#send help i want to swerve

[the-kipsabian]

why is writing new characters so fucking stressful ough

[emchant3d]

part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

[grapejuicestyless]

Bed Chem

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: While reminiscing on your first impressions of each other, your recounting seems to be more dirty than sweet.

“What was your first impression of me?” I asked quietly, my back pressed against the mattress that we had been sharing for years, the blankets imprinted with the lines of our bodies from countless hours of restlessness spent next to each other and tangled limps after hours.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, running his knuckles through his hair and closing his fists around the curly edges.

“I thought that I wanted more time with you.” He responded.

“Really?” I smiled, looking at him through the sides of my eyes. He hummed and nodded his head.

“I thought you were going to be the death of me. I swear you took my breath away, and you cared so deeply about everything you shared with me, I wanted to know more. I wanted to care about the things you did. I wanted to love the things you did.”

I felt his hand sliding against the sheets, a soft rubbing sound indicating where his hand was going. Soon enough, I felt the familiar warmth of his fingers slipping between mine and his palm pressing against my skin.

“Yeah?” I smiled with my teeth, giddy over his answer and he knew it.

“Of course, how could I not want to? You had be obsessed from the beginning, I was completely hooked by the first time you batted your eyes at me.”

He stretched his neck to reach my cheek, his lips pressing delicately to my cheek to not spoil the tender moment with heated passion.

“What about you?” He asked curiously.

“What about me?”

“Well, what did you think about me when you first saw me?” He sat up, propping his body up on his elbow and throwing his head back to look at me. Even all these years later, I still found even the most simple things he did dreamy. I couldn’t help but stare.

“Who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” I smiled, and Harry seemed satisfied.

“Yeah?”

I hummed.

“My friends were so tired of me. All night, I wanted to talk to you, I thought you were so cool. Everyone told me they thought you noticed me but, I thought you were too good to be true.”

“Is that right?” Harry chuckled cockily, his tongue resting pressed against the inside of his cheek. I nodded my head again.

“I wasn’t going to talk to you, but then you came over to me so I didn’t have to try and make some awkward small talk.”

“What? You were so confident!” Harry laughed.

“Maybe to your face, but I had to down at least four shots to even look you in the eyes! God, I thought my friends were pranking me when you called the next morning.” I giggled back.

“I needed to see you again.” He hummed, his hand slithering around my waist and squeezing gently. His body hovered over mine, his breath tickling my skin.

“What else did you think of me?” Harry asked, his voice softer, smoother than before.

“I bet that we’d have really good bed chem.” I told him truthfully, looking at him through my eyelashes.

He smiled and I knew I was only boosting his ego.

“Yeah?”

I hummed, “But don’t make me repeat it, because I won’t. I don’t want it to get to your head.” I laughed at his expression, and when he leaned in my palm pushed against his cheek to swerve him away from my lips. His mouth simply landed into the crook of my neck.

“Whats the verdict? Did I meet your expectations?” He mumbled against my skin, each brush of his lips sending shocks down my body.

“It’s even better than it was in my head.” I promised him, the way he would pick me up, pull them down and turn me around cemented into my mind like a movie in my mind.

His lips pulled away from my neck, a sensation pulsing down my neck telling me there was surely a mark blossoming where he had latched onto me. When he pulled away, his nose just inches away from my eyes, I could see the clouded vision that consumed his eyes, his pupils blown wide.

How he was looking at me, I know what that means.

Thats bed chem.

[mariahcarreyyy]

love ur writing, so deserved!!! ‘shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this,’ + max or oscar… maybe with some overstim?

# prompt no.9, "shush, we can't have anyone hearing this." nsfw 18+ content under beware ⬇️⬇️

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

The tricky thing with traveling to Australia with your boyfriend to meet his family for two weeks is not having neither the privacy nor time to fuck for two weeks. To shed off each other's clothes, kiss lovingly while Osc pounds into you, heaving breaths flowing out of his mouth when your pussy clenches around his dick like he'd ever fucking pull out now.

So, prior to entering the thick atmosphere of the plane, you and Oscar had devised a plan: you could go down on each other, but actual sex, even quickies, would probably wake up the entire Piastri house and therefore not be allowed. And both of you followed it.

For an impressive total of three days.

To be fair, what were you supposed to do when he sauntered out of the back door in those swim shorts, thigh muscles spilling out and all? Not promptly fly out of the lounge chair by the pool, clasp a tight hand around his pale forearm, and shove him inside the vacant kitchen?

"Y/n, what are you doi—oh," Oscar breathes out as your fingers curl around the hem of his shorts, tugging them down with one swift motion and housing your bottom lip between your teeth when your hand barely covers the base of his half-hard dick. "Oh, fuck, baby, turn 'round f'me, can't be the only one naked, hm? Lemme see you."

Hips swerving, you bend down to rest your forearms on the cool surface of the kitchen counters. Oscar's hand is heavy, cupping the swell of your ass, spreading the cheeks apart, and squeezing the soft flesh; the anticipation thrums loudly in your veins and sends the arousal in your stomach to stir.

You whimper when he pushes your bikini to the side, cupping your drenched pussy, and you can't help yourself when your hips desperately hump against his digits and moan loudly. "Osc, please—fuck, just."

"Shush," Oscar leans, his heated back flush against yours as he mumurs. "Can't have anyone hearing us, can we?"

A pout graces itself on your face; you crane your neck to look at your boyfriend's family, all outside, laughing and chatting livelyly through the large opening on the kitchen wall. Not quite large enough to show what Osc was doing to you, but to allow the obscene sounds to flow through it and into his relatives ears.

He shoves his fingers inside your hot walls, unphased, when your loud yelp catches the attention of one of his aunts, who merely furrows her brow and turns back to her company. "Can. We?" he grits out, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust.

"N-no, no—fuckfuckfuckk, Osc," you cry, burying your head in your hands to unsuccessfully muffle your moans, far too loud for your liking, but the curl of Oscar's lips trailing down your neck tells you he feels otherwise.

"Hm," he says, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and trailing his hand up to your lips, nudging two fingers against the soft flesh and grinding his dick against your ass. "But y'can't even do that. D'you want m'cock or not?"

You splutter when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, just enough for you to reply. "Yes, yesyesyes, 'do I do, miss y'cock so bad, Osc, fuck," you grind back against his fingers and squirm when the coil in your stomach is so close to bursting.

Oscar sucked in a breath when your desperate movements had you consequently humping his dick. Had you two really been foolish enough to believe you could resist each other for two weeks?

[kingthunder]

I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

[sserafics]

VALENTINE — henry h. x fem reader

use of y/n, reader is rays niece, enemies to lovers? fluff, set in s4-5, 2nd person pov

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (heavily inspired by s3 e1 of game shakers!)

your eyes scan the room as you stand in the kitchen of the hart’s home, unsure of why you’re even here.

your gaze drifts to your uncle, who is of course, flirting with henry’s mom. oh right, he brought you here, claiming you need to “socialize more and leave the man cave more often.” though it’s obvious he just wanted you to come so he could have an excuse to hit on henry’s mom. since this party is mostly teenagers, it’d be odd if a grown man just showed up alone. so, that’s why you’re here.

you sigh before taking a sip from the cola in your hand, glancing around to see the familiar faces surrounding you. piper, who threw this godforsaken valentine’s day party, charlotte, aaaand… henry. he’s talking to some girl, who you know is named valarie, but that’s about it.

an odd feeling bubbles up in your stomach at the sight of her leaning closer to him, laughing flirtatiously.

you scoff and turn away, trying not to think of the scene unfolding before you, but your gaze keeps moving back to them, the sight making your stomach twist in a way you’re unfamiliar with. you decide after a moment of watching to just leave. it’s not like your uncle is going to notice anyway, he’s too busy flexing his muscles for henry’s mom.

as you walk to the front door, you hear the sound of henry’s laugh ring through the music, making you roll your eyes at the flutter you felt in your stomach after hearing his laugh.

the cool air of the night hits your face as you step outside, grabbing your phone from your bag and opening the uber app, scheduling one. it arrives almost immediately, and you get in the car.

you look up as you settle in the backseat of the car, about to tell the driver where you need to go, but the sight shocks you. no driver? you’re about to speak, when a voice, monotonous and robot like, rings out.

“welcome to your self driving car, what is your destination?”

“oh, uhm.. just take me to junk n’ stuff.” you reply, still a bit weirded out by this car, but still you divert your attention to your phone, still trying to get your mind off of the scene at the party. the car begins driving.

“yeah, so i’m thinking ‘bout starting a band-“ henry began, talking to another girl who just arrived at the party.

charlotte suddenly rushes to him, her phone in her hand and her eyes wide. “henry! y/n needs help!” she shows him her phone, where a text from you reads that your uber is a self driving car and is out of control. the text also reads to send your uncle, not henry.

he resists the urge to scowl at the last part of your text, before excusing himself from the girl he was talking to and rushing to the front porch, popping a gumball and transforming into kid danger.

“damn it, y/n.” he mumbles before pulling his phone out and scrolling to find your contact, calling you.

“opening sunroof.” the robotic voice of the car speaks.

“what?- i didn’t even mention the sunroof-“ you blurt out, your voice tinged with panic as the car swerves, narrowly missing an old woman who was for some reason, walking in the middle of the street.

“y/n! just tell me when you’re about to pass swellview junior high!” henry’s voice rings out from your phone, reminding you he’s on the phone.

“what? oh- uh- yeah, i’m about to pass it now-!” you reply, trying your best to look out the windows to see where you are, but the car is speeding too fast to really tell.

a thump on the top of the car makes you yelp, accidentally dropping your phone onto the seat next to yours.

“i’m fine, actually!” you shout when you see henry on top of the car, peeking in through the sunroof to try and make out what’s going on inside. the jealousy from seeing him with valarie earlier bubbling up again.

“oh really? because it looks like your stuck in an out of control car, so.” he retorts sarcastically, sounding equally as annoyed as you do. you scoff but it quickly turns into a gasp when he drops down into the car, landing in the front seat.

“jesus! a warning would be nice next time!” you yell, glaring at the back of his head.

“yeah, okay, i’ll keep that in mind for the next time you get stuck in a self driving car!”

he tries to take control of the car, gripping the steering wheel, but the car jolts to the opposite side.

“don’t touch my wheel.” the car rings out in that same, robot like voice, jerking the car to the side again.

“come on-!” he murmurs, still trying to gain control of the car, but to no avail.

“closing sunroof.”

“what?- i didn’t even mention the sunroof-!” he exclaims, utterly confused.

“she’s obnoxious! just stop the car!!” you shout, holding onto the passenger seat in front of you for dear life, suddenly wondering why you didn’t put your seatbelt on.

he groans and pulls out his phone, scrolling and finding schwoz’s contact, quickly pressing call.

“are you seriously making a call right now-?” you ask, irritation lacing your voice.

“i need absolute silence.” he cuts you off, holding a hand up while he silently prays that schwoz will pick up.

“are you serio-“ you began but cut yourself off when schwoz’s voice spoke from his phone.

henry quickly explains what’s happening, his voice panicked. he puts the phone call on speaker phone, placing the phone on the dashboard.

“open up the front panel,” schwoz deadpans, his voice slightly muffled as if he’s eating on the other line. typical.

henry easily pops open the front panel, using some sort of gadget from the man cave, as usual.

“okay, it’s open- now what?”

“look for a red wire.”

“what?! there’s all kinds of red wires, man-“ henry tries to keep the car steady on the road— while also trying to figure out which red wire he’s supposed to be looking for, but the car suddenly swerves to the left, practically throwing you against the window.

henry’s head snaps back to you, noticing your wide eyes and he realizes he’s not going to be able to stop the car this way. he mumbles something under his breath and then moves to the back seat, sitting next to you.

“protect your eyes!” he tells you, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his laser.

“protect my eyes? what- why?-“ you began, but before you could finish, he pulled you against him and hid your face in his chest, making sure to cover his own face as he used his laser to zap at the front panel repeatedly, effectively short circuiting the car.

immediately after, he lets go of you and leans forward, taking hold of the steering wheel, making sure to guide the car to the side of the road as it slowly stops, letting out a sigh of relief after. he slumps against the back seat, panting.

…

an awkward silence fills the car as you fiddle with your bag, tracing one of the straps with your finger. the atmosphere feels tense yet oddly serene, the arguments that usually surround you two absent in the moment.

“why’d you come?” you ask after a while, your voice quieter than usual.

a beat passes without an answer.

“ray was too busy hitting on my mom.” he speaks after a while, glancing out the window awkwardly. that’s not the reason, and you both know it.

he transforms back to his regular self, the pop of his bubble gum causing you to turn back to look at him, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how close he’s sitting to you. your arms are brushing against one another, his face now fully exposed without his kid danger mask.

you reach for the door, hoping to get out of this awkward moment, but it doesn’t open. you sigh.

turning back to face him, you finally decide to vocalize the question that’s been lingering in your mind since you saw him at the party earlier.

“who’s valarie?”

he blinks, looking confused before smiling smugly, which makes you groan, turning away and facing the window again.

“we used to go to camp together, years ago.” he replies, though you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “why? you jealous?”

you scoff and finally realize where you are. outside of his house again. of course, all of this trouble and you’re not even at junk n’ stuff.

“y/n.”

the serious tone in his voice makes you turn back to look at him. you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he cups your cheek and leans in, pausing just before your lips meet, as if to give you an out if you don’t want this. you meet his gaze before leaning in, your lips connecting in a kiss.

it was a short, sweet kiss, yet it felt like it lasted centuries. he pulls back slowly and you open your eyes to see him already looking at you, forehead pressed against yours gently.

“happy valentines day, y/n.”

(a/n) ahhh i finally wrote my first fic!! this took me so long but i like how it turned outtt, i feel like the ending might’ve been a little ooc for him and it kinda sucked 😞 but it’s almost midnight so im posting it 🤞🏻anyway thanks for reading!! it was pretty long so sorry abt that 😭

[mullet-mother]

Eaten, Stuffed, or Mounted?

My first oneshot - ever

TW: Smut below the cut, MINORS DNI

I have a fun tidbit of information for you.

Did you know that when you crash your car the radio doesn’t stop playing?I was made aware of that lovely fun fact after swerving to avoid that damn deer. 

I finally got my ass out of the house for the first time in months after persistent pestering and coaching from my friends to go to their New Years party. I wouldn’t say I was excited, but I was trying to be—hence the obnoxiously loud music blasting through my car’s speakers. I shouldn’t have taken that curve so fast—the visibility was absolute garbage with the snow. The animal jumped out so quickly; I reacted instinctively, and the black ice spun my wheels when I tried to avoid flattening the buck, sending me careening into the trees on the embankment. As I said before, the radio doesn’t stop playing when you crash. I hadn’t considered that my death would consist of me bleeding to death by myself on the side of the road with the speakers blaring ‘Party Rock Anthem’.

What a ridiculous celestial discharge.

When I opened my eyes, I was most certainly not in Kansas anymore. My eyes and nose were not prepared for the onslaught of stimulus they received. It was so, so red. The smell of rust and sulfur stung my nose and eyes. The sounds of screaming also did not help the overwhelming feeling of dread I started to experience. 

While I wasn’t particularly shocked that I ended up in hell, this was also not what I had expected. So many religions have their own versions, most commonly the lake of fire and brimstone. I was not expecting the burning city, dead bodies littering the streets, porn on every billboard, and the twisted and exotic forms of the…residents. It felt like I had entered the most twisted version of ‘Grand Theft Auto’ that someone could have conceived. 

It took only seconds for me to snap out of my shock, when I heard a shout in my direction. I scrambled to my feet and cursed, realizing I was in the insufferable heels and dress I decided to wear for the party. This also made me acutely aware of the difference in my body, but at the time I didn’t have the mental capacity to absorb what had changed, but the heels I wore made the hooves I now had nye-impossible to stand.   A large bear of a man—quite literally—was approaching me with a grin that made my hair stand on end. 

“Going somewhere all dressed up like that by yourself? Or are you just out to get fucked and your cute little tail pulled?” His disgusting maw was drooling and it had nearly made me gag.

It was made apparent that even in death I had no sense of self preservation. 

“Go fuck yourself, you rip-off build-a-bear fuck stain!”

It had slipped out of my mouth faster than I could react, and our big furry friend was not pleased. 

The growls that left his chest and the elongating teeth were not comforting. “You. Fucking. Cunt. I wanted to fuck you, but now I’ve got something else in mind.” His mouth seemed to grow wider, but it was the change in smile on his face that made me bolt so fast I nearly got whiplash as I kicked my way out of those god-awful heels.

I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast before, my hair whipped by my face, my legs burned, and the acrid air stung my lungs with each breath I gulped into my body. I heard him behind me, snarling, screams of other demons, and curses as he barreled them over in his pursuit. I leapt over bodies and pools of blood; I couldn’t remember ever having the ability to run like that. In hindsight, deer can be fucking quick.  I could feel him getting closer and made a sharp turn around a corner in hopes to lose him. 

I landed face first into what felt like a designer pillow. I looked up slowly as a pair of slender arms grabbed my waist to steady me. Mismatched eyes looked down at me with a face of shock, which promptly shifted to confused. I gaped up at the demon in surprise. His confusion shifted to a dazzling smile with a shiny gold tooth. He tried to speak but was quickly interrupted.

“Y’know I usually charg-”

“Please help me; I’m being chased; he’s going to kill me; please help me!”

The tears began to stream down my face before I could stop them, and I began to violently shake.  I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to even absorb my current situation, but I threw every ounce of trust into the stranger that had caught me. 

The demon’s eyes hardened and the smile dropped to a grimace. His arms tightened around my waist, and he quickly ushered me into a limo waiting down the sidewalk. 

He sat me down next to him and turned to look at me. The dazzling smile that he had before returned to his face. He slung his arm around me and pulled me right back up to the fluff on his chest.

“ Nice to meetcha; I’m Angel.”

Angel brought me to the hotel with him, but it was Charlie who insisted that I stay. While I wasn’t necessarily interested in redemption, Charlie was kind, and well…free rent. I was quickly introduced to the rest of the hotel, and became integrated rather quickly. I tried to help where I could, and soon joined the flow of cleaning, cooking, and helping to maintain the state of the hotel. I felt comfortable with the seemingly found family, including a certain Strawberry Pimp.

It was a shock after settling into my body with its new modifications. That fucking deer gave me a lovely parting gift on top of sending me into that tree. While my tattoos were still in their rightful place, the rest of my skin had faded to an off white, almost grey. Hazel eyes shifted to a black sclera and lavender iris. I gained soft ears and an unruly tail spotted with the same rainbow highlighting my black hair. The hooves were definitely an adjustment, no more pedicures for me unfortunately. 

That was six months ago.

Angel became my best friend within hours, we began spending our nights watching TV dramas and bothering Husk at the bar. He also started to pick up on my attraction for the buck in the hotel. I couldn’t deny my interest, but I most certainly pretended to unless it was in the confines of Angel’s room at 4 AM after copious amounts of alcohol. But that’s all it was, attraction.

Alastor and I started out with a friendly disposition; we weren’t friends per-se but we bantered and laughed at ridiculous jokes when in the same company.

That devolved into sarcastic quips and jabs, hiding coffee cups, and constantly trying to get a rise out of each other.

It started when he refused to change the radio station. While I enjoy jazz and the classics as much as anyone—I need variety. “Alastor, please. I have asked you THRICE now—and very nicely I might add—to change the station to something else.”

He continued to ignore me and hum along to the song currently playing and it was starting to really, piss me off. 

“Peepaw, I understand that you’re always reliving your ‘golden years—I get it! But if I have to listen to one more grainy, barely audible man groan about how he’s lonely, I might lose my mind.” 

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.” 

The fucker had the audacity to smirk at me. 

“Class? I’ll show you class, you audacious, virgin,  fuckboy!” 

The radio began to whirl with the changing of stations, moving back and forth—glowing the same purple as my eyes. Then suddenly it stopped, and the most obscene music I could possibly think of began to blare from the radio. A classic - CPR by CupcakKE;

Want your dick soaked? Place it down my throat

Tongue tickle yo' dick but not telling a joke

Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat

It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking Periscope

“What in the fresh hell is that?”

The disgust on his face was absolutely priceless. He demanded that I turn it off, change it. He tried to switch it back himself, but I very clearly said;

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.”

I then began changing the station whenever I damn well pleased. He got one request to change it and if he fought me on it I would put on my most devious hits, all outrageously filthy. This turned our little friendship to a sparring match. 

Husker thus named me the resident ‘shit-disturber’, and ‘almost worse than him’. Both him and Vaggie were absolutely convinced I had a death wish. 

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I just loved seeing his ears flatten out and his smile strain. During my inquiry into whether or not he bleats after the discovery that I have my own (albeit embarrassing) squeak, I thought his head was going to pop off with the crack from his neck. The radio-static was so loud I had to cover my ears—and it was so satisfying.

Angel teased me relentlessly and told me he ‘can’t stand the sexual tension’, which I denied vehemently, as much as I might have wished there was. While he and I constantly teased each other he was always a gentleman regardless. I also found the tall, dark, and creepy vibe rather sexy, but I’d settle for imagining that there’s sexual tension and pushing his buttons.

Which is exactly what I’m going to do today during breakfast. 

As I come down into the dining area everyone is conversing amicably, Alastor looks content, casually sipping his coffee at the head of the table. Unfortunately for him, I had the most delightful thought last night, and I have been impatiently waiting to make it known to the group.

I quietly go to the kitchen and make my iced coffee; the excitement building in my chest. As I go to sit down I can feel the smile on my face spreading even wider.

“Good Morning Everyone!” They all turn their attention in my direction and the strangeness of my enthusiasm. I am usually…unpleasant if I’m out of bed before 10 AM, but I don’t believe anything could ruin my mood today; I could barely sleep with the anticipation of what’s about to transpire.

Alastor looks over his mug in my direction and it’s clear that he is suspicious of my jovial mood—and he should be.

“Alastor! As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about Vox.”He inhales a sharp breath, and a new rush of excitement wiggles its way up my spine. “ His silly bit about you being venison or cooking you? I just think it’s ridiculous! You’re far too lean.”

Husk sits across from me with a look of abject horror on his face, and I can only continue with unbridled glee.“I mean, can you imagine? Deer are already gamey—with your figure, it would be far too tough to eat!”

The sound of his grip tightening on his cup and the beginnings of crackles in the air only furthers my resolve. 

He responds with clenched teeth and a static filled voice. “Is that so, little doe?”

I nod my head with a determined look on my face - seriousness overcoming my smile. “In my humble opinion yes; I think it would be better to mount you on the wall instead. I’m personally a huge fan of taxidermy.”

Alastor is barely containing his rage at this point when he asks me;

“Maybe we should eat you instead, you’re obviously the better choice on the menu with your proportions, or would you rather be stuffed and mounted on the wall instead, hm?” 

I paint an innocent smile on my face and finish the rest of my coffee out of my cup, making sure to slurp as obnoxiously as I can. I smack my lips and stand up from the table.

“Alastor, I want you to take one good look at this fat ass and tell me if it looks like I give a fuck whether I’m eaten or stuffed.” 

For a moment there is only silence,

A quick look around continues to feed my giddiness. There are looks of horror on Charlie and Husk’s faces; Angel and Vaggie trying desperately not to choke; finally my gaze falls on the man of the hour.

I don’t know if I have ever made him so incredibly mad. His face is red, teeth clenched, smile stretched to its limits. His antlers are slowly growing larger, eyes flickering to radio dials, his body getting larger. The sound of radio static and crackling is nearing uncomfortable levels. 

“Thanks for the lovely breakfast everyone! See you later for group activities.”

As I walk away, I can hear the sound of a mug shattering. On the way back to my room, I am nearly vibrating. The satisfaction of getting such a visceral reaction from both Alastor and the rest of the group was exquisite. ‘Resident shit disturber’ indeed. I’m not naive enough to believe I won’t face extreme retaliation, but I’m ninety percent sure he won’t kill me. 

The rest of the day goes as usual, and I see very little of Alastor. While I’m still riding the high of this morning, I begin to get nervous. He doesn’t attend any group activities, and while that isn’t too far from the norm, it still has my nerves on edge. By the end of the day I’m ready to crawl into bed, get off, and sleep until noon. 

I make it back to my room and slip inside when I hear the door lock behind me and the shadows in the room rising.

I am so, so fucked.

A squeak leaves my mouth when I feel myself dropping into what feels like nothing before landing roughly onto a carpeted floor. I lift my head and see a fireplace, small table, and the open expanse of what appears to be a bayou. The overwhelming feeling of both dread and excitement shoots through my body as I realize exactly where I am. 

I attempt to get up to my feet, but am forced to stay on my knees by the large clawed hands squeezing my shoulders. Alastor is bent at the waist; he’s larger than normal, with a strained smile and antlers out; his clear red eyes are the only clue to his dwindling self control. He puts his face directly in front of mine and my skin prickles from the static. 

“Hello little doe, are you pleased with your lovely little performance at breakfast?” 

“Were you not? I thought it was excellent.” 

“Why are you so intent on being a vexing little Brat?” He loses his static the moment he says ‘brat’. A clear voice filled with true frustration. 

The sound of his voice causes my cunt to slick and my body heat to rise. My cheeks flush in embarrassment, and for once in my life, I have no response. I just continue to stare into the glowing red eyes that are searching mine for some semblance of an answer. Maybe Angel was right and it was sexual tension?

His right hand comes to wrap around my throat; his left finds my hip as he guides me up off of the floor. I’m now standing in front of him, having to crane my neck to look up into his eyes, his size dwarfing mine. I can feel my breathing getting heavier and my slick soaking through the fabric of my panties.

“Tell me, What would you prefer? Being stuffed, eaten, or mounted on the wall?” His eyes narrow as he squeezes the hand around my throat, and my mouth goes dry. I try to think of a proper response, but my brain is fogged with his eyes, his cologne, and the heat consuming every inch of my body. 

All I can do is close my eyes, whimper and lean into the hand around my throat. I feel him squeeze, and I know he’s demanding an answer. I look up at him, and I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes; I can feel my heart pounding in my chest in anticipation. 

“Anything Al; whatever you want.”

I feel a tongue slide up my cheek; he groans deeply, and I can feel his claws digging into my hip. His lips hover over mine and I move to close the distance but his hands stop me. He moves his hands to my cheeks and squeezes them together, my mouth popping open.

“Open your eyes, doe; look at me. You will get whatever I deem to give you. You will not cum unless I say so, you will beg for release and will not get it until I deem you worthy of such pleasures after your abhorrent behavior. Are we clear, Brat?” 

I let out a soft moan as a response.

His smile widens and a soft phrase leaves his lips that turns me to mush. “Good girl.”

Another fall into nothingness, and my back is on soft sheets, any clothing I had gone. He’s standing at the end of the bed, studying my naked body and I’m suddenly shy being so exposed. I move to cover myself when I see the thick black t

entacles surge from behind him to grab and trap my arms and legs. My arms are pulled above my head, my knees bent, and legs spread. The hungry look on his face has me blushing and closing my eyes, which fly back open when I feel his long wet tongue slip through my folds. It pulls a high pitched moan from my throat and a groan from him.

“Maybe I should just eat you, little brat, keep you tied to this bed just for me.”

He continues to slowly lick and suck on my clit, just enough to bring me close to the edge, only to switch techniques and rip me away from it again, fucking me with his tongue, swirling it around my clit slowly, flat tongued laps through my folds. Tears prick at the edge of my eyes before I start begging.

“Al, Al, please; I can’t take it anymore; please let me cum. I need it; please, I’m begging you!”

He just continues with a torturous pace and keeps his smile in place. 

“Fuck me; stuff me; I don’t care, please! I need to cum; I need it, please!”

He stops and brings his face to mine, a smirk there, his lips shining. “I want a nice, sincere apology from you, Brat. For your atrocious performance and disrespect today.” 

“I’m so, so sorry Al; I promise I won’t ever do it again; I’ll be so good for you. Please let me cum; please fuck me; I’ll be good!”

As soon as I finish, his lips are on mine; they’re soft and bruising. This kiss is tongue and teeth and months of repressed sexual desires. My hands are suddenly released, and I’m instantly ripping at his shirt and pants. My hands can’t move fast enough. My mind is spinning, and my body is aching with need. 

I finally feel his length hot and heavy on my cunt; it slides easily through my soaking folds and we both moan at the contact. He opens his eyes and looks into mine, always the gentleman. “I  need to hear a yes, darling,” he moves his mouth down to my neck; I can feel his teeth gently scraping against my skin. 

The softness of the question makes my heart swell in my chest, “Please, yes, Al; I need you.”

With one rough thrust, he stretches and fills me, his hips flush against mine. I’m so unbelievably full, his tip pressing and pushing against my cervix. He slowly pulls out, dragging his cock against my oversensitive walls before roughly thrusting back inside. I can feel myself gushing around him with each rough thrust in, soaking my and his thighs.

I’m babbling and crying out his name over and over. Begging him for more.“Please make me cum, Alastor; I want to cum all over your cock; I want to feel you cum inside me; I’m begging you!” My eyes are glassy and staring into his own.

He picks up his speed, ramming himself in and out of me roughly. He brings a claw down to press and circle my clit, then gently kisses my lips and whispers into my ear, “You’ve been so patient, little doe; such a good girl. Cum for me.”

One hard thrust, and a scream is ripping through my throat as hot thrumming pleasure surges through my body; I can feel my heartbeat in every cell of my body. Before I have time to recover, he continues his brutal pace, “One more, darling. I need you to give me one more.”

“I can’t; it’s too much I can’t!”

“You can; cum with me. I need to feel you milking my cock.”

He tilts my hips, and the position has him hitting that spot inside me over and over again. I can feel the tingling heat starting to grow in my abdomen once more. I tell him I’m getting close, and he doubles his efforts. Sweat drips down his forehead; I can feel his cock getting hotter inside me. He grabs my knees and pushes them to my chest, bending me in half. The position sends his cock even deeper inside me. 

I’m screaming his name, no doubt the entire hotel hearing my cries of absolute bliss. His thumb returns to my clit and presses down firmly, rubbing those perfect circles. With his mouth by my shoulder, he commands me again,“Cum with me, now.”The moment I feel him spilling his hot seed inside me and his teeth in my shoulder, another orgasm sends electric waves through my body.

I slowly come back down and open my eyes; he’s back to his regular self, seemingly relaxed. 

“Hey Alastor, I have a question.”

“And what is that, little doe?”

-“Do I just have to get you really pissed and you’ll fuck me like that again?” 

Thank you so much to the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes for editing for me! You're amazing!

[dira333]

Of Lovers and Friends - Ushijima x Reader

thank you @screamin-abt-haikyuu talking to you is inspiring

If you find a typo, I wrote this instead of going to bed. Goodnight.

“Just a Tonic Water, please,” You order, well aware of all the eyes on you.

“Are you sick?” Kindaichi asks, already pressing a hand against your forehead.

“Pregnant?” Kunimi’s next, though less serious.

“As if, you can’t get pregnant from RPG,” Makki points out, licking foam off his lip.

“You would know,” you tell him, a little peeved, as you push Kindaichi away.

“I’m fine. I just have a date later.”

Yahabi whistles, clearly impressed. God, you need to amp up your game. This is just sad.

“Who is it?” Kyoutani asks, forever your best friend. Or at least the one guy who’s seemingly the least interested in teasing you.

“I don’t know, my Mom set us up. She went to school with his Mom or something like that. I just know that he plays Volleyball and is about my age.”

“Could be anyone,” Watari mumbles into his Aperol Spritz.

“Could be Ushijima,” Mattsun jokes, causing Makki to choke on his beer, spluttering as he bellows out a laugh.

“Can you imagine? That would be hilarious!”

“Har har har,” you thank the waitress for your drink and lean back in your chair, “Can we change the topic? Does Makki have a job yet?”

“Uncalled for!” Makki points an accusing finger at you. “And no. But a little birdy told me that Kyoutani’s got a fangirl.”

Kyoutani blushes, glaring into his drink. The girl must mean something to him if he’s trying to pull himself together like this. You swerve to look at Kindaichi who’s managed to spill his diet coke - again.

“What about you? Did you call that girl we met at the coffee shop?”

“No,” he ducks his head. “I didn’t. I was… I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Makki lets his eyes wander as usual, “Tell you what. There’s a nice girl with her friends two tables over. We’ll get you her number but you have to call. Or at least send her some funny memes, okay?”

“Okay,” Kindaichi’s looking at you. Makki’s looking at you.

You groan and get up. “Next time you get someone else to get that number, okay? This is the last time.”

“Love you too, pumpkin!” Makki calls after you as you make your way over. These patterns have turned familiar.

-

You should have gotten a beer, you think two hours later as you wait, your legs twitching with anxiety. 

You’ve been painfully single for so long that you can’t help but feel you should have worn a dress or at least something more fancy than the jeans and top combo you’re sporting. But it’s comfy and it sets you at ease. And you’ve always been an advocate for being yourself on the first date. If they don’t like you like that, they won’t matter anyway.

So far that has brought you a lot of first dates and not a lot of second dates.

A deep voice calls out your name. You turn, your hands clutching the single purple carnation you had to bring - your mother’s idea. 

You spot the flower first, a tiny purple thing held in massive hands. He’s tall, impressively so. You let your eyes wander up as he walks over, the flickering street light casting long shadows over his face until he’s reached you and the soft warm glow of the restaurant behind you. 

Your heart skips a painful beat as he attempts a rather forced smile.

“Ushijima-kun,” you stutter, the confidence earned in twenty-something years shattered and replaced by the anxious brain of a teenager.

He offers you his hand, the one without the flower and you take it. His palm swallows yours, his grip warm and firm. If you can blend out the history your team has with his, that your friends have with him, you can give him a chance, right?

-

“Are you close with your mother?” He asks in the tense moment when the food’s already been ordered and the drinks aren’t served yet. It’s the worst possible question to ask, too, because no, you’re not close. Not since she went through with the divorce, unable to settle with a man ever since, as dissatisfied with them as she is with life, her business, you.

You don’t ramble often, but you do when you’re nervous. 

If he’s taken aback by the flood of words, of trauma seemingly long overcome, he does not show. He’s like a rock, sitting steadfast in the crashing river of your emotions, unmoving, sturdy.

When you’re finished, throat a little dry, he nods slowly. 

“My parents are divorced as well,” he says. You wonder if he’s told it often. 

“How was it for you?” You ask and the surprise in his eyes tells you that he hasn’t been asked this before. 

His tale is told more slowly. He hands out information bit by bit, always confirming that you’re still listening, still interested in what he has to say about this topic. You share a bottle of wine over his parent's divorce, the main dish just an accessory to the topic at hand. 

When his words run dry and the last drop of wine is poured into your glass, your mind a little fuzzy and his lips tinted a little blue, you are full and empty at the same time. All the anxiety has left you over dinner. 

Seijoh and your friends are far, far away but Ushijima - Wakatoshi, as he asks you to call him - is right there.

“Do you want to share dessert?” You ask and his eyes light up with a new emotion, one you haven’t seen before on him. It’s a little softer, makes him look a little younger, maybe.

“Do you like chocolate?” He asks, leaning forward a bit as if to share a secret.

“Who doesn’t?” You ask back and learn about his best friend.

-

“This was nice,” you say when he walks you to the train station, slowing his steps to be in tune with yours. The cold night air does wonders for your fuzzy brain but the chill is less pleasant. You shiver.

“Here.” A warm weight settles over your shoulders. His jacket drapes over your skin like it was made for this. It smells good, too. 

It’s not the first time you wonder if there will be a second date. But it’s the first time you really, really hope there is.

The train station appears much too soon. You want to prolong this evening, stay longer in this emotion that you cannot name. But you’re a realist at heart and you slip his jacket off before you become too used to its warmth.

“Keep it,” his large hand stops your movement, easily takes hold of yours. “You can give it back the next time.”

“Next time?” You ask, unable to keep that hopeful tone out of your voice. 

“I don’t have much free time,” Wakatoshi explains, “Could we meet again in a week? Same time, same place?”

You nod, much too eager to come off as nonchalant. It reminds you of Kindaichi, but you cannot bring yourself to care. You give him your number and feel your lips slip into a smile when he immediately texts you so that you have his as well.

Overhead your trains arrival is announced. You turn, still unwilling to part.

“Until Friday,” Wakatoshi says, one last wave. “Good night.”

- - -

You sleep well, better than you have in days.

It’s only when you wake up that you realize what this means.

You have a second date. The first in a long time. 

But as excited as you are for it, dread still settles in your stomach. How on earth will you explain this to your friends?

The answer is, you don’t.

When you meet up for beers and games on wednesday, Makki consolingly pats your shoulder. He seems to think your date went awful and you do nothing to correct him. You only feel a little guilty. It’s his fault for not even asking.

The others seem to already have forgotten. The news of Kindaichi getting a first date is more exciting and you let yourself get dragged into it, give him fashion advice - that goes ignored - and laugh with the others when Yahaba tries to fix his hair.

It’s only Friday afternoon that your nerves make themselves known.

Surely there’s nothing wrong in dressing similar again. Wakatoshi didn’t seem to mind and neither should you.

But you want to, you desperately want to… look a little better. You want him to look at you, unable to catch his breath, unable to form words, at least for a few seconds. Is that too much to ask for?

But you don’t own any Make-up, courtesy of rebelling against everything that makes you think of your mother. So you do the next best thing and call Mattsun.

“I’m not late,” he answers, immediately defensive. Right, you’re still on for drinks before the date. You can’t think about that now.

“I don’t care. Get your girlfriend on the phone, I need help.”

“What? Why?”

“Girls-stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” 

Miri agrees to join you for drinks. According to her she won’t need more than ten minutes in the bar bathroom to give you a little bit of an extra kick.

“You don’t want to look too different to what he’s seen the last time,” she reasons as you go over the few options of fancier clothes you have.

You're anxious the whole time, nurse one soda after the other. Even Kunimi notices.

“Second date?” Kyoutani asks. Makki’s eyes widen in surprise. You hate it.

“Maybe,” you grumble, getting up to pee once more. 

“What? You didn’t tell us the first one went well.”

“You didn’t ask,” you tell him as you make your escape to the bathroom. But this is Makki. He doesn’t let go of a topic.

“What’s his name?” He asks as soon as you’re back. “What team does he play for?”

“Let me get through this date first,” you huff, trying to sound more relaxed than you are. 

“He’s nice?” Kyoutani asks, able to put a threat and a question and a whole lot of worry in those few words. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little flustered just by the thought of him. The boys go silent around you. 

“Wow, you really like that guy,” Mattsun points out. 

“Shut up,” you grumble and empty your glass, calling for another. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Anyway,” Miri points out and you’ll forever be thankful for that, for her switching topics when you need it most, “Mattsun and I have decided to move together. We’re still debating about which apartment to move into, though.”

“Are you for real?” Makki’s always the first to put in his two cents, “Miri’s apartment is way better.”

Miri laughs. “Thank you Makki, I knew I could count on you.”

-

“There, done.” Miri steps away. You look at yourself in the mirror, the knots in your stomach slowly loosening. You don’t look like a clown, not like your mother either. 

“What did you do?” You ask, a little perplexed by how long your lashes suddenly are. 

“Mascara and some eyeliner. A little lipgloss too, you can reapply it when you’re at the restaurant.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. If you want, we can go shopping for some of this stuff. You don’t need much and I can show you how to do the little things you might want to do sometimes.”

“Ah,” you look away, embarrassed, “Let me get through this date first.”

Miri smiles, understanding visible in her eyes. 

“Go get him, tiger,” she tells you when you part ways.

- - -

Wakatoshi is already waiting for you. 

Warmth pools in your stomach when he stills at your sight, his eyes warm as they wander over your face. 

“You look beautiful,” he tells you and you have to look away, too flustered to face him for a second.

“Am I not beautiful all the time?” You joke, hoping against hope that he does not notice the way your voice breaks slightly.

“Of course,” Wakatoshi tells you immediately, not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. You have to swallow twice before you’re able to talk again.

“You’re very pretty too,” your voice is doing funny things. You offer your hand to shake, a little unsure of what greeting is correct. He takes your hand in his, not to shake it, but to hold it all the way to the table and you’re unable to look anyone in the eyes until you’re seated, your insides a fluttery mess.

-

“Can I see you again?” Wakatoshi asks when you reach the train station, his jacket a comforting weight on your shoulders, your hand resting in his.

You nod, unable to hide your eagerness. 

You can’t blame the buzzing of your mind on alcohol this time. He’s calmly explained that he can’t drink often with his strict diet, has to choose between dessert or a glass of wine most of the time. It didn’t feel right to drink when he wasn’t allowed to.

Somehow your conversations feel deeper, more meaningful without the alcohol coating them. You know he means it when he asks and he knows you mean it when you nod.

Overhead, your train is announced. You don’t let go of his hand.

“I could do a little walk,” you say, “What do you say?”

You kiss his cheek when you eventually part. His skin is soft and warm underneath your lips. It follows you into your dreams.

-

On Wednesday you get a text just as you head out to meet the boys for beers and games.

“I’ve got out of practice earlier. Do you want to go for a walk?”

You go back inside, put on the lipgloss Miri had lent you as you text him your confirmation. You think about kissing him and wipe it off again, unsure of what you want. In the end you put it into your pocket just in case.

“Can’t come today, I have another date,” you text the group chat. 

Makki’s the first to answer, per usual, but his use of emojis has your anxiety rising so you put your phone on silent. You’ll deal with this on Friday.

It’s not yet time for the Sakura blossoms, but the park is beautiful anyway.

Not that you can focus on much besides the feeling of your hand in his, the way his voice rumbles in his chest as he talks about practice and his plans to meet up with his old teammates. 

You like this, the calmness of it all. You like him, with his serious expression and his direct way of asking. You like how he never fails to ask how your day has been, how he’s interested in all aspects of your work, even the little ones that no one seems to care about.

You like him, a lot. And if the way he looks at you is any indication, he likes you too. 

It’s when you’re on your way back, the setting sun bringing forth a chill, that someone calls your name.

You turn, your hand still firmly in Wakatoshi’s grasp, only to spot Kyoutani. He’s frozen on a near path and you know with certainty that he’s recognized your date. Your heart beats painfully in your throat and you feel sick.

“Everything okay?” Wakatoshi asks at the same time the girl next to Kyoutani pulls her massive scarf down to look at you. She looks familiar, blond hair, brown eyes, petite figure. It’s only when she opens her mouth to ask Kyoutani what’s going on that you recongize her. She’d been Karasuno’s volleyball manager. Yachi something.

Kyoutani seems to realize that you’ve recognized her because his face turns dark. He shakes his head at Yachi, points into the distance and leads her away. 

You’re still frozen next to Wakatoshi, realization washing over you like the cold floods of the  Tamagawa. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks again, cradling your face in his hands to make you look at him. You blink to clear your mind, wish you could just lean into his touch and disappear forever.

“You know what school I went to, right?”

“Aoba Johsai, yes. You were a manager for their volleyball team.”

“Yes,” He must have realized the truth already, still he asks you to say it out loud. “I’m still friends with the team, like you are with yours. They are not… They’re not fans of you.”

“I understand.” Wakatoshi nods. His hands slip away from your face, you miss them immediately.

You didn’t plan for it to go like this. He’s got an uncanny ability to make you open yourself up. Being vulnerable feels less scary when it’s him. 

He takes your hand again, guides you around the park for another round as you tell him all there is to know about your poor attempts at dating. How it sucks to be “just one of the boys” sometimes. How it hurts that they don’t even ask anymore if you’ve got a second date. How scary it is to admit to them that you’re dating him.

You bite your tongue after those last words. You’ve been on two dates so far, this is your third. Is it too forward to call this “dating”? What if he’s not-

“I understand if you want to keep this a secret for longer,” he says. His voice is heavy in a way that tells you that there’s more to it. 

Two things can be true at the same time. Understanding it won’t mean that he’ll appreciate it.

“I will… I will try and talk to them,” you promise. And you will. Even if you could keep this a secret, you won’t if it hurts him. And you can tell that it hurts.

-

You wish you could kiss him goodbye. But you can tell that he’s distanced himself, put up a wall to protect his heart. 

“On Wednesday we usually meet up to drink beer and play games,” you explain, wringing your hands, “They should all be there right now. Well, except Kyoutani. I will... I will go and talk to them right now.”

He nods. Your voice breaks a little when you ask. “Are we still- Are we still on for Friday?”

“Of course,” his deep voice soothes your anxious heart a little. You take a step forward and hug him, stiff and awkward, before you move back.

“I really like you, Wakatoshi,” you say before you can take it back, swallow it down, hide it from the world. 

“I like you too.”

- - -

Makki is already buzzed when he opens the door.

It’s probably not the best time to talk about things like this, but you want to get this over with. If you talk about it now, the dust will settle by Friday. Or so you hope.

There’s an iPad on the coffee table, Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinning back at you. You accept a beer, almost drop it with how jumpy you are, your legs unable to stay still.

“So, how was your date?” Makki asks, cutting off one of Oikawa’s rants.

“Good,” you say and take another sip of beer, “We met Kyoutani at the park.”

“Oh?” Mattsun looks up from his phone. “So you met the girl he fancies?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, unwilling to give up his secret. He’s got his one fears to face. 

“What you mean, dear Mattsun,” Makki teases, “Is that Kyoutani met her boyfriend.”

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “No way?! You got a boyfriend? Who is it!”

“Ushijima,” you say, ripping the bandaid off in one swoop.

Makki cackles, spurned on by Oikawa’s apparent confusion.

“Good one,” Mattsun jokes as Iwaizumi snorts. The younger players don’t think the joke’s that funny. It’s Kunimi who bothers you the most, his perceptive eyes locked onto your face.

“Guys,” he cuts through the laughter, “She’s serious.”

And it would have turned out better, you suppose, without the beer. Because Oikawa gets more petulant when drunk and Makki’s jokes are a bit less funny and a lot more mean when he’s buzzed. The younger guys don’t really know how to mediate. That has always been your job, or Iwaizumi’s. But the distance does not work in your favor.

You leave half an hour after you’ve arrived, angry tears streaming down your face. 

It’s always the people closest to you that hurt you the most. They know what parts of you are the most sensible, and which parts of you are still bruised, still in the process of healing.

You press your phone to your ear.

Wakatoshi picks up right away.

“I talked to them,” you press out. Your voice is doing funny things again and you swallow back another wave of tears, less motivated by anger and more by hurt.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to agree.

It hurts to fight, to possibly lose good friends over something as stupid as old rivalries, but Wakatoshi is good at soothing over it, with warm hands and the gentle rumble of his voice as he holds you close.

-

You don’t meet up with the boys on Friday. No one has bothered to invite you.

You watch Wakatoshi practice instead, laughing about Kageyama who pesters you about how to better his form - you’re a licensed sports therapist after all - and teasing Hoshiumi who fake gags every time you throw Wakatoshi a kiss. 

You move your date to Wakatoshi’s apartment, cook dinner together - it turns out pretty decent - and talk through the night. When you wake up in his arms on Saturday morning you know that you want this to go on, that you want this to be a relationship that lives instead of dies, one that strengthens over time.

- - -

You’re a little surprised to find Mattsun and Makki at your work. 

It’s Wednesday and they should be working too, well, at least Mattsun should.

“Iwaizumi called us every day,” Mattsun admits eventually, “Apparently we’ve been dicks.”

“Yeah,” you tell him bluntly, noticing that Makki’s still stubbornly staring out of the window. “You were.”

“Oikawa’s still pissed,” Mattsun admits next, taking a seat in front of your desk. “But he’ll get around. Kunimi pointed out that it was a blind date. You didn’t actively pick him.”

“Even if-” You start but Mattsun just shakes his head. “It’s Oikawa. Logic does not pull.”

“I’m only apologizing-” Makki interrupts, huffs, and continues, “I’ll only apologize if you do too.” He glares at you. Mattsun’s looking too, though his eyes are softer.

Finally, you nod and get up, offering your hand for Makki to shake.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you. It’s not your fault that you got fired.”

He huffs again. You know that sound. He sounds like that when he’s trying not to cry. And you suppose you can’t fault him for that. Friends just know where it hurts the most.

But he shakes your hand, his grip a bit firmer than it needs to be.

“I’m sorry that I called you an ugly bitch that has no game.”

Suddenly you can’t help but laugh. It flows freely, from deep within, has you bending over the desk as you cackle. They laugh along, softly first before it breaks out of them too.

“All good?” Makki asks when you eventually calm down.

“All good,” you agree, looking over at Mattsun. He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, I’ve always been good.”

“Sure,” you joke, “But just so you know, I’ll bring Wakatoshi along tonight.”

Makki rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll smoke him at Mario Kart.”

As it turns out, however, Wakatoshi smokes him.

Who knew he had it in him?

.

-.- Warsaw -.-

The front door closes with a soft click, alerting you.

“Shh!” You hiss at the boys before turning toward the door of the living room. 

“Hey honey, welcome home!”

“Hi,” Wakatoshi steps inside, spots the beer and your laptop screen and waves. “Beers and Games?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that important.” You get up to kiss him, ignoring Makki who’s trying to make a point of his importance. “You wanna go out to eat?”

“Can we stay in?” He asks, “There’s this new movie that Satori recommended.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Go shower. I’ll make some food.”

He smiles and leans in for another kiss, waving at the camera before he leaves for the bathroom.

“So he doesn’t know, huh?” Mattsun asks as you pick up your laptop and carry it to the kitchen.

“No, I want to tell him tonight. Thanks for not spoiling it guys.”

“Anytime,” Kindaichi pipes in. You bet he’s got no clue what you’re talking about. “What are you making?”

“Golabki,” you answer, “Cabbage roles. I’ve been obsessed with these lately.” 

You catch up while you cook, eager to hear more about Kindaichi’s budding relationship or Makki’s latest work adventure. Even Kyoutani contributes a lot today, proudly talking about how Yachi has won a prize for one of her designs.

At some point Wakatoshi appears, leaning into you as you work. He likes to be in the way when you facetime the team, thinks it’s funny that Makki has named him “the Log” or that he’s always blocking the drawer you need to get to the most.

“Move,” you tell him, pulling at his thighs. Behind him’s the cutlery you need to set the table.

“There’s a price for that,” he tells you quietly. You roll your eyes and move to kiss him. He shuffles slightly to the side, now blocking the cabinet that hides the plates.

-

It’s only after dinner, your laptop put away, the dishes done, that you find yourself back on the Couch, cuddled into him.

“Wakatoshi,” you address him, your hands shoved under his shirt. His eyes have closed but he’s still awake, you can tell by his breathing.

“Hmm?”

“Remember how we were talking about what we wanted to do on your next break?”

“Yes?” He opens one eye to squint at you. “Do you still want to go back to Japan?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you confess, “But we talked it through. It’s not feasible and I’ve got a better idea.”

That has him opening both his eyes. He can sense that something’s coming and you nestle further into him. 

You like to surprise him, for sure. You love how quiet he gets when you do something special for him, almost unsure if he deserves it. If this is really just for him. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered by your feelings for him once in a while.

“I got us tickets to Paris,” you tell him quietly. “Tendō already knows.”

When he pulls you close he doesn’t have to say anything. You already know.

He misses his best friend just as much as you miss yours.

[acotarxreader]

Timing

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Timing works against you and Azriel as a series of unfortunate events lands the two of you alone for the night with a broken down car and a breaking down friendship

Warnings: Angst, Modern, I don't know how cars work, rough draft writing

A/N: My first modern fic for these guys, hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of a more modern setting!

Requests Open!

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

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to die Cassian, calm down”

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to...GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY JACKASS!!!”

“I agree, we're definitely going to die” Rhysand chimes in from the backseat.

“Would you babies calm down for fucksake I know what I'm doi...OI PEABRAIN! YEAH YOU! YOUR BRAIN IS THE SIZE OF THAT GAP YOU LEFT! SHARE THE FUCKING ROAD!.... Bastard” 

“Yup, we're dead” you heard Feyre whine from behind you before launching into a prayer. You swerve the car tightly around the corner, the only way you know how, sending your friends in the backseat skewed.

“Fucking hell YNN!” Cassian grabbed the overhead handle whispering his own prayers. 

“If you cook like you drive then Gods help us” A now slightly green Rhysand adds, helping Feyre to sit back upright and tighten her safety belt further.

“If we even live that long” you hear Feyre whisper.

“The utter lack of faith that my friends have in me is really quite disheartening….who wants to bet I can make all these green lights before they change?”

“No!” They all scream in unison as you laugh and accept the challenge.

The car hit the curb outside of Azriel’s house, it hardly reaching its stop before Rhysand tumbled out onto the grass practically kissing the ground leaving you rolling your eyes from the driver's seat. Cassian lay across the grass alongside Rhysand shortly after, both thanking the Gods to be in one piece. Azriel laughed from the porch of his home, slogging his rucksack over his shoulder before locking the front door and strutting down to his friends. 

“Let me guess, YNN is driving?” You replied with a small wave of your fingertips as you leaned against your car door. 

“Nope no definitely not, I'm driving the rest of the way, I refuse to arrive at the camp in a casket” Cassian rights himself again before standing to remove the keys from the ignition, receiving a dirty look from you. 

“You’re all such cry babies” you laughed, pulling your bag out from the trunk of the car as the rest of your friends tried to fight off the seasickness your driving provided. 

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong YNN?” Feyre rested her head along the headrest of the back seat to meet your eyes on the other side of the car boot. You had begun to pull out the contents of your bag, Rhysand now joining your side. 

“I forgot my medication, I have to go back” the group groaned, causing a guilty feeling in your stomach to form. You were all already behind schedule, with a lot of other college students already well on their way to blackout drunk at the campsite for spring break. 

“I’ll drive you back in my truck for it, let all the others go ahead so we don’t lose our spot?” Azriel offered

“How unusually kind of you Az” You scoffed

“Fine, die, suits me, I’m on music” Azriel shrugged, throwing his bag on top of the contents of yours in the trunk. The two of you locked eyes, a standoff beginning to take shape. The both of you had a rocky relationship at best, it being amplified when Azriel slept with your cousin when she visited last year. 

“Okay but I drive”

“Suits me, I hate driving” Rhysand looked between the two of you, almost certain someone would be arriving at the campsite in a casket. 

—-------------

“YN, if you crash my truck we're going to have some serious issues”

“I paid for gas so therefore it's my truck” you chewed out, the wheel spinning through your hands as you went along the mountain trail, a good two or three hours behind the rest of your friends. 

“That wouldn’t hold in a court of law” You accelerated into the turn, sending Azriel crashing into the car door with a thud. You had been driving for almost an hour, taking one of Azriel's shortcuts that had taken you well and truly off the beaten path through a wooded area.

“Seriously! Was that necessary!?”

“I don’t want to miss out on any more of the fun”

“It’s not my fault we had a leak in the tyre, I never drive this thing, it was bad timing!” he folded his arms tightly into his chest, regretting his act of kindness. The engine screeched at your harsh handling, Azriel clenching his fists until they drained of colour, his leg bouncing off the floor. 

“Stop shaking your leg it's distracting me”

“You’re making me nervous!”

“And you’re making me insane!” Your hand found the knob of the radio, twisting it to release 80’s pop music at deafening volumes to drown out your singing.

“YN! SERIOUSLY! YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE” He moved to turn it down, you batting away his hand as the car ploughed up the steep incline of the hillside before barreling down the open road. 

“Driver controls the music!”

“It’s my truck!” Azriel shouted back, you drowning him out with George Micheal. Azriel huffed, reaching for the two-litre bottle of Coke at his feet. 

“WAIT A-” It was too late, the bottle practically exploded as Azriel opened it, the speed of your driving shaking every ounce of the liquid sugar. 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!” You finally slammed down on the brakes, skirting the truck off the side of the road into the dirt, the vehicle screaming out to you. 

“ME?! IT'S YOU WHO'S DRIVING LIKE WE'RE IN A RALLY!"

“OH MY GOODNESS IT'S FUCKING EVERYWHERE!” You ran your hands across your soaked face, the cabin of the truck now tinged caramel brown forevermore. 

“NO SHIT SHERLOCK” He snapped at you

“YOU’RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE!” You shouted down at your ruined clothes. Azriel cautiously lifted the bottle to his mouth as you watched him out of the corner of your eye, infuriating you further and causing you to bat the bottle out of his hands back to his feet. 

“Fucking idiot” You scrunched your eyes together. 

“We’ll sort it out at the camp, it's only another…three hours” he groaned as you rested your head on the sticky steering wheel before exhaling deeply. 

“Its fine, this is fine” You readjusted yourself before turning the keys in the ignition, the truck huffing back at you.

“NO NO NO NO” you banged the steering wheel as the bonnet began to flood with smoke. 

“FUCK!” You threw yourself back against the soaked chair in frustration before leaping out and banging open the hood, followed by a string of colourful language as smoke filled the road. 

“How bad is it?” Azriel cautiously stuck his head out of the window as you attempted to look past the smoke. You stomped to his window, a piece of hot rubber in your hands.

“Oh...that looks like it's important…”

“Yeah it is...was, it's your timing belt...it was the timing belt. We're fucked! All because you don't do car maintenance!” 

“If you didn’t drive like a fucking lunatic it would have been fine!” You gave an exasperated shriek in reply, tossing the rubber to the floor and storming back to the hood of the car, hands on your hips. Azriel texted Cassian before sliding out of his truck to join your side, the smoke clearing. 

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?” You replied to him with a glare. 

“Okay okay, they’re already all way too drunk to get behind the wheel and Rhysand called his dad’s mechanic, I sent him our location and he can’t get up here until the morning, it's his kid's birthday” he said almost timidly. 

“Fuck” You cleared your lungs of oxygen, your hands lacing together on the top of your head. 

“And we can’t fix it? I thought you were good with cars”

“I’m not fucking magic, I can’t just pull a new belt out of thin air” You slammed down the hood before whipping the driver-side door back open, the sweet liquid now drying into a pure sticky mess.

“What the fuck are we going to do Azriel?”

“I guess we’re staying here for the night” He left the rusting hood to circle to the back of the truck, extremely thankful he had put your things in the back of it before splitting the group up. 

“We can’t sleep in here, it's disgusting” You huffed, slamming the door. 

“No need to break the door as well-” he regretted the joke once he became the recipient of your famous death stare “-we can sleep in the back” 

“Maybe you can take a look under the bonnet and think of something, you’re the engineering student” You were becoming desperate, the thought of being stuck in the middle of the woods with your best frenemy as night closed in becoming too much to process. 

“I’m doing civil engineering YN” he scoffed, throwing a leg over the back of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag across the freezing metal. 

“Oh great so if it was the road we were driving on that exploded you’d be of some use” you laughed, standing up on the tow bar to aid the swing of your leg into the back. 

“Precisely” He grinned, offering you his hand to help pull you in. 

The two of you exchanged your coke-covered clothing for the spare thicker layers you both had thankfully packed, settling into the small nest you had built in the back of the truck as the stars began to show you their faces in the sky. Azriel dug through his rucksack, fishing out two cans of beer chilled from the night air and offering you it with a smile. 

“We don’t have to miss out on all the fun” he tipped the top of his can off of yours as you both leaned on the cabin of the truck, watching the stars twinkle, hoping it would be enough to distract you from the growing cold. 

“This day has been crazy”

“Sorry I added to your stress YNN” You rolled your head along the metal of the cabin to smile softly up to him. 

“Sorry I drive like a maniac”

“I'm sorry you drive like a maniac too” You swung your hand out from under the sleeping bag to hit him into the chest with a thud as he chuckled.

“Sorry I called you impossible and a bitch YNN”

“You didn't call me a bitch?”

“Maybe not out loud” You laughed to him, finishing off your beer and sinking down further beneath your covers. The night sky was beautiful but the accompanying bite in the air was undeniable. 

“We’re going to die out here” you chattered out, the warmth the beer had provided to your system leaking out as Azriel discarded the two empty cans in his bag. 

“Probably, but at least it's a nice night” his shivering rattled against the metal mattress. 

“Maybe bears will eat us before we freeze to death”

“No bear is gonna catch me”

“Azriel there’s no way you could outrun a bear”

“Who says I had to outrun the bear? I just need to outrun you” his laugh carried through the woods to match yours until the strangely comfortable silence swaddled the two of you until the stress of the day took its full toll, lulling you both to sleep. 

-

The bright sun shone through the slots in the tall evergreen trees, heating the metal of the truck to a cosy temperature until those very rays crossed the path of your eyes, waking you from your deep and surprisingly comfortable sleep. 

“OH MY GOD!” You shot upright, the world blotting into focus, your sudden movement causing Azriel’s breath to hitch as he dragged an arm across his face, your legs still slightly tangled in one another. 

“For fucksake, its like living with a Chihuahua, what the fuck is wrong with you now Lassie?” His hand crossed his chest in an attempt to slow down his heart rate again. 

“Nothing, nothing happened, we were just cold, that's all” you collapsed back down beside him, breath returning to you. 

“Would it really have been that bad if something were to happen?” Azriel laughed through his stretch, the metal mattress a cruel mistress for his back muscles. 

“If you ever tell anyone about this I'll remove your kneecaps” you threaten.

“What? That you tried to make advances and planned this whole thing to get in my pants? No, I would never YNN” His laugh echoed across the hills again as you thought about his previous comment. You groaned again, running your hands through your hair.

“We were just cold, why are you acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen ever”

“Because it is the worst thing” You sat up again and Azriel followed suit, covering the part of him that showed all his cards. 

“Why?”

“WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO-TO INTERACT LIKE THIS! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE YOU! ” Your hand gestured between the two of you.

“WELL WHAT IF I LIKE YOU?!” his raising voice only matched yours as frustration grew.

“WELL I DON'T LIKE YOU!”

“REALLY!?”

“NO!” In the heat of the moment, you lunged slightly forward, colliding your lips with Azriel’s. His warm hand cupped your face gently as your hands ran across his thighs. You pulled back almost as fast as you lunged forward. 

“Oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” You leapt out of the truck, pulling your sweatshirt tighter across yourself and began pacing while Azriel stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Did you just kiss me?” His voice was low as though trying to speak to a spooked horse. 

“I-” The slam of a car door caused you both to jump as the mechanic rounded the truck with a smile and perfect timing. 

“Right let's get you two love birds back on the road”

“We're just friends!” You quickly shot back, the mechanic giving you a weird look before heading back to the bonnet of the car alongside you. What the hell just happened was all Azriel could think.

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

Whatcha think?!

[mouseymilkovich]

Pull Over | Criminal!Carl x Reader

masterlist | playlist

Content Tags: smut btc, possessive Carl, lots of biting, fingering, m receiving oral while driving lmaoo

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It was another day on the road, you finally left the grungy motel and were moving on... to, well, probably yet another grungy motel. You sat in the car that Carl's colleague had just stolen and switched the plates on, at least it was a nice car.

You glanced at Carl, one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently resting on your thigh. When he noticed you looking at him, he smiled and gave your thigh a little squeeze.

"You hungry, baby?" He asked softly, seeing a sign for a small diner off the next exit.

"Yeah, I could eat." You nodded.

The car parked, and you two walked into the grungy diner - some guy on the waitstaff immediately started eyeing you up. That made Carl's grip on your waist tighten.

"Bathroom. Before we sit down. Now." His voice was quiet and sharp, sending a chill down your spine as he huried you into the only cramped bathroom in the place.

He locked the door behind you, then eyed you hungrily.

"Nobody else gets to look at you like that. Need to mark my territory." Carl muttered as he pinned you back against the sink. You let out a little whine as he started peppering small kisses on your neck.

"I-I know-" You said softly, then let out a little yelp as he started biting gently at your skin.

"You're my girl, right? My girl." He growled against your neck, then started sucking to form a dark hickey on your skin.

You whimpered, one of your hands went up and tangled in Carl's messy hair. "Uh huh."

His hand slid down the front of your shorts, his palm pressing against your underwear while he smirked against your neck. "Who does this belong to, pretty girl?"

"You, y-you." You murmured, biting your lip.

"Good girl. Now, you want me to take care of you, angel?" Carl asked softly, leaving more little bite marks on your neck.

"Please?" You whispered softly.

"That's my good girl." He praised, you were soaking up every ounce of it as his middle finger slipped into you while his thumb teased at your clit.

He worked his way up to three fingers being inside you, his other hand went over your mouth to help muffle your sounds just a bit. Sure, he wanted everybody to know who owned you, but he wasn't about to get you kicked out of the diner.

When your climax washed over you, he dragged you through your high, and held up your trembling body as his fingers slipped out of you. He smirked a little, holding his index finger to your mouth expectantly.

You fluttered your eyes, gently sucking your fluid off your boyfriend's finger. He helped himself to the rest from his other two fingers.

"Alrigh, baby, let's go get some food." Carl muttered softly after you two put yourselves together, giving your ass a gentle pat.

Nobody else approached you in the diner once Carl's protective mode set in. He was short, but much like a chihuahua, people kinda seemed to get the vibe to know better than to fuck with him.

You guys headed back to the car, Carl hadn't noticed you tucking the seatbelt behind yourself. You had a plan repay him for earlier.

"Baby girl, what are you- oh fuck-" He groaned softly as he felt you starting to palm him over his jeans. "While I'm driving? Are you tryna get us killed?"

"Focus on the road. I'll focus on your dick." You said with an innocent smile, unzipping him and adjusting his boxers so you could pull his cock out.

Carl gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as he felt your mouth around him, so warm and sweet.

"Fuck, you are so in for it when we get to where we're goin'." He groaned out as his tip hit the back of your throat. He was hell bent on focusing on the road though, so he didn't swerve into the ditch.

You, however, were quite satisfied with yourself when you made him cum, and swallowed all of it like a champ. You sat up after you fixed his boxers and jeans, then fixed yourself up so you were sitting in your seat properly.

"Sorry, didn't get the opportunity in the diner, and I didn't wanna wait." You giggled.

Carl grinned at you and rolled his eyes. "You're fuckin' trouble sometimes, angel."

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wanna be tagged in any future criminal!carl au updates? leave 💸 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part four

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

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chapter summary: You try your hardest to hide what you can from Peter though you can't help when secrets slip through your fingers.

word count: 6.5k (i cooked a little)

chapter contents: angst?, mention of death, mention of parental death, mention of cancer, reader is described to b shorter than Flash (6’1),  reader is intended to be fem! , language, reader is anxious and a mess, bullying kinda?

note: hi guys!!! This chapter is like INSANELY late but it's also the longest chapter by far so I hope I’ve made it up to you guys… This chapter gets only a little deep but I hope you enjoy how I've written the reader and her mum and I hope I've done the themes justice!!! 

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

“Maths, History, Bio” the words quietly slip past your lips as you count your textbooks carefully, ensuring each and everyone of them are there. Pressing your forehead against the cool of your locker, your eyes flutter shut and you draw a sharp breath, holding it in for a split second before finally releasing it alongside your jaw, clenched shut almost painfully. You pull away from the safety of the metal, words role over in your mind as you prepare for the day,

BAM

Your locker slams inches from your face. 

The loud bang of metal against metal rings through the busy hallway drawing the attention of a couple stray students, including yourself as you jump back softly, your hands clenching around your textbooks extra tightly as they threaten to slip through your fingers.

Your eyes flick to the perpetrator and you feel your jaw clench as nerves buzz in your fingertips. 

“What Flash,” 

It slips softly past your lips before you can stop yourself and anxiety turns in your gut as you wish you’d simply ignored him.

“I was wondering what you were doing tonight,”

His eyes watch you eagerly, like he’s hungry for the reaction you’ll inevitably give him. 

You swallow the anxiety that grows a lump in your throat and turn to head for the serenity of your History class. You have to remind yourself that he wants the reaction, he’s starving for it. 

He’s quick to follow you, sending a look to his friends that gather in a circle a little way across the hall. You hear the familiar sound of soft snickers and you feel your cheeks heat up. 

Trying your hardest to keep a poker face you press your lips into a tight line, you’d rather set yourself on fire than give Flash a reaction to laugh about with his stupid friends. 

“I know you’re probably super busy with all those friends you have, so I just wanted to check,”

His lips curl into a shit-eating grin, you fight an expression that threatens to grow on your face. You won’t give him the satisfaction, you entirely refuse. 

Keeping focused on the goal of your History classroom, you swerve through the other students that crowd the halls.

“C’mon,”

He just about corners you against the lockers as you walk shoulder to shoulder with them, dribbling his basketball he follows closely, the sound rings out obnoxiously much as his voice does. 

You can’t seem to find your voice, you keep your eyes ahead and continue on track, praying silently for him to leave you alone, the interaction turns our gut and you slip your lip between your teeth where it belongs. 

“C’mon, stop walking away from me,” 

His voice raises slightly, his hand coming out in front of you and you’re quick to stop in your tracks. His palm leans against the locker as he looks down at you through his eyelashes. He waits eagerly for a reaction, practically starved for it. 

You kiss your teeth with a clench of your jaw, as you try to slip from the barrier he’s created and a laugh bubbles from his chest as you hand feed him what he’s been waiting for. 

“Flash,”

A shot of relief floods your veins, it’s sweet, almost addictive, and your eyes seek the face to match that voice you know all too well. 

“Can’t you see we’re talking Parker,”

Flash shoots Peter a grin, not particularly concerned with convincing him of anything.

“Does she know that?”

Peter asks, his tone sardonic. 

Flash rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth as he turns to look at his surroundings. A frustrated sigh bubbles in his chest as he opens his mouth to say something before shutting it with a clench of his jaw, not bothered to start anything especially as so many teachers roam the halls, rushing students to their classes. 

He turns back to you, sending a wink as he slips away, quick to walk back to his friends that await him. It’s as if they crave the humiliation they give other people, it’s their life source and you feel gross just thinking about it. 

A soft groan slips past your lips, “thank you.”

He offers a shrug, a smile sat upon his lips as he watches you. His gaze is sweet, it's night and day compared to Flash’s hungry eyes. Your feet scuff against the vinyl as you slip next to him, far less eager to get to class this time around. 

“He will just not leave me alone you know? It’s kind of getting embarrassing on his part, like he does the same bit everyday. I don’t think he has a whole lot going on up there, not super creative.” 

You mumble softly, a grin slipping onto your face, Peter shakes his head with a laugh. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s got a little brain damage from all that sport so don’t take it to heart,”

He draws a giggle from your lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever taken anything he’s said to heart.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you make it to class. Words roll around on your tongue, you fight to push them out. 

“I was thinking maybe you’d wanna…  would you wanna study again tonight?” The words slip out. 

The two of you had spent many afternoons of the past week at the library, your noses between books, studying your hearts out before grabbing coffee, if you're honest it’s the most productive you’ve been in a long while. You hate to give him his praise but having someone as genius as Peter to bounce ideas off of has opened a whole new playing field and you’re not sure you can go back to ten minute mind blanks and groans of frustration. 

On the other hand you’ve never been more busy in your typically lacklustre life, you feel a bit like Spiderman yourself with all the running around you’ve found yourself managing. It was school, then work, or study, or both. Then home, just in the nick of time, all for Spiderman to swing you through the city before returning you to your bed at some ungodly hour. It was… nice, at least it was exciting, something vastly different compared to the eat, sleep, school repeat you’ve known for the past few years of your life. 

“Yeah of course, I was gonna ask anyway, so-”

“Maybe you could… um come to my place instead of the library?”

You spit out, cutting Peter off.

“My mums gonna be home, like, kinda early tonight so she’s um… making, like, a nice dinner and I thought you could join us?”

The words flow quickly and you’re unable to stop them as they spew from your lips, 

“I’d love to,”

He hums, a soft smile curling onto his lips

“I’m sure you would, ‘can put my address in your stalker journal,”

A scoffed laugh spits from his lips as his grin grows.

“How do you know I don’t already know where you live,”

“I’d be a little worried if you already knew where I lived,”

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Your foot taps rapidly against the concrete floor, a spit of anxiety turning in your stomach as your eyes dart around the city. ‘Please god do not show up,’ you watch with furrowed eyes for a flash of red and blue. 

“You waiting on someone?”

The voice rips you from your contraction and you jump slightly as you turn to find Peter and his stupid grin

“Only you,”

You swallow the lump in your throat and a smile plays across your face. 

“How was photography?”

Your eyes flick to his face, watching him as the two of you make the slow walk to the subway. 

“Good,” he hums with a smile, “I got an A+ on that assignment,” he shrugs his shoulders as if it were nothing, though you personally know he’d practically pulled his hair out with stress over it. 

“Look at you go, Mr Humble,” you nudge him softly, “bet you picked the photo I told you to go with,” 

You lend him a grin and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

“That is a possibility.”

“Hey, you’ll… you’ll tell me if Flash bothers you more?”

Peter mumbles softly, he swallows, feeling stupid as the question slips from his lips, though it spills anyway.

You watch his face, giving him a suspicious eye as a grin tugs at your lips. 

“You gonna do something about it?”

He rolls his eyes, his head shaking,“I might.” 

You hum suspiciously with a nod and it's followed by a giggle. 

“Hey you don’t know what I’m capable of,”.

“I know Flash is, like, a six foot one athletic scholar,” 

He leans his softly, “yeah but I have something he doesn’t,”

“What would that be Peter?”

“A brain.” 

You roll your eyes and push his face away with the palm of your hand. 

The sound of the city seeps into the subway carriage, it’s fairly empty and just about silent besides the racket of Peter’s voice as he talks of his next photography assignment, very passionately if you may add. He thinks it's stupid that they grade photography, he believes art is immeasurable, whether he’d simply rather an easier class or is genuinely passionate about the topic you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips as he rambles. Either way it ‘isn’t like he has room to complain, the fact that it is in fact graded means he gets to be top of his class’, you roll your eyes as he tells you he’s only joking. 

You find yourself slowly drifting, your eyes keep on him as you mind wonders and a small smile finds itself on your lips.  

If it weren't for Peter you’d be sitting alone right now, packed into whatever carriage you had found. You’d listen to music loud enough to hurt your ears and you’d pick at your nails, or maybe you’d let your teeth at your lower lip. Your brain would mull over the day and you’d swallow the anxieties that pile themselves in your throat. 

“Am I boring you?”

Peter's face comes into focus, his smile is sweet as he watches you drift off.

“No! no no no… sorry,” you swallow with a blink, “sorry I got lost in thought,” you shake your head with an apology, “continue.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest and he shakes his head softly, “you’re good, I get um… I think I get a little too excited about photography sometimes.”

“Oh god no, I like hearing about your photography, trust me. It's refreshing to hear someone my age be so passionate about something,” Your tone couldn’t be more genuine.

“Really?” He smiles and you return it with a nod. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the subway's intercom system announces your stop, “I’m sorry I am. I promise I’m interested but this is our stop,”

You mumble with an apologetic expression as you stop him before he can speak. He giggles with a soft, “okay.” 

______________________________________________________________

Peter's voice reverberates through the quiet backstreets as you both walk side by side, heading back to your apartment. He talks of how he got into photography, how he enjoys being able to capture a moment in time, he views it as a sacred process. You watch his face light up as he speaks and you can’t help the bright grin curled onto your lips, unconsciously matching the smile on his face. You listen intensely as he speaks so passionately.

You’re grateful for the moment, there's no weird tension between the two of you, no bickering or teasing, you’re not on your toes trying to keep up with his stupid remarks. You’re simply indulged in his words, in a part of his mind that he’s sharing with you. 

Your grin grows. 

“What about you, what are you like… into?” he asks, his tone almost catches you off guard, it’s sickeningly sweet. 

You have to think for a moment, “um I don’t know… nothing I guess,” a shrug pulls at your shoulders.

“C’mon there's gotta be something.”

You think of the eat, sleep, school repeat cycle you’ve been living for the past however many years, each day full of so much nothing. Looking back you genuinely do wonder what you did to pass the time and nothing comes to mind.

The only things that happen in your life are Peter and Spiderman, and you can’t say, ‘actually you’re my hobby. And also Spiderman, don’t know if you’ve heard of him.’ 

“Hmm, nope, nothing, I study… I… I don't know, I work.” You shrug.

‘What about the posters on the wall, the music you’re always listening to, the movies you’re always watching at night,’ the words dangle on his tongue and he bites down, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I don’t believe that,” he opts for this. 

“Believe it, you’ve befriended a bore,” 

He rolls his eyes, a chuckle slipping past his lips as he denies this. You’re being stubborn.

“Believe what you want, it's the truth.”  You shrug. 

He hums softly, his eyes keep on you and the remains of a smile stay evident on his lips.

______________________________________________________________

The familiar apartment building comes into view, he swallows softly, and can’t seem to pull his eyes from your face. He rolls over words in his mind, ‘you’ve never been in her room, you don’t know which apartment is hers, etc.’ He almost feels sick at the thought of slipping up.

“You’d think big hot shot Oscorp would pay well enough for an apartment complex but I guess one income slows us down.” 

You send your shoulder into the weighted door and lend an awkward smile as you hold the door for him, mumbling an apology about the climb to the fifth story.

“Your mum works at Oscorp?” he asks softly, there's something else to his tone and you can’t quite place it. You ultimately decide to blame it on the stairs, despite not being a quarter way to the top. 

“You got a problem with Oscorp?” you tease, looking to the step behind you as you watch Peter make the climb with ease.

“No, no, it’s just… I don’t know,” He curses himself as no answer comes to mind, god he’s already slipped up. His heart beats softly against his chest and he releases a breath as you hum, dropping it.

“Well she loves it, that's why she’s out so late almost every night, they’re working on this um, DNA thing… I don’t know, her boss is missing an arm, it's, like, something to do with that. You ask her about it at dinner, she’ll love you forever.”

His breath catches in his throat and it’s followed by a gross feeling that spins his gut, his teeth sinking into the flesh of his cheek as you mention doctor Curtis Connors.

He tries to not let it bother him, in fact he feels guilty that it does, it’s not as though you’re his problem. 

His mind flicks to the suit in his backpack, maybe he doesn’t have a choice in whether you’re his ‘problem’ or not anymore. 

“Geez Peter I didn’t know you worked out, you haven’t even broken a sweat.” You huff, conquering the last step. 

Yes, you may over exaggerate but five stories of stairs is enough to make anyone a little breathless. “I work out,” he scoffs with a small smile. You take one look up and down, eyes trailing across his tall lanky build. With a raise of an eyebrow,  you hum a soft “Mhm”. He rolls his eyes and it pulls a giggle from your lips. 

Your hands fumble around in your pocket and you pull out your house key, wiggling it around in the old lock before it finally opens with a heavy shove of the door. 

“Hey mum!” You call out softly, holding the door open for Peter. Your mother stands in the kitchen, she’s chopping vegetables and humming along to soft music as it plays from her own old record player, she’s got it on her fifteenth birthday and she adores the thing. 

“Hey love,” She hums, her eyes flicking up from the task at hand. 

“Oh and this must be Peter.” 

You send her a pressed smile, widening your eyes as if to say, ‘embarrass me and I will kill you,’ though she retaliates with a little wink and you groan. 

“I’ve heard so much about you Peter,” she continues to cut carrots. 

Peter sends you a smug grin. 

“You have?”

“Oh for sure, all good things… most good things,” she hums with a shrug and a smile. 

“I’m just glad she’s making friends-”

“Okay mum, we’re gonna go study,” You cut her off with a tight smile, she laughs with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand, “have fun!” 

“I’m sorry about her,” You huff with a smile, the tips of your ears burn and you feel yourself blushing. 

You lean your school bag against your bed and let him know he can put his stuff anywhere. 

Walking over to your desk, he leans his bag against the leg before settling comfortably into the seat.

Your brows furrow with a small smile, watching him as you take a seat against your bed. “You have a habit of making yourself comfortable,” you giggle with a shake of your head. 

“Oh I… sorry I, remember you saying you always study on your bed.” Nerve drips from his words as he sits up right. 

“No no, you’re good,” you smile with a shake of your head, “and you’re right,” you pull your things from your bag, setting stuff out the way you like it. 

He curses himself silently, ‘you’ve never been here before Peter,’ he reminds himself and his eyes scan your room, his sight falls on your posters,  the one he’d seen almost twice a night for the past week or so.

“Nice posters,” he hums.

Your eyes flick up as he speaks, the way he says it scratches a nerve in your brain, like it was familiar. 

You hum softly flipping open your Bio textbook, “thank you, it’s taken me ages to collect them all.”

Peter swallows dryly. 

“You said you didn’t have any hobbies,” his eyes keep on you. 

“Collecting posters isn’t… doing something though, like… writing or… taking photos,” you point to him with your pencil. 

“I guess…” He sits for a moment. “What about watching movies, I mean you’ve gotta love ‘em to have this many posters,” 

“Eh, I don’t think that counts”

“Oh c’mon that totally counts”

“Does it?” you shrug. 

“Whatever, we'll find you something.”

You look up to him with a smile, he gets his stuff out, placing it on your desk. 

“You know I am good at one thing…” You mumble, his head shoots up, “it’s called studying, and it’s going to help me get into a very nice university so that I can be good at things for money” 

You tease, drawing a humoured scoff from Peter. 

The two of you sit for a good while, faces buried in books, bouncing ideas and questions off of one another as you scribble messy notes. Stupid jokes and shared giggles pull the both of you from study, for minutes at a time you clutch your stomachs in laughter, textbooks forgotten until you find your way back on track. It leaves your stomach muscles beat, exhausted from curling in on itself as huffs of giggles slip from your lips. 

You now watch as he reads a particular section of his textbook, faced away from you with his eyes focused so desperately on the page, your teeth seek your lip, sinking into its flesh without mercy. A feeling settles deep in your gut, turning your stomach and all of sudden you feel ill, despite it you can’t seem to pull your eyes from the brown haired boy. It’s all too familiar but you refuse it, swallowing dryly before you can bring yourself to put a name to the feeling. 

Peter can feel you staring, he can feel the intensity of your gaze burning into his temple, a feeling he’s grown accustomed to. He’s not sure if it’s his ‘Spidey-Senses’ or because he just knows you but he can feel it. Maybe it's a mix of both with all the time he’s spent with you, with all the time you’ve spent on his mind. 

A smile tugs on his lips and he can’t seem to stifle it as it grows into a grin. 

Your eyes flick back down to your page, you practically wrangle them there. The lump in your throat is stubborn, no matter how much you swallow it sits there stubbornly and you try your best to ignore it. Now is not the time, your eyes flick up once again, especially as he sits in your desk chair, slumped over with his nose in his textbook, innocently in his own world and doing his school work just as you should be. 

The rapid knock of your door pulls you from thought, “dinners ready love,” your mum's voice calls out muffled through the wood. “M’kay,” you hum, loud enough for her to hear it, letting out a silent huff, a poor attempt at settling the unplaceable feeling in your stomach. 

A stiff silence settles over the three of you, broken by the sound of quiet chewing and cutlery scraping against your mothers ‘nice’ dinner plates. You’re all packed onto a small dining table, designed for just two people, your knee brushes against Peters and you meet his eyes with a silent apology. 

“So I um, heard you work at Oscorp,” He swallows, keeping his eyes on you before flicking them to your mother with a smile.

“Oh yeah? She told you about that huh,” your mother sends you a grin.

“I mean they’re doing insane work, really I shouldn’t even be talking about it, but it’s just so fascinating.” 

Peter nods along, you can’t help the smile that clings to your lips, unable to draw your eyes from him as he entertains your mother’s chattering.

“Its um… well lizards, right, they can regrow limbs, it's really quite fascinating, comes from years of evolution and adapting, I’ll spare the boring details,” she waves a dismissive hand, “we’re taking this aspect of their DNA and attempting to create a serum that can prompt human cells into preforming blastema-based regeneration. What that means is-”

“Mum Peter is like a grade A genius, don't worry,” you mumble, cutting her off. 

His lips curl into a smile, and he meets your eyes as you return the grin. 

“So you like science Peter?” Your mum asks. 

“Oh yeah, I um.. I love it,” He wears a lopsided smile, as he fumbles to answer the question. He watches you in the corner of his vision, checking to see if he’s said the right thing, and another grin slips onto your lips. You eye him as he stumbles over his words, looking for your approval and you lend a soft nod as your smile grows. 

“So that’s what you wanna do? Go into science I mean,” She asks, taking a fork full of food in her mouth. 

“Well I, um…”

“Peter’s actually a really talented photographer, so he’s still working things out.” You hum with a nod, sensing the nerves radiating off of him, he sends a grateful smile. 

“Oh yeah? My husband loved photography.”

You flinch a little at her words as she mentions your dad. It was true, he had spent a lot of his life taking photos, they were amazing too. He had never turned it into a career though, you had assumed it was because of some moral obligation he had to take care of you and your mum, he refused to even entertain the idea in fear of halving the household funds and leaving the both of you struggling, well look where you are now. 

Peter sends you a look, a quick flick of his eyes and you know what it represents. You opt to lend a small smile with nothing behind it, it’s a poor attempt at returning to any form of normalcy you could get your hands on and he returns it, submitting to this attempt. 

You make a note to talk to Peter about your dad later, it wasn't as though you had tried to hide any of… what had happened, it just never came up. Maybe deep down you liked it that way and maybe in a way you had tried to hide it, though you’re quick to swallow any guilt that threatens to build as you return to the normalcy that you and Peter had silently decided upon. 

Peter clears his throat with a hum. “Yeah, I just… love having the ability to capture a moment in time, I think it helps me get a grasp on reality. I would spend all my time taking photos if I could.”

Your mum hums with a smile and a soft nod, of course she liked that answer. She’s so insanely passionate sometimes that it scares you, up until two am most nights working on her research, not eating all day just to purely save time, you’re not sure how she’s still running. Seeing her daughter hanging out with someone at all, let alone someone so driven, is probably sending her insane with pure relief. 

“As long as you’re passionate about whatever you do,” Your mum nods, taking a sip of her wine glass. 

You smile with a shake of her head, she’s so predictable, it's sweet. You’re grateful for her, god, more than grateful for her, you’re not sure where on earth you’d be without her. 

“Oscorp isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, the field of science is very dangerous if you ever do go into it. The other day Peter-” she leans in with another sip of her wine, “there was this giant lizard monster god, I don’t know what he was but he injured about ten people, I’m sure you heard it on the news, that Spiderboy was there.”

“It’s Spiderman mum, and that isn’t because you work in science it's because you live in New York.” You correct her with a roll of your eyes, it was a conversation the two of you had had about five times since that night and if you heard about how ‘Spiderboy’ had made the whole situation worse one more time you’re sure you’d rip your hair out. 

“I don’t care what his name is, he totaled my car,” “The lizard did mum, not Spiderman, he’s just trying to help-”

Peter can’t stop the grin that curls at his lips as you unknowingly defend him. He watches as you toy with your food, giving up as your mother insists that Spiderman is doing more harm than good. 

“What do you think Peter, about this ‘Spiderman’ I mean,” Your mum hums, taking another bite of her food. His eyes flicker to you, and he hesitantly gives his opinion, “I think that he does good where he can…at least I think he intends to. I mean think about what could have happened if he wasn't there.”

You nod stubbornly with a fold of your arms, “Exactly.”

Your mum rolls her eyes with a small smile and a shrug as she washes down the food in her mouth with a sip from her glass, “I guess,” she mumbles hesitantly and you too roll your eyes with a giggle. 

Peter smiles, his eyes keeping on you. “What got you working at Oscorp,” He takes a sip of his water. 

“Well I always adored science, all through school. I graduated, y’know researched with a couple of small corporations near home. Then, after her dad died, I just decided lifes too short, I quickly applied to Oscorp, we moved here, and the rest is history.” 

There it is. 

An unease settles in your stomach and your focus turns to the food chewing in your mouth, it doesn’t really bother you, at least that's what you tell yourself. It was obvious your dad wasn’t around anymore, for one reason or another, but it felt too vulnerable for him to know that he was actually dead. The thought rolls around in your head and you swallow it with your dinner. You had planned to tell Peter, though it isn’t like you need to, you don't owe it to him. Still, you feel something build in your stomach as you realise that maybe you had actively avoided it in conversation, maybe even lied during the process and you quickly realise you’re filled with some sick mix of embarrassment and guilt.

You feel Peter glancing at you, his gaze is soft and his eyes flick between you and your mother as she continues to talk and he continues to nod along. You meet his eyes, deciding that facing whatever you’re feeling is far less embarrassing than closing up like you’re used to. You can’t place the emotions behind his eyes but nevertheless he offers a smile, it’s void of pity and you realise that deep down that was what you feared most from his reaction. You return the smile, it’s grateful though you don’t particularly mean for it to be, and the two of you once again silently agree to bask in normality until dinner is over. 

______________________________________________________________

The both of you sit on your bed in silence, it's comfortable but there’s an all too familiar feeling of anxiety settled in your stomach. Your mind rolls over words, they hang on the tip of your tongue as you wrack your brain on how to start the conversation. 

“When I was six my parents went on a work trip and never came back,” Peter lets out, taking the blow for you. His eyes find you, you’re focused on the tips of your fingers as they fiddle with one another. He hears your breathing hitch, your heartbeat speed up, he watches as you try to find the words. 

“Pet-”

“My Aunt May and Uncle Ben took me in, and then…. a couple of months ago Ben was killed in a robbery,” 

You shut your mouth tightly, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheeks as you fight to find the words and suddenly you don’t feel so angry at each relative that told you ‘they were sorry’ and ‘they were here for you,’ because… what do you say?

You swallow, your teeth unlatching around your cheek, and open your mouth to speak once again, 

“I just mean… you don’t have to feel weird or… I don’t know, ashamed about it… okay? Not with me.” 

His voice is soft, his eyes watch you so intensely, it’s like he’s looking at you for the first time, like really looking at you. Noticing each wrinkle in your expression, each imperfection that litters your skin, although this time it’s with his own two eyes, not shrouded by the mask he was once so grateful for.

“He died when I was fifteen…it was um, cancer,” you nod softly, keeping your eyes down, you’re not too sure why but it feels better, easier to talk, like you can breathe. 

“We packed up, like, straight away and mum immediately started working for Dr Connors. She thinks that she can like, find a cure or… I don’t know…” You curse yourself for rambling about it as you realise this wasn’t one of the venting circles in one of the libraries your mum had signed you up to. 

You swallow, biting the bullet and looking up to meet Peter's eyes. You’re not entirely sure what you had expected but when you finally meet them you don’t find the look of condolence that you’ve grown so accustomed to. You find a pure mix of kindness and worry and it spins your gut, this time with gratitude. 

You lend him a smile, it’s grateful, and understanding, it tells him what you don’t trust your words to and he returns it sweetly. 

“Even in dead relatives I’m ahead of you,” he elbows your arm and it's noticeably more gentle than usual.

A laugh bubbles in your chest and you shake your head with an eye roll. 

“Oh my god,” you hum and it draws a giggle from his lips. 

“You’re close with your aunt?” You ask gently as the laughter dies down between the two of you, you’ve found peace within his eye sight as you keep steady eye contact with him for maybe the first time since you've known him. 

He hums with a nod of his head and a smile curls onto his lips. It’s sweet. 

“You’re close with your mum?” He asks, his tone is almost cautious, though he doesn’t mean it to be. He had spent a whole hour at your dinner table and still couldn’t grasp the dynamic between the two of you. 

You hum a soft laugh with a nod of your head, “yeah, we are. It’s… complicated, my dad’s death fucked with her super bad but she’s still my best friend, kind of my only friend.”

He smiles, a sound of understanding slips from his lips. 

“Were you um… close with your dad?” He prays he hasn’t overstepped a line, his teeth catch on his lips as the words slip from them and he feels oddly close to you as he sinks teeth into flesh. 

You smile, looking down at your hands, “yeah… super close,” it’s all you say though he takes it with gratitude. 

“What about you, were you close with your parents, with your Uncle?” You look back up at him and meet his eyes, they never seem to leave you, it’s something you’d noticed. 

He nods, a smile slipping onto lips much like you had done. “My parents died when I was pretty young so, yes… but also no.” You nod along, watching him closely. “But I was super close with Ben.” You feel like maybe you opened something you shouldn't have as you remember that it hasn’t been long since his passing. You watch the creasing in Peter's expression and you quickly feel guilt fill your stomach as your own brows furrow. 

“I’m sorry Peter I shouldn’t-”

“No, god no I asked first- no, don’t do that,” His soothes quietly, shutting down your guilt. 

You nod softly as he continues.

“He was like a dad to me so… yeah.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, the air filled with a feeling of understanding and the both of you settle into it. 

“I should um, maybe get going,” He mumbles, it’s a cop out, the both of you know it, the both of you have become accustomed to it. 

“You can stay Peter,” 

His almost frantic movements stop, his eyes find yours, he wouldn't go as far as to say they’re begging but they’re big and asking him to stay in the warmth of your room and who is he to say no to you. 

“We can watch a movie… or-”

“I would really like that.”

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes glance over to him, his face lit up by the screen of your laptop. The two of you sit comfortably in your bed, backs propped up against the wall, an awkwardly large space between the two of you, you’re overly conscious of it as you try your hardest to keep your eyes on the screen and your limbs to yourself. In your uncomfort your eyes flick to your watch, checking the time and your stomach turns with anxiety as a thought pops into your head. You frantically flick your eyes to the window, trying your hardest to keep your ‘cool’ exterior in front of Peter though you’re now busy attempting to prepare for the inevitable. There hasn’t been a night in the past week where Spiderman hasn’t shown up at your window cill, absolutely bursting to tell you about his night. Many nights he’d sit in the very chair Peter had, chatting your ear off for hours until you had to shoo him from your room to save at least four hours of sleep before you had to get up for school. You swallow your nerves, taking a deep breath, soft enough for Peter to miss it, at least you hope he misses it, and you try to make up some sort of plan.

Peter was… cool about it, he appreciated what Spiderman did. He actually never really spoke about him, in fact he was a little weird about him, though you’re not complaining, if Peter tried to subtly shut down most conversations about him, it meant you didn’t need to subtly avoid most conversations about him. 

You’re only now realising it seemed like a sensitive topic and you pray to god Spidey didn’t have some unfortunate involvement with his uncle's death, that would make it a little awkward if, or when, he shows up at your window. 

You swallow, bringing your eyes back to the movie, you’re choosing to push all rational thoughts out of your mind as you do so, you’re going to sit here and focus on the film and not focus on how you wouldn’t be able to hand another of your secrets getting spilt, not that you had any others to spill after Spidey. 

Peter's eyes watch you in his peripheral vision, watching as your vision linger on the window cill. 

“Shit,” the word slips from his lips before he can stop it and it instantly catches your attention.

“What's up?” You ask, sitting up gently. 

Fuck, he curses himself silently though he quickly realises he’s given himself the perfect out. “I just realised that May said she wanted me home half an hour ago, I’m so sorry, I-” he jumps from your bed. 

“You’re fine, really. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Your voice comes out far more enthusiastic than you had hoped for and you cringe as the words leave your lips. 

Peter nods with a sheepish smile, backpack in hand as he stands at your bedroom door, “thank you for having me,” he mumbles. His words are genuine and the feeling in your gut that you entirely refuse to recognise is back, nagging at your heart. 

“No problem,” you hum softly, returning the sheepish smile. 

He’s gone in a flash, with a slam of your door, a little harder than he had anticipated, and a soft ‘sorry!’ from the other side of the wood. You let out a breath of relief, your teeth sinking into your lip as you do so. Your mind plays over the day as you slip your laptop into your school bag and lay on your bed. You’re grateful Peter knows about your dad, at least you think you are. It makes you feel vulnerable, he can take one look at the life you lead and understand why you are, where you are, now that he has the missing piece of the puzzle. You guess it goes both ways, though he seems so put together and you quickly become jealous over how well he’s able to hide his grief, then again you know it isn’t something to wish for and you swallow as you remind yourself that there are so many parts of him that you don't see.

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[mariahcarreyyy]

Hii!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 2K! I love reading your work, it’s always amazing 💕

Do you think you could write something with this angst prompt “lashing out even though they know they will regret it” for Oscar ? And maybe he is the one lashing out?

# prompt no.7, lashing out even though they know they will regret it

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

Sometimes, Oscar wishes he could scream at everyone who calls him unbothered.

He wishes they could see him now, irritation coursing through his veins, mixing with his blood like water and oil; he wishes they could witness the dark cloud looming over his muscular frame, following him and more ever-present than his own shadow; he wishes they could cower at the sight of the scowl on his face, nose scrunched in distaste at all times.

The results of his race had been enough to send him over the edge. A less than satisfactory eighteenth, and it echoes bitterly in his head the entire race debreif.

Lando squeezes an encouraging hand on Oscar's shoulder as they both walk out of the papaya garage, and Oscar can't bring himself to do anything but send Lando a shaky smile.

A prolonged car ride, and a few hours later, the driver twists the doorknob of your shared flat. Oscar's shoulders visibly drop, leaving the remains of a bad race on the floor and letting his body (mind and soul) rest.

"Osc? Y'home?"

Your voice cuts through the silence, and Oscar wants to punch his own gut at how his jaw clenches at the sound. Relax, he reminds himself. But Oscar can't—he knows he can't.

Because the residual pounding in his head is making him wince; he's sweaty and shivering; he's famished and cannot bear the thought of food; he's put off by the sight of you before him and he wants to be cradled in your arms, too.

It's all too confusing for him. Oscar decides being angry would be easier, flow smoothly against his tongue. He almost forgoes his plan when his brown eyes meet your pity-laced ones.

"Hey, baby," you murmur, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheeks. "I'm sorry, 'bou—"

Sweet nothings die in your throat when Oscar swerves away from your touch, wincing distastefully. Seemingly refusing to look at you, his eyes dart anywhere but the comfort of yours.

"I don't need you to baby me," Oscar grits out, his hips swaying to glide past you and the crestfallen look on your face.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek, hands flailing helplessly to your side and watching him pad against the cold floors. "Okay, uh. There's pasta on the stove if you're hungry."

Oscar pinches his wrist. The thought of tangible pain seemed more comfortable than the guilt gnawing in his heart. Still, Oscar laments, you are too nice; I'm cruel now, and you shouldn't be this way towards me. He refrains from turning around when he hears you audibly exhale shakily.

"M'not hungry," he shouts again, slamming the door behind him without looking back.

Without looking at you.

authors note. i dont like this honestly i feel like its very ooc bcs i dont see osc lashing out a lot. i made him feel guilty idk if that helped. en e wayz enjoyy xx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: thank you all for reading this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting 'part 2?' is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You grip the container of uneaten French toast as you make the interminable walk across the restaurant. It’s as if you can hear the death knell calling you to the scaffold. Sy follows behind you like a lion at hunt.

He reaches over your shoulder as he comes close and pushes the door open ahead of you. You step outside, stilling a jitter in your hands as your eyes blear in the sunlight. You’re all out of ideas. Your groceries are in his truck and the meal he bought you is in your hands. He’s entrapped you with sustenance.

His hand brushes your lower back as he ushers you towards his truck. You’re too terrified to speak. This is the moment where you give into fate. Your fear of saying no has finally done you in. Well, how long could you survive without a spine?

He pulls open the truck door and you feel his gaze on you. You can’t bring your own above his chest. His broad, muscular chest. He’s so strong and you’re so weak and oh god!

“You okay?” He asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum and balance the container in one hand as you grab onto the door interior and haul yourself up. He puts a hand on your hip to steady you before you quickly swing into the seat.

He shuts the door gently and you shudder. You rest the container in your lap and pull the seat belt across your body. You buckle in as he gets on the driver’s side. You’re in a strange trance, helpless to the world around you as if you just watch it move around you. He says something and you nod again but you’re not sure what he said.

He pulls out, placing his hand on the headrest behind you as he cranes to see behind him. He straightens the wheel and settles into his seat. He flips on the radio, filling the static silence, though the music sounds far away.

As he steers onto the street and comes to the first corner, an epiphany chills you. He didn’t ask where you live. Either he’s not taking you home or he already knows.

You look back and forth, taking in all your surroundings. As he turns away from your building, you make note of streets and landmarks. You want to be able to remember them all as the former fear comes true. You’re not going home.

He is completely unbothered by his daylight abduction. You wonder if he’s done this before. He seems so sure of himself that you think he might have. Is he even really a soldier?

He rolls the wheel with his thumb and swerves into another lot. You look ahead at the marquee with paw prints stamped across it. A groomer?

“You wanna come in and meet her?” Sy’s voice breaks through the ice that’s encased you.

You look at him, still too stunned to really understand what’s going on. Her?

You say yes but it doesn’t feel like your voice is working. As he undoes his seat belt, you do the same. He’s smiling. He’s happy. Surely that means he won’t murder you. Not right away. He definitely wouldn’t bring you to a pet groomer to do so.

Unless it’s some cover-up. A shell of a business used to cover up misdeeds. Like the mafia. Oof, you watch a lot of television.

You get out parallel to him and meet him near the door. Again, he gallantly opens it ahead of you. You enter and he calls above you in greeting to the woman behind the counter.

“She ready?” He asks.

“She is,” she trills back, “and she was so good.”

“Mmm, yeah, good,” he approaches the counter and takes out his wallet, “she can be nippy.”

“She’s a darling.”

The woman calls back through the open doorway behind her before turning her attention to the till. She keys in to the system and Sy pays in bills. She accepts them and he tells her to keep the change. As weird as everything’s been about this morning, this is the most inexplicable part.

“Here she is,” another woman emerges from the back with a leash in her hands. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair before she comes around with a prancing German shepherd. 

“Aika,” Sy squats to greet the dog buoyantly, letting her sniff his beard before he stands again. Both turn to face you. You glance between them nervously. The dog nears you with a wiggle snout. “She likes you,” he assures.

You hold out an open palm and she smells it before scraping her tongue across it. He reaches to pet her roughly, shaking her fresh coat.

“You got the green out,” he says over his shoulder.

“Oh, we did,” the woman scoffs, “she looks amazing.”

“Well,” he wraps the leash around his hand, “we should head out. She’s restless.”

“Okay,” you babble dumbly and head for the door.

It’s your turn to hold it as you emerge and lodge your foot in front of the frame to keep the door open. Sy walks out proudly and Aika dutifully walks at his side to the truck. He opens the back and she hops in. You linger by the bumper before getting in yourself.

As he claims the driver seat, he gives a whistle through his teeth, “Aika, nose to yourself.”

You peek back as the dog retreats from your groceries. You almost forgot. 

“Right, let’s go home,” Sy declares, though you don’t know if he’s talking to you or the dog.

Home? Who’s home? His? 

If you could breathe, you’d be hyperventilating. Your head begins to pulse as he turns at the first lights. You inhale. He’s driving towards your apartment but that’s not any better than the alternative. That’s your home, not his. Perhaps he only means to drop you off before returning to his own.

You manage to eke out each breath, slow but enough to keep you from passing out. The streets grow more familiar and as he rolls onto yours, the tension only heightens. You’re not in the clear yet.

He drives into the lot and parks in a visitor spot. He turns off the engine. Shoot.

“Alright, what d’ya think works best? You grab Aika, I grab the groceries?” He suggests.

You just stare at him. What is happening? He doesn’t wait for a response before he gets out. You can’t give him one.

Numbly, you climb out of the truck and stand frozen on the tarmac with your breakfast in hand. He comes around and takes the end of Aika’s leash as she jumps down. He hands it to you.

“She’ll listen to ‘heel’ or ‘sit’,” he explains, “pretty much anything.”

You accept the looped end and wait as the dog patiently hovers beside you. Sy takes the grocery bags and spins on his heel. Confidently, without any hesitation, he marches towards your building. He has the certain type of staunch gait that assures you of his profession. You don’t think he lied about that.

You follow behind him, much less certain. Aika keeps at a pace, not tugging a single bit. She’s as obedient as he says. As you get to the door, you let the leash slip onto your wrist and fish out your keys. Are you really letting this mad man inside?

Yes, yes you are.

You take the elevator and just stare at the doors until they open. It puts you more on edge that Sy seems to know exactly where to go. Down the hall at the very end. Your key slides in much too easy again and you turn it as your last defense gives way.

You step aside and let him in. You watch him enter and just stare. You drop the leash as he goes into the kitchen to put down the bags. He comes back to you to remove his boots and shuts the door. He frightens you as he flicks the toe of your mary jane flats.

He reaches for Aika and unhooks her leash. You look down as he takes the container from your hands. He is all too quick to welcome himself in.

“I’ll put everything away,” he steps past you again, “you just relax. You got a stream planned tonight?”

You nearly choke on your answer; no. You bend to undo the straps of your shoes and step out of them. You glance over as he opens the fridge.

Aika begins her exploration of your apartment, sniffing along the mat and into the front room. You wring your hands as you near the doorway and stare at Sy. He reaches into the bag, unpacking each purchase and tucks it away in a cupboard or the fridge.

“Um, it was kind of you to drive me home but…”

“This is a nice place,” he interrupts you as he snaps the cupboard shut, folding up the first bag with a crinkle. 

“Yeah, uh, I guess. But what I was saying, I have some work tomorrow–”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way. Let you get your editing done.”

Silence. Frightening realisation. He has no plans to leave.

“Er, do you live around here?” You gulp, your throat painfully tight.

“Nah, actually, I never been here before I found you,” he explains breezily. “It’s not too bad though.”

“What do you… what?”

“Yeah, well, they sent me home but you know, without a home,” he says as he folds the second bag, putting both in the recycling. “It’s hard. You give yourself to the forces but they don’t always give back.” He turns to you, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, “I’ll grab my bag outta the truck later. All that grease made me sleepy.”

He slaps his stomach and nears. You back up to let him past. He strokes your cheek as he crowds you. You’re quaking.

“I waited so long for you, sweetie, hard to believe I’m finally here, huh?” You back up against the door. He tilts his head and squints, “what’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

“I… I just… I think the sugar upset my stomach,” you lie.

“Ah, you should come lay down, we can watch something,” he offers.

“No, I should catch up on chores,” you say breathily.

“Hm, well, you change your mind and you can join me,” he winks and runs his thumb along your cheek.

He strides away as you remain paralysed. How is this happening? How have you let this happen? He’s invaded your life so quickly and you’re certain he has no plans of retreat.

The couch springs squeak as he flops onto it with a sigh. You glance over as he swipes up the remote to your forty-inch and flicks it on. Aika comes up next to him and rests her head on his middle. He lays with his head against one armrest and his feet propped over the other. He pets her as he flips through the menu.

Do you call the police? Would they even believe you? You can barely believe it yourself.

You flit into the kitchen and stir around in your cross-body bag. You pull out your phone and hover your thumb over the emergency call button. You just stare, hovering, uncertain. You don’t want to get in trouble but this is an emergency, isn’t it?

“Sweetie,” Sy calls to you, shaking you out of your stupor. “Can you grab me something to drink? I’m parched.”

You put your phone down. You don’t even know what you would say. ‘Hello, can you send the police? I let a man into my apartment willingly and he’s using my Prime subscription.’ Really? ‘Oh, and he’s a veteran who just returned from combat’. That will go over well.

“Um, water or guava juice?” You cringe as you chime back. You don’t accept this but you don’t know how to reject him. He could break you in half and from the fleeting surges of his temper, you don’t doubt that he would.

“Water’s fine, thanks, sweetie,” he replies.

You focus on the simple task of filling a glass from the faucet filter. You carry it into the front room and place it on one of the clam shell coasters. He sidles up against the armrest and reaches for it. Aika lays dutifully before the couch.

“I don’t mind if ya do make a few videos, I’m not shy,” he offers before he swigs half the glass.

“Um, no, I don’t have anything… to shoot,” you wipe your sweaty palms on your overalls.

“Right, I think I’ll finish this episode then hop in the shower. Been a long day already, y’know?”

You just nod. It has been a long day. A ludicrous one. 

You really hope this is a nightmare. Please, wake up soon.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |5|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Five: Shit-faced

Summary: It's been weeks and Tara was still avoiding you, but that doesn't stop you from looking out for her

Warning(s): Swearing, smoking, mentions of underage drinking, intoxication & panic attack

Notes: I reaaally hope this suffices. I tried my best, I swear. I think this is the longest chap I've done for this series so far (5,162 words, usually it's right under 5k words) Shoutout to @iamnodens for giving me some inspiration. Sparked an idea for a plot-line I wanna pursue

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Anika saw you check your phone for the millionth time that night. “Come on, this is supposed to be a movie night. Not ‘check your phone a million times’ night,” Anika spoke up. You faced your phone back down. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Anika looked over at you then back at the TV before speaking again. “Who has you so anxious?” She asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“No one,” you say in a dry tone before grabbing the popcorn bowl and shoving a handful in your mouth. Your roommate let out a doubtful hum before turning her attention back to the TV.

Your right leg began to bounce as your thoughts once again led you to an overthinking spiral. It didn’t take long for you to think of the worst. You didn’t want Tara to never talk to you again. As much as you hated to admit it; along the way you started to enjoy Tara’s company. 

There were times where she could brighten your mood when no one else could. Tara may not have known, but the weekend you were in Brooklyn you were having a panic attack when she messaged you.

Texting back and forth with Tara seemed to eventually calm you down. You would never forget that moment, and although the younger Carpenter had no idea how much she had helped you, you knew. 

“If you bounce your leg any harder you’ll put a hole through the floor,” Anika remarked, pulling you from your memories. “Sorry,” you muttered back.

“Don’t be…what’s got you like this huh?” You start to play with your fingers. You sighed, debating whether or not you wanted to open up to Anika. 

“It’s just that– girl from before still hasn’t talked to me and I guess you were right; it’s a hundred percent getting to me.” 

Anika raised her eyebrows at you before responding,“She really must be if you’re admitting you were wrong. Have you tried confronting her about it?” 

You let out a frustrated huff. “She always swerves away from me. I sent a text but I don’t wanna seem desperate.” You looked at Anika to see her giving you a deadpan look. “What?” You asked, feeling clueless.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before answering. “Okay, listen up. I know you have never been a bright communicator, but come on. Only sending one text? At this point you might as well just corner her if you refuse to send her no more than that,” she chuckled dryly.

You sat there, genuinely considering that as an option. Anika watched as you thought about it and started to shake her head at you. “Y/N…no. I didn’t mean to literally corner her.”

“Fine.”

—

You patted your hands dry in the restaurant’s restroom. You looked in the mirror—making sure you were put together before walking out—but then suddenly saw a familiar face in your reflection. It was only for a moment but in that single moment you felt your breathing grow ragged, heart racing and stood frozen. You tightly gripped the counter, closing your eyes and murmuring to yourself. 

“He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your hea—”

“Y/N?” You heard. You exhaled and turned to face the voice.

No, no, no, no…Why is she here?

“Tara.” You replied, you were on the brink of tears as you tried to control your breathing. She quickly noticed the state you were in and carefully walked up to you. You took one step back, moving away from her. She looked at you again before gently placing a hand on your bicep.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Tara asked you in a gentle voice.

“Fine.” You murmured before quickly walking out of the bathroom. You ignored the worried glances you received from Henry and Anika, walking outside and leaning against a pillar. 

You tried everything; you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you counted, and even tried the three three three rule. But nothing was working. You felt your right hand creep up your chest as it subconsciously gripped it. Your knees felt weak, as if they would buckle from under you. 

You fumbled in your pocket for a cigarette and lighter. You held the smoked cigarette to your lips, breathing it in and out. Your free hand’s fingers anxiously tapped on your thigh as you smoked. You felt like the world would collapse from beneath you, nothing to catch or save you. You started going down another spiral when suddenly you heard someone. 

“Hey…” You looked to your left to see Tara once again. 

“I swear I didn’t know you were gonna be here. Sam and I just decided to eat out since it’s not everyday she gets off from both jobs.” Tara said, moving to lean beside you.

“That’s nice,” you replied, putting out your cigarette and throwing it.

“Yeah…it is.” Tara smiled to herself as she said that. “Are you doing a little better now?” She asked you with a light nudge to your shoulder as she looked up at you.

“I guess.” Was all you answered with. Tara slightly nodded, before looking back ahead. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you finally spoke up. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” You asked without looking at her, your voice quiet. You looked down at your shoes, both hands in your pockets.

“I haven’t been…” Tara trailed off. She knew she was. She was fully aware of it. But, she wasn’t ready to tell you why.

“Yeah…okay,” you sighed, lifting yourself up from the pillar.

“See you around, Carpenter.” You made your way back into the restaurant. Tara stayed outside a little longer before going back to her own table.

You both glanced at each other from across the room while the other wasn’t looking. 

—

You sat on the random couch while wearing a grumpy expression. Henry had, once again, dragged you to another party. The place was too crowded, sweat was everywhere, the burning smell of the alcohol was stronger than usual—to you at least—and Henry had gone off to God knows where. You just wanted out of this frat house.

The only thing keeping you sane was the company of Anika and Mindy. You didn’t talk to Mindy much in high school but she seemed cool. Anika and her were discussing couples costumes for halloween when suddenly you heard your name.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Your roommate asked as she sat in her girlfriend's lap on the love seat beside you.  

“What do I think about what?”

“You think we could rock a zombie bride and groom for a couples costume this year?” Mindy asked for Anika.

“Yeah, you’d guys be awesome for that,” you answered in a monotone voice. You didn’t look at them as you spoke, staring off at a random spot in the room. Suddenly your eyes caught something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” Anika asked. Mindy also furrowed her eyebrows at you, but then all their answers were answered when they followed your eye line.

There Chad was with his tongue down Tara’s throat.

There was no reason to have cared as much as you did. There was no reason the pain in your chest should be growing. There’s no reason for this to hit you as hard as it did. You and Tara weren’t dating, you didn’t like her—no, you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were just caught off guard. Yeah, that’s it. You never thought about Chad and Tara together so you’re just in some form of shock.

What about the chest pain? The feeling of your heart being ripped out–

Heartburn. 

It was just heartburn, that was all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Suddenly you felt a hand touch your arm. You lightly flinch before looking to your left, seeing it was Anika. Why did they both look at you with such pity?

“Hey, how about we call it a night, yeah?” You nodded.

After Mindy and Anika kissed each other goodbye, you two started to make your way out before a thought told you to reach into your pocket. Empty.

“I think my phone slipped out of my pocket while I was sitting on the couch,” You told Anika and she waited in the car as you went inside to get it.

By the time you got back to the couch somebody was already sitting, and of course it had to be Tara. “Looking for this?” she smugly asked, pulling out your phone and showing it to you.

You let out a sigh of relief before trying to reach for your phone, but the minute you almost grab it, Tara pulls it back behind her back.

“Tara, not right now.” You really weren’t in the mood for this. 

You sighed as you saw multiple stains on her shirt. “Someone’s in a mood,” she remarked, still looking up at you with a smile you couldn’t quite read.

“I’m not—” you sighed again, “—you have stains all over your shirt by the way. You’re a complete mess right now,” you murmured the last part, sitting down next to her trying to reach for your phone behind her but she’s quick. She pulls away again without thinking before responding.

“You know you pronounce your R’s in a funny way? Like, you say stuff like shirts and shorts but when you say them they sound the exact same. And then it’s, like, which one is it?” Tara rambled on. 

You sat there, silently listening to every single word. You couldn’t help the slight smile that grazed your face. It was nice hearing her voice again after so long. 

“Then I remembered you’re from Brooklyn, and you know what that means?”

“No, tell me,” you said, wanting to hear her ramble for a little longer.

“Brooklyn accent. So, that’s why you do that cute thing with your R’s!” You suddenly felt heat rush to your cheeks. Cute? Tara had used you and cute in the same sentence. She is completely plastered. 

“Tara! Ethan and I are gonna play beer pong!” You both looked over to see Chad calling from the other side of the room. 

You looked back at Tara, “I should go. See you, princess.” You got up, but suddenly felt a hand gently grasp your wrist. You looked down at her as you stood. She opened her mouth for a couple seconds before shutting it.

“You probably need this,” Tara pulled out your phone and placed it in your hand for you. The amount of contact she was giving you caused a flutter in your chest. 

“I’m probably gonna head home,” she slurred. You bit the inside of your cheek as you grew concerned about her going home on her own in the state she was in.

“Mindy said you drove with Chad?” 

“Mm, yeah. He doesn’t mind me driving myself home though. He said he’d—” she hiccupped, “—get a ride with Ethan.”

“Well I do mind. You’re too drunk to drive Tara.” She just stared up at you as you spoke. “You can stay over,” you lightly sighed as you offered your hand to her.

Tara bit her lip as she continued to stare up at you, but after a beat of silence she took your hand—not without tripping, causing her to fall into your arms.

“You okay?” You asked in a soft voice, and she simply nodded her head as she continued to look at you.

Tara had so much to tell you, but she stopped herself before she could.

You both walked out to your car—Tara clinging on to your arm as she walked like she had two left feet. You never thought Tara Carpenter could be any more clumsy than she already was, but here you were. 

You opened the car door, “Sorry that it took so long.” 

“I see you didn’t just bring back your phone,” Anika remarked, not hiding her knowing look. You strapped Tara in the backseat, making sure she was comfortable, before going to the driver’s seat.

“She’s too drunk to be her own ride, so I offered,” you responded. You gave Tara one last glance from the rear view mirror—which didn’t go unnoticed by Anika—to see that Tara was already passed out. You started to pull out and made your way to your apartment. There wasn’t much talking on the ride over. The only sound coming from the car was the music, but even that was put at a low volume. You tried your best to avoid the holes so Tara could sleep fine. You cursed your government for not using your taxes to fill holes with more cement. 

By the time you got to your apartment Tara was still sound asleep. You told Anika she could get a head start and that you would catch up with her. After she left you got out of our seat and walked around your car to open the door to Tara’s seat. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Tara…we’re here,” you whispered in a soft tone. Tara only shuffled slightly but never opened her eyes. You lightly squeezed her shoulder, “Come on. We’re here…”

You slightly shook your head.

“...You’re so lucky I live on the second floor.” You scooped her up and she subconsciously nuzzled her head in the nook of your neck. You carried her up the apartment stairs, and once you got to the door you knocked with your head—since your hands were obviously full at the moment.

That night, you didn’t mind sleeping on the couch.

—

Tara woke up with a pounding headache, causing her to groan as she slowly sat up. She rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly everything came crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

“Shit shit shit,” she looked around for her phone. She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. Sam was going to kill her for sure—if she was actually home? Yeah…she’s going to kill her for sure. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize where she was. “Fuck, not again,” she groaned into her hands. 

If Tara had a nickel for everytime she woke up in your bed she would have two nickels—which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. Before she could retrace her steps there were two knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” She said and you opened the door slightly, peaking your head before fully coming inside. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I see you’ve, uh, woken up.” You awkwardly stood with your arms crossed.

“Yeah…”

Tara turned her head, closing her eyes and letting out an inaudible sigh before turning back to look at you. “Listen, I’m sorry this is, like, the second time. You shouldn’t have to take care of me while I’m shitfaced.”

You slightly pouted out your bottom lip, faintly shaking your head and waving her off. 

“No problem.”

After a moment you finally break the awkward silence, “Why do you do this?”

“What?”

“This? Go out to parties so often, and have drink after drink?” Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you, not understanding where you were going with this. 

“What do you mean by that?” She asked, feeling offended by the question. 

“I just mean, don’t you get tired of it?”

Tara let out a faint scoff, “I like my life, thank you very much.” She now sat up a little straighter as she looked at you from where you stood. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, Tara—you know that.” 

“No, I don’t actually,” Tara got up from your bed, making her way to the door. She reached for the handle but you blocked it.

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“No, you stop it. What’s your problem, Carpenter? You really think I wouldn’t notice you ignoring me?” 

Tara opened her mouth to speak but you quickly cut her off. “You even changed your seat in history. How is that nothing?” You hated how vulnerable you felt right now. The hurt was noticeable in your voice.

“I– I just need space…” Tara sighed, running her hands down her space.

“What—why? ...Did I do something?” You asked, feeling yourself grow smaller as she looked back at you. 

Tara saw you staring down at her like a lost puppy. She hated what that was doing to her. She hated how you were able to make her feel things so easily. 

“No! No, I just need space, okay? Not everything’s about you!” Her raised voice caused you to flinch and take a step back; Tara hated herself at that moment. 

“Okay,” you replied in a quiet voice. 

“Y/N I didn’t—”

“If you need anything, Anika’s up.” 

Before Tara could say anything, you were gone. 

—

You knew very little about the person who now sat where Tara previously did. Tara either paid her to switch or the woman really just didn’t mind. You haven’t introduced yourself to her yet.

You heard her name being called once; Charlotte. You were too stubborn to actually ask her for her name. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to pick up on your silence. Truth be told she noticed you in class before. So when Tara approached her about a seat change, she asked no further questions and agreed.

“Hey,” Charlotte finally spoke up one class. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.” You turned your head slightly to look at her. There was no denying her beauty. 

“Y/N,” you simply responded before turning back to your notes. Charlotte turned back to her own work while she mustered her next words. 

“So, you’re not much of a talker huh,” she nervously chuckled. You looked at her from the corner of your eye before averting your stare back to your notes. “I guess,” you murmured.

Throughout class you resisted looking back at Tara, and occasionally Charlotte would miss something so she would politely ask you for your notes, which you then would silently turn your papers for her to see.

You kept your head down and didn’t meet her gaze as you did this, but if you did you would have seen her warm smile; in a way you felt it.

After class you heard footsteps running up to you. You turned around to see Charlotte. “I just wanted to thank you for the notes,” she told you. 

You spared a faint smile before responding, “No problem.” You watched as she took out a little piece of paper and handed it to you. When you took it you could see numbers written on it. 

“I’d love to thank you over a cup of coffee or even dinner or something. That’s my number, so you can call or text whenever you want.” You lightly nodded at her as you looked at the paper.

“See you around, Y/N,” she smiled at you again before taking off. 

“What do we have here?” The voice causes you to jump a bit, before rolling your eyes when you see the culprit. 

“Geez, Anika. Quit sneakin’ up on my like that,” you sighed as you two started walking.

“Maybe if you were more self aware, you would notice your friend being right next to you,” Anika commented. 

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, who was that?”

“Just some chick from my history class,” you said in a nonchalant manner. 

“Does she happen to have your…interest?” She asked you with a quirked up eyebrow. 

You thought for a second before answering. “I guess.”

“ ‘I guess’? Gee. How descriptive.” Anika remarked sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m still figuring some shit out, but maybe I do.” You shrugged, you and Anika taking a turn.

“By ‘figuring shit out’ do you mean, Tara?” She asked knowingly. That made you do a double take at your roommate. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed dramatically. 

“You know I overheard that argument you two had, right?” 

“I don’t know exactly what you heard but it’s not what you think,” you sighed, eyes looking everywhere but Anika. You hated when she was right.

“Really? Cause’ it seems like she’s the girl that has you so worked up.”

“Stop it.” You said with annoyance in your tone, growing slightly flustered from being called out.

—

You sat at the seat across from Charlotte . You both eventually had decided to go out on Friday night for dinner. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to take up her offer. So, that’s where you were; sitting in a diner with her across from you. 

Your hands rested on your lap as you listened to her speak. She had cinnamon skin, gorgeous hair and dark brown eyes. You couldn’t help but admire dark brown eyes; they were so easy to drown in. 

“So, enough about me. What about you?” She suddenly asked.

“What about me?” You echoed, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“I want to get to know you. Right now you’re just the quiet girl who I sit next to in history, and cute at that,” she winked at you. 

You lightly blushed at the compliment before replying. “I don’t really know what to say. Mind giving me some starter questions?”

“Okay, you got any siblings?”

“Yup. Two brothers, Stephen and Oliver.”

“You like them?”

“Tolerate’ em.”

She let out a giggle before continuing. “Are you the oldest or youngest?”

“I’m in the middle, actually. Oliver’s the oldest and Stephen’s the youngest.” 

You soon found out she had two sisters and two brothers, both her parents were doctors, and her favorite color’s purple. As the night went on you two found out a little more about one another. It was nice just talking. You weren’t sure if this was a date but the thought hung around in your head.

Would it be so bad if it was?

You walked the city’s streets with Charlotte, your jacket hung from your arm as she hugged her own closely. 

“This was really nice, I’d love to do it again sometime,” She spoke up.

You looked at her then back at the ground, a small smile starting to graze your face. 

“Yeah…that’d be nice,” You said genuinely, before she stopped at an apartment building. 

“Well, this is me.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“Of course,” she smiled at you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said before leaving. 

You stood there, slightly stunned from the kiss. It was no secret that it had been a while since you’ve been in a genuine relationship. 

Maybe—just maybe, Charlotte could be the one to change that. 

—

The next day you went to work your shift. You passed the time like you usually did; if you weren’t serving customers you had music in your ears and cleaning counters that you’ve already wiped down a hundred times before that same day.

The bell above the door rings, but you don’t look up as you say, “Welcome to The Coffee Club.” Your voice was monotone. 

The person stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you. It wasn’t until they were shoved to the counter by someone beside them that you looked up. 

You opened your mouth as you lifted your head, but quickly shut it as soon you saw the person.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your voice wasn’t laced with bitterness or rudeness, just a slight shock from seeing her here. If your voice was not a give away of that then your expression definitely was. Your eyes were widened a bit, your eyebrows were raised and you almost looked…flushed? 

“Uh, what can I get you?” You asked, clearing your throat and trying to sound unfazed by her presence.

“Um, just a…” Tara trailed off as she suddenly forgot what she came here for. Mindy looked between you two.

“Hot chocolate?” You finished for Tara. All Tara could do was nod at you. 

“And I’ll have a hot coffee; milk and sugar please,” Mindy spoke up, breaking whatever staring contest you and Tara had going on.

“I’ll, uh, get on that right now.” You put your pen behind your ear. Tara and Mindy sat at a table nearby as you prepared their orders. 

“What was that?” 

Tara groaned at her friend, holding her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I had completely forgotten she works here most days,” she answered, her voice coming out slightly muffled due to her hand still covering her face. 

“You’re still giving her the silent treatment, aren’t you?” Mindy asked even though she already knew the answer.

“Well, I uh…kind of made it worse…”

“How?” Mindy asked, slightly dragging out the H while furrowing her eyebrows.

“We had a bit of an argument last week,” Tara answered, the memories of that morning painfully flashing through her mind.

“About what?”

“I snapped at her over something really stupid, and—God I can’t stop thinking about her face when I did that.” Tara let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. 

“By snapped, what do you mean, like, you yelled at her or something?” Tara sighed and nodded, looking away—feeling ashamed of herself.

“I think you two just need to talk, for real this time.” 

“I don’t want to—” She inhaled, looking down at her hands. 

“Don’t want to what?”

“Hurt her again…” Tara answered in a quiet voice. 

“Tar, listen to me, you’re one of the best people I know, and you can be gentle when you want to be. Just be you,” Mindy told her honestly.

“Maybe when you two finally make up you can make that dream you had a reality and make out already—”

“Mindy!”

Before Tara could say anything else, you walked up to the table with their drinks.

“One hot coffee with milk and sugar, and a hot chocolate,” you repeated their order. Mindy said thank you, and so did Tara—not without Mindy kicking her under the table to do so—before taking a sip of the steaming hot drink.

The mug covered her eye line, so she didn’t see you sneak a Strawberry donut with sprinkles—or as she likes to call it, a Homer Simpson donut—in front of her. By the time she did notice you were already gone.

You had a habit of disappearing without saying goodbye. 

When Mindy and Tara finished, they made their way back to the apartment. They walked into the apartment to find Chad and Ethan playing Resident Evil four. 

“You’re still playing this game?” Tara inquired, pulling off her jacket and throwing it somewhere. Mindy let out a slight chuckle before making her way to the kitchen.

“All. Fucking. Day.” Sam replied, coming into the living room. 

“I don’t blame them. Have you seen Ada?”

“They haven’t gotten up in seven hours.”

“I got it,” was all Tara said, before walking away.

Five seconds later she came back with a spray bottle.

—

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid sentence as you were on the phone with Anika. 

“Hey, I gotta go. Talk to ya later?” You said your goodbyes to each other before walking up to the door. You weren’t sure who could be visiting but whoever it was was growing impatient. 

“Alright, alright! I’m coming,” you called out, walking up to the door. 

You finally unlocked and opened it to—unexpectedly—Tara. This took you by surprise which was evident from your expression. There wasn’t much to go off from but Tara’s known you long enough to read even your littlest details. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Tara finally spoke up again.

“Can I come in? I need to talk to you,” she told you. You responded by opening the door wider, letting her inside the apartment. 

Her eyes wandered around the room before landing them back on you. You quickly averted your gaze, realizing you have been staring at the younger Carpenter a little too long. 

“Been a while since I’ve been here,” Tara said, sitting down on the couch.

You let out a dry chuckle before responding. “You’re telling me…” 

Tara noticed you were still standing, choosing to lean against the wall rather than sit near her. Just then, she remembered why she came here.

“So, what do you want?” You asked unkindly. 

Tara took a second to muster what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing this time. 

She didn’t want to hurt you again.

“I’m sorry.” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not expecting an apology. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, and I’m sorry for blatantly avoiding you for the past few weeks,” she said in one breath. 

“Wait—I wasn’t expecting an apology. I thought you were gonna yell at me again or something,” you poorly joked with a dry chuckle. 

“That wasn’t my best moment,” she said with shame in her voice. She could never forget your face that morning or how you backed away from her as if she would hurt you. 

You looked down at your shoes, considering Tara’s words. You should get your revenge—make her pay for the past few weeks. But instead you decided against it, for whatever reason, you decided against it. Maybe it was her voice as she spoke, maybe it was the bags under her eyes, or maybe it was just simply her. Whatever it was, it caused you to let her off easy.

“I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

“Anything,” Tara replied, a little too quickly. 

“Stop avoiding me,” you said in a softer voice, and you slowly began to take the seat beside her. 

“Deal,” Tara promised, looking at you.

“Pinky swear?” You held up your pinky, for her take.

Tara couldn’t help the smile that grew as she took your pink in hers. 

“Pinky swear.” 

“Now that you’re not avoiding me anymore, you wanna go over last class’s notes?” Already moving on as if she hadn’t been giving you the silent treatment for the past for weeks, and you weren’t still curious as to why.

Your pinkies unlocked, Tara missing the contact.

“Well, you know how much I looove doing that,” Tara sarcastically answered. 

“Ha. Ha.” You got up from the couch, “I’m gonna go get my binder. Give me like two seconds.” You said before rushing away to your room like a child who was having a playdate, rushing off to grab a toy for you and your friend to play with. 

Tara couldn’t stop smiling to herself at the sight of you. It had been far too long since she’s seen you one on one like this. She hated to admit it but she missed you more than she realized. Now that she was thinking about it, she missed a lot of things about you; your smile, your voice, your humor, how you lit up a room with just your presence, even that fuzzy feeling you gave her.

Oh.

Oh, Mindy was right. Tara had somehow found herself crushing on you.

“Fuck.”

-----------

A/N: Platonic!Chara>>> (dw gonna do that justice later)

I wonder who R saw in the mirror...

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

[shitsndgiggs]

kenan teaching the reader how to drive 😭🙏🏻 (im learning how to drive rn and i need to be able to laugh at someone else being a bad driver other than myself, even if its fictional (if i dont laugh i will cry, im just a girl, literally just about to turn 17 what am i even doing driving a car🙏🏻)

sorry for the rant HAHAHHA

CHAOTIC DRIVER - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan teaching you how to drive

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

“Alright, babe, this is easy. Just gently press on the gas, and we’ll start rolling,” Kenan says, trying to sound calm, though I can see the faint hint of nervousness in his eyes.

We’re parked in an empty lot, and I’m sitting behind the wheel, staring at the pedals like they’re complicated pieces of machinery. “Gas, got it,” I mutter, nodding to myself.

I tap the pedal, but instead of a gentle start, the car jerks forward as if it’s been shot out of a cannon. Kenan’s body lurches in his seat, his hands gripping the dashboard as if his life depends on it.

“Whoa! Not so hard!” he yells, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I shout back, my heart racing as I slam on the brake. The car screeches to a stop, throwing us both forward again.

Kenan’s breathing heavily, trying to collect himself. “Okay, okay… let’s take a deep breath,” he says, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, clearly trying to calm his nerves.

“Right, deep breath,” I echo, following his lead. “I can do this.”

He glances over at me, offering a shaky smile. “Of course you can, just… you know, easy on the gas.”

I nod, biting my lip as I carefully press the pedal again. The car moves forward, this time much slower, but it’s wobbling like a drunk person trying to walk a straight line. Kenan’s hand hovers near the steering wheel, ready to grab it at any second.

“Okay, now let’s try turning,” he instructs, pointing to the right. “Just a small turn of the wheel.”

I turn the wheel, but instead of a smooth curve, the car veers sharply, nearly hopping the curb. Kenan yelps, grabbing the wheel to straighten us out.

“Oh my God, we’re gonna die!” I scream, slamming on the brakes again. We come to another jerky halt, and Kenan’s breathing like he just ran a marathon.

“No one’s dying, babe, no one’s dying,” he says, though it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “But maybe… maybe let’s just stick to going straight for now?”

“Good idea,” I agree, my heart pounding in my chest. “Straight is good. I like straight.”

Kenan gives me a cautious nod, and I ease the car forward again. We’re finally moving smoothly, and I start to relax, just a little.

“That’s better, see? You’re doing great!” Kenan says, a hint of pride in his voice.

But then I spot a pigeon on the road up ahead. Panicking, I swerve dramatically to avoid it, sending us careening toward a row of trash bins.

“Watch out!” Kenan shouts, his hands flying to the wheel as he tries to steer us away from disaster.

We narrowly miss the bins, and the car sways back into the middle of the lot. My hands are shaking, and Kenan looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack.

“What the hell was that?!” he exclaims, his eyes wide.

“A pigeon! I didn’t want to hit it!” I explain, my voice trembling.

“It’s a pigeon, it can fly!” he says, rubbing his temples. “Oh my God, I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

I can’t help but laugh at his dramatic response, even though my own nerves are shot. “Well, I didn’t want to be responsible for pigeon murder, okay?”

Kenan just stares at me for a moment, and then he bursts out laughing too, the tension finally breaking. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a fondness in his voice that makes me smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m really trying,” I say, still giggling. “I didn’t realize driving would be this hard.”

Kenan reaches over and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, babe. We’ll get there. Maybe… maybe not today, but someday.”

We’re both still laughing when I decide to give it one last shot. I press the gas a bit more confidently this time, and the car starts moving smoothly again. But then, out of nowhere, I see another car entering the lot.

“Kenan, there’s a car!” I scream, even though it’s like a mile away.

“Babe, it’s fine, just keep going straight—” he starts, but it’s too late. I’ve already panicked and slammed on the brakes again, bringing us to another abrupt halt.

The other car, which is nowhere near us, drives by without a care in the world. Meanwhile, Kenan’s slumped back in his seat, eyes closed, like he’s questioning all of his life choices.

“I think… maybe we should call it a day,” I suggest, wincing as I look at him.

He slowly opens his eyes, giving me a weary smile. “Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best. But hey, you didn’t crash, so that’s a win.”

“Barely,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed.

Kenan chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to my forehead. “You did your best, and that’s what matters. We’ll keep practicing, and one day you’ll be driving like a pro.”

“Or you’ll be dead from a heart attack before then,” I joke, earning a laugh from him.

“Possibly,” he agrees, shaking his head. “But at least it’ll be an adventure.”