn’t trust him not to let his hands wander, so they’re both three states away for Christmas.” he sighs dejectedly. 

“Wait, so you’re spending Christmas day by yourself?” you ask, your eyebrows drawing together in pity. You hate to imagine Steve all by himself in that big empty house.

“Yeah but it’s okay, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” He quickly brushes off.

“No.” you shake your head. “I won’t allow that. You’re spending Christmas with me, and my family. We’re all going to my friend’s house for the day.” You tell him with a smile.

“It’s fine, besides I wouldn’t want to impose on you and everyone else.” he frowns with a shake of his head.

“You’re not imposing, Steve.” you reassure him, reaching your hand across the table, placing your hand over his, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles softly. “I’m inviting you. Besides, the more the merrier I say!”

Maybe it was the sugar rush from the hot chocolate, or maybe it was the Christmas spirit in the air, but with the way your fingers are grazing against his knuckles as your eyes look sweetly into his, Steve can’t fight the warmth he feels deep in his chest. He can’t help but think how perfectly your hands fit together, and he hopes that you feel the same about him as he does about you.

You link your arm in Steve’s as you and your parents make your way to your friend’s house, carrying bags of presents on your arm as you walk up to the door.

You knock on the door and are immediately greeted by the welcoming smile of your friend who brings you into a tight hug. As he leans in close, she whispers in your ear.

“Tell me all about it.” she smirks, before pulling away from you to greet your parents, and Steve with a bright smile. She had been all too well aware of your crush on Steve in your high school years, jokingly teasing you about it whenever you would walk past him in the hallways between classes.

“Merry Christmas guys! Come in, come in!” she cheers as she gestures for you to make your way into her home.

You stay behind in the hallway as Steve and your parents go on in, wanting the chance to talk to her alone for a moment.

“I met him when I was shopping yesterday and we got to talking.” you say shyly “said he was spending Christmas day by himself, and I couldn’t bear the idea of him sitting all alone in that big empty house, so I invited him, I hope that’s okay with you?” you grimace, as she looks you over with an all-knowing smile.

“You know my mom always makes enough food to feed an army anyway!” she laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got a little confession of my own..” she trails off as you both make your way into her living room.

As you step through to the living room you see both your mom and your friend’s mom sitting beside each other on the sofa, chatting to Steve, who is now sat opposite Jonathan Byers. Your best friend’s high school crush, who you had in turn teased her about anytime she teased you about your crush on Steve.

“So, I happened to be walking around town yesterday, and I was admiring all the decorations, and the big tree in the town centre, and then I heard the sound of a camera going off behind me.” she begins to explain.  “I turn around to see Jonathan, there, camera-in-hand. Long story short, I invited him home for Christmas.”

You look over your friend’s shoulder to see both of your mothers gently grilling the poor unsuspecting boys on the couch about their relationships with their daughters. 

Both boys sporting matching flushed faces as they best try to answer the questions put to them.

“Why don’t we go over and help them out?” you smile at your friend, nodding your head over to your two guests.

“I think that’s a good idea.” she giggles as she links her arm with yours gently tugs you toward the couch.

You go to sit next to Steve, your shoulder bumping against his as you give him a shy smile. Steve takes this as his opportunity to lace his fingers between yours, to hold your hand like he always longed to. 

“So, Steve, how come you’re spending Christmas day with us, and not your parents?” your mother pries.

“Mom-” you start, ready to defend Steve from your mother’s invasive questions. You loved her, you really did, but your mother could sometimes be very nosy. However, Steve is all too happy to answer her as best as he can.

“What? I just want to know why this handsome young boy is suddenly choosing to spend his Christmas with my daughter, that’s all.” Your mother defends.

Steve’s face redden’s slightly out of embarrassment of having been called ‘a handsome young boy’ by your mother, but he plays it cool. Call him old fashioned, but Steve liked you a lot, and he really wanted your mother to like him too. He wanted to see you more than just for Christmas, and having the nod of approval from mom never hurt.

“Well, my parents are out of town this year, my father’s business has a conference meeting over in Arkansas, and so my mother went out to meet him a few days ago,” he explains. “And when I told y/n this, she very kindly offered to invite me here for Christmas.” Steve finishes, looking over to you with a rosy smile. 

Your mother nods approvingly, smiling at you as you beam brightly at Steve. 

“Hey, Steve? Can I grab you for a moment? I want to show you something.” you ask, giving him an out of continuing an awkward conversation with your mom.

“Oh, uh, sure.” he nods as he gets up. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” he smiles politely to your mother.

You tug him away to a room in the back of your friend's house.

“I’m so sorry about my mother, she can be a bit overbearing sometimes.” You start, worried that your mother may have scared Steve off before you'd even had a chance to talk to him properly.

“She's just looking out for you, it's nice, she cares about you.” 

“Yeah I suppose so.” You sigh. “I wanted to give you your present now, away from everyone else.” You say as you hand over a small gift bag to Steve.

“You didn't have to get me anything.” Steve blushes.

“No, no, it's Christmas day, I wanted you to have a little something to open.”

You watch as Steve opens up the bag and reaches in, pulling out a soft navy blue scarf.

He smiles fondly at his gift, before wrapping it around his neck.

“How do I look?” He laughs, as he stands with an exaggerated pose to show off.

“It looks good on you, Steve!” 

He pulls you close into a warm hug. You feel safe in his arms, happy to be held by him, like this was how it was meant to be.

“Thank you, I love it.” He smiles as he pulls away from you. “I'm just sorry that I didn't get anything for you.” He says, his head ducking down, almost embarrassed. 

“No, no it's fine Steve, I don't need anything. Just having you here is better than any present I could ask for.”

Then Steve looks up between you, how either of you never noticed it was a mystery, and spots a decorative sprig of Mistletoe hanging above you.

You follow his eye line, looking up at the decorations hanging up.

“I know I didn't get you anything, but is there a chance you believe in Christmas traditions?” Steve smirks playfully, even with the heated flush adorably spreading across his cheeks. 

You feel giddy, excited and nervous all at once. He makes you feel exactly the same way as he did when you first laid eyes on him all those years ago back in high school. 

“You know, I think I do.” You nod, a bright smile spreading across your face.

Steve stepped closer to you, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, and his other hand resting comfortably on your hip, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His kisses were light, and soft, almost as if he were afraid that you might crumble under his touch, until you take the lead and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, eager to taste him on your lips. 

You pull away from each other, but neither of you stops looking in the other’s eyes. The blissfully quiet moment between the two of you felt perfect.

Until your peacefully romantic bubble is burst by someone coughing, alerting you to their presence.

“Uh..We’re about to start opening presents in a moment, if you guys wanna join us..” your friends laughs, slightly out of awkwardness at having caught you in a rather intimate moment.

With pair matching, slightly guilty smiles, you both have the grace to laugh about the being caught kissing under the mistletoe.

You take Steve by the hand, and tug him toward the living room to join everyone else.

“Come on, loverboy, let’s go enjoy our Christmas.” you smile.

@penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[gothiccortez]

ghosts on parade

tate langdon x reader

summary: trick or treating with tate!!

wc: 1.3k

contents: fluff, trick or treating. based off a request i received! this is just very cute and fun. no pronouns mentioned, so gn!reader. happy halloween :))

A mixtape of Halloween themed songs shuffled on the stereo as you searched for the mask that would finally complete your costume.

A hoard of clothes were scattered on your bed that you’d thrown out from the closet. You shifted through them, wondering how you could’ve possibly misplaced the item.

With a sigh, you turned, and nearly jumped out of your skin as you ran right into the chest of Tate, who was holding your mask up to his face.

“Trick or treat.”

You could practically hear his grin, though his features were hidden.

“I’ve been looking for that for an hour!” you snatched the mask away from him with a sigh. In return, he simply smiled at you playfully

“I didn’t take it,” he said as he walked across the room to your bed. He flopped down on it lazily, making the forgotten articles of clothing fall to the floor. The black robe of his costume flattened out over the bed, creating wrinkles that you knew would be obvious. “I just wanted to help you out, baby.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

Tate stared back at you, trying to decipher if you were actually angry or not. When you crossed your arms over your chest dramatically, he relented, rolling closer to you on the bed.

“Alright, fine. You caught me.” He took your hand in his own, running his thumb over the smooth veins and bones on the back of your palm. “Will you forgive me?”

The pout on his face was unnecessary, though you melted into him anyways.

“I suppose,” you said, your laugh betraying you. “Come on, idiot. We’ll miss out on all the candy if we don’t go now.”

You tugged Tate to his feet and he stumbled off the bed, following you out of the room. On the way downstairs, he put on his mask, nearly tripping down the steps in the process.

Addie was sitting on the kitchen table when you approached, busy occupying herself with a game. How she kept finding her way into your house, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care much.

“Aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?” she asked, only sparing you a glimpse as she focused on her task.

You laughed, gesturing at her fully in costume. “Aren’t you?”

She made a face at you, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “No.”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “Besides, no one will know if we're too old or not.” You completed your costume with the mask over your features. “That’s what the masks are for.”

Addie finally examined your full look, nodding with approval. “I like Michael Myers.”

“More than Ghostface?” Tate asked, sounding almost disappointed as he gestured towards his own costume. He took the mask off, frowning at his sister as his blond hair fell over his face in tangled strands.

“Oh, come on, Addie, don’t you think he looks cute?” You said teasingly as you pinched at Tate’s cheeks.

He swatted you away though his cheeks still turned pink under your compliment.

“Gross,” Addie said as you took Tate’s hand, rolling her eyes at you.

You laughed, pulling Tate along with you out the kitchen door. “Lets go,” you said, already excited to get out there. You hadn’t gone trick-or-treating since you were a kid.

All your problems seemed to wash away, just briefly, as you walked around the neighborhood hand in hand with Tate. You admired all the costumes and the creativity, the decorations that were on almost every lawn.

“You seem happy,” Tate observed, though he couldn’t even see your face. It must have been the way you were nearly skipping down the street, buzzing with energy.

“I am,” you said, feeling the smile curl on your lips. “I love Halloween. Don’t you?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I like spending time with you more though.”

You knocked him with your shoulder, your skin warming with the comment.

The night went by quickly, and you had no idea how long you had been out. You went to as many houses as you could before the lights went off, getting a compliment from each owner on your costumers.

By the time you’d made your rounds, reciting the same trick or treat at each front door, your bags of candy were full.

You walked back home with Tate, sifting through your bags as you searched for the best candy. Your masks were gone, the sweat at your hairline drying.

“What did you get?” Tate asked over your shoulder after he’d finished looking through his own stash. A full-size chocolate bar laid at the top of your pile, shining at you like a grand prize. It immediately caught Tate’s eyes, and he started to reach into your bag to take it from you. “I want the—”

Before he could grab it, you jerked the bag away, scowling. “No way!”

“Huh?” Tate seemed surprised, his eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “Do you even like those?”

“Maybe.” You narrowed your eyes, watching his every move. “Doesn’t mean I’ll give it to you.”

As predicted, Tate lunged at the bag, trying to grab it away from you. You were much faster, though, and took off in a sprint, laughing as he chased after you down the street.

He was faster than you, and would catch up easily, but you didn’t mind.

“Come on, baby, just a bite!” he shouted from behind you, running to catch up.

“No!” You could hear Tate right on your heels, the sound of his sneakers loud against the pavement.

Before you could pick up your speed, Tate was on you, throwing his arms around you from behind. He tugged you into him, and you fell into his chest, laughing loudly. As you flailed, you nearly spilled your bag of candy.

“Tate!” You glared, trying to swat away his hand, though he’d already stolen the candy bar from you. He quickly stuffed it into his own bag, giving you a kiss on the cheek to remedy the situation.  

“What if that was my favorite candy!” You frowned. In return, he held you closer. His hand grazed your hip as he pressed kisses into your neck from behind. “You would really ruin my Halloween like that?”

“Of course not,” he said, finally spinning you around to face him. He traced the edge of your jaw softly, staring at your unmoving lips. “I know that’s not your favorite. You don’t think I have all your favorite candies memorized?”

Your glare intensified, though only for a moment before Tate was kissing your pout away. The action made you melt a little, all your previous frustrations (as miniscule as they were), draining away. “Do you really?”

“Well, obviously…” he said, somewhat offended. “I love you.”

You stuttered, though returned the sentiment with a grin you couldn’t keep away.

“I’ll trade candies with you anyway. I don’t mind taking all the bad ones.” His eyes were completely serious, somehow concerned that he’d actually ruined your Halloween.

“I don’t care about a stupid piece of candy, Tate,” you said, throwing your arms around him in a hug as you pressed your face into his chest.

It caught him off-guard, though his hand quickly came to your back, lovingly tracing your spine. His embrace was warm, a shield against the cool autumn air.

“Come on, let’s go back. We can squeeze in at least one scary movie before the night’s over.” 

[stardancerluv]

Petal and the Beast

Part Two

Summary: You are out with friends hoping to forget Michael.

Notes/Warnings: Suggestive 18+ thoughts, drinking (be safe!). For the collage I used pics of Joe from the GQ red carpet because he was rather 🥵 to give the idea of what he looks like at this bar. The ankle-boots & cocktail are to give an idea of how reader & her interests. Reader is fem.

Thank you for reading! Re-blogs, feedback & ❤️ are wonderful, thank you!!!

Meeting your friends for cocktails, you were able to lose yourself in their idle chatter. All week long, all your mind did was lap back to Michael.

The way his devil may care smirk curled his lips, how his chain grazed your chest as he moved between your legs. You couldn’t believe it possible, but you were addicted to the crumbs of that night. You yearned for another tumble between the sheets with him.

Sighing, you glanced out the window as you friend Rebecca shared her office gossip. Eager to lose yourself in the twinkling lights of the office buildings that filled out the skyline. Your breath caught, forcing you to cough as you watched Michael walk in. You grabbed your cocktail and finished what was left of it.

“Y/N, love are you ok?” Your other friend Janet patted you on the back, looking at you concerned.

You nodded and giggled nervously. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“So, you won’t give Andy a second chance?” Rebecca, had really felt good with the match she had made for you.

You glanced as he made his way by your table. Your heart began to race. Yet again, you had trouble gathering a breath.

Pressing your lips together, you shook your head. “No, he had his chance. He didn’t even call to apologize.”

Your friend made a face. “He told me he did.”

To be honest, he did but then Michael had showed up and you stopped looking at your phone. At this time, you didn’t care to tell your friends of your tryst with Michael. The waitress, placed a fresh cocktail in front of you. You were grateful.

“Well, the next morning doesn’t count.” You took a sip.

“Oh my god. Did you just see what walked by?” Rebecca leaned towards you and Janet.

You tried to play dumb and shrugged. “Who?” You glanced around.

Spotting Michael, you spotted how like you he was with others. You swallowed, seeing a red head grab his upper arm smiling up at him. How you wished to trade places.

“Now if we do, sweetheart. Don’t be catching feelings since I saved you from weaving and wobbling home by your lonesome last night, alright?”

You weren’t, you just wanted to feel his passions again. That was not feelings. You were not a silly little school girl with a crush.

You had felt so alive and reckless with him. Was it bad you wanted that again?

Chewing your cheek, feeling your frustration grow you quickly excused yourself from your friends. Finding, the ladies and seeing that it was empty, relief filled you. You leaned heavily on the door and sighing, you relaxed.

Going to the sink you splashed some cold water on your face. Dabbing yourself dry, taking a breath you headed back to your friends.

A small sound escaped your lips when a hand reached out in the shadowy hallway pulled up against them. “Let me go!”

You wiggled, a rich chuckle filled your ears and you stopped struggling. You looked up and gasped.

“Hi there, petal.” A smile was splashed across his face.

You pulled your wrist free, his gripped tightened before letting you go.

“You’re strong.”

Your bracelets jangled as rubbed your wrist.

“Do you always pull people to you in darkened hallways ?”

He chuckled. “Only ones who I slept with.” His lips curled into a lopsided smirk, that made your stomach do a somersault.

“You could just say hello.”

He took a step closer, his torso grazing yours. “What’s the fun in that?”

You grimaced and shook your head.

“Its nice to see you again Petal.”

You felt heat fill your cheeks at his pet name for you.

“I’m glad you are happy to see me too.”

“I only blushed.”

His face drew close. “That means your happy to see me too.” You could feel as he breathed.

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.” His lips now grazed yours.

“Yes, it does.” You relented, and just as fast he pulled back.

He chuckled. “Since that is settled.” You could feel as his eyes moved over you. “Want me to meet me later for darts or something?”

“Or something?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Where we met.”

“When?”

“Say 9?”

“Ok, that will work.”

“Good.”

You looked at him and then back towards your friends and back at him.

“Oh, after you Petal. I want to watch you move.” He made a gallant gesture.

You smiled and shook your head. “Alright, see you later.” With butterflies flapping hard in your stomach, you turned and walked away.

@amethyst-serenade @jamiethebanished @babybluebex (because you’re such an inspiration with your writing…hope you don’t mind!)

@lavenderquinn @moviegirlsblog @eternalmunson @munsongirl48 @seatnights (since you were all so wonderful to reblog me…I tagged you all, hope you don’t mind!) @emma77645

[wheels-of-despair]

Only Fools Rush In Pairing: Michael (Hoard) x You Summary: Once upon a time, you met the bin man of your dreams. You spent a few great days together, then decided to reunite next weekend for a real date. What if neither of you can wait that long? Contains: A date, gentlemanly gestures, public indecency, unsettling eye contact, questionable condiments, relentless teasing, accidental but not unwelcome confessions, a relationship moving far too fast for normal people... but if you thought these freaks were normal, you obviously didn't read part one, which you should do right now. Words: 3.2k

Youths and ageless blogs, Do Not Interact. Writer WILL block you.

Michael is coming.

Last Friday night, you went to a wedding, came home with someone else's date, and had the best weekend of your life. No scheduled activities, no putting up with his dumb friends, no silent suffering or forced conversation. Nothing at all like your last relationship. This was just you and a guy you couldn't get enough of, mostly in your bed, exploring each other in ways you never imagined were possible.

He'd told you about growing up the unwanted child of an addict and being shuffled from foster home to foster home. You'd told him about your complicated relationship with your family. You'd coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of him, and he'd shown you more pleasure in a weekend than you'd experienced in a lifetime. He'd fixed the door you'd been meaning to fix for months. You'd cooked for him. You'd showered together multiple times, and fallen right back into bed to work up another sweat. You'd never connected with anyone like this.

All that in one weekend, and it still wasn't enough. You'd both called in sick on Monday and done it all over again. Early Tuesday morning, you'd reluctantly parted with a lingering kiss by your fully functional door. "We have to get back to our real lives," you'd told him. You made plans for a proper date on Friday night. It was only a few days away, but you'd still shed a few tears when you closed the door behind him. It felt like he'd taken your heart with him.

You'd thought of nothing else, no one else, all day long.

Neither had he. He'd called you that evening, right after you'd walked in the door, to say that he missed you. He's on his way over to take you to dinner.

You scramble around your bedroom, deciding that the new panties you'd been saving for a special occasion were too scratchy; maybe they need to be thrown in the wash a few more times. You reach under your dress, shimmy them down your legs, and kick them aside. Where the hell are those red ones that he liked so much?

A knock echoes through your flat, and your heart jumps into your throat. He's here.

You rush to the front door and pause to collect yourself. Be cool. Act normal. You open the door calmly.

Fuck, he's gorgeous.

Michael stands in the hallway with a smile on his face and his hands behind his back. He's wearing dark jeans and a deep red button-up that's not actually buttoned all the way up; you can see his necklace and a few chest hairs poking out. He's freshly showered, and smells like his own soap instead of yours. Just like the night you met him.

"Long time, no see," you joke. He grins. You can't take it anymore; you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and welcoming him back with a kiss. How can you miss a person this much after so little time together?

"I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder," he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck when the kiss becomes a hug.

"It's been what, twelve whole hours?" you laugh, reluctantly pulling away.

"Brutal," he grins, kissing you on the forehead and revealing the bouquet of flowers he's been hiding behind his back.

You accept them with a "thank you" and admire them for half a second, then look up just in time to see him coming in for another kiss. You smile into his mouth, holding the flowers aside and wrapping your free arm around his neck. His hands grip your sides. His kiss is hungry, desperate. Perhaps he missed you almost as much as you missed him.

You're dazed when he pulls away. Michael takes your flowers to the kitchen, finding a tall glass and filling it with water to put them in. You stand there and wait for your brain to catch up.

"Ready?" he asks, returning to you and taking your hand. You nod. The movement shakes some sense into you, and you think to slip some shoes on and grab your keys before you head out. When you get outside, his heavy arm rests across your shoulders. You wrap yours around his middle and lean into him, grateful for his smell and his touch and just to be near him again.

You've never felt this way about anyone before.

The walk passes in a comfortable silence; the restaurant you've decided on isn't far. He holds the door for you when you arrive, and guides you with a hand on your back as you follow the hostess to your table. She brings you to a quiet booth in the back. You take a seat, but instead of sitting across from you, Michael slides in next to you.

If you were anyone else, this would make you sick. Instead, you feel the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Fucking butterflies. What is this asshole doing to you?!

A waitress takes your drink orders and leaves you a pair of menus to peruse, and you do so. You discuss your options and decide on a few things to share, and he relays your order to the waitress when she returns. It's not until she leaves that you begin to talk about things other than food.

"How was your day?" you ask, enjoying the warmth of his thigh against yours.

"Not great, actually," he says, putting one of his rough hands on the exposed skin of your leg. "I was distracted all day. Couldn't get this beautiful woman out of my mind."

"I had the same problem," you smile.

"You did?" he smirks, his thumb rubbing circles on your inner thigh. Your brain buzzes, but you manage to nod.

"Yeah, I saw her crossing the street this morning on the way to work. Absolute knockout."

His eyes narrow, but the rest of his face betrays him; he bites his lip to keep it from curling into a smile.

"You're not funny," he grumps, taking his hand away.

"Then why are you smiling?" you ask.

"Am not," he lies, crossing his arms and doubling down on trying to keep a straight face.

"Are too," you argue, "I see those pretty dimples of yours." You poke a finger into the dimple in his rapidly reddening cheek, and he twists his head to bite your hand. You gasp in mock shock, pulling your hand away. He grabs your wrist and kisses the spot he bit.

He doesn't let go. His eyes are so intense, you feel like you're going to burst into flame under his gaze. You stare at each other, and you wonder if he's feeling this falling sensation too. How is he doing this?

The clatter of dropped silverware nearby snaps you out of it, making you both face forward and make an effort to act normal. You are in public, after all.

But you still need to be close to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, reveling in the scent of him. He leans into you and puts his hand back on your thigh, drawing circles with his thumb.

"I'm mad about you," he whispers.

"I think you were mad to begin with," you tease, glancing up at him with a smirk. He pouts, and you redeem yourself with a kiss.

"I missed you," you admit, settling back into him.

"Missed you more," he mumbles, nuzzling into your hair.

You doubt it.

His hand creeps up your thigh just a little bit, and you instinctively spread your legs. You can feel his dark chuckle rumble through your body. You turn your head and nip at his nipple through his shirt. He jumps and gives your thigh a retaliatory squeeze.

You clench around nothing, cursing your decision to go out when you could've just stayed home and been--

His fingers disappear beneath the hem of your dress, and your breath hitches.

You don't realize how wet you are until his finger glides through your slick folds. Or that he'd knocked on your door and distracted you before you'd had a chance to finish getting dressed.

"Forget something?" he whispers huskily. "Naughty, naughty." Heat rushes to both your face and your core.

"Couldn't find what I was looking for," you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as he circles your clit with one finger. "Remember those pretty red ones you demanded I model for you? You wouldn't happen to know anything about their disappearance, would you?"

His body tenses. You look up at his reddening face and grin.

"Now who's the naughty one, you little thief?" you whisper in his ear.

He bites his lip and shifts uncomfortably, as if his pants have suddenly become too tight.

"Here we are, loves," the waitress announces. His hand slips from between your legs to hide the bulge in his jeans, and you both thank the woman after she places the food on the table.

He slowly tilts his head to look at you, eyes pleading. You could ask for a bag to take your food home… but that would be too easy. You reach for a french fry and lift it to his mouth. He leans forward and bites off half of it. You put the other half in your mouth.

His eyes darken and stay on you as you chew together. When you swallow, you reach for another fry to feed him, but he grabs your wrist in mid-air.

Without taking his eyes off of yours, he dips the hand that's not holding yours between your legs. His forefinger comes up shiny and wet. You watch him in fascination. He lets your wrist go, then picks up a fry and smears the juice across it. He lifts it to your lips, and bites his own nervously.

Fuck. Is this what you're into now?

You lean forward, eyes on his, and bite off half of the fry coated in your own arousal. You can't really taste any difference, but his eyes flash and his nostrils flare with a sharp exhale. He eats the other half, sticking his whole finger in his mouth to clean it off after. Eyes on you the whole time. You've never been more turned on in your entire fucking life. If he lays a finger on you - anywhere - you're going to explode.

"Sorry, dears, here you go!" You back away from each other guiltily when the waitress sets a caddy of condiments on the table. You both thank her, although she didn't stop long enough to hear you. You make the mistake of looking at each other after she's out of sight, and both duck your heads to hide your laughter. When you recover from your near-hysterics, you turn your attention to your food rather than each other. Just in case.

You make it through dinner, sharing everything and leaving nothing behind.

"What's next?" Michael asks, throwing his arm across your shoulders again as you step outside the restaurant. "We could… take a walk? See what's playing at the cinema? Rob a corner shop?"

"Or…" you propose, "we could walk back to my place and save those ideas for other nights?"

His eyes light up like it's Christmas, and he steers you back toward your flat.

Once you're inside, you find your back pressed up against the front door again. His kisses are so deep, it feels like he's trying to consume you. Somehow, you find the brainpower to get his jeans unzipped. He moans into your mouth when you free his cock and give him a stroke.

Your arms circle his shoulders, and his fingers pull up your dress and dig into your ass with a sense of urgency. He mauls your neck when you wrap your legs around him, pounding you into the door with ferocity. You're both so worked up already, it doesn't take long. Your release comes with a low moan, and he quickens his pace and follows soon after. Your legs fall back to the floor, and you slump against the door.

Michael gathers you in a hug and drags you further into the room. You stumble with him, maybe a little more than you need to, and land in a heap on the couch. You get comfortable on top of him, resting your head against his chest and trying not to fall asleep while he gently trails his fingers up and down your back.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a while.

"You," you answer. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up into this big brown eyes. If you get lost in those, you don't want to be found.

"Getting sick of me yet?" The corner of his mouth twitches like he's trying to force a smile that doesn't want to come.

"Never," you whisper. A smile spreads across his face and into your heart. When Michael smiles, his whole face transforms. You can't help but smile back.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on," you muse.

He lets out a harsh bark of a laugh.

"Been accused of lots of things, but that's a new one," he grins.

"You are," you smile. "You're perfect."

"You feeling alright?" he laughs again, reaching out to feel your forehead. "Did I knock your head against the door too hard? Something funny in the food? Did you just call the crack baby bin man perfect?"

"Shut up," you growl, moving upward to silence him with a kiss. You shift to get more comfortable, and accidentally brush against his hardened cock. He moans into your mouth.

"This is a really nice shirt," you observe when you pull back, smoothing out his collar.

"Yeah?" he smiles.

"Yeah," you echo. "We should hang it up before it needs to be dry cleaned. Things are about to get messy, beautiful boy."

He grins in a way that makes your heart soar, and starts fumbling with the shirt's buttons.

"Stop," you groan, sitting up to straddle him and unbutton his shirt yourself. "I'm going to have to do everything, aren't I?"

He smirks up at you, eyes twinkling, as you slowly unbutton his shirt. He's wearing a plain white tank underneath, and the sight of it nearly drives you mad. You trail your fingers down the thin fabric, and when you touch the bare skin poking out at the bottom, he sits up and whips his button-up off and throws it aside.

Michael slides his hands up your thighs, taking a second to squeeze your ass before gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. You're left in nothing but a bra, and he immediately buries his face between your breasts and reaches around to unhook it. It pops open in seconds.

"Oh, so you can handle a bra clasp like it's nothing, but just can't manage to get your own shirt off?" you tease.

"I like it better when you do it," he grins, pulling the straps down your arms and licking his lips. He leans forward slightly and takes a nipple in his mouth, lapping and sucking gently while his hand knead your ass. You close your eyes and throw your head back, never wanting this feeling to stop. He switches sides, and you give a slight roll of your hips against his fly when the cold air hits your wet flesh. His whole body tenses under you. You need him. Now.

You look down at your naked body and then to him. He's wearing far too many clothes. You reach for the bottom of his white tank and peel it off of him slowly, aching with need at the sight of how broad and beautiful he is. You drift your fingers down his chest, through his happy trail, and make quick work of getting the rest of his clothes off. You push him down onto his back and flatten out on top of him. Your bodies snap back together like magnets.

Hours later, having finally made it to bed, you lie awake on your back and contemplate the difference between having sex and making love. Michael's head rests on your stomach, nearly purring at the feeling of your fingers working his scalp. His arm is slung across your hips. You fit together so perfectly, it's like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you breathe.

Michael stops breathing, and your eyes fly open in shock. You didn't mean to say that out loud. If it had been to anyone else, you'd leave a you-shaped hole in the door like a cartoon in the next three seconds. But this is different. He's different.

"You don't have to say it back," you tell him quietly, stroking his hair with surprising calmness. "But I've never felt this way about anyone before. I'm so happy I met you, Michael."

He's quiet, but at least he's breathing again. Your heart breaks when you feel his tears leaking on you. He sniffles.

"D'you mean it?" he croaks.

"Of course I do," you smile, hoping he can hear it in your voice.

"Say it again?"

"I love you."

His body begins to shake. You let him cry for as long as you can stand it… which isn't long.

"C'mere," you say after a few seconds, tugging on his arm. He moves his body upward, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting you wrap your arms around him.

"I love you, too," he mumbles when he's able.

Your heart explodes, sending warmth through your whole body. You're in so deep, you'll never get out. Not that you'll want to. You hold him close and caress whatever you can get your hands on; his hair, his neck, his back. You can't get enough of him, and judging by the happy little noises he's making when you hit a sweet spot, he can't get enough either.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispers.

"And you to me," you whisper back, kissing his forehead. "I feel like my life began when I met you." He nuzzles his face into your neck, plants a kiss, and pulls back to stretch. You could use one yourself; you've been lying underneath him for God knows how long.

You stretch and twist, and catch sight of the clock. It's late.

"Are you staying with me again?" you ask, looking to Michael.

"Is that alright?" he asks bashfully.

"Of course," you smile, leaning closer to kiss the tip of his nose. "Did you get to work on time this morning?"

"Yeah," he yawns.

You sit up just long enough to set the alarm for the same time as yesterday and straighten the covers out. You pull them up over both of you and lie on your side, head on your pillow. Michael mirrors you.

"Are we going to pretend to go our separate ways again, or should I have a key made for you tomorrow?"

"You'd do that?" he asks, eyes widening.

"I mean, we've already professed our love. Established that 12 hours apart is, and I quote, brutal. At this rate, I expect we'll be married next week." You wink, and he grins. It quickly turns into a muffled yawn.

"We should get some sleep," you say quietly, reaching out to brush your fingers through his hair one last time. He's fading fast.

"Good night," he whispers. He's struggling to keep his eyes open, like he doesn't want the night to end.

"The best night," you smile, already looking forward to waking up next to him in the morning. And the morning after. And the morning...

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part five - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: Bullying

Michael has a lot of stuff. A lot of heavy stuff. Despite him assuring her that he can move it all in on his own, she still wants to help.

It would be kind of a dick move if she didn’t assist with all of this. An hour in, and the apartment is already transformed from bland and empty into a hoard of pastel rainbow decor and soft white staple pieces.

She takes a break to admire the painting of a fluffy white angel cat over watercolor Van Gogh scenery. Michael comes through the door, panting, with his White Cottage microwave in tow.

“Who painted this?” She asks him.

He smiles, blushes, puts the microwave down and then his hand on his hips. “I did.”

Her eyes grow wide. “This is amazing.”

He chuckles. “Thank you.”

She likes Michael a lot already, but she’s also very jealous of him and his many talents and cool possessions. He makes her want to decorate and be creative, both skills she’s never been able to possess correctly.

She hasn’t gotten the key made yet, so she goes out and does that while he starts unpacking his things. By the time she’s done, her apartment looks astonishing. Fairy lights twinkle over gauze white curtains and a big speaker plays soft hiphop music in one corner of the living room. Her couch is full of comfy white and grey fluffy throw pillows. An incense burner releases gourmand, smoky aroma into the air.

Michael is stretched out on the couch, taking a break, watching Legally Blonde on DVD. Her small TV is now in her room and his bigger flatscreen dwarfs the stand that it was on.

She sits down beside him with two glasses of water. Before she can set hers down on the coffee table, he stops her. “Wait! Coasters!”

He digs through two boxes of stuff before he finds new marble coasters for them to set their drinks on.

She laughs at him and he grins back. “I know, I know,” he tells her, “typical trust fund kid BS.”

“You’re fine,” she says. “I was laughing at the coasters because the table is already a mess.”

“Listen,” he says, “this table just needs some tee ell cee. A sander and some paint would do her wonders.” He pats the wooden top.

“Can I help?” She asks, excited and jumping at the opportunity a little too eagerly.

“Of course you can,” he assures.

She remembers him telling her that his mother is an artist. “Did your mom teach you to paint?”

He nods. “She also taught me how to make miniatures. You know, like dollhouses but for adults?”

“That’s amazing. Do you trade art with her?”

“I do,” he says, “we send things back and forth in the mail. Although my dad says it ‘clogs up their post office box’.”

“He’s not a fan of art?”

Michael snorts. “He hates everything except golf. Sometimes I think he hates me.”

She shakes her head. “Does he really hate you? You’re the perfect son.”

Michael sighs. “No, but he hates gay people, so it’s close enough. When I first came out to him, if my mother wouldn’t have been there, he would’ve probably shot me. He’s a real man’s man if you know what I mean...”

She nods, smiling ruefully. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.”

Michael thinks for a moment. “We should get a dog.”

“I would love that, but it’s no pets here.”

He raises his eyebrows and sips at his water. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

They decide it has to be a quiet dog, one who’s comfortable being alone at night, and there are an abundance of local shelters displaying perfect furry candidates online.

“Rocky. Pitbull mix. Potty trained, good with kids and other pets, sweet and loves everyone.” She shows Michael a picture of a medium sized black, stout dog with shiny grey eyes.

Michael shows her his own selection, a retired service beagle named Winnie. “Short for Winnifred,” he reads, “loves people and other pets, very polite, and hardly ever barks.”

“I love them both,” she groans, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“Same,” Michael sighs. “It’s one in the afternoon. Do you work tonight?”

“Yup.” She presses an arm over her face, blocking out the ceiling light.

“Don’t you have to sleep?” He asks.

She’s not tired at all because she slept through the night—wet dreams work wonders on insomnia—but she agrees because Michael sounds like he needs some alone time. Plus, her DVDs and TV are in her room now, and if she can’t sleep she can watch an old, comfortable flick.

The problem isn’t getting to sleep, it’s staying there—waking up sweating, gasping, whining John’s name. She slaps her mouth shut, presses her face into her pillow, and prays to any deity listening that her voice wasn’t loud enough for Michael to hear. First day in the new place and his roommate is a fiend. It would make any sane person want to revoke their rental agreement immediately.

She should be embarrassed and anxious that Michael potentially heard her, but instead she’s grinding against her sheets and thinking of tall men handcuffed to beds.

This won’t work. This isn’t working. She’s so pent up that it’s borderline painful. She sticks her hand into her sleep pants, past her underwear, and into a sloppy mess, tries to think about anything but John while she rubs herself raw, but in doing so her brain latches onto the thought of him and pretty soon he’s the only thing on her mind.

She tries to paint a decent fantasy of what she would like sex with him to be, but really she doesn’t give a shit as long as it’s him. And that’s what scares her. He could be absolutely celibate and she’d still crave whatever he wanted to give her whether it be a rough kick or a soft caress—she’d be his dog, and **this is the worst time for her to realize that because her alarm is going off for work.

She orgasms at the cost of being ten minutes late.

The locker room lights are off when she goes to put her things away, which is unusual. Since she started, they’ve been lit around the clock. In fact, she’s not even sure where the light switch is in here because she’s never had to use it. Fumbling around in the pitch black is making her even tardier. Finally, when she finds the switch and flips it, the room illuminates, and standing under the migraine-inducing glow is someone who makes headaches seem like a dream come true.

Benny grins from his seat on the bench, which he quickly abandons in favor of looming over her. Once again, the sweaty, edematous mass of him blocks her exit.

She’s too busy contemplating if anyone would hear her scream to see him hold his open palm out expectantly.

“Give it to me,” he says.

“What?” She asks, imagining in another universe she sounds angry and oppositional instead of whiny and terrified. In another universe, she can also kick his ass. Not in this one, though. In this universe, she does as Benny demands and hands him her phone so she doesn’t have to suffer through the touch of his greasy skin a second time.

He holds her phone in one hand while the other holds his own. She doesn’t bother trying to see what he’s doing because she can’t get her feet to move let alone stand on tiptoes and look over his shoulder.

This goes on for a while in which her only thought consists of asking herself if she could run to the door and make it into the populated infirmary before he can catch her. Again, this is a solution mainly dependent on her stubborn feet.

She’s not really worried about what he puts on her phone. It’s what he’s getting from it that sets her pulse careening.

He reaches out and tries to shove it into her jacket pocket, but luckily that’s when her feet decide to save her and step away from his hands. He scowls at her like she just insulted his mother.

“Fine.” Benny opens his hand and drops her phone on the stone floor. She winces when she hears the shatter, then looks back up at his pleased, disgusting expression.

“Remember our trip.” He pushes past her, not enough to hurt but to make her yelp and stumble, and slams the door shut on his way out.

Her phone isn’t broken. The screen has a tiny crack in one corner but other than that it’s still perfect.

She grabs her bag from her locker and brings it with her to the nurse’s station, labeling the locker room as an unsafe and off limits space, which are becoming more bountiful by the day.

John is not her patient tonight. On her day off they must have had an influx of admissions because she’s responsible for 10 of them and the infirmary is unusually and appropriately staffed.

Her hopes of his nurse trading him are slim to none because he’s a wonderful patient and over time everyone has seemed to agree that they want him on their assignment sheet.

The other nurse’s that take and give her report always talk about what a cool, easy going guy he is and how they’re surprised that he needs that many guards with him.

“What do you think he did?” Stan, one of the day shift nurses, asks her.

“My bet’s on released a circus full of wild animals and let them trample a small town, but I could be wrong.” She taps her pen against her report sheet and laughs at her own joke.

Stan snorts. “He probably killed some rich guys.”

The other nurses like him so much that most of their theories on why John is in four point restraints with four men guarding him at all times is because he’s done something valiant that pissed someone powerful off.

That’s probably the other reason his wound looks better; not just because of her, but because if you like a patient or connect with them you’re more than likely going to give them the best care you can provide.

If she’s honest, it kind of makes her feel sick. Not because everyone has grown to like John, but because that means she’ll have less chance of being his nurse from here on out. Also, she knows it’s kindergarten mentality, but she liked him and treated him well first while the other ones had to get to know him beforehand.

Her case load is heavy. A couple IV’s, wound changes, someone with a tracheostomy. She sits down to chart, finally, at 3 AM.

One of the other nurses, Bill, calls for her across the hall.

She fights the urge to groan while standing on sore feet and walking over to his medication cart.

Bill grins at her, looking like he’s really enjoying himself. “My patient in 9 wants to see you.”

“Me?” She asks.

Bill shrugs, still looking very amused. “He says he needs to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Bill tells her. “Seems that he likes your company, though.” He gives an eyebrow raise at the awkward expression crawling onto her face.

She reminds herself that this her workplace for the 80th time and that Bill’s suggestive expressions are just him messing around. Joking. That’s all. He’s joking.

John is watching the door, waiting for her. When she pops in like a mouse and scurries to his bed, he feels the urge to pat her on the head for showing up which would be the only thing he could do to stop himself from grabbing her up and kissing her.

His smile is wide and genuine. “How’s the roommate search?”

“Uh, I got one.” She smiles timidly, hoping he doesn’t think she’s erratic and air-headed for finding someone so fast

His eyes widen just the smallest bit. “That’s good, is she…nice?”

She nods too eagerly. “He’s great. And he has great decorations.”

The key word here—at least the one his ears attune to—is he. Not because a woman and a man living together automatically entails romance or connection, but because John knows men—John is a man—and most of them turn out to be less than good.

He tries not to look mean, to keep his smile, to focus on her being here with him in the present and alive and well; If he doesn’t, rage will start talking, nefarious, whispering sin in his ear, assuring him that it wouldn’t be hard to break out of these handcuffs and make sure her roommate becomes her loyal dog for the rest of the time he spends living with her and alive.

“If you wouldn’t have suggested it, I’d probably be homeless by next week.” She tries to sway the conversation toward optimism because she sees something in his expression that reads like he’s a little upset. He probably does think she’s a moron at this point.

Maybe it’s just good that she’s happy. He tries to shift focus onto that. The roommate can’t be malignant if she’s so upbeat.

It’s been very easy to talk to John most times, but then there are moments like this when something awkward and unsaid hangs between them and more often than not she doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he doesn’t either.

“Just be careful,” is what he decides to say.

She chuckles. “I will, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t understand what’s funny—again, but he appreciates the laugh. One of them can get him through a few hours, and they’re so easy to wring out of her pretty throat.

One of the security guards stands, stretches, yawns. He says he’s going to take a break. The other guards are asleep, so once he leaves they’ll be alone.

“I’m gonna go to vending, John you want anything?” He asks.

John shakes his head no. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry if I bothered you while you were busy,” he says, too eager to talk as soon as the guard walks out. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She purses her lips, which he thinks means she’s trying not to leak an expression that will probably be embarrassing. Really, she’s trying to tame her lion heart back into its cage before it sinks its teeth into him and refuses to let go.

“I’m okay, John.” She attempts smiling. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

He shrugs like his stab wound and near death are just a hiccup.

She talks again. “And I’m glad you called me in. I like talking to you.”

His face is all smile now. “Likewise.”

He tells her to pull up a chair if she wants, and she steals one of the metal ones that the breaking guard left behind, sitting by his bedside. They start with a casual conversation about the weather that turns into a discussion on harsh winters in Belarus.

“Did you grow up there?” She asks him.

He nods. “I traveled a lot.”

“So, you’re Russian?” She puts her chin in her palm and stares at him like he is the most interesting person in the world. She’s adorable like this. He wants to brush the stray hairs from her cheeks.

“Yes. American, now.”

“Do you speak Russian?” Her eyebrows raise.

“да, красивая девушка” His tone automatically slides into a deeper baritone when he says this, and it makes her shudder.

He needs to be nerfed. Outlawed. He should not be handsome, nice, like-able, and be able to speak a different language in his perfect voice. It’s really not fair at all.

She’s too busy trying to tame her rogue thoughts to ask him what he even said. The desire to climb into his lap and straddle him crosses her mind twenty times in different ways. She blinks heavy. “You’re the coolest person I know.”

They talk until the guard comes back from his break, mainly about Belarus and what it was like there and where else he has traveled.

Although she has a ton of charting to catch up on, she doesn’t want to leave him. The taste of human connection is on her tongue after a couple years of abstinence and she’s becoming addicted.

When she exits his room, it’s with reluctance and impressive self control.

She tells him to sleep. He promises he’ll try.

It would be easier to do her job if she wasn’t catching Benny sneering at her whenever they’re in the same space, but she gets through it, reasoning that John has it worse than her because he has to suffer through six hours with the asshole guard in his room. And, it’s easier also because of…well, John himself.

[hyunjinbiased-blog]

Hell-A Love part one

Dead Island 2 x FtM Reader

Five years before the zombie outbreak that turned LA into Hell-A, Y/N left his sisters place after an argument with her husband.

Now he's back, why even he doesn't know. His sister has new friends who are immune to the virus, and her ex Sam B is back on the scene. After being hurt by LA and Hollywood before can Y/N find a home with his sister again and possibly a lover?

A huge thank you to my good friend @brunos-wife360 for helping me out with this and for allowing me to take inspiration from her Slayer x Reader fics.

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●●3rd Person POV●●

The day started out like any other day in Hell-A, the slayers, Sam, Michael and Emma where hanging out by Emma's pool enjoying the sun on a rare day off from zombie killing.

"Hey Emma, I forgot to ask you earlier but where's your brother?" Sam asked as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Last I knew, he was in New York, but that was years ago" Emma said, her eyes glossy with uncertainty.

Sam looked at the woman he loved most in disbelief before asking "What happened to him living with you?"

"Robert happened, he started saying some nasty things about Y/N so he left" Emma responded "yeah he ended up at mine one night and asked if I could help him find a place away form Hollywood" Michael added.

Suddenly there was a bang at the gate. Everyone shot to their feet readying themselves for a fight to protect their safe haven.

"I'll go check" said Carla as she started to approach the gate that separated them from the undead hoard that roamed the streets.

Just as Carla reached the gate a man catapulted himself over the gate, landing hard on his left shoulder.

The man looked up at Carla and smiled with a grimace "would you believe me if I said that I used to do my own stunts?" The man asked with a pained chuckle.

"Who are you?" Carla asked, her weapon raised ready to strike if needed. Drawn in by the commotion, the others cautiously made their way over to the pair.

Emma gasped when her eyes landed on the stranger before turning her attention to her PA.

"Michael, please go and tell Andrea that she needs to go and double clean Y/N's room" she said. Without needing to be told twice Michael left to inform their housekeeper.

"Ha, no way man, I can't believe it's actually you, speak of the Devil and he appears" Sam laughed.

"Wait you know him?" Asked Bruno as Emma walked towards Carla and the man.

"Well Sam, you said it yourself, no room in Hell" the man said before turning his attention to Emma who was now standing in front of him. "Hey Em, how you be..?" He was suddenly cut off by Emma slapping him.

"You stupid arse! What are you doing here?" She exclaimed readying herself to slap more sense into her brother.

"I feel like I'm missing something, Emma who is he?" Asked a very confused Dani.

"This twat is my younger brother Y/N" Emma responded before pulling her brother to his feet, "brother mine, this is Jacob, Amy, Dani, Bruno, Ryan and the one pointing her weapon at you is Carla"

"Hi" Y/N said with a nervous wave, "Do you think you could be so kind as to lower your weapon Carla? I'd feel better knowing that I won't end up like Glenn Rhee after his encounter with Negan" Y/N asked with an awkward smile.

●●Y/N's POV●●

After that very awkward encounter with my older sister, her ex? boyfriend and their new friends I was ushered inside where I was met with a hug from Andrea "I've been making sure that your room is nice and clean for you, although you must be starving, why don't you go and rest and I will have your favourite dish ready" after thanking her I went down the stairs to my room.

It didn't take long before I fell asleep, though it wasn't peaceful at all. The rotting faces of the zombies that chased me all the way to my sister's kept flashing into view as I slept, but they were disorganised and staticy like an old Romaro movie. Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a hand shaking me. When I opened my eyes, Emma was stood next to me, a plate of food in her hands.

"Andrea was going to bring this to you, but I told her that I would instead" she said answering my unspoken question.

We sat in silence for a while, the atmosphere was tense between us; before I left, before Robert came about, me and my sister could sit in silence for hours without needing to do anything else, but now I found myself counting the lines in the wooden door.

"Y/N, why did you come here?" Emma asked me after what felt like years of nothingness.

"I was in the area and needed a place to crash, I thought you, Michael and Robert would be already out of LA by now" I replied, only half telling the truth, "Where is Mr Steel anyway and why is Sam here?" I asked her.

"Robert got bitten, didn't tell anyone and turned on our evacuation flight causing the military to shoot us down. Sam showed up by bursting through the storage door in the game room and well, we've decided to give it another go" Emma explained while pacing the floor of my room.

"You don't seem very upset about Rob..""Our marriage wad just PR, you know this" again I'm cut off by my older sister.

Emma took a moment to calm down before she spoke again "I'm sorry that I let him say what he said to you, when you left I decided to give you a couple of days to calm down before asking you to come home, but then Michael told me that you had asked him to help you find a new place to live".

"To be completely honest with you, Ems.. I needed to get out of LA away from Hollywood anyway. My argument with Robert just gave me the excuse to leave, " I told her.

"Why, what do you mean by th..?""I mean Hollywood wasn't the right place for someone like me, Emma, you and I both know that" This time it was my turn to cut her off. Getting up, I headed for the door when my sister called out to me, "Y/N, where are you going?" Without answering her, I left my room and headed to the one person I could talk to.

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