#so we’re doing pretty good since i started this one yesterday

[bisexualbuckleyy]

she’s just like me fr fr

[runawrites-blog]

Shipping (Charles Xavier x Reader)

Summary: You're a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and you're quite close to Charles -- so close that a few of the students have started speculating whether or not you two are actually a couple. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,646 Warnings: Very Minor Suggestive Themes. Light Angst. No Y/N. Reader has a last name that goes with her powers but it's only mentioned once or twice. A/N: As mentioned, the reader has a last name that correlates with her powers/mutation. Her name is Brandt (inspired by the German word Brand for fire) since she has pyrokinetic powers. But it's only mentioned once or twice by the students.

“You two are being ridiculous.”

“We’re not being ridiculous!” Jubilee defended herself, leaning over the back of the couch to throw Jean a joking glare. “Look at how cute they’re being!”

Jean gave Jubilee one more annoyed look before turning to where the other girl was pointing, her eyes falling on you and Charles at the other side of the large sitting room. She took the two of you in for a second; how Charles was looking back at you periodically with a bright smile on his face and how you were leaning over the back of his chair, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder as you looked at the files he was currently going over. She turned turned back to Jubilee and Ororo.

“See?” Ororo grinned a little and leaned back in the armchair. “Miss Brandt and the Professor are totally banging.”

“Ororo!” Jubilee exclaimed in disgust. “I wanted to prove to Jean that Miss Brandt and Professor Xavier are in love, not that they are sleeping with each other. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear anything about that!”

That’s when Scott piped up, raising an eyebrow at Jubilee. “To be fair, if they were dating, don’t you think they’d be sleeping with each other?”

“You two don’t have to make this gross.”

Jean quickly nodded at that. “I agree with Jubilee.”

“Really?”

“Not about the dating, but about Scott and Ororo being gross.” Jean leaned back on the couch, closing her book in her lap. “Just because they’re friendly doesn’t mean they’re dating, Jubilee. They’re probably just good friends.”

That’s when Kurt spoke up, a smile on his lips. “I think the idea of them being a couple is sweet. They seem like they would make a nice couple.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“I’m not entirely sure, though!” He quickly defended himself. “I just said it would be cute if they were together.”

Scott nodded. “I agree with that. They’d be a good couple but I agree with Jean on this one, I think. Just because they’re nice to each other, doesn’t mean they’re a couple.”

Jean nodded quickly and picked her book back up. “Now can you let me do my reading for Miss Brandt’s class? I don’t want to mess up on the test.”

“What test?”

“The test we’re traking next week about the Napoleonic Wars.” Jean explained off-handedly. “I’m currently reading the chapter in my History book and I would love for all of you to let me study.”

Kurt nodded at that. “I read the chapter yesterday and trust me, you should all start soon, as well. It’s a pretty long chapter. I could help you study if you want me to.”

“Thanks. I can’t really start now because lunch break is almost over, but I’ll take you up on that offer another time.” Scott said to Kurt before rising to his feet. “What class do we have now? Literature or Physics?”

“Literature.” Jubilee commented and grabbed her bag from the couch. “With none other than Miss Brandt, so maybe we can get some clues on her relationship with the Professor now!”

“You just want to find it out to prove you’re right, don’t you?”

“Exactly!”

All of them stopped when the clock struck two and everyone started to slowly leave the sitting room to get to class. Jubilee grinned a little as she watched Charles turn to you with a soft smile before placing his hand on top of yours for a few seconds. He gave it a short squeeze before he wheeled himself out from behind the desk and toward the door. Most days, the desks were used by students but Hank had asked Charles to review a file he had typed up and the telepath had asked you to look over it with him during lunch break.

You gave him one last smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the two boxes of books you were going to use for your class. Jean watched from the doors, waiting for her friends to get her belongings, as you struggled to carry both of the boxes. But before she could offer her help Charles called out your name, making you look up from the boxes to face him. He was looking back at you with his arms outstretched, smiling softly.

“Let me help you, Darling.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and handed one of the boxes to him, watching as he placed it on his lap before he made his way to the door. “We’re starting with a new book today.”

“I can see that.” Charles laughed and leaned his head back to look at you. “Didn’t you once mention that you loved Mary Shelley’s writing? What a lovely concidence that one of her books is on the curriculum, isn’t it?”

A smile appeared on your face as you stopped in your tracks. “Did you put it on there? You get to decide between three books for each new chapter of the curriculum, don’t you? I think you’ve mentioned that once.”

“I might have.”

“You’re the sweetest, Charles.”

“For you, always.”

Not wanting to intrude, Jean quickly followed her friends out the sitting room and to her class, though now she was actually contemplating on how much truth there was to Jubilee’s suspiciouns about your relationship with Charles.

---

As the days passed, Jean started to believe in Jubilee’s suspicions more and more as she watched how you and Charles interacted. She had never really paid much attention to it but now she was questioning how she’d never before noticed your gentle smiles, sweet nicknames, casual touches and quiet conversations. But what really got Jean hooked on the idea of finding out about whether or not the rumours were true, was what happened one rainy Friday evening.

It was late and some of the younger students were already asleep while Jean was studying with Jubilee and Ororo. There was a slight drizzle going outside as they hunched over their History books and notes from class. They were pretty engulfed in their studying when the earthquake started, making everything in the room rattle and shake. Jubilee nearly fell off the bed but Jean caught her and Ororo clung to the headboard.

But fortunately, the earthquake quickly stopped and the three of them got off the bed to venture to the hallway to see what had happened -- though Jean was pretty sure it was the new student with geokenesis that must have accidentally started the erathquake. Just as they stepped into the hallway, along with a few others students, you and Charles did the same. And the three girls froze when they realised that both of you had come from his room.

Jubilee turned to give Jean a grin but she wasn’t even looking at her, too caught up in watching you hurry after Charles, smoothing out your hair while you made your way to the young boy’s room. Before you could even knock he opened the door and upon seeing Charles, grabbed onto the armrests of his chair, beginning to apologise profusely. Charles reacted in his usual gentle and comforting manner, calming the boy down and checking whether or not he was injured.

It took a few minutes to calm him down but eventually Charles had convinced him that everyone was fine and there was no need for him to feel guilty. And after a few checkups on the other students, Charles proclaimed that they should all get back to their rooms. Jean ushered Ororo and Jubilee back into her room. But once inside Ororo stopped her from closing the door, pointing at you and Charles in the hallway. Jubilee and Jean looked at each other for a second before leaning over to see what their friend was talking about.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked once the last door had closed, giving you a worried once over and reaching out to take your hand into his. “I saw you hit your head on the nigthstand when you fell off my bed. Are you hurt, Darling?”

“I’m fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile before gently cradling his hand in both of yours. “Shall we get back to your room?”

Charles shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup yours. “May I check? I promise you I will only check if you’re alright. I wouldn’t want to overlook a possible concussion. You did hit the nightstand pretty hard.”

With a relenting smile you nodded and gave his hand a small squeeze. “If it makes you feel better you can.”

While Charles placed his fingers on his temple and you held his hand tightly, Jubilee gave Jean one more triumpanth smirk. Ororo was still staring at you and Charles, completely amazed by the fact that her and Jubilee had apparently been right. And Jean crossed her arms over her chest, still not fully convinced.

“I mean, I worry about my friends, too.” The rehead reasoned softly. “That time you got hurt during dodgeball, I checked you for a concussion, too.”

“They’re literally holding hands.”

Ororo turned and placed a finger over her lips as you and Charles began to move down the hallway back to his room, now that he had confirmed you were uninjured. The three girls watched as you two arrived at Charles’ door and you glanced down the hallway once more, checking if everyone was in their rooms. Then Charles used the controls of his wheelchair to back into his room while grabbing your hand and pulling you along. You gave a surprised laugh at that and Charles smirked charmingly. And then the two of you were gone and the door to his room once more closed.

“How is that not obviously them going to do something nasty now? He literally pulled her into his room.”

“You really overuse that word.”

“What word?”

“’Literally’.” Jean answered. “Maybe they’re going over something from class.”

“You just don’t want to be in the wrong.” Ororo laughed quietly as she looked up at Jean. “They both came from the Professor’s room, looking disheveled and in their nightwear. Just now he said she’d been on his bed with him when the quake started. And she went back to his room.”

“You’re right. That kind of proves you two right.”

“Kind of?”

---

Now that Jean agreed with Ororo and Jubilee, the girls had made it their mission to find out whether or not they were right. Scott was still not convinced and Kurt kept telling them that while you and Charles would make a sweet couple it was invasive to talk about their teachers like that. His complaints did not stop his friends.

As the next few days days went on, they kept looking for clues. Jubilee kept going on about how much you and Charles were casually touching while Ororo’s main focus was the fact that he kept calling you petnames to which Scott shut her down by telling her that their professor called everyone petnames – they had to agree with him on that one.

Then Thanksgiving break rolled along and most of the students left to visit home. That year Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, Kurt and Scott had all decided to stay behind at the mansion along with a handful of other students. And due to this decreased amount of students at the school, most teachers were leaving over the holidays, as well – safe for Hank, Charles and you. It was really the perfect time for the friends to find out if they were right with their suspicions.

It was on a cold autumn day that Ororo had decided they needed to keep an eye on you and Charles, mostly because she had noticed that you were most definitely wearing one of his favourite cardigans to ward off the chill. That gave them enough incentive to use the rest of the day to try to decide which of them was right once and for all. Eventually, evening rolled along and you and Charles hadn’t acted any different around each other than usual, so the friends gave up and headed back to their rooms. That was until a storm rolled in only an hour later, bringing with it cold winds and chilly rain, prompting the friends to go to the sitting room and warm up by the fire.

“I can’t believe you still don’t believe us.” Jean commented as she walked down the hallway toward the stairs so they could go down to the sitting area. “And would you hurry up so we can warm up by the fire? It’s so cold today.”

Scott shrugged at that. “I can’t believe they managed to convince you.”

“You didn’t see the way they interacted after the earthquake.” Ororo scoffed as she hurried after them. “She was literally coming out of his room, looking dishevelled and he talked about how she’d been in his bed. And then he kept calling her ‘darling’ and fussing over her before literally pulling her back into his room.”

“You use the word ‘literally’ too much.”

Jean chuckled at Scott’s comment. “I told her that, too.”

Jubilee shrugged a little. “That doesn’t mean she’s not right. She’s been wearing his cardian all day.”

“It’s cold.”

Kurt perked up at that. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Miss Brandt has been wearing the Professor’s cardigans for the whole week now.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“As I said, I think they might make a sweet couple.” Kurt commented before frowning a little. “But should we really be this invasive?”

“We should if it proves us right.” Ororo smirked.

“I just worry that this much snooping around will make them angry at us.” Kurt mumbled before looking at his telekenetic friend. “Also, Jean, why are we going to the sitting room? I’m pretty sure the fire went out hours ago.”

“I can fire it back up.”

Scott was the first to start and decent the stairs. But as soon as he got halfay down – and with that in eyesight of the sitting room – he stopped dead in his tracks, making Ororo collide with his back. She reared up to confront him about stopping but Scott put a finger to his lips and pointed at the open doors. Kurt leaned past Scott and quieted down immediately while Jubilee smacked her hand in front of her mouth to keep from making any sounds. Jean leaned forward and her mouth fell open.

At the end of the sitting room, by the fireplace sat none other than you and Charles, cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. And the two of you were kissing. He was cupping your face, his fingers gently and lovingly stroking your face while yours were buried in his hair, tenderly raking over his scalp. Ororo turned to Scott and pointed a victorious finger at him but he was too busy watching as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and Charles followed quickly to deepen the kiss, not wanting to part from it just yet.

Eventually, the two of you parted and Charles leaned his forehead against yours, earning himself a small smile and a chaste peck on his lips as you looked back at him. Your hands wandered down to the side of his face where you began to stroke his skin, making a smile appear on his face. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Feeling a bit warmer now, my love?” Charles said softly, a bright smile appearing on his lips as you nodded in agreement. “I did promise to warm you up.”

“And you did a wonderful job at that, sweetheart.” You said in amusement, hand sliding down his neck to rest on his shoulder. “I feel very warm and very loved thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Charles whispered, his smile faltering a little. “I do hate to see you cold and anxious about your memories, my darling. I know you’ve told me about your past many times but the thought of you being left out in the snow in an attempt to cure your pyrokinesis still upsets me terribly and makes me angry.”

“Don’t be, please.” You replied, leaning your forhead against his. “I’m here now and I’m safe. You make me feel safe, Sweetheart. Safe and warm.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re not cold either, are you?” You inquired in concern. “I know that you get cold easily and I also want to help you stay warm, especially since I pretty much stole all your cardigans.”

Charles laughed softly, obviously touched by your concern before pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “I’m fine, my love. It��s very warm in here and besides, I have you next to me to warm me up.”

“We could go upstairs and I could properly warm you up.”

“Later.” Charles promised before sitting back and stretching out his arm in invitation. “Stay by the fire with me a little longer, would you?”

“I’d love nothing more than that.”

With that, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss again but this time Charles didn’t reciprocate, instead pulling back and furrowing his brows. That got you to look up at him in concern, the hand you had placed on his shoulder tightening as you frowned.

“What’s wrong, Charles? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, love.” Charles said softly before his voice took on an amused tone. “But we’re not alone anymore.”

With that, he turned toward the door and subsequently the staircase, making you follow his gaze. The students froze where they were standing. While Kurt worried about you two being angry, Jean flushed at being spotted and Ororo gave a small wave. Scott looked away awkwardly and a wide grin spread across Jubilee’s face. But regardless of their reactions, all of them slowly made their way into the sitting room. By the time they were close by, you and Charles were sitting up straight again, turned so you could properly face the students. Charles looked pretty amused and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation.

“Now, my dears, how long have you been watching us?”

“We haven’t been watching you!” Kurt defended himself but quickly faltered as he realised that that wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, we sort of did but only for a few minutes.”

“We wanted to come into the sitting room to warm up and you two were sort of smooching on the sofa.” Ororo explained, waving at you and Charles on the couch.

“Smooching.” Scott snorted before shaking his head. “But they’re right. We’ve only been standing there for a minute or two.”

You shook your head in amusement, unable to keep a small laugh from escaping you as she watched their concerned faces. “Don’t worry now. You’re not in any trouble if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a relief.” Jean said with a small smile. “We worried about that.”

“You two are such a sweet couple, Miss Brandt!” Jubilee suddenly exclaimed, smiling brightly at you and Charles. “And you look really happy together. It’s so good you’re finally together.”

“We are happy.” Charles confirmed, reaching out to take your hand into his. “But we have been in a relationship for a long time. Honestly, I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious.”

“At least we haven’t been keeping it a secret.” You threw in before shrugging. “But then again, we aren’t overly affectionate in the presence of our students. That would hardly be professional.”

“So you’ve been dating for a while now?”

“Yes, we’ve kept it professional but we haven’t been trying to keep it a secret.” Charles explained before nodding toward the fire. “Now, if you still want to warm up, you can find yourself a place to sit. The fire is shrinking now but I’m sure my lovely darling can stoke the flames a bit.”

At his words, you stood from the couch before walking over to the huge fireplace and using your powers to stoke the flames. Then you returned to your place next to Charles and leaned back against his side.

“So tell me, what have you kids been up to all day? I barely saw any students out and about today.” You mused as you looked around. “Where you in town or in your rooms?”

“We were in our rooms.” Scott explained, pulling his legs up onto the armchair. “We thought of going into town but--”

“But we got distracted arguing about whether or not you two were dating.” Jubilee joked, looking up at you from her spot on the carpet. “We were about to start a betting pool at this point.”

“A betting pool?” Charles laughed and shook his head. “Were you really that interested in whether or not we were a couple?”

“A lot of the other students were speculating, too.” Jean defended herself but relaxed when she saw you and Charles laughing at the situation. “The pool was Jubilee’s idea.”

Jubilee nodded in agreement before her eyes widened and she laughed. “You’re like the school’s parents now. X-Mom and X-Dad.”

“Interesting superhero names, for sure.” You chuckled and looked at Charles. “You can bet I will call you X-Dad from now on whenever you act parental.”

“Thank you for that, Jubilee.” Charles said in amusement, his arm pulling you closer as he looked back at you. “But while I don’t think you were being too invasive, I’d like to ask you all to respect our privacy. We want to keep everything professional.”

“Of course.” Jean nodded. “I’m sorry that we were so nosy and invasive.”

“There is no harm done, Jean. Everything’s alright.”

“I can’t believe you were right.” Scott joked. “I guess I was just oblivious.”

Ororo nodded and looked at Jean. “And you called us ridiculous.”

“I guess I got proven wrong.”

[erwinsvow]

knocked up too young and wearing a glittery diamond ring on your left hand, you had settled nicely into the role of mrs. cameron. it wasn’t tough, not a hard position to play in the slightest—rafe, or rather your husband—made everything nice and easy for you.

it seemed like it was his biggest desire come true, making sure you and his little girl were taken care of. he liked it actually, more than he admitted, knowing the two of you were fast asleep in bed when he left for work in the morning, doing nothing but relaxing throughout the day.

in fact, he had decided the second you had tearfully confessed that you were pregnant that this was the sort of life you were meant for, the kind of life he was going to give you. you were so scared, he can remember it like it was yesterday—your watery eyes and wet cheeks, the way your hands shook when you pulled out the test to show him.

“i-i-i’m so sorry, i, i thought the pills were enough, everyone says it’s enough-” you were stammering and crying your way into exhausation, something he definitely didn’t like. 

“s’okay, kid. nothin’ to cry about.” he was formulating his plan already, being proactive in all matters, thinking ahead to marriage licenses and car seats while you stared down at the positive stick in your palm.

“you’re.. you’re not mad, rafe?” the way you look at him, the world stops spinning. why would he be mad?

“hey, s’done,” he says, hands on your shoulders to steady you, bringing you to the edge of the bed to take a seat. he takes the pregnancy test from your hands, looking down at it himself. “it already happened. can’t take it back. no point in cryin’ over it.” 

when you look up with even more tears in your eyes, he’s half convinced he’s said the wrong thing—but it doesn’t faze him, he keeps going.

“hey, hey. what, you thought i wouldn’t take care of you? this is my kid too.”

“i know, i just, i thought you wouldn’t be okay.. with it. having it.” that’s the first and only time he got stern with you through this whole pregnancy.

“hey, don’t talk like that. this is our baby. there’s no question ‘bout havin’ it.” you nod up at him, tears drying as you steady yourself, regain a little composure knowing rafe’s not mad about this little accident. “y’okay now?” you nod again. “good, call your parents. tell ‘em we’re getting married soon.” 

“wh-rafe!” 

but, like how most things were with rafe, he called the shots and you listened. the two of you got married shortly after, before you were even showing. anyone who even attempted to comment on the hastiness of everything shut up the second rafe stared at them.

you’d be a liar to say you didn’t like it, a fool if you didn’t appreciate how rafe was to you.

he stepped up in every way, better than you could have even tried to put together in your imagination. a place was purchased and had slowly started to become home, with a crib that rafe assembled by himself—though it had taken hours and ended up with the instruction papers all crumbled up in a corner—and baby proofed cabinets and sockets. you laugh watching rafe try to install the baby gate on the staircase.

“you know that’s for when they start crawling, right?” you giggle, a hand on your very pregnant belly.

“shut up. m’being proactive. gonna have no time once she actually gets here and we’re runnin’ around changing diapers and makin’ formula and shit.” 

you’re only a touch surprised with how well-versed he is with all the baby stuff, though you appreciate it more and more since you’re still a little confused and overwhelmed. he makes it all easy, from the pregnancy cravings he runs around to find for you to the pretty pink walls in the nursery. he even satisfies all your other cravings, like around month six when there was nothing you wanted more than rafe's dick in every position you could think of.

when his daughter actually comes into the world, the two of you are a mess of emotions and thoughts, but there’s only one rafe really cares about. when can he give you another one?

it doesn’t take long for him to start trying again—trying to convince you that the two of you can handle two, that little kids need siblings their age. the baby’s only six months old but he’s convinced it’ll be better to have them all young at the same time rather than waiting—at least that’s the line he feeds you.

“no, rafe, they’re gonna be like irish twins. it’s so embarassing,” you say next to him in bed, staring up at your husband. 

“what’s that?”

“when you have two babies that aren’t even a year apart.”

“oh. that’s a thing? good, at least there’s a name for it. i’ll get you a book on it, since that’s what we’re doin’.”

and try as you might, even you can’t resist rafe for long, not when he’s taking such good care of you and just wants to give you another baby with his blue eyes and your pretty hair. you end up in the same position that got you into this whole situation—your knees folded to your chest and eyes rolling back while rafe slams into you. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he breathes into your ear, low and quiet since the baby’s sleeping in the other room. “i’ll get y’knocked up again. won’t have to think about a thing in this world except my kids.”

it’s a shame you get pregnant so quickly—rafe was so fun when his only thought revolved around fucking you full of his cum. 

“well, s’not gonna be irish twins. too far apart,” rafe says, looking at the photos from the doctor’s appointment.

“no, it’s just regular twins.” you don’t think you’ve ever seen rafe so happy.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I loved your last hobie fic btw it was really good!!

Imagine that in hobies universe you died but when he travels to miles universe he sees you alive 😭 and then the reader introduces themselves to him the same way they did in his universe

Keep feeding us with these ATSV fics 😈😈

Have a great day!!!

Thank you for enjoying my Hobie Brown stuff anon cuz he’s been invading my mind recently. I hope to god this is okay for ya. 🦦

Hobie remembered first meeting you as though it were yesterday, you were within an alleyway vandalising the walls with your spray paint, he happened to be passing by when one of your masterpieces caught his eye; it was of him…well him as Spider-Man clocking a cartoonish Osborne -appropriately adorned with devil horns and a tail- in the head with his eyes crossed out in red spray paint as though he were dead.

It got a good chuckle out of him that was for sure and from that alone he knew he had to know you more on a personal level. ‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ He asked aloud, making you jolt, you were pretty sure you had chosen a spot where you weren’t going to get caught by the authorities or those that’d grass you up for expressing how you truly felt about Osborne and all those just like him. You shrugged, looking up at your finished product before looking back over at Hobie, ‘dunno yet,’ you told him truthfully, ‘my working titles are either anarchy incarnate or death to capitalism.’

Hobie hummed in approval, but he thought you could do better, ‘how about anarchy is the death of capitalism?’ He suggested and he couldn’t never forget the light in your eyes upon hearing his working title, that in the midst of your excitement you had grabbed him by the arm, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it, you’re a genius man!’ You cried before realising what you did and immediately removed your hand from his arm, ‘sorry about that.’ Hobie dismissed your apology by slinging an arm over your shoulder. ‘Nah, don’t give me that shit, you shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself for that’s what they want you to do.’

‘I don’t think I ever got your name.’ You said. ‘Hobie. Hobie brown and may I get to know the name of the amazing artist behind this.’ Hobie gestured to the spray painting. ‘Y/n l/n.’ You replied. ‘Well y/n, I think we’re going to get along quite well.’ And you did.

So when your untimely death happened, Hobie felt as though he were Achilles having lost his Patroclus. He cradled your body into his arms even long after you had said your final words, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’ and much longer after it had already gone cold. You had told him that you were heading out to go spray paint with some people you’ve met and the worst soon came when despite knowing that you didn’t have to, you still went out of your way to act as a distraction so that the rest may escape; which resulted in the way that it did.He knew he should’ve gone with you that day because then maybe you would still be alive and taking the piss out of him for worrying about you but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

Ever since then Hobie had made it his goal to keep fighting for not only his chase but yours as well in your memory. He made you a memorial in the exact same place where you first met, always paying it a visit whenever he felt as though he needed you with him, which has lead him to start talking to your spray pairings as though they were actually you. There was without a shadow of a doubt that you were quite possibly one of the greatest artists to have ever lived, alongside with being an avid inspiration to many to the youths who felt as though they had no way of expressing themselves when feeling slighted by the society they were born in. Hell you even inspired him! So much so that there were a multitude of songs he would perform that depicted a individual with stardust in their eyes, a rebellious fire in their heart and a insatiably need to insight the themes of anarchy within anything they touched.

After your death Hobie kept a good portion of your things; such as your spray cans that would never get used, your clothes that still clung onto the very last essence of you much like he did and even kept the picture you took together after helping you finish a project you had been wanting to pursue for a long while; and who would’ve thought that it would be him, not as Spider-Man, just good old Hobie Brown with the message, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’

So when he caught himself walking down a alleyway much like he did long ago but this time in a completely new place, he felt as though he was being hit with a wave of de ja vu when his ears picked up on the familiar hissing sound of a spray can. It was like he was back there again and if his memory serves him right, he knew what was to come next the moment he, Gwen and Miles made it into a clearing where they were greeted with the sight of someone’s back as they were deeply engrossed with their own handy work. ‘You’re going to love them Hobie, they’re like super cool and awesome.’ Gwen told him but her words went in one ear and out the next as he stared up at the spray painting of Miles as Spider-Man mid swing; it was beautiful without a doubt but they style in which it was drawn was all too familiar.

‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ Hobie had said without realising it until you jolted before turning to look directly at him, regaining your composure, ‘dunno yet.’ You shrugged and your voice sounded like an echo to the past for Hobie who so desperately wanted to pinch himself in that moment. ‘my working titles are either a bright new era or rising above all expectations.’ Hobie didn’t say anything for he knew he was going to say something that would only scare you away, just because you were another version of his y/n didn’t mean you shared the same memories; to you, he was just another spider-man from another reality, he wasn’t your Hobie despite how he wish he was but he knew he couldn’t put that on you.

He also couldn’t blame you for being alive while his version of you was dead. It wouldn’t be fair on you for being blamed for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with and it wouldn’t be fair on him either, as despite how many times he made himself believe that he has accepted your death, his heart would remind him that he truly hadn’t. You were such a pivotal part of his life that he couldn’t seem to let go of. ‘Hmm, both titles sound cool but I think we can do better.’ Miles pipped up, breaking Hobie out of his headspace that was running rampant with all the best memories you shared together. ‘How about…the bright new era of rising above all expectations?’ Hobie interjected.

You made a face at the suggestion before a wide smile spread across your face as you lost yourself in your excitement and grabbed ahold of his arm like you did when your first met, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it! You’re a genius dude, thank you.’ But before you could remove your hand from his arm, Hobie grasped your hand and held it firmly. ‘I don’t believe I told you my name, it’s Hobie by the way.’ Your excused his actions as an exchange of formal greeting and grasped onto his hand with the same about of force. ‘Nice to meet you Hobie, I’m y/n.’

‘I know’ is what Hobie desperately wanted to say but kept it all contained under a strained smile.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!!! I saw you did a poly!marauders with a plus!dive reader who’s insecure…

Can you write one where the reader is shying away from intimacy with the boys because they’re insecure and feeling ick about their body? Like not just sex but also physical touch like hugs or especially sitting on their laps? It can include smut too if you’d like!

I’m feeling pretty ick about my size rn and the fix really helped me! Thank u sm for your writing

Thanks sm for requesting lovely! I hope you start to feel better soon <33

cw: insecurity around size/weight, talk of traditional beauty standards

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The funny thing is, the boys have been wearing away at your instincts for months. It’s no conscious effort for them, but for you it’s impossible not to notice. Before you got together, you’d been used to shying away from nearly every touch. You rarely hugged anyone, kissed only chastely, and shunned most physical intimacy. But though they’ve gone about it in a gentlemanly way, never putting pressure on you, your boyfriends have slowly changed that. Now hardly a day goes by without James having had his arm around your waist, Remus raking casual touches up your leg, or Sirius turning a kiss into a feely makeout. 

Unfortunately, you still have your bad days. Earlier this week you’d looked too long into the mirror, and of course found a dozen things to hate about your body, and hadn’t wanted any of the boys to touch you since. When Sirius’ hand had smoothed over your lower back yesterday, skimming the rolls of fat at your sides, you’d almost thought you’d be sick before you could get away from him. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d feel there, what he’d think of you when he did. You’re not stupid; you know your boyfriends can see you, but touching is something different. What they probably want to feel isn’t what you have to offer, perfectly smooth skin and sloping, gentle curves. It sometimes feels like you’re keeping the secret of your true form from them, and if they discover it they’ll see you the same way you do. 

“So, what’s the big secret?” Sirius asks as you come into the common room. All three boys are tangled up on the couch, and the other two turn to look when he calls out to you. 

You give him a bemused sort of smile, perching on the armrest next to James. Careful not to put much of your weight on it. “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t play coy.” Sirius narrows his eyes at you playfully. “I saw you whispering with Evans earlier, glancing at us all mischievously. What’re you two up to?” 

You have to bite down on your smile. Sirius’ birthday is coming up, and you and Lily are in charge of his surprise party plans. James and Remus are involved too, of course, but it’s far easier for you and Lily to speak about it in your dorm at night, whereas your boyfriends hardly get any time apart to partake in secret plans. 

“Oh,” you say breezily, “that was nothing. She was asking if we’re going to hogsmeade tomorrow. I told her we are.” 

James smiles at you conspiratorially, bringing a hand to your thigh and rubbing up and down in silent support. You almost have a heart attack. You place your hand hastily atop his, intertwining your fingers as cover for your panicked response. James doesn’t seem unhappy with the change, resting his head against your arm as he strokes his thumb across the back of your hand. 

“Should we make it a study session in hogsmeade?” Remus asks, neatly keeping the subject away from Sirius’ party. “We’ve all got that potions paper due Monday.” 

“I’ve finished,” you admit, “but I’m still open to studying if you guys want to.” 

Remus rewards you with a smile as Sirius rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Show-off,” he mutters. 

“Shut up, Pads,” James says, always looking for any opportunity to take your side over Sirius’. He grabs your waist before you can stop him, tugging you off the armrest. 

No sooner do you land on his lap than you’re springing to your feet. “James!” you cry, batting at his hands when they reach to pull you back. “You can’t just do that, I’ll crush you!”  

Thick eyebrows fly up past the rims of James’ glasses and disappear behind his curls. “I’m sorry,” he says, in a tone that clearly means the opposite, “do you really think I’m so weak that I’ll crumble from you sitting on my lap?”

“It’s not—”

“Fucking hell,” Sirius cuts in, looking horrified, “if you think James can’t handle you, what do you think of Remus and I?”

“I’ll bench press you right now,” James insists, trying to push the other boys aside so he has room to lay down. “Come here, lovie, we’ll see who’s weak.” 

The laugh that emerges from your throat borders on hysterical. “I wasn’t trying to say that anyone here was weak, okay? I just…” There’s no good way to phrase that last part, and you think for a moment to simply leave it there, but Remus leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees with an expression that clearly reads go on. “I know I’m not, like, a tiny delicate bird,” you laugh, aiming for flippancy. 

No one laughs with you. 

“But I don’t need any of you to respond to that,” you hurry to say. “I know it’s a weird subject, and there’s, like, no right way, really, to…to respond.” You trail off dumbly, wishing desperately that you’d never broached the subject in the first place. 

After a moment of silence, you chance a glance up, but one look at Sirius’ visage, bordering on outraged, has your gaze defaulting back to your lap. “Sorry,” you say in a small voice. “Can we forget about it?” 

“That’s alright, love.” Remus' voice is dulcet, so low you would never normally have heard him if the other two boys weren’t so uncharacteristically silent. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but can I just say something?” 

You look up to nod at him, finding his countenance equal parts troubled and patient. His mouth is pursed like he’s worried that if he’s not careful, the wrong words will come flying out. At your nod of assent, he speaks, clearly and firmly. 

“I don’t want you to look like a bird.” 

You almost laugh again, it’s such an absurd declaration, but Remus’ expression is serious. “You know what I mean, though,” you say, lifting a shoulder like this conversation is nothing to you. “I know what guys want. I’m not that.” 

“Bullshit,” Sirius says, and Remus’ lips twitch upward at your boyfriend’s brash tongue. “You’re just gonna lump us in with all guys? Do all girls want the exact same thing too?” You go to protest, but he talks over you, fuming. “Golden boys, tall with blond hair, blue eyes, and an eight-pack of abs, right? Is that what you wish we looked like?”

“Of course not.” You’re tripping over yourself in your denial. “I wouldn’t—I don’t want you to look any other way.” 

“But you can see his point, can’t you?” Remus asks gently. “If we each only liked what we’re told is most attractive, a face full of scars probably wouldn’t be on the top of that list.” You must look as devastated as you feel, because Remus’ lips pull up in a reassuring half-smile, the long scar across his cheek flashing silver with the movement. “Does that matter to you?”

Your voice is quiet; chastened, but ardent. “No. Not at all.” 

“So perhaps you can imagine,” James says, raising his eyebrows at you teasingly, “how if you can look at us and find things to love, we can do the same with you.” You gnaw on your lip, and his brows come slowly back down. 

“Don’t,” Sirius says sternly. “Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. You’re gorgeous, and we like you like this.” His eyes bore into yours, insistent. “You can’t make our decisions for us about which parts of you we’re allowed to like, understand?” 

James nods, extending his hands to you. “Would you come sit with me, angel? Only if you want to, of course,” he adds at your hesitance, “but please don’t refrain because you’re worried about anything to do with me.” 

You give him an assessing look. “Alright,” you say, perching on his lap. “Just tell me if you want me to get off.” 

“Will do, darling.” James grips the fat of your hips, hauling you onto him so that your feet leave the floor and your full weight is on him. “Not much danger of that, though.” 

“Honestly,” Remus hums, pulling your legs across his lap so that you’re sitting sideways on James, “the day one of us says we want you to look more like a bird, run, sweetheart. Someone’s using polyjuice or something.”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part iii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: tensions rise as your second lesson continues, but joel still refuses to admit his feelings to you—or himself. you'd concede defeat if you really believed he didn't want you. or if his actions weren't constantly contradicting his words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher au, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, smut, angst, f!masturbation, mild exhibitionism, mentions of guilt & shame

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | part i | part ii

You have no idea how you're supposed to survive another afternoon with Joel, let alone an entire semester. He's basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, hiding under the visage of an unfairly sexy, middle-aged musician, but you never know which one you’re dealing with until he pushes you away or calls you his girl.

Today, he feels like a dangerous combination of both.

After your verbal agreement to keep things professional, yet again, he concedes and finally sits next to you on the couch. Guess that safe distance he was so desperate to maintain is null and void now that he’s made his feelings clear—sort of.

You assume his proximity is an olive branch, but it sure doesn't feel like one. Now, he's close enough to smell his cologne, an earthy, woodsy scent that's so Joel, it makes your head spin. It's also making this lesson infinitely harder to focus on.

You’d never even considered the possibility of him shutting you down this hard, but then again, a hot fling with an older guy wasn’t why you showed up on his doorstep in the first place. If he'd just admit he's interested, maybe things could be different, but he won’t, will he? So, what other option do you have?

You’re not going to throw yourself at him like some pathetic schoolgirl with a crush, even if that’s exactly what you are. You want him to want to touch you, to crave you the way you're sure he does, but right now he wants to teach you chords. Starting with C, apparently.

“We’re gonna try this chord again, alright? Same as last time, nice and slow,” he starts, reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. He presents you with a small, black piece of plastic that looks like a clamp, identical to the one on his guitar. "This here's called a capo. Go ahead and fit it right over the third fret—it’ll raise the key of the guitar. M’thinkin' that'll make things a little easier for ya."

You push your feelings to the side and accept it, following his lead and squeezing it into place before glancing up for his approval. He gives you an encouraging smile and nods, and your heart rate kicks up wildly in your chest.

God, why does his praise feel so good? And why does it feel like it’s been so long since anyone was this patient with you, or genuinely wanted to see you succeed? You realize you want him to keep looking at you like that, regardless of the nature of your relationship.

"S'perfect. Now, your fingers'll go here, here, and here," he arranges his fingers one by one on the three strings that make up the chord and strums. He lets it ring out for a moment, then looks up at you expectantly. "Any of this ringin' a bell from yesterday?"

Vaguely. Mainly, you're remembering how tempting his fingers looked while he was playing, but you'll have to do better than that today. Instead, you focus on mirroring what he showed you.

"Like this?" you ask hesitantly, pressing down on the strings and mimicking his motions. Tough nylon bites into your skin just as painfully as last time, but the sound you produce is pretty. Nothing like the muted, garbled mess from your previous attempt.

You meet his eyes, and they're filled with none of the surprise yours contain. He just looks pleased, like he had total confidence in you even if you didn't.

"Exactly like that. See? You're doin' better already. Must'a done your finger exercises last night like I told ya,” he says proudly, none the wiser.

If only he knew that’s exactly what you spent your night doing. Practically the entire night, if you’re being honest, and to no avail. It might’ve unintentionally improved your dexterity, but you're still stuck on everything that did or didn't happen yesterday. The only lasting result is how unexpectedly conflicted it made you feel. You nod, biting your lip to keep from grimacing.

“Sure did,” you play it off with a laugh. "I wanted to be as prepared as possible."

Prepared for something a little more physical than playing guitar, but that's a moot point now, isn't it?

You sound as fake as you feel, but luckily he’s so eager to continue the lesson, he doesn’t notice. Again, you follow his lead and try your best to ignore your disappointment and bury the residual hurt. You have a sneaking suspicion you're going to be doing a lot of that, but inexplicably, it's getting easier.

You're starting to realize it's not in spite of Joel. It's because of him. In a brief moment of self-indulgence, you let your gaze linger on his rosy cheeks and the newfound serenity in his eyes.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his love for music radiates like a Texas heatwave, burning hotter with every chord he strums and string he picks. Even his posture is loosening, and the soft smile on his face seems like a permanent fixture.

It's that same warmth from earlier. That intimate connection you felt blooming in your chest from sharing in his joy. Cautiously, you allow yourself to hope, if not for you and Joel, then for your degree. For the goals you have yet to achieve that, regardless of the past 24 hours, still mean everything to you.

"So, what's next?" you ask eagerly.

His eyes light up, and you know you've asked the right question. He shifts across the strings to a new chord, his smile widening as you quickly move to match him.

"Next, we're learnin' F," he grins, nodding toward your finger placement. "Then, I figure we can run through some pickin' patterns if you're up for it.”

"I'm up for anything you are, teach," you reply earnestly, and the smile you give him feels genuine this time. You really do mean it in every sense. "But be gentle with me. It's been a while, if that wasn't obvious."

His smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. After a moment, you realize what you said and how it must’ve sounded. You open your mouth to clarify, but before you get the chance, his expression clears. He chuckles, and it's a light, tinkling thing that fills your chest with a heady combination of relief and longing.

Of course, he’d take it in stride. You’re struck again by the resemblance to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, left wondering if you're still imagining things. The subtle twitch of his fingers must be a figment of your imagination, too, or at least that's what you tell yourself. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

"'Course, I will,” he drawls companionably, his words commanding your attention, compelling you to hang on to each one like a lifeline. “Like I said, we'll take it nice and slow. Ease you back into things until you're ready for somethin' harder.”

It takes everything you have not to choke on your spit. Ignore it. Ignore it. Focus on the lesson and how incredible it’s going to feel when you finally finish the song and pass your damn class.

But you can’t. He’s too close, and he smells so good. You’re only human.

"I think I'll surprise you," you retort cheekily. You’re so fucked. "Plus, I like it hard. Just need a little build-up to get me there."

His hand tenses in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movement, and you can't help the overwhelming feeling of pride pooling in your belly. You've never backed down from a challenge and you're not about to start now. This one is apparently still ongoing.

"Well, all right, then," he says smoothly, and this time when you shiver, he looks pleased. "Let's hear ya strum it, and then we'll work through the rest. Think you can handle that?"

You straighten up, sitting confidently with your fingers poised over the frets, ready to play. As you shift in your seat, your thigh presses firmly into his and sends a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach. "Yeah, I can take it.”

He shakes his head with an amused, yet undoubtedly shy smile. You bite your lip coyly, nodding at the sheet music you've just noticed on the rug at his feet.

"Are there more chords in this bar or is it just picking until the next line?"

It's a toss-up whether or not he heard any of what you just asked if his rapt attention on your lips is any indication. You're still teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, and it's not until you laugh that he finally snaps out of it. He shakes his head a little harder as if to shoo away the distraction, before reaching down to inspect the piece of paper.

He concentrates a little too hard on the page, looking but not seeing, so you reach over and point at a confusing string of notes that connect and repeat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. His gaze shifts to your daintily extended index finger, and you're hit with an intense feeling of deja vu, except this time, your roles are reversed.

“Can you show me how that part goes? It looks like gibberish to me, to be totally honest,” you prod him, trying to reel him back in.

As if on autopilot, he quickly discards the sheet and shifts his hands into place, ready to teach like he wasn't just daydreaming about your fingers wrapped around his cock, covered in his release. And if he wasn't, then you sure were.

“Y-yeah, sure thing. That line's just the intro, but the flow is somethin' else. Probably one of my all-time favorites," he says, his endearing mask carefully slotted back into place.

But you're onto him now. Begrudgingly, he tears his eyes away from where you're matching him on your guitar, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"It really ain't as bad as it looks," he continues. "The timing's purposely a little off, but it's adaptable. This one's real easy to add your own spin to if that's somethin' ya wanna try."

With all of the skill and grace of a practiced musician, he plucks through the line to give you a preview of what was previously only lines and circles on a page. The notes blend seamlessly, a mixture of picking and what you vaguely remember to be hammering, and it evokes something you never expected.

An unidentified emotion takes root and feels startlingly like yearning and hope, carried by the short melody. It's beautiful. He circles back to the beginning, hopping along the frets slowly just for you, and he's beautiful. You watch him, enamored by his fluidity and ease of motion.

For him, all of this is innate. His guitar is a natural extension of himself, something he was born to hold. You used to think you were born for it, too. The reminder is a painful one, but thankfully you're not left to dwell on it for long.

"So, how 'bout it? Ready to give it a try?" Joel's voice cuts through the fog, as honeyed and mellow as the music at his fingertips. You want to hear that voice call you beautiful again and feel him panting against the shell of your ear while he stretches you out around his thick fingers. God, you want.

Yet, your hands move of their own accord and fall into place—it's the C chord. Apparently, you really want that, too.

"Ready, teach," you nod, and you know you must look like a lovesick fool.

Right now, you really don't care because your gorgeous guitar teacher is beaming and excited, and beneath it all, there's still a tinge of something that makes you believe all of this is real. A lust for more simmering just below the surface.

"You have my full attention, promise."

——

The next hour is spent walking through various strumming and picking patterns, and acquainting yourself with the fluctuating tempo. It's tricky, but you're committed. Again and again, you repeat the same bars, following Joel's interjected advice and corrections, and your mistakes become less obvious until they're all but gone completely.

Rewarding doesn't even begin to cover how a successful run feels. Even the pain blooming beneath the reddening indents on your fingertips feels good. Calluses are beginning to roughen the soft skin, but you earned them.

They're yours and yours alone, proof that you worked your ass off and achieved something remarkable. The results speak for themselves, bouncing around the walls of Joel's living room and breathing new life into the space. Your contribution to his little corner of the world.

And Joel looks so damn proud. He stays patient through every flubbed hammer and too-hard pluck, grinning when you complete the section without his guidance. Your lesson's already gone on long past its scheduled time, but neither of you seems to notice. You likely wouldn't bother to mention it even if you did.

Time trickles by like the slow drip of molasses, thick with the sweetest tension, yet the longer you play, the more a familiar ache starts to creep in and make your progression a little more difficult.

Your hand is cramping, and it hurts. You pause mid-strum to shake it out and stretch your fingers, sighing at the brief respite.

"Hurtin' again, huh?"

You huff out a laugh, remembering the last time he asked you that question. The throbbing in your joints would more than welcome another massage from Joel, but you don't exactly trust yourself to come back from that. You have to stay focused until the next line of the song, at the very least.

"It's really not that bad. Guess all those finger exercises are paying off," you joke, but you don't expect him to catch the underlying punchline. "I kinda figured it wouldn't go away overnight, anyway."

You can tell he's thinking about it, too. He nods understandingly, tapping a restless, arrhythmic beat against his guitar.

"S'all part of bein' a guitar player, unfortunately," he agrees, his entire body tense like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and inspect the subtle changes to your delicate skin for himself.

Your mind starts to wander as his tapping changes to slow circles swirled into the wood grain. You can't help but wonder if your new calluses would feel good sliding up and down his cock, if he'd like the coarse hint of pain teasing the ridge or circling the tip. You wonder what his own would feel like pressing into your clit. The skin of his middle and ring fingertips is noticeably rougher than the rest and with a little pressure—fuck.

You're wet. That can't happen. You have to concentrate. But his movements are starting to speed up, and you can almost feel them sliding through your messy heat.

The intrusive thought is thankfully interrupted when he stops the lewd motion and continues his reassurances like it never happened. Why does he keep doing that? It seems so pointless to keep pretending you’re not on the same page, but you’re not about to call him out and scare him off again.

You tell yourself to focus on the pain. Focus on what he’s saying, not what he’s insinuating.

"Pain's a good thing. It means you're stickin' it out and makin' some real progress," he says fondly, and it's almost enough to reclaim your attention. "Says a lot about the kind of person you are, too, what you do with that pain and how you let it shape ya. You're a good one, I can tell. Committed, like I was."

It's so much sweeter than anything you'd expected him to say. It helps.

"Fair enough. Still kinda sucks though," you grumble, but the slight quirk of your lips betrays your tone.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened to likin' it hard?" he asks playfully, and you feel that telltale whoosh between your legs.

You shift uncomfortably, subtly trying to unstick your underwear from where it's cemented to your core, but the unexpected friction makes you flinch. He picks up on it immediately.

"Look, why don't we take a break? I'll grab us some drinks while you rest up, and we can dive back in whenever you're ready," he offers, his voice raspier than before.

"Yeah, that, um...that sounds good. I'm actually gonna run to the bathroom real quick if that's cool," you reply, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

It's hot as hell all of a sudden, even though the AC hasn't stopped kicking since you got here, and you have a feeling cold drinks won't be enough to cool you down. He hesitates before nodding, then points down the hall.

"'Course. S'the first door on your left," he says, brows furrowing in concern. You all but speed walk past him to your temporary haven.

Backing into the door the moment it closes behind you, you squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can, but it only makes it worse. The ache is almost unbearable, and you know for a fact that you'll waste the rest of the lesson if you try to go back out there like this.

The entire afternoon has been such a complicated back-and-forth of conflicting feelings and confusion, but you still have no idea what do to about it. You want him to fuck you, but you also want him to teach you. He wants to teach you, but he also wants you in ways he won't admit to you. Or himself.

Your head is cloudier than it's been all day, and your thoughts are a jumbled mess of desire and rationality, both fighting for dominance. So, now what?

There was only one way to clear the fog last night, but you really shouldn't. You're in his bathroom for christ's sake, and he can't be more than 15 feet away, pouring you a glass of lemonade in the kitchen.

You do it, anyway. With one hand shoved down your pants and the other slapped over your mouth, you decide your best course of action is to rub one out in Joel's bathroom to rid yourself of this distraction once and for all. And it feels good.

The moment your sore fingertips press into your clit, your hips buck into your touch and you lose yourself to the friction. You're even wetter than you realized, and your fingers keep slipping from where you need them most, so you change tactics, ramming two of them inside you instead.

So much for resting your hand. Your motions are frantic, bordering on desperate, and you can't bring yourself to stop now that you've started. Wet squelching mingles with your muffled moans and fills the room, noisier than you’ve been all day even after an afternoon of playing guitar.

But you're getting a little too loud. The door rattles on its hinges every time your palm slaps into your heat, and your hand isn't nearly enough to mask your increasing volume the closer you get. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't hear a thing. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and he'll hear everything.

You're too far gone to care. Just a little more. You can feel yourself starting to squeeze your fingers, and you just need a little bit more—

Then, there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice tentatively filters through.

"Everythin' alright in there?" he asks kindly, but he sounds wrecked.

It's obvious he heard everything, and yet he's still trying to be polite, desperately clinging to his morals and good, Southern manners. Too bad that turns you on.

Not bothering to respond, you keep going, fixated on how vivid a picture your unstifled moans and reckless actions must be painting. You wouldn't be surprised if it's just your imagination again, but you swear you can hear labored breathing and a litany of muttered curses coming from the other side.

He knocks on the door again, harder this time, and you quickly realize that any patience Joel had left is gone. You've finally pushed him past his limit.

"M'givin' you sixty seconds to get back in that livin' room," he grits out roughly. "You're finishin' out here."

The door shakes as he pushes off of it and stomps away, leaving you in palpable silence.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iv!

divider by @saradika-graphics

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Stressed Carmilla x female reader smut

Words: 783

“Stress Reliever”

A/n: I posted this yesterday but saw it was on mature…so I’m reposting it.

A/n: lol I’ve done a lot of Carmilla stuff. I’m working on Lucifer too! I just find carmila easier to write since I’m attracted to females (and her the most out of the show). But anyways hope you enjoy!

(Requested by: Erin26_94 on AO3)

Warnings: submissive Carmilla, Dominant reader, gentle sex, praising, gay sex, oral(vaginal)

Info: takes place after “Whatever it takes”. Carmillas stressed out due to velvette and the meeting, and she is gifted with some pleasure from you.

Carmilla sighed softly as Zestial left the room. She went over and grabbed some alcohol, pouring it into the glass again but then drinking the bottle instead. Velevtte had stressed her out greatly. Almost exposing Carmilla being responsible for the death of the exorcist.

She sat down at the table and rested her head on her hand, closing her eyes to take a deep breath to calm herself down, that’s until she gets a knock on the door. “Come in.” She commanded sternly. You enter the room with a concerned smile, carmillas expression immediately softening, so did her voice. “Mi amor..is there something you need?”

“Odette and Clara told me you were feeling a little stressed, so I came to check in on you” you said softly and concerned, walking over to her and kissing her gently on the side of her head. She sighed softly and looked up at you with tired eyes.

“Yes..Velvettes catching on my love..” she admits and rubbed her forehead out of stress. “Such a respectless brat…” she grumbled frustrated with today’s meeting.

You chuckled at her insulting one of the VEES, after all they were pretty respectless, and rude, so they kinda deserved it. “Want me to help you take away that stress my love?” You offered as you traced her thigh

She looked up at you, and nods. “Yes..I would love that..what did you have in mind?” She asked, leaning in the chair more comfortably now.

“Well…I can let you release that stress out with something more….passionate~” you say seductively and continue to trace her thigh.

Carmilla blushed softly. “I’m not sure love..we are still in the office..I’d rather not-“ she was cut off from her worries by you.

“Don’t think about that okay? We’re the only ones here and it is late, no one’s going to come in..tonight is to focus on you. Okay?” You reassured, moving your hand up to her hips.

She sighed softly in relief. “Okay then…I trust you on that my dear..” she said and stood up, making you push her to sit on the table. She was slightly confused of what you were doing but didn’t question it and allowed you to continue.

You got on your knees and started to pull off her pants, she blushed as she looked down at your figure. You discard the pants and set them on a nearby chair, and you start to trail soft kisses up and down Carmillas thighs, making her shiver and arch her back in response. “You’re so good for me..” you praised her softly and kiss up towards her sensitive sex.

Your hot breath hits carmillas sensitive folds, causing her to let out a soft gasp and grip the edge of the table. “Mi Amor….” She choked out, arching her back and wanting release. You gave into her wishes and started to leave long licks onto her pussy. She moaned out and used all her strength to not grab your head and push you into her. You continue to leave long and soft licks and kisses onto her core, your fingers massaging her thighs.

Your warm tongue finally enters her sobbing and tight pussy, you tasted the inside of her as her thighs tighten around your head, making your breath hitch. “Ohhh…Mi Amor…keep going…” Asha said breathy and placed her large claw onto the back of your head to push you in more while her thighs kept you in place. You moan and thrust your tongue in and out of her, your hands gripping onto her large thighs and holding her tight. “oh mierda….yes..yes..” she moaned out as she got closer to her climax.

Your eyes shut tight as she throws her head back in pleasure, crying out your name as her hips grinded into your face, her large hand holding your head into her and fingers twined into your hair, her large thighs holding you close.

You taste the familiar salty and warm liquid fill your mouth and you swallow every drop of her precious cum, milking the rest out with your mouth. You pull away and pant, standing up and gently kissing Carmillas lips, she wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed back, her tongue dancing with yours. Your lips parted, strands of pre-cum and saliva connected your mouths, and she spoke up, panting softly.

“Your incredible Mi Amor….”

[fanofstuff01]

HERE I AM! Here I am with a little writing of mine!

Before we get started, this AU belongs to @woah-why-i-am-here and they have pretty cool drawings about it. GO CHECK IT OUT!

Considering the show itself is 16+, this is aswell, know it then read this, also it has Valentino.

DEAR TUMBLR! PLEASE DONT TAKE THIS DOWN!

A little summary: Adam fell to hell, needed money, and Valentino was the only one hired him. He owned his soul, and it was too late when Adam realized what he agreed to work on. He is one of Valentino’s top whores now. And of course, Adam and Angel met, in fact, more than ‘met’. Their films sure sell a lot. They slowly become friends and Angel convinces Adam to come to the hotel. This is after these happened. Also not shipping Angel x Adam.

ENJOY! (Also since you love holydust @rius-cave , tagging you!)

“And cut!” Valentino said proudly, ending the scene. “One hour break and we’re here till 8!”

Adam panted as he tried to collect his mind. He slowly backed away from the fish demon gal, wore his robes back and got up to go to his dressing room. This was the third demon he was on top of that day, and sure enough she was not gonna be the last. Today was gonna suck. Val was planning to work on eight fucking movies, not to mention six of them were gay and two of them were with Angel. He was glad the one-hour break came.

“Addie~” He heard someone behind him and felt that certain ‘someone’ gripping his shoulders.

Valentino. Awesome. Just who he needed.

He attempted to not show the fear and hatred he felt to his face and mask. Too bad the fucking thing was programmed to show every emotion on his face, and sometimes they didn’t even needed to be on his face, him feeling them was enough. Angel had a -probably true- theory about it, he thought that it was ‘connected’ to his brain when he wore it. Adam was already regretting that he put the “I will only work with a mask” in his contract. He didn’t like the idea of showing his face on films, but this was much worse. He couldn’t fucking took it off till his shift ended!

“Yes, Val?” He asked, trying to avoid the movements he was doing to his chest. Yes, prick? he corrected himself in his brain.

“You were so, so good in the last one, babe” he chuckled.

“Thank you, Valentino.”

“Go ahead. Rest, baby.” He thought he was gonna leave him, but instead, he leaned in and kissed his cheek, completely disgusting the sinner. He didn’t flinch or resist though, he knew what’d happen if he did. “Oh, I can’t wait to see you and Angie on stage together.” he let out another one of his creepy chuckles and finally let the first man go. Adam almost runned to his dressing room, closed the door behind him and threw himself on the couch.

“Fuuck.” He groaned and tried to grab his wine bottle without getting up.

“Adam?” A familiar voice came from outside.

“Door isn’t locked!” He yelled.

“Hey, dickmaster.” A pink spider demon came inside and sat down beside him, tilted his head back and watched as the demon managed to grab the bottle and drank it without standing up, like his life depended on it.

“Y’know you can choke yourself doin’ that, right?”

“Meh, who the fuck cares.” He get up dazedly and looked inside the bottle with one of his eyes.

“I don’t recommend dying on work hours, Val punishes the ones who do.”

“Unholy shit, that actually happened?!” Adam asked, his pupil-les eyes went wide.

“I saw three accidents.” Angel shrugged. “Any left for me?”

“Sorry, I guess that bitch camera guy sneaked up here again and stole my stash.”

“It’s fine. Wanna eat your food? We’re gonna need energy.” Angel asked and took out two containers out of his bag. “I made lasagna yesterday.”

“Oh, you bet I do then.” He smirked and took his own. Angel knew the best ways to make it.

They chatted together until their break ended.

“Adam! Get your ass here or there will be consequences!” A little window appeared in Adam’s mask, almost like a pop-up ad. It was their costume designer. “And bring Angel with you!”

“Fine, fine! Ugh.” He groaned, swiped the page to make it dissapear and get up. “Who’s idea was putting this shit on this again?” He mumbled to himself. “Let’s go cocksucker, we have another job to do.”

HOW IS IT!?

By the way, Adam’s mask in this is practically based on his original mask, a Voxtech product just for Adam. Like Vox’s screen, it’s like a screen-face.

I’ll continue this

[mynameismckenziemae]

Can you please write a fic where one of the characters gets the female main character a collar?? Any of the pairs would be fantastic!

I think this would make a wonderful part 2 to Picture Perfect.

Bob Floyd x female reader

Smut (and mean dom!Bob😏) below the cut ✂️👇🏻

“Good morning, Mrs. Floyd,” Bob murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“Mmmm,” you grumble sleepily, the ache between your legs making itself known as you stir.

“Got you a little something,” he says as he gets out of bed.

“What is it?” You ask, sitting up.

“Close your eyes and I’ll put it on,” he says.

“Okay,” you smile, sitting at the edge of the bed before shutting your eyes.

He returns a moment later and your breath hitches when you feel cool leather against your neck.

“A collar?” You whisper, arousal pumping in your veins.

“A collar,” he confirms, “open your eyes.”

He’s standing above you naked, cock hard and dripping precum while holding a metal chain leash in his hand. “Can I?”

“Please,” you whisper, lifting your chin in offering.

“So pretty,” he murmurs when he attaches it. “Wanna see?” He nods his head to the floor length mirror in the corner.

You nod eagerly as you start to rise but he shakes his head. “Crawl.”

You can’t stop the shiver his words cause.

“Yes sir,” you gasp as he gently tugs on the leash, bringing you to heel.

“Go ahead,” he encourages, letting you lead the way.

Your face burns from the delicious humiliation as you crawl, knowing he can see the arousal coating your thighs. Your eyes stay on the floor as you approach the mirror.

“Look,” he jerks the leash, “do you like it?”

You whimper as your eyes meet your reflection and you nod furiously. The black leather collar looks so good against your skin.

“Use your words,” he slaps your bottom, still sore from the spanking he gave you yesterday after your wedding ceremony. You clench around nothing at the memory; he still hadn’t let you cum despite fucking you twice since.

“Yes sir,” you breathe, “I love it.”

He hums lowly as he kneels behind you, satisfied with your answer.

You whimper as he reaches down to rub the head of his cock through your arousal and your eyes fall close until you hear him spit and feel the resulting warm wetness on your puckered hole.

“Hmmm,” he thinks out loud as his thumb of the hand not holding the leash begins to circle the furl. “Which hole wants my cock?”

“Both” you moan, dropping to your elbows and arching your back to present yourself better.

“Greedy girl,” he chuckles, “Mmm, the lube’s already packed for the honeymoon, but I promise I’ll fuck your ass plenty while we’re there,” he groans as he cock inside your pussy while he breaches your ass with the tip of his thumb.

“Yes!” You gasp, “Please! All of my holes are yours; I’m all yours.”

“That’s right,” he murmurs as he begins to fuck you hard and fast.

“Can I cum?” You ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror, “please let me cum, sir. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Liar,” he smirks as he pushes his thumb further into your ass, “you’ll never learn.”

Hot, frustrated tears fill your eyes. You open your mouth to plead but are cut off by him tugging the leash.

“Fine,” he sighs, “you can. But no touching your clit.”

“Thank you sir,” you keen, knowing you don’t need any stimulation to your clit to get you there with how worked up you are, “thank you.”

“Better get there before me,” he warns, picking up his pace, thumb still teasing your ass.

“Yes sir,” you nod, fully crying now as you hurtle towards the sweet release.

He tightens the hold on the leash, cutting off your air and that’s all it takes. A choked sob is ripped from your throat and the edges of your vision darkens with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm.

“Fuck!” Bob wheezes as you tighten around him. He releases the tension on your collar, pulling his thumb from your ass and his cock from your pussy to spread open your cheeks and cum between them, coating your still-fluttering hole.

You open your heavy eyes when you come down, flinching when you feel him again toying with your hole, rubbing his spend over it. Whimpering pitifully, you arch your back even more, hoping to tempt him into giving you what you want.

“Later,” he promises with a resigned sigh, “we’ve got to shower and get to the airport.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Tagging who I have down under my Bob taglist:

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@lonelysoul50

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 64

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, March 1; 6:15 AM - Alexia and Ona's Room

Returning to my roots stings throughout my entire system. I'm exhausted. My first night away from Lucy's arms was a disaster. Needless to say, I didn't get a wink of sleep. Now she's doing her usual rounds around our beds while I yawn so wide it feels like my jaw might unhinge.

"Rough night, Batlle?" she teases kindly.

I groan pitifully, causing my friends to chuckle. She stops in front of me, scanning me from head to toe, checking my outfit before pulling me into her arms. A sigh of relief escapes me instantly. I bury my nose in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply to ensure I remember it. When I finally lift my head, she lingers on my face. One might think she's scrutinizing my barely-there makeup, but it's probably my dark circles she's focused on. Then she kisses me properly, making Alexia clear her throat after a moment.

"We should get going."

"Yep," Lucy exhales. "Go on, off you go," she says.

I head for the door, following my roommate.

"And Ona," she calls as I reach the threshold.

"Yes?"

"Don't forget your evening classes. Time to get back into the groove."

I smile and nod. We spent yesterday reviewing my classes and finishing the last bits of homework I had left. I'd already done most of them during the evening classes before the break so I wouldn't be bothered during the two-week vacation. It was a good way to get back on track.

"I don’t plan on missing them. Have a good day, Commander."

A smug smile stretches across her lips as I leave the room. I catch up to Alexia, who had gone ahead. She smiles when I reach her.

"Looks like things are going well, huh?"

"Better, yes, but it could still be better without this decision hanging over me."

"Has she changed her mind?"

"Yes and no. She explained the reasons behind her choice," I reply, shrugging. "We'll see. First, I plan to negotiate at my next meeting. Then, I’ll send a few requests to other galleries, and we'll see."

"That's already something. I hope everything goes well."

"Absolutely!"

We step outside, where most of our friends are waiting. My eyes fall on Alessia, reminding me of yesterday’s anxiety. She and her sister know about Lucy. I don’t expect them to tell anyone, but it's still a situation that could make things awkward. We greet everyone before heading to the cafeteria. Good habits really are coming back.

"Your sister’s not here?" I ask Ale.

"Well, turns out she’s got a girlfriend now."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, apparently she's here, at school, so I assume she's with her."

"Wasn't she a bit difficult because you were away for two weeks?"

"Nope. Seems like having a girlfriend has its perks. I plan to find out who she is just to thank her."

I laugh. I'm curious too. With everything that happened before the break, I hadn’t noticed her getting close to anyone in particular.

"We’ll do our investigation if you want," I tease.

"Oh, for sure! If she thinks she’s going to keep her in the shadows, she's dreaming."

"And you’re the one saying that?" I tease again.

"My case is different."

"Of course," I mock. "Still, it’s time for her to introduce her at least once."

"Yeah, yeah. Soon, since the year is almost over, and I plan to move in with Jenni after school."

Seems I’m not the only one thinking about the "after school" period. I hope she tells her soon because I have a feeling this situation might backfire given how Alba is. We reach the cafeteria. Once we’re served, we sit at our usual table. From where I am, I can see Lucy join her side with Ingrid. I don’t linger, though, afraid I won’t be able to look away from her. The others start recounting their fantastic vacations. I turn to Alessia, who’s sitting next to me. Best to address the elephant in the room right away.

"How were your holidays?" I ask her.

"Pretty good," she admits. "And yours?"

She’s calm. A bit too calm, and probably a little embarrassed too. Lucy did make a point of kissing me in front of her to stake her claim the day they caught us together. I still don’t know if Alessia saw that. All I know is that Lucy marked me with a huge hickey on my neck again last night, just to be sure. My friends haven’t seen it yet since I’ve kept my scarf on, and I plan to keep it that way for a while.

"Good as well," I reply with a small smile.

"Is your girlfriend planning to keep an eye on me from now on?" she retorts, without much emotion.

I glance over at Lucy and see that, indeed, she’s sneaking looks at us between sentences with Ingrid. I bite my lip to suppress a smile. She’s impossible. Yesterday's lecture about jealousy clearly wasn’t enough for her. Maybe it’s time I tell her how much I love her to get her to relax.

"I'll talk to her. Don’t worry."

"Have you seen the hickey she gave her?" Alexia teases mockingly.

"Stop," I groan, unconsciously covering my neck with my hand. "It was the only way to leave without a ten-hour lecture."

Alessia and Alexia laugh at my expense, making me blush even more. To be honest, I like Lucy’s jealousy, but I’d never admit that to them. After our cold moment, she simply reminded me that she loves me no matter what. She knows how to reassure me.

"Did someone say hickey?" 

We turn toward the voice we all recognize. Alba stands behind me with her tray in hand. I smile softly at her. I’ve missed her, actually. I didn’t expect to get so attached to her personality, but I have. She’s genuinely a good person deep down.

"Mind if we join you?"

It’s only then that I notice someone standing behind her. It’s Misa, and judging by the look she gives me, there’s no doubt she’s the girlfriend Ale mentioned. She never hung out with us much, but it happened occasionally. All I remember about her is that she wasn’t very friendly. Her choice surprises me, but after all, I don’t know her well enough to judge their relationship. The question was mostly for show, as they sit down at the end of our table. I exchange a look with Ale, who doesn’t seem thrilled with what she’s seeing. She’s understood the situation just like I have, but I know from previous conversations that she doesn’t like Misa much either. Neither of us knows how to place her.

"So, what’s this about a hickey? Who’s the victim?" Alba asks again.

"Ona," Alessia replies. "Apparently, from her girlfriend."

"Really?" she asks, surprised. "You’re with someone?"

I run my hand through my hair, feeling awkward. I didn’t want this to spread around the table. I feel like Alessia is challenging me, which is irritating. But if Lucy gave me a hickey, it’s because she wants people to know I’m taken, right? After that little internal debate, I nod.

"Uh, yeah. I’ve been dating someone for a little while," I admit.

"Wow, didn’t see that coming," she smiles. "That’s cool! Is she from here? Do we know her?"

"Alba, that's none of your business," Alexia cuts in. "And you? When were you going to tell me you were dating Misa?"

I'm relieved by her intervention. It gives me time to breathe, and she knows why. I can’t afford to reveal Lucy’s identity.

"If I’d waited as long as you to admit I was seeing someone, I wouldn’t have told you until next year," she retorts proudly.

- "What nonsense," she muttered, rolling her eyes before glancing at me.

I stifled a small laugh. I gave her a sympathetic smile, but in reality, her sister wasn't wrong.

- "So, are we not allowed any juicy details?" Alba returned to the original topic.

Of course, she was back to me. Unfortunately, I hadn't had time to think. I just shrugged. I would like to share with them, but I know I can't reveal everything.

- "She's a girl. A few years older than me, and well, that's it. We've only been together for a few weeks."

Only a few weeks. Now that I say it, it feels like we've been together for months. I'm already eager to reach our first month. Unfortunately, that's in a few days, and we'll still be here. I'm trying to stay positive, reminding myself that we'll be in Barcelona this weekend. At least I’ll have the advantage of being on my home turf. I can plan something for her at a place she doesn’t know, with Mapi as my accomplice.

- "So, you're into girls too?" Misa asked.

I leaned to see her as she was sitting just next to Alessia. She kept eating while glancing at me. Surprisingly, she smiled. Now that she knew she had nothing to worry about with Alba, maybe she’d behave differently.

- "Indeed" I replied, without going into detail.

- "And this girl," Alba asked again, "does she treat you well at least?"

Alexia rolled her eyes again, making me suppress a laugh. Honestly, they should have stayed away from each other if they were going to act like this in each other's presence.

- "Absolutely. She's amazing, even if sometimes she struggles to grasp that she's the only one who matters to me."

I punctuated my words by showing off the huge purple, almost black, hickey on my neck. She had pinned me down against the mattress, leaving me no means to defend myself. My friends gasped in disbelief, making me chuckle slightly.

- "Damn, seeing it again now, I realize she didn’t hold back at all," Ale teased as I quickly covered the evidence. "Think I can tease her about it?"

- "You? Tease her?" I raised an eyebrow. "I’d love to see that," I mocked.

- "Oh, shut up," she mumbled.

- "Wait, you know her?" Alba asked, surprised.

- "Yeah. Who do you think I spent my vacation with?"

- "Any particular reason she marked you like that?" Alessia asked, trying to prevent a sibling argument.

- "I don't know," I admitted, shrugging. "Jealousy, I guess. She knows a bit about my friends... I mean, I tell her about them a lot, so she probably feels threatened," I quickly corrected myself.

- "I wonder why. You practically devour her with your eyes. You'd have to be blind not to notice," Ale commented.

I hid my blush behind my mug of hot chocolate. I knew how true her words were. I just hoped it wouldn't be too obvious here at school. Even though there were only two months left and Lucy had said she didn’t care if she got expelled, I wasn’t on the same page. I wanted her with me until the end, so I hoped we could stay discreet. It had been a while, so I glanced over at her table. I was disappointed to find it empty. I looked quickly toward the line where people were clearing their trays, but I had to admit the truth: she was already gone. Clearly, I was already missing her, judging by the pang I felt at this realization. This day was going to feel longer than I’d like to admit.

Monday, March 1st; 5:15 PM - Lucy and Ingrid's Office.

I tried not to seem too eager when I headed to Lucy's office. First, I had to be patient while Alessia talked to me after class, and then I had to weave through the students in the hallway. If it were up to me, I would have sprinted from class the moment the bell rang. But sadly, that only happens in movies. So here I was, standing in front of her office door, which was wide open. I tapped on the wood to announce my presence before stepping inside. I didn’t wait for permission anymore—I felt at home here after having come so often. I was greeted by an empty desk on the left and Lucy behind the one on the right. We were alone. Perfect.

- "Hello," I said cheerfully.

- "Close the door," she ordered without taking her eyes off the screen.

I was already almost at her desk when she gave the command. Oh, she didn't seem to be in a good mood. I turned back to obey without complaint. A few months ago, I would have already retorted for her to do it herself. But now, I sensed this wasn’t the moment. I hoped everything would be fine. I had missed her so much today, and I didn’t want to spend the little time we had together in a bad mood.

- "You're late," she noted, as if it needed pointing out.

- "Did you miss me?"

I tried to joke to lighten her mood. To my surprise, she stood up abruptly to face me.

- "Hell, yes."

Before I could react, she spun me around and pressed me against her desk. Her slightly cold hands slid under my already open jacket. I smiled against her lips as she took them without asking. She grabbed my thighs firmly, lifting me onto the desk. I welcomed her between my legs, running my hand through her hair. For someone who wanted to keep our two relationships separate, we were far from her long speeches.

- "Take off that scarf," she growled, tugging at it.

I laughed harder as I unwrapped it before she could strangle me with it.

- "You like seeing your marks on me? I got so many comments because of you."

- "Really? I didn’t see you take it off today."

I raised an amused eyebrow. So she was watching me. Good to know. To be fair, I wasn’t any better, but now I understood why I kept running into her in the hallways.

- "You did it on purpose, didn’t you?"

- "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her neck. She smiled mischievously in return.

- "Well, just so you know, my friends know I’m taken. I talked to Alba this morning, and the others figured it out. They teased me all through lunch trying to figure out who you are. I said you weren’t from the school, but they think I’m lying."

- "Why would they think I’m from here?"

- "No idea. They think I don’t have a life outside of school."

"Well, aside from Mapi, you don’t see many people from your old life," she reminded me. "They’re not wrong, really. »

- "Well, it's easy to meet people nowadays. There are social media or even dating apps."

- "As if that’s your thing... It isn’t, right? Maybe I should take your phone away…"

- "Hey! No way, you idiot. As if I’d do something like that."

I roll my eyes before she kisses me again. I’ve missed her lips. It’s hard to go from two weeks straight together to a sudden cut. I’ll be happy when we no longer have to deal with the constraints of school.

- "Did Alessia say anything?"

- "No. She thinks you’re very... How do I put it? Vampiric. Or something like that. I don’t think she expected you to devour my neck."

She laughs and kisses the mark. I checked it in the mirror again during lunch and realized it’ll probably stick around for a few more days. She then steps back from between my legs, signaling that our little break is over. I hop off the desk, landing on my feet.

- "As long as she doesn’t hover around you anymore, I don’t care what she calls me."

- "Oh please, like she’d even try to go up against you. It’s a good thing she knows now."

- "Hmm... Alright, get your stuff out so we can tackle your homework. How were your classes?"

- "Boring, as always," I sigh. "I’ll be glad when I finally graduate."

- "I get that, me too," she admits with a small smile. "But we’re not there yet. By the way, I talked to Wiegman about your interview."

- "Already?" I ask, surprised.

- "Yup. The sooner it’s settled, the better. That way, we can avoid unnecessary arguments."

- "What did she say?"

- "She’s giving you permission to go, since it’s after your time here. But she’ll have to inform your mom."

I shrug, indifferent. It’s not like my mom doesn’t already know I had an interview. She’ll figure it out soon enough.

- "Will you come with me?"

- "Of course, I’ll drive you," she smiles. "There are perks to still being your guardian. Now, you just need to call Mr. Fields to find out the date."

- "Yeah... Can we also check out other galleries?"

- "I’ve already done some research," she tells me. "I made a list and sent it to Beth. Since she’s more knowledgeable and knows their reputations, she promised to review them and let me know which ones are worth sending your resume to."

- "Thank you. You’re amazing," I reply sincerely.

- "It’s only natural," she says, linking our hands. "I’ve thought about it a lot, and I want to apologize again for making you think I wanted to push you away. That was never my intention."

- "I know, don’t worry," I smile softly. "Let’s wait to see what Fields says before getting ahead of ourselves. He might offer something else."

- "Don’t get your hopes up too much. He can have as many apprentices as he wants. If you say no, that might be it for him."

- "We’ll see," I say confidently. "He seemed really interested in my profile. Maybe he won’t want to let me go so easily."

- "Babe, seriously. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and be let down. I’ll be happy if he offers you something else, but it’s better not to expect too much."

I nod. She’s right. Ever since I got the positive response, I’ve been feeling confident, but I’m likely setting myself up for a fall. I sigh, sinking into my seat.

- "Shall we get to work?"

- "You’ll get to work," she replies with a small smile. "Try to do it on your own, and I’ll correct it. I’ve still got a lot of work to do since the break is over."

I groan as I pull out the management assignment from this morning. Our teacher didn’t go easy on us, and we’ve already been hit with five exercises under the pretext that we need to be ready for the big day.

- "It’s not as fun without you."

- "Oh, come on. I won’t be sitting next to you during the exams. This is the final stretch. You need to learn to handle it on your own now."

I sigh and pout but still get to work. In a few months, I’ll be sitting through the same kind of exercises, except it’ll be on an exam paper for four hours straight. For now, I have nothing to complain about. The stress is slowly creeping in. I know I won’t be fully prepared, especially in my main subjects. Let’s not forget I’m two years behind. And to top it off, I found out today that we actually have compressed courses. Murphy explained that due to the school’s structure, we’re missing a semester out of the usual three years. After quickly doing the math in my head, we only have three semesters instead of four in a given track. At least I understand now why we’re moving faster than normal. Fortunately, my teachers often revisit points that were covered in previous years during the course. Thanks to Lucy, I’ve started asking for help more often. While I think most of my exams are out of reach, Lucy believes in me. She says I might have some terrible grades, but I can still pass. That’s all the support I need. I’m determined to prove her right. I don’t care about having outstanding grades, just passing is enough. I’ll focus on excelling in the subjects I’m stronger in, like literature and languages. They won’t be the most heavily weighted, given the track I chose, but it’s better than nothing. Time passes, and I finally finish the exercises for my upcoming classes.

- "Can you check my work?" I ask my girlfriend.

- "Of course."

She pushes aside her pile of papers and grabs my assignments. She picks up a pencil and starts reading through them. I take advantage of the calm moment to admire her. She moves her long brown hair to the side, making her even more beautiful. I smile as she unintentionally reveals the mark I gave her. It’s much smaller now and a few days old. Our bubble bursts with a knock at the door, followed by its immediate opening to reveal my management teacher. His sudden presence reminds me that we’re never truly safe from being interrupted, even with the door closed.

- "Oh yes, I forgot about your evening classes," he murmurs. "Good evening, I hope I’m not disturbing you."

- "Not particularly," Lucy replies. "How can I help you?"

- "I was just following up on the field trip, but I can come back later if necessary."

Lucy leans back in her chair, crossing her legs, but she keeps my packet of assignments in her hand and removes her glasses—the ones that make her look so irresistible—with the other. She places them on the desk and massages the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

- "I’ve already told you, Ona isn’t a problem. What do you need?"

I can’t help but smile at her cold tone. He’s definitely getting on her nerves. I turn back to my teacher, who looks slightly flustered.

- "Well, I wanted to confirm that Miss Engen and you will be part of the teaching staff accompanying us."

- "Alright. Is that all?"

- "For now. I’ll let you know the date of the trip and which group you’ll be in charge of."

- "Hmm. If you’re organizing the groups, make sure Ona is in mine. Since I’m designated as her guardian until the end of the year, it’ll allow me to keep an eye on her."

I can’t help but laugh at that request. Thank goodness Wiegman put her in charge. We’re definitely taking advantage of it now. I thought I was being discreet, but Lucy must have heard me because she raises an eyebrow as she glances at me. I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing again. I love it when she plays the serious role like that.

- "Any objections?" she asks me.

- "None," my teacher responds.

It’s too much; I have to laugh again. He doesn’t even know who she’s addressing anymore. Lucy doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind him.

"I was talking to Ona. »

- "No problem, Bronze," I replied with as much seriousness as I could muster in that moment.

- "Good. Well, that's settled then. I'll be waiting for your update."

- "Great. Thanks again for agreeing."

Before he turned to leave, I smiled when I noticed him lingering on Lucy's neck. She couldn’t have chosen a better time to show off the mark I left on her. Then his eyes shifted to me, narrowing slightly.

- "See you tomorrow, sir," I said innocently.

- "Hmm... see you tomorrow."

- "Have a good evening," Lucy added just before he left.

I turned back to Lucy, who had resumed correcting my work as if none of that had just happened. Her glasses were back on her nose. With the door closed again, I seized the opportunity.

- "Is he always that annoying?"

- "He never was."

- "Really? I think he is. He tries to get to you at every chance he gets."

- "Well, now you can be sure he won’t come by after class, not with you here."

Her mischievous tone didn’t sit well with me. I slumped back in my chair, crossing my arms. It was obvious that if he wanted to be alone with her, he wouldn’t come by at this time anymore. That idea bothered me a lot.

- "You're not going to sulk, are you?" she teased. "I was as cold as possible. I think I made it pretty clear, didn't I?"

- "Hmm..."

- "Plus, I made sure you’d be in my group for that outing," she added. "I couldn’t really do much more than that."

- "Yes, you could. You could tell him outright that you’re not interested in men."

- "Fine. I’ll do that if that’s what you want."

A silence settled in. My mood lifted a little. I hadn’t expected her to go that far, but I felt relieved. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. I watched her as she reached the last page. She had used her pencil several times, so I could already tell there were corrections to make. When she finished, she handed everything back to me.

- "Here you go. You made a few mistakes, but you’ve understood the essentials."

- "Thanks," I replied shyly.

I took my papers and started working on my errors. Most of the time, they were just careless mistakes. Management requires a lot of formulas, and even though I’d memorized them with Lucy’s help before the holidays, I still mixed them up sometimes.

- "How was your night?"

- "Rough," I admitted. "I had trouble getting used to my small bed again, and I didn’t sleep much."

- "Your nightmares came back?"

- "No... I’m a bit afraid they will, but we’ll see. Worst case, I’ll ask to sleep over with Alexia."

I felt close enough to her now that I could ask her for that. I was sure she wouldn’t mind if I did.

- "Hmm... If it’s just her, I think I can accept that," Lucy said with a small smile. "You should take a page out of my book, you know. I know how to control myself."

- "Is that so?" I giggled. "Shall we talk about how you stared down Alessia after I talked to her? I saw you," I accused her shamelessly.

- "I think we should calm down," she laughed. "It’s not like we just spent two weeks living together."

I smiled. She didn’t even try to defend herself.

- "We should, that's true, but I doubt I could resist. I love your jealousy. It makes me feel important in your eyes."

- "You can. You're the most important person to me anyway, baby."

I blushed softly at her unexpected compliment.

- "You are too. Never doubt that. No one even comes close, no matter who I talk to."

- "Noted," she smiled. "Just make sure to remind your friend that you're taken."

- "You do that quite well on your own," I teased, tilting my head to expose my neck. "She knows, don’t worry."

- "Then we have no problem," she smiled wider.

Indeed. Aside from the issue of next year, there didn’t seem to be any more problems between us. I sincerely hoped everything would turn out fine, and even if it didn’t, I was confident we’d find a way through it.

[themultifandomgal]

Sweet Pea- We Won't Work

I sit down next to Fangs, Opposite Toni and Sweet Pea with my food tray in my hands. Since the Serpents moved to Riverdale High they have quickly become my best friends. During this time Sweet Pea has been trying to get me on a date. Not gonna happen. He’s a player and every girl with some sense will stay away from him. I’ve told him many times that we will never happen, but he’s just so determined to make me one of his quests

“Hey good looking” Sweet Pea smirks as I roll my eyes “so YN did you think about what I asked you?”

“Yes. And just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. No” Toni giggles at my response

“Come on man you’ve been at this for months. She’s not gonna go on a date with you” Fangs pats Pea on the shoulder

“Fangs is right. You better give up. There’s plenty of other girls who would love to go on a date with you. Josie is one”

“Josie is Peas secret hook up” I comment

“Not so secret since they were all over each other a few weeks ago and Cheryl’s party” Toni takes some fries off Fangs’ tray

“Me and Josie are over. We wanted different things. And anyway you never gave me a reason why you won’t go on a date with me” Sweet Pea folds his arms and I give him a shrug and eat my lunch

“I’ve dated your kind before and it wasn’t pretty”

“What do you mean by my kind?” He asks crossing his arms. I ignore him as Jug and Betty join us

“Hey guys” Betty smiles. I smile back at her as she sits

“What you guys talking about?” Jug asks sitting opposite Betty

“Just the usual. Sweet Pea trying to get a date with YN”

“Still?” Jughead chuckles shaking his head “dude when are you going to give that one up?” I can see Sweet Pea is starting to get annoyed with all the teasing. He gets up from his seat and walking out of the cafeteria.

After lunch Pea and I have history together, unfortunately for me we sit next to one another. Even worse Mr Roman decide to pared us up together for our history project on President George Washington which is why we are now sat on my bed looking in books and typing on my laptop

“You know we would be a good team. We work well together” Pea says. I sigh knowing he’s not going to give up. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that “so why won’t you go on a date with me?”

“Because we wouldn't work” I say not looking away from the laptop

“Why?”

“Because I'll break your heart?”

“Maybe I'll break yours” I then look at Pea smirking and shake my head

“No you won't. Nobody breaks my heart”

“Ah so you one of these girls who have built up a shield”

“Give it up Sweet Pea. I’ll be your friend, but we’re not dating” I groan as Pea pushes down the lid of the laptop “seriously”

“You said earlier you dated guys like me before. Enlighten me, what do you mean?”

“Players. Guys who jump from one girl to the next. Guys that just want one thing”

“They hurt you. That’s why you said it wasn’t pretty”

“I didn’t actually say who it wasn’t pretty for. Now will you stop asking me 20 questions at get on with our work?” I lift up the lid and we both sit in silence for a couple of minutes getting on with our work when Pea suddenly says

“You know, those rumours about me aren’t exactly true” I look up at Pea who looks remorseful “well not exactly. Yeah I’ll be honest I’ve slept with a few girls, not as many as you think, and it’s because I would find a girl I liked. We’d have sex and she’d run off to tell her friends. I was dumb enough to let it happen a few times. Then girls just stared to make shit up”

“I’m sorry Sweet Pea this shouldn’t have happened” I look at pea with a frown

“It’s ok. Well no it’s not, but I’m ok. The reason I’ve been asking you on a date is because you say no. I mean yes of course I want to go on a date with you, but you don’t throw yourself at me. I’m chasing you and it makes a change” something in me changes and I actually feel for Pea now. Maybe I should give him a chance. See what a date would be like with him

“Fine. I have a shift at Pops tomorrow till 7. Pick me up from there”

“What to finish our project” I chuckle at Sweet Pea

“No you idiot to take me on a date”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah. But I can promise you no sex and probably no kiss either”

“Deal” Peas face lights up. I’ve never seen him smile like this before. And that was all down to me agreeing to a date.

[cuttergauthier]

Summer Time

Rutger Mcgroarty x Female Reader

Warning: against, Toxic ex, Controlling ex, stalker ex, cussing, fluff

word count: 2.4k

This fic is apart of the insta edit The Summer Everything Changed

let me know what you guys think🤍

Molly invited me to spend the summer with her and her family at a lake house that they go to for a few weeks every year, we been best friends since we were kids, her family is like my own so every year they invite me, the only person in her family I don’t get along with is her brother Rutger.

Rutger and I have never been friends, he’s always rude to me when he’s nice to everyone else. Molly warned me that this year Rutger might be even more rude since he’s apparently been in a mood since he broke up with his girlfriend.

I’ve met Sierra before, her and Rutger dated for about 5 years, and just like Rutger she hated me, even when I was always nice to her. 

I hope this year will be different since Molly is bringing her boyfriend again, I was supposed to bring mine again this year but we broke up about a month ago, it didn’t exactly end well so now Rutger and I will be the only single ones, at first I almost told Molly I wasn’t going to go since I don’t want to third wheel her and her boyfriend, or be alone with Rutger but she convinced me to say yes.

The lake house is only an hour away from our hometown so I told Molly that this year I would take my car and drive there, if anything happens i can leave whenever I want.

I put my suitcase in my car, and started the drive there. Molly and her family have been there since yesterday. It’s 2:00 p.m. right now so i should be there by 3:00 p.m.

I parked behind Molly’s car in the driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt and made my way to the trunk to get my suitcase.

I got my stuff and made my way to the door, and walked in. 

The door leads to the living room where I saw Rutger. He turned to look at me and rolled his eyes. 

“What you can’t knock now?” He asked, annoyed. I rolled my eyes at him.

“When have I ever knocked?” I asked. Her family always told me to make myself at home, and said that I could drop by whenever her mom even gave me a house key at their home because I always came over.

“Well maybe you should start,” he said before getting up and walking away. 

I made my way upstairs to my usual room. I ran into MOM. 

“Hey sweetheart, I'm so happy you’re here” she said, giving me a hug.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I said smiling.

“You’re like a daughter to me, you will always be invited” she said.

We talked for a few more seconds before I went to my room.

I started unpacking when Molly burst through the door and ran to hug me. I started laughing.

“I missed you” she said

“Molly, we saw each other yesterday before you left,” I said chuckling. She pulled away and smiled

“I know, it’s been 1 day too long” she said. 

Molly and I are usually always with each other or at least talk once a day. We both decided to go to University of Michigan, we always stick together.

“I missed you to molly” i said smiling

“Good, now let me help you finish unpacking” 

“Thanks” 

It only took us about 30 minutes to finish unpacking so Molly sat down on my bed and looked at me smirking. Oh no what did she do?

“What’s that look for?” I asked

“Well you see, I'm sorry” she said nervously. 

I looked at her confused.

“Sorry for what? What did you do?” I asked 

“Well you see, you were only supposed to be here tomorrow, so my parents and I kinda planned a double date night… so you’re going to be stuck here with Rutger” she said.

I rubbed my eyebrows and sighed.

“It’s fine Molly, I'll just stay in my room if I have to,” I said, smiling softly. 

This is not how I expected my first night here to go, but I get it so it’s fine.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Yes, I promise” i said 

“Okay good, I feel bad” she said

“Don’t be, it’s my fault I decided to join a day earlier” 

“We have a few activities for date night so we’ll be back pretty late, we’re leaving in an hour and maybe this will give you and Rutger time to finally get along” she said and I laughed. 

“Molly, Rutger and I have hated each other since we were kids. I don't think a few hours will change that.

“You never know, people change” she said with a wink, what the hell is she planning? I know my best friend, she’s definitely up to something.

She gave me one last hug and we made our way to Molly’s room so I could help her get ready.

“Can you pick out my outfit, please?” She asked while she does her makeup.

I nodded and made my way to her closet.

“What about this?” I asked, showing her a cute white v neck dress with purple flowers. 

“Oh I love that, thank you” she said happily. I chuckled 

“You’re welcome.” 

Once she was done with her hair and makeup she went and got dressed.

When she came out of the bathroom I looked up from my phone and smiled.

“You look beautiful,” I said.

“Thank you, now are you sure you’ll be fine here?” She asked.

“Yes, now it's almost 5:00 p.m.” I said.

We made our way downstairs where Josh, her boyfriend and her parents were waiting. 

“Hey Yn” Josh greeted me smiling.

“Hey Josh, have fun you guys” I said before they all left.

I have no idea where Rutger is, so I made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat.

I went to the fridge and took some grapes and put some in a bowl before making my way to the living room.

I put on Outer Banks on Netflix and sat down on the couch.

About 10 minutes later Rutger came in and sat on the other end of the couch. Neither of us said anything. 

A while later my phone started ringing. Rutger scoffed and looked at me annoyed.

I checked to see who was calling me, only to see that it was my ex boyfriend, I rolled my eyes and silenced the call. I put my phone next to me and continued to watch the show.

A few seconds later my rang again, I silenced it again, then he called again. 

“Oh my god, just answer the damn phone,” Rutger said, annoyed.

“No” I answered and silenced it.

When he called again, it pissed Rutger off, he gave me a look that said you better answer or I’m throwing your phone outside.

I answered and put the phone to my ear.

“What do you want?” I asked, pissed. Why the hell can’t he just leave me alone, I broke up with him a month ago because he was so controlling.

“I’m at the lake house, we have to talk so let me in” he said pissed. My eyes widened. No this can’t be happening, what the hell does he think he’s doing. 

“No chance in hell” I said angrily. Rutger raised his eyebrows at me, as to see what the hell are you talking about.

“You either let me in, or i get in on my own, your choice, I know Molly’s on a double date with her parents right now so I know you’re alone since Rutger would never stay alone with you” 

“What are you, a fucking stalker?” I said worriedly, I’m not alone, Rutger wouldn’t let anything happen to me right? Even if he doesn’t like me? 

I stood up and started walking, pacing back and forth.

“Yn, open the goddamn door,” he said.

My eyes widened and I stood still and looked at Rutger. He could tell something was wrong so he got up and snatched the phone out of my hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked worriedly, I don’t want Rutger to Provoke him and make him worse.

“Shush” he said pointing his finger at me to tell me to shut up. I closed my month and scoffed.

What are you doing Rutger.

“What” he said on the phone before he continued. “No she’s busy right now, and I suggest you don’t call her again and you better fucking leave” he said pissed before he hung up.

“What the hell did he say?” I asked when he gave me my phone.

“Don’t worry about it” he said, making his way to the door and looking outside. I scoffed and locked the front door.

“Is he still out there?” I asked worriedly.

“Yes,” he said before looking at me.

“Go to the kitchen and make sure the patio door is locked.” He told me. I nodded and rushed to the Kitchen.

I looked to see it was already locked. Thank god.

I made my way back to the living room to see Rutger still looking out the window.

“It was already locked,” I told him.

He looked back at me and nodded. I went and sat down on the couch again and paused the show that was still playing on the tv.

Rutger sighed and cane to sit down next to me.

“Was he always like this? Because I don’t remember him being like this last year” Rutger asked me. I shook my head and took a deep breath.

“No, it started a few months before our semester ended. Last month I had enough so I finally broke up with him.” I said looking at him.

I looked at his eyes, you could see sadness and anger in them, is he sad and angry about my ex's acting? or at me for letting this happen?

“I’d tell you to get a restraining order against him, but I don't know how well that will end up if he’s that bad,” rutger said, which made me chuckle.

“Yeah, I don’t know if it’ll work” i replied 

“It would still be better than nothing, especially since he also goes to Michigan” Rutger said, i groaned.

“Fuck, I should have said no boyfriend in college” I said and Rutger laughed.

I looked at him and smiled.

“Thanks by the way, for making him leave, i honestly didn’t think you would” 

Rutgers' eyes widened.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t help?” He asked, confused.

“Maybe because you don’t like me,” I scoffed.

“I never said I didn’t like you, and even if i didn’t it doesn’t mean I won’t help, I could tell you were scared Yn, i wasn’t going to let that go” he said

“First off you’re always rude to me, you’ve never been nice, it’s pretty clear you don’t like me” 

“Well I always liked you and I thought you were pretty even as kids but you’re Molly’s best friend so I thought it would be easier to just be mean” he said, my eyes widened. He liked me?

“What?” I was shocked.

“Why do you think Sierra hated you, it’s because she could tell, I liked you” he said chuckling.

I can’t believe this, first off there’s no way she would have stayed with Rutger for 5 years if she knew he liked me right?

“I’m pretty sure even Molly could tell, I know my parents did, Luca and Adam would tease me about it back at university” He continued.

“Oh my god, was this Molly’s plan all along?” 

“What plan?” He asked, confused.

“Did they already have a date night planned? Because when Molly told me about it and said that I would be alone with you, it was suspicious, I could tell she was hiding something, plus she was smirking and she even winked, she never winks” i said. Rutger laughed

“What’s so funny?” I asked confused 

“Knowing Molly probably, and i honestly don’t know how long this date night with my parents was planned I only found out about it this morning” he said

“I knew she was up to something, I just didn’t think it would be you confessing that you have a crush on me” I said chuckling.

“I think it’s more than a little crush.” He said

I raise my brows.

“Look, I really, really like you, is there any chance we could start over and I could take you out on a date?” He asked with a smile.

“Only if you promise never to be rude to me ever again” I replied smiling.

Rutgers smile grew.

“I promise” 

“Good, then I would love to” I replied

“It’s only 7:15 p.m. right now, any chance I could take you out for ice cream, we could go for a walk on the beach and talk? Could that count as a first date?” He asked and I chuckled.

“I could go for ice cream and for a walk” 

“Perfect, let’s go,” he said, smiling. He grabbed his car keys and we made our way to his car.

Rutger drove to a spot close to the beach where they have an ice cream booth. Rutger ordered for the both of us, once he got mine he gave it to me, making me smile.

“You know my favorite ice cream?” I asked

“See I never hated you” he said, making me giggle.

We walked down to the beach, and walked by the water. 

We talked about our lives, it was actually really nice getting to know the real Rutger and not the rude one. 

I had fun. 

When he pulled in the driveway of the lake house. His parents' car was back, which means Molly will have a lot of questions.

“Any chance we can do this again?” He asked.

“I’d like that,” I said, smiling.

“I can’t wait… can I kiss you?”

“Yes” I replied.

Rutger leaned against the consol put his hand on my cheek before our lips met. Our lips moved in sync, before we pulled away breathing heavily.

“Wow” he said smiling, I started giggling.

“We should probably go inside before Molly comes looking for us” I said.

“Good idea”

When we walked in everyone was in the living room. Molly looked at us and smirked before looking at her dad.

“Dad pay up, I told you he’d finally tell her” she said, making everyone laugh.

This summer is finally off to a good start.

[katsu28]

☕️ bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw and "you know we need to talk." "about?" "i don't know...last night, maybe?"

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x mitchell!reader, mentions of vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, 1.9k

You shouldn’t have been here at Rooster’s place at this time of night. You should’ve been asleep, in bed, but instead you were here, knocking on his door in the middle of the night, all because you’d just discovered something not even two hours ago that would change the trajectory of not only your life, but probably Rooster’s too. 

It took a while, but he finally pulled open the door after your incessant knocking, rubbing his eye furiously as he peered out at who the hell was knocking on his door at three in the morning.

His hair was a riot, brown curls sticking out every which way, eyes bleary. He’d been asleep—of course he was. Anyone in their right mind would be. Except you weren’t really in your right mind right now. You were damn near close to losing it, trying your hardest not to spiral. 

“Y/N? What are you—why are you awake? What’re you doing here?” He yawned, scratching his chest groggily. When you didn’t answer, just stared at him like something was wrong, he gave his head a quick shake to wake himself up a bit. “Are you okay? What—come in, come inside, please.” 

You obliged, stepping past him and over the threshold into his apartment wordlessly. 

“Can I make you some coffee—no, coffee would probably be bad right now. Tea? Water?” He offered, gesturing you towards the kitchen. You settled at one of the barstools in front of the counter, leaning on your elbows, folding your hands. “Not really sure what this situation calls for. Seriously, are you okay? You look…not okay.” 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted. Well, there went easing into the conversation. Bradley’s eyebrows flew sky high. But wait, there was more! “And I’m pretty sure you’re the father.” 

He blinked at you owlishly, utterly and completely dumbfounded. “Pretty sure? How sure is pretty sure?” 

“Entirely sure, actually. You’re the only guy I’ve been with in a really long time, so either it was a ghost, or it was you.” 

That was something you’d been wracking your brain for since the second you saw the three lines on the test. One night, four or five weeks ago, after some sort of celebration at the Hard Deck that you couldn’t even remember now. 

You remembered leaving the bar with Rooster, taking him home with you, kissing him a lot. It was entirely consensual, that much you could recall. But anything after that up until when you’d first started to feel icky was a blank.

You honestly didn’t even consider the possibility that you were in fact pregnant until your friend suggested it yesterday. Which is why you took the test. Never did you once think it would turn out positive.

It wasn’t that you didn’t think Rooster would be a good father. In fact, out of everyone you’d hooked up with over the years, he was probably the best option. Not that you really had any option, at this point. It was simple, plain as day. You were pregnant, and Rooster was the father. 

Rooster made a face. “Okay, gross. But you took a test? And it was positive?” 

“No, it came to me in a dream.” You snapped, glaring at him. “Yes, I took a test! I took three—all positive!” 

“Alright! Okay, that’s—wow, okay. That’s definitely…something to take in.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” You said quietly, staring hard at the marble countertop.

“Look, it’s late, we’re both tired. We don’t have to do anything right now, we don’t need to make any decisions right now. We have time.” He replied, shaking his head. We. He kept saying we, like he was planning on sticking around. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. “Why don’t you stay the night here and we can talk about this more in the morning?” 

You shook your head quickly. “No, I can’t, I have to be home to set up for the party—oh my god, the party! My dad.” 

“Your dad? What—Y/N, I’m pretty sure he’ll understand. Mav’s more modern than you give him credit for.” 

“Understand? Understand what?” You asked incredulously. Then you got what he was trying to say, and you let out a humorless laugh. “Rooster, we’re not telling him. We can’t tell him!” 

Your dad’s birthday party was tomorrow, and there were so many things you had to set up and do, this was probably the worst time for you to deal with everything going on right now. It wasn’t every day Pete “Maverick” Mitchell turned sixty. You needed everything to be perfect, and this brand new unexpected news was definitely not that. 

Rooster could tell you were starting to panic a little from the weight of everything, so he just went along with what you said, reaching over the counter to cover your hand with his. “Everything is gonna be fine, okay? Just get some rest. Please. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day, and you need to sleep.” 

You nodded distractedly, barely registering him guiding you towards the guest bedroom and settling you into bed. And maybe you were more tired than you thought, because your eyes fell shut on their own accord, and you were out like a light before Rooster even had the chance to close the door behind him. 

-------

The party was going great so far. There was food, music, all your dad’s Navy buddies. Everything was running smoothly, and you definitely weren’t thinking about your conversation with Rooster last night, or the fact that you left his house before the sun even rose to avoid talking about the situation even more. 

That was a lie. You couldn’t stop thinking of it, even as you smiled at every one of your dad’s friends jostling him about how old he’d gotten to be completely unaware of the surprise party his daughter planned for him. 

With every conversation about what you’d been up to in life lately, you thought about Rooster. The look on his face when you broke the news to him. The way he must’ve felt when he woke up and you were gone. He was probably mad at you, and you honestly couldn’t blame him. 

Like he knew it was him on your mind, Rooster materialized next to you, busying himself with browsing the drinks in the cooler to make it look like everything was normal. “Y/N.” 

“Enjoying the party?” You asked casually, crossing your arms over your chest. Rooster scoffed softly. 

���You know we need to talk.” 

Your smile wavered for a split second before returning in full force. You glanced over at him briefly, flicking from his very serious face then back to the party. “About?” 

“I don’t know…last night, maybe? You left before I woke up.”  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Nothing happened last night, Rooster.” 

“So you’re telling me you’re not pregnant right now.” 

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed. Rooster shot a pointed look at you and you caved, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him towards a more secluded area of the backyard. “You wanna talk? Fine. Talk.” 

“You said the baby was mine. That’s not just something I can forget, Y/N.” 

“And I’m not asking you to forget, I’m asking you to leave it alone for now. It’s my dad’s birthday, Bradshaw. Can’t we just let him have the day before we blow up his entire world?” 

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Dropping it for now.” Rooster conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. In reality, all he wanted to do was figure things out, but he could admit that this wasn’t quite the best place nor time to do it. “What can I do to help you right now?” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Whoa, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to stress you out any more, I just—” 

“No, Rooster, I’m—” You felt the bile rising in your throat alarmingly quick, and before you could even your sentence, you scrambled for the nearest bush to throw up. 

“Oh shit!” Rooster lunged forward, gathering your hair out of your face back towards the nape of your neck as you let it all out. You felt the warmth of his hand on your back, rubbing smooth circles along your spine. 

“Fuck.” You groaned, bracing your hands on your knees. “Please tell me no one saw that.” 

“Uh…” Rooster’s voice was hesitant and you turned your head, only to be met with the one person you didn’t want seeing you like this. Just your luck that even up there in age, that Navy instilled situational awareness never faded. 

“Honey? You alright?” Your dad looked beyond worried, and before you knew it, you were sat down on the living room couch with your father fussing over you, fluffing your pillows, covering you with a blanket, the works. Rooster was hovering over in the corner. 

“Dad, I’m fine! I probably had some bad oysters or something at girls’ night yesterday.” You sighed, ducking away from his attempt at feeling your forehead. As much as you didn’t enjoy lying straight to his face, telling him it was most likely a pregnancy symptom was definitely out of the question. “Go back, enjoy your party, please.”

“I should really stay, what if—” 

“I’m in good hands, Dad. Rooster’s got me covered.” 

“I’ll take the best care of her, Mav, don’t you worry.” 

“No doubt in my mind you will.” He clapped Rooster on the shoulder, giving him a sharp nod. He turned to you. “Drink something. Eat something. I’ll check back in later. Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Love you too, Dad.”

After waving everybody back to the festivities with assurances that you just needed to lay down for a bit and would be just fine, Rooster reappeared in the doorway a little while later, this time bearing gifts. 

“Crackers and ginger ale. Eat them, they’ll help.” He insisted, letting you take the plastic cup from him. “Stole them from the cooler and snack table. Who knew an old man’s birthday party would have just what I was looking for?” 

You managed a meager smile, but when you took a tiny sip of the soda, you found that it actually did help a bit. “How’d you know what I needed?” 

Rooster rubbed the back of his neck, pressing his lips together with a haphazard shrug. “My mom. When she got sick, they always seemed to help with the nausea. Made sure we were always stocked and ready for whenever she needed it.” 

“I wanna keep the baby, Rooster.” You blurted. Rooster nearly choked on his own saliva in surprise. 

“You—you do?” 

“And I want you to be there every step of the way.” You continued, fidgeting with the stray thread at the edge of your blanket. He took a seat next to you on the couch, rubbing his hands over his legs nervously. “Only if that’s what you want, though. I’m not trying to force your hand or baby trap or anything like that. It’s your choice, completely. But…I’d like it if our kid knew their father. In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with.” 

“So, like co-parents? Or…more?” Rooster said slowly, gauging your reaction with wide, almost nervous eyes. 

“I’m open to more.” You replied. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed to look very pleased with that. “I don’t know what this is gonna be like, for either of us, but I like to think we’ll get through it all. Together.”

He nodded, sliding his hand into yours and squeezing. “Together.”  What that together entailed, you weren’t all too sure. And although you were nervous as hell about what laid ahead, you were looking forward to finding out.

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[archiveikemen]

『Love Sparks from A Mean Lie』 Collection Event

Harrison Gray

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

The soft rays of sunlight poured in, brightening the room.

Through the open windows, cherry blossom petals could be seen fluttering in the garden with the pleasant spring breeze.

… On this tranquil early afternoon in springtime that felt perfect for doing absolutely anything relaxing, my brain was grinding its gears at full power.

Kate: A Straight Flush!

I confidently declared, finally having a strong hand of cards after being on a losing streak.

Harrison: … Oh? That’s a pretty good hand you got there.

Kate: Fufu, how's this? Can’t beat me now, huh?

Harrison: … It’s bad manners to show my foot, but I shall show my hand.

Kate: Eh?

Harrison: Yup, Royal Straight Flush.

Kate: Since when did you have a hand this good!?

Harrison: I just got it without realising.

Kate: *sigh*... I lost again. I really want to beat you, Harry.

Harrison: … Then how about we play a game of ‘Doubt’ next?

‘Doubt’ was a game where the players place a card from their hand facedown on the table and take turns to declare the number on the card, aiming to clear all cards on hand as quickly as possible.

The fastest player to end up with no cards on hand wins.

… However, players are allowed to lie about the number on the card.

The other players may doubt the truthfulness of the number declared and call it out by saying “Doubt”.

Kate: The point of this game is to either see through your opponent's lies or be convincing enough not to get caught…

Kate: But you never fail to see through my lies… I think this game isn’t fair to me!

Harrison: You can play silently without declaring the number on your card.

Harrison: I’ll declare the number on my card, and give you a little extra help.

Kate: … What do you mean?

Harrison: Just the number doesn't serve as a good hint, right?

Harrison: Therefore, I’ll tell you a ‘truth’ when I’m declaring the correct number on the card.

Harrison: When I’m declaring the false number, I’ll tell a ‘lie’.

Kate: So you’ll tell me the number and a statement… that's two pieces of information.

Harrison: With this level of disadvantage on my end, do you think you can win?

The corners of Harry’s mouth lifted into a confident grin.

(It’s frustrating, but… this is my perfect chance to beat Harry.)

Harrison: Let’s give it a go. You first.

Harry shuffled the deck of cards and dealt me a few.

Kate: Hmm…

(I should place ‘A’ down since it’s the first round.)

I placed the ‘A’ card facedown, according to the rules of the game.

Harrison: You’re starting off with a common card, huh.

(How does he know that when I haven't said anything…?)

Harrison: … My turn next.

Harrison: The number of my card is 2, and ‘I had fish for dinner last night’.

Kate: Oh… that’s a lie. Doubt!

We had dinner together yesterday and it was a meat dish, so that’s a lie.

Harrison: Yup, you’re right.

Harrison chuckled and revealed his card.

The number on the card was 6.

Harrison: What do you think? This way, my abilities will be limited.

(If he tells a lie every time he declares a false number… there’s a possibility I’ll win!)

Kate: Got it, let’s proceed with this rule!

Our game of Doubt lasted for approximately an hour.

Throughout the game, Harry sometimes saw through my lies and vice versa. We were soon approaching the end.

(Harry has only one card left on hand…)

Harrison: My bad, looks like this will be my win.

(I have to come up with a lie here somehow to win…!)

Harrison: … Before that, there’s something we haven't decided on.

Kate: Haven't decided on…?

Harrison: The penalty game for the loser.

Kate: You’re talking about the penalty while we’re in this situation…

Harrison: You don’t have confidence you’ll win? … That can’t be helped, then.

Harrison: If you’re already prepared to lose, there’ll be no penalty game.

Kate: I didn’t exactly say I have no confidence…

Instigated by Harry’s words, I responded vaguely.

Harrison: If that’s the case, then the penalty game will be ‘the loser has to listen to the winner’s every word for the rest of the day’.

Kate: … Got it.

(I wonder what on earth will he make me do…)

(…! This won’t do. I haven’t officially lost the game yet, I still have to try to win!)

Harrison: Well then, this is my last card. The card is an ‘A’, and…

Harrison: ‘I want to kiss you right now’.

Kate: … Huh?

Harrison: Now, is that the truth or a lie?

Kate: D-Doubt!

Harrison: … Huh? Are you saying that I don’t want to kiss you?

Harrison: You’re denying my feelings of wanting to kiss you? … That’s sad.

Kate: …

(I can’t call it a lie when he puts it that way…)

Kate: I-I take it back.

With that, Harry laid down his final card and the game ended.

Harrison: Thanks to you, I won the game.

(It’s frustrating to lose to him again, but more than that…)

I couldn’t take my eyes off Harry’s card laying facedown on the table.

Harrison: Why don’t you flip it over if you’re curious?

Kate: … Can I?

Harrison: The result of the game has already been decided, so go ahead.

(If the card is an ‘A’, it'll mean that Harry wants to kiss me…)

My heart was thumping loudly with the sweet anticipation—

Kate: Huh…?

— The card wasn't an ‘A’, but a ‘3’.

Kate: … That was a lie?

Harrison: This game is all about lying, isn’t it?

Kate: …

(Harry doesn’t want to kiss me…)

On top of feeling frustrated that I lost the game, I also felt disappointed that Harry didn’t want to kiss me.

While I sat there disheartened… Harry drew a few cards from the deck and held them in his hand.

I watched him absentmindedly, wondering what he was up to when the game had already ended…

Harry put his other hand over mine on the table.

Harrison: Saying that I want to kiss you is a lie.

Kate: … Y-You don’t have to say it again. Don't you think it makes me look pathetic?

Harrison: Why?

Kate: Because I… I’m the only one who wants a kiss…

Kate: … Having such one-sided feelings is pathetic.

Harrison: … I said I lied about wanting to kiss you, but I have a reason for that.

Kate: A reason…?

Harrison: … Because just a kiss isn’t enough.

Harry chuckled.

Harrison: This card is an ‘A’. … ‘I want to hold you so tightly, you can’t escape’.

Saying those honeyed words. Harry flipped the card over.

He pointed his chin at it, urging me to turn it over, and so I did.

(It was as Harry said, the card was an ‘A’...)

(... This means Harry does want to hold me.)

Harrison: The next card… is a ‘2’.

Harrison: ‘Kissing your lips isn’t enough. I want to kiss and leave marks all over your body’.

Harry placed the card facedown on the table again, and I quickly flipped it over to look at the number.

(He’s right… it’s a ‘2’.)

Kate: Harry…

Harrison: … I still have cards leftover. You’ll let me complete the game, right?

Harry continued playing the right cards while voicing out the things he wanted to do with me, until he reached the ‘Q’ card.

— If the card is correct, he’s telling the truth.

Everything Harry said so far was, without a doubt, his truest feelings.

Harrison: Lastly… this card is a ‘K’.

Harrison: ‘I’ve had enough of spending time with you today, so I think it's okay for us to go our separate ways after this’.

(This is…)

Kate: Doubt!

Harrison: … You win.

The card wasn’t a ‘K’, but an ‘A’.

He was lying about thinking it’s okay for us to go our separate ways, so the truth is…

Kate: … You want to continue spending time with me after this?

Harrison: Yeah, that’s right. So…

Harrison: … Will you take responsibility for exposing my lie?

Kate: Yes, I’d love to!

Kate: Ah… before that, shouldn’t we do the penalty game to be fair?

Harrison: You had one win and one loss. They cancel each other out, don't they?

Kate: The penalty is part of the game, so let’s give each other a penalty.

(The penalty we agreed on was… ‘the loser has to listen to the winner’s every word for the rest of the day’.)

(In that case… I know what I want to do with Harry.)

Kate: I’ve decided what I want to do for the penalty. What about you?

Harrison: … I’m probably thinking the exact same thing you're thinking of.

Kate: Let’s say it together. Ready… go!

Kate: I want to do all the ‘truths’ you told me.

Harrison: I want to do everything I said earlier.

Our feelings were mutual and we burst into laughter.

Harrison: Well then… we shall start with kisses.

— The darkness of the night long forgotten, the two of us drowned in the sweetness of games and penalties.

Being played by Harry’s mean lies and truths had me falling for him all over again.

[hannahssimblr]

The marquee holds extraordinary heat. It reminds me of the family holiday I took with Maureen and her kids to Florida, that phenomenal, stupefying heat, and the air like soup. I felt too tired to do anything but swim around in the resort pool for those two weeks, but that was the whole point. We went to laze about. I bobbed on a big yellow pool floater while the others slept on the deck chairs until the sun dipped over Daytona Beach and it was bearable enough to move again. 

Here, light permeates through polyester walls, diffusing a blue hue, and the air is constrictive like a panic attack. It smells too, of hot plastic and grass, and all the people who didn’t queue for the showers this morning. 

“It’s gross in here,” I comment, bellowing already because every voice in the whole marquee bounces off the walls and raises the volume to incomparable levels. 

Joe laughs and makes fun of my accent for Kasper’s benefit. “Gross, man, totally freakin’ gross, my dude.”

“Do you want to stay or go?”

“It’s Crystal Castles!”

“Okay, so, stay?”

“Yeah, duh.” With a hand on my back, Joe propels me into the crowd, where we push through, closer and closer to the front. The atmosphere is so unpleasant, so hot, so stuffy, and even though I’ve been drinking all afternoon, my head still twists with unwanted thoughts. I feel my phone vibrate. 

It’s Jen, as expected. 

Where are you? We’re going to see Slash now. Also, Evie has asked where you are a few times. 

I shove it back into my shorts pocket, and something crinkles against my hand.

Ah. I had forgotten about this.

I subtly pull out the baggie from yesterday, the one from Weed Alison, and turn it over in my hand. I know I shouldn’t, that I tell everyone who asks me that don’t do any of this anymore, but these little pink pills lure me in like a siren. They hold promises of escapism, if only just for an hour.

And then, what didn’t even seem like an option yesterday seems almost sensible today.

“Hey, do you want one?” I ask Joe, “you and Kasper. I’ve three.”

He cranes his neck. “What’s that?” 

“Ket.”

“Oh, I’ve never done that.”

“You want to try it?”

He looks to Kasper for reassurance, and his friend shrugs noncommittally. “Well, what’s it like?”

“Pretty strange.”

“Okay,” he says. I tip two tablets into his palm and one, the last, into my mouth.

He winces as we dry-swallow. “Ugh, it’s disgusting.” 

I suppress a cough. “Did you expect gourmet?”

“I didn’t expect pure shite.”

“Well, it’s probably worth it.”

“Probably?”

As I watch the stage, I eagerly anticipate the moment my soul separates from my body while the roadies prepare. Once the gig starts, the ground begins to sway like a fairground ride. It’s the same thrill too, the same loss of control as when you’re floating through the air, when the floor gives way beneath your feet and you’re weightless, like something caught on the wind. 

“Woah.” Joe cries at one point, and I am viewing both him and Kasper through a fisheye lens. I just laugh, because everything is silly, and nothing matters the way it did this morning. Thoughts derail like train carriages tipped off the line, and my brain emerges from a pool of cool water, washed clean of every thought that has ever held significance in my whole life. 

I was sceptical of Ketamine once, back before I understood it, and clung tightly to the edgy, but familiar high I got from cocaine. It was Alison who gave me some at a house party last summer, my first bump, and with plasticine limbs we danced in the kitchen to someone’s dad’s CD collection, with a sense that we could do whatever we liked, and it wouldn’t be weird. I hadn’t felt that way since I was nine. 

Kaleidoscopic lights mesmerise me in the marquee. The music is strange, but perhaps it is supposed to be. All music is strange, if you think about it. Who decides which beats and melodies sound good, anyway? How do we know that? The singer decides to crowd surf and comes close enough for me to touch her boot. It would be funny if I took it off. This is a fact. I lank at the laces while Kasper laughs, this maniacal, unselfconscious laugh, and I join in. I don’t know what I’ll do with the boot once it’s off, but it’s the funniest possible thing to do. Maybe I’ll display it in my college apartment one day, say it belonged to Alice Glass, and have to argue with everyone that doesn’t believe me. 

“I feel weird.” Joe says. 

“That’s good.” 

“No, I think- I feel wrong.”

“It’s not wrong. Don’t make it wrong.”

“I feel wrong,” and I look at him, with his pitch black eyes panicked, and then he heaves.

And he bolts out of the crowd.

“Oh.” I look at Kasper, and him at me, and realise my teeth are sweating. “Do you think it’s bad ket?”

“I don’t know.” He says, and I'm suddenly aware that if I attempt any more words, I will throw them up. 

Throwing up in a crowd is not the ideal place to do it, I know this, but it is difficult to escape with legs that feel lead-weighted, when the earth is tilted so dramatically that I am scaling it. 

“I’m going to vom.” I announce, and a path clears so quickly that it feels biblical. 

I hit the back of the tent, and it goes everywhere. Everywhere. It splashes on my shoes and up the walls, and Joe is there too, my partner in crime, vomiting just as violently as I am. I wonder if I should pat him on the back, or give him a high five, or something.

By the time Kasper falls in line and completes our trio, security is already on us, and all that seemed so easy and funny before now fills me with unspeakable dread.

“Outside,” one barks, grabbing fistfuls of my t-shirt and hauling me toward the door. “You’re pissed.”

“No,” I protest hoarsely, “We’re fine.”

Kasper retches again, inspiring another wave of nausea within me.

“Fuck sake!” the bouncer cries as I get sick on his trousers. “Youse are a disgrace. Get out.”

And we find ourselves the grass, lying face up as the clouds drift by, and the world is still tilting, like it wants to slide us right off the face of it.

“Should we do something?” Joe manages. 

“Like what?”

“Get a doctor?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I say, before I roll over to the side and throw up in the soil. 

Neil, the volunteer nurse, is very kind and patient with me for the time I spend in his company. 

“I imagine it’s all out of your system now.” He tells me. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” I sigh, staring up at the ceiling I spent the last hour getting to know. I haven’t been sick since I got here, it seems I yacked it all out on the field, but I have been so thoroughly prodded and poked that I’ve become irritable, bored, even, as time ticks on and the festival rages on outside the flimsy doors of the medical tent. I turn my head to him, in his blue scrubs and the stethoscope he used on me slung around his neck, and the fear of his judgement arrives. It’s how I know the ket is gone. “That’s never happened to me before, by the way. That reaction was a new thing.”

“You said you’ve taken ketamine before?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, at festivals like this, you just don’t know where it’s coming from. It’s everywhere, but it’s so hard to know what exactly you’re getting. Those pills could have been cut with anything.”

I smile weakly. “Are you telling me off?”

“Not really. I’m just letting you know.”

“Cut with what, exactly?”

“Anything.” He reiterates. “I’m talking talcum powder to heroin and everything in between.”

“Ouch.”

He folds his arms and leans against a table. “Do you want to get in touch with a parent or guardian?”

“Is that mandatory?”

“It’s not, but you might find the best thing for you to do now is to get home and rest. You might like to let a parent know what’s happened today.”

I laugh, the kind of hollow, death-rattle of a laugh that could have come from a sick, elderly man. “Tempting, but no thanks. I think I’ll stay.”

Neil’s mouth flattens into a line, and he gives me a nod. “Well, I’ll just advise you to take it easy, right? And if you feel off at any point, please come straight back here. We’re open all night.”

“But in your medical opinion, I’m fine, right?”

“Yes, I think you’re fine.”

“Oh, good.” I sit up in the trolley and plant shaky, stockinged feet on the floor. “Because there are a few more bands I really wanted to see.”

“I understand.” He says, though he looks as though he doesn’t. “But listen.”

I look up. 

“Be wise, Jude.”

I laugh and lace up my vomit-splattered shoes. “Neil, I’m always wise.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 3

~~Click HERE for Chapter 2~~

Max hasn’t said anything today. I was up when he was getting ready for work, which is weird because I’m usually never up this early. But I guess I…wanted something to happen. I’m not exactly sure what I wanted. Last night seemed like it was a dream. 

Did I dream that? 

No. It was definitely real. I remember the taste of his cock, the taste of his cum. No dream is that vivid. No dream can make me that turned on. So I don’t know what I expected when I got up this morning, but I guess I was just hopeful for …something. Words of affirmation, a hug, a chance to suck his cock again…

Honestly just an acknowledgment of my presence would have been nice. But he didn’t even do that, just sipped his coffee while scrolling through his phone at the table. 

“Can I get you anything?” I want to say, but bite my tongue, not wanting to sound like some sort of desperate housewife. I want to address the elephant in the room, to talk about yesterday, whether or not we’re square. Did the blowjob I gave him really justify a whole month’s rent? Does he want more? Do I want more? How weird will our relationship be if we were to start some sort of strange sexual dynamic? What if it stops? What if it continues?

“Well, I’m off to work.” he says, pushing back his chair, gathering up his things and heading out the door without so much as a glance my way. 

“Okay by–” but it doesn’t even get all the way out of my mouth before the door slams shut.

Maybe he’s mad. Maybe he regrets what happened. I mean, it was his doing. He initiated it all and I just…let it happen.

Helped it happen.

I wasn’t exactly a helpless victim. It was me that was bobbing up and down on his big juicy cock by my own accord. God it tasted good. It felt good. Something I've denied myself for so long. 

I’m not gay. At least, I don’t think I am. I��ve always had an affinity for women. They are majestic, beautiful creatures. I love seeing their eyes and smiles brighten up a room. The way they laugh and can have fun and dance like no one is watching. The curve of their hips, their breasts. Their supple movements, the way they casually tuck their hair behind their ear, and bat their eyelashes. There is no doubt that they are by far the more attractive sex.

But I've always been plagued with a feeling of inferiority. Not being the biggest in the penis department has left me with anxiety that I won’t be able to perform or please them the way ‘real’ men can. I have lingering visions of women standing around, laughing at me because I have a shy bladder and can’t pee in a toilet in a timely manner. Or I take off a beautiful woman’s clothes and she laughs at the size of my dick, or is disappointed when it's not able to get hard due to my underlying fear and shame.

The combination of these phobias has most likely caused my brain to warp them into a series of fetishes. It sexualized my short-comings. I get turned on by a woman insulting the size of my penis. I get hard to the idea of them laughing at me, degrading me, humiliating me. 

My timidity when it comes to peeing in a toilet must have spawned the retention of such. ‘Since you can’t even use the toilet properly, maybe your teeny wieny is better suited for diapers instead!’ I imagine those laughing girls saying. 

All of this culminates into this whirlpool of self-doubt, and leaves me feeling like less of a man than others. Thus, I guess, is where the sissy stuff came from. Perhaps it was society’s fault. In our culture, anyone not befitting of a masculine, alpha, macho-man persona is unabashedly called a ‘sissy’. I figured out pretty early that I belonged in that category, and must have accepted it from an early age. 

Years of watching and reading porn only exacerbated my ‘problems’. I quickly learned what kind of things I enjoyed, and even found things I didn’t know I would enjoy. I was always attracted to diapers, but I didn’t know they could be combo’d with skirts and dresses. That was new. Two of my favorite things merged together in a perfect amalgamation. Combo that with a superior woman speaking to me in a humiliating, patronizing manner? Gold. Solid gold.

Then one day I found a video of a woman calling me a ‘wittle sissy baby’ and telling me she had a bottle for me. But this wasn’t just any bottle. It was a special bottle. And that’s when she brought in the giant dick that was waiting off screen.

I’ve never been attracted to men. Honestly. I’ve never looked at a man and found myself sexually attracted to them. Well, other than Ryan Reynolds, but that doesn’t count. I’m comfortable enough to tell when a man is good-looking, and can acknowledge it, but that’s usually as far as it goes. The idea of kissing, dating, or being romantic with a man does nothing for me. But the cock? Well…that’s a different story. 

I guess the inferiority complex I have with women carried over to men as well. I’m not naive enough to think I’m anything above the bottom of the totem pole. I consider myself the bottom of the societal barrel. A subservient. A willing participant to what others desire. A submissive. To anyone, regardless of sex or gender. And so, I guess my brain can’t differentiate between who it is that I’m serving. But porn quickly told me that, if you’re a sissy, you’re going to spend a lot of time serving men.

I’m not sure if it’s a deep desire I’ve held all along, or if I unknowingly Pavlov’d myself into it, but eventually the idea of being dressed up like a little diaperslut and sucking some dick became a very big fantasy of mine.

And so we circle back to Max. We’ve lived together for almost 2 years, and in that time I’ve never imagined myself with him. He’s a big, burly, ‘alpha’ male, but not even once did I fantasize about being on my knees in front of him, sucking and worshiping his cock. 

So now I’m conflicted. Did I enjoy what happened? I don’t think there’s any denying that. But I’m still hesitant. Caught in this weird limbo of right and wrong. I just got a little carried away, that’s all. I only did it because he told me to. Because I needed a place to live. If I didn’t do it, I was going to have to live on the streets. I was doing it for survival. Right?

He doesn’t say anything when he gets back from work. Just sighs in that exasperated way one does when they come home after a long day. He grabs a beer from the fridge, plops down on the couch, and turns on SportsCenter. 

I sit in the chair several feet away and act like I'm interested. “So the Bruins had the best record in the regular season?” I ask, parroting what the news anchors are saying, “and the most points in franchise history? And they still lost in the first round of the playoffs?”

He just nods absentmindedly, lounging on the couch and putting his hat over his head.

Assuming he’s about to take a nap, I stand up to leave. Heading out of the living room.

“Where are you going?” he asks abruptly beneath his cap.

“I was going to go play some games.” I reply, a bit disconcerted. 

“No you’re not.” He says simply.

“I’m not?”

“No.”

I don’t say anything for a bit, just have my mouth hanging open in confusion, so he continues.

“You’re going to put on an outfit for me.” He says, “The schoolgirl outfit will do.” He doesn’t need to clarify, but he does anyway: “The slutty one.”

My stomach drops. From fear or excitement I'm not exactly sure. “I…wh-what do–”

“Get made up for me.” He says, still talking beneath his hat, “I want you to look your best.”

******

My hands shake as I apply the last bit of mascara to my lashes. I’m not sure if I'm giddy with excitement or fear. Is this really happening? 

I usually revel in the idea of dressing up like a little slut, but no one has actually seen the finished product. What is he going to do when he sees me like this? Will he humiliate me? Laugh at me? Tease me? Fuck me?

My mind swims with the possibilities. I stand up and check myself in the mirror. I definitely look passable, maybe even fuckable. After readjusting the ‘breasts’ of my stuffed shirt, I take a little turn, watching my mini-skirt lift as I twirl.  I feel…pretty. Desirable. I just hope he agrees. There’s butterflies in my stomach and I don’t even know what’s about to happen. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unknown, but I feel ready for any possibility. 

The only thing left is to figure out what to put beneath my skirt. Should I wear a diaper? It certainly would be my first choice, but would it be his? A pair of pampers doesn’t exactly scream ‘slutty’, and I don’t want to turn him off or scare him away from whatever might take place. So I decided on a pair of skimpy boy-shorts. It only just hits me how ironic that term is. I didn’t feel like much of a boy when I wrapped them around my parts. If anything, it was like putting the final nail in the coffin that made me feel like a girl. 

One last glimpse in the mirror before I saunter off into the unknown. I open my door with trepidation, it seems to creak louder than usual. I creep through the hall, the house is eerily quiet. At first I think he’s left, some kind of cruel joke. Or maybe he’s just napping. Should I wake him if he is? How awkward would that be? Hey Max, wake up, time to see your roommate dressed like a cheap whore. 

But when I turn the corner, he’s sitting on the couch, bolt upright, a big smile on his face. 

I scrunch up as I walk in front of him, suddenly very self-conscious. Does my hair look okay? What do I say? What do I do? Luckily, he helps me. 

“Turn around.” 

I do, legs quivering. 

“All the way.”

A complete twirl. My arms stiff at my sides. 

“Relax. Give me a little curtsy.”

I feel myself loosen a bit as I grab the hem of my tiny skirt, jut my leg out, and dip shakily. 

I can feel his eyes panning me over. I feel like an object, a painting on the wall for him to admire, and I don’t exactly hate the feeling. 

“Face away from me.” He growls. His voice is a little shaky, is he nervous too? Or is it…something else?

I tiptoe around, facing the TV. It’s off, so I can see my face reflecting in the black screen. I can see him too, he’s smiling, and his hand is rubbing over the front of his pants. 

“Bend over.”

I do, hinging at the waist. I can feel the breeze hit the bottom of my cheeks as my skirt lifts, exposing my panties. 

“You have such a nice ass.”

It’s such a strange comment. Not creepy, just…something he’s never said to me before. It makes me warm inside, to be complimented in such a way. 

“Th-thank you…” I squeak awkwardly. 

“Come here.” He says. 

I turn, moseying up to him, perhaps a little too eagerly. 

“Knees.”

I drop again, the same position I was in last night. 

He’s still rubbing his pants. I can see his bulge, I can see his cock in my mind, my mouth subconsciously starts to water. 

“I’m going to be honest.” He says. “I spent all weekend masturbating to the thought of you in this outfit.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but it was oddly enticing. Someone imagining me? Using me as the object of their desires, and actually jerking off to it? I never knew that would be such a confidence boost. 

“But seeing you now, it’s even better.”

I can’t help but smile. 

“Do you like wearing it?” He asks, “Things like this?”

I look down at myself, covered from head to toe in feminine attire. The way it accentuates my curves and gives me this overwhelming feeling of joy is indescribable. But I only give a sheepish nod. “Mhmm”

“Good.” He smiles, “Because you will be dressed like this very often. If you want me to pay your rent, you are going to be my personal…what word would you like me to use? ‘Slave’? ‘Slut’? ‘Pet’? ‘Bitch’? ‘Whore’?”

“Yes.” I say, indicating I wanted to be all of them. Any word he used to describe me would suffice. 

He nods in understanding. “Every day you will do what I say, when I say. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes sir.” He corrects. 

“Yes sir.” I repeat. 

He reaches a gruff hand out, cupping my chin, rubbing a rough thumb over my cheek. It makes me feel small, subservient, obedient. Like a puppy getting patted. He slips his thumb between my glossy lips. Without even thinking, I start to suck on it. 

“How do you want to do this?” He asks, “do you want me to be gentle? Or do you prefer me to be rough and mean?”

It doesn’t take me long to think of the answer. “Rough.” I say around his thumb, then resume sucking. 

“You’re sure?” He says, eyebrows raised. “I can be quite harsh.”

I nod, bobbing my head over his thumb like it’s a cock, wishing it were a cock. “Yes sir.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, plopping his thumb from my mouth. “Our safe word will be ‘Roomie’. Use it whenever you feel I’ve gone too far.”

I nod, doubting I would ever need to do so .

He smiles, sitting back, then taps his leg. “Up.”

I’m a bit taken aback, not sure about the order, so he repeats.

“Up. Over my leg. Let’s go.”

Now I understand. I whimper as I crawl over his lap, I’m not sure if I’m just playing a part or am genuinely scared. Perhaps a bit of both. I can feel his cock pulsing in his pants as I put my own almost directly on top of it.

“Someone’s a little excited already.” He chuckles, reaching beneath my skirt to tickle my throbbing boner. He doesn’t pay it much mind though. I can feel him lifting my skirt so that my cheeks are exposed. “Look at your pretty panties.” He muses. I don’t even have time to thank him before I feel a sharp swat on my ass.

“Nnghh!” I yelp.

“You like that?” He asks sternly.

I bite my lip, ass still stinging, but nod. “Yes sir.” My voice is higher pitched, as if falling into submission has caused it to raise an octave. 

Five sharp swats, one on each cheek. I whimper with each one. I’ve never gotten a spanking before, I didn’t imagine it would hurt quite so bad. Max doesn’t seem to be holding back, but I trust him. I know this isn’t his first time. I’ve heard the same smacks and yelps coming from his room when he’s brought home a girl–or even a guy sometimes. He seems to be no stranger to a D/s relationship.

Twenty more smacks in quick succession. My ass is on fire now. Where I was embellishing a bit before, my cries of pain have become much more genuine. I grip the cushions of the couch as he shows no signs of stopping.

By 40…or is it 50? I’ve lost count. But I’m having to bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming. Finally, he stops. I can feel the heat radiating from my butt. But my reprieve is short lived, he just needed time to yank my panties down. I give some pitiful plea of “no no no, please!” as he raises his hand to begin the onslaught again.

At around 60 or 70, I’m in literal tears. 

“Do you remember your word?”

I nod, sniffling. 

“Do you want to use it?”

I clench my eyes closed at what I’m about to say, shaking my head “no sir…”

I can feel him smiling down at me. “Okay then…”

My arms are flailing and legs are kicking with every smack now. He grips the former with his non-spanking hand, and throws his leg over my floundering thighs. 

I regret every second of not using the safeword. I still consider using it, but I want to be strong. I want to impress him, as silly as it sounds. I bite my knuckle to keep myself from screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors.The leather of the couch is slick from my tears and snot. His blows aren’t as fast anymore, but they're stronger and more pronounced. Each one makes me squeal and sob pathetically. Whatever respect he had for me before has probably evaporated long ago.

After what seems like forever, the swats finally stop. I’m bawling into the cushions of the couch, and my ass feels like it’s black and blue. It’s a good thing I don’t have a job at the moment, because I doubt I would be able to sit at a desk tomorrow.

“You okay?” he asks softly. His voice has dropped that rough, hardness from before. I nod, not sure whether or not I’m lying. 

I feel him fumble for something in his pants. I hear the click of a cap, then a squirt. A cooling sensation coats my buttcheeks as he runs his hand over them with some type of lotion. Did he have that in his pocket this whole time?

Whatever it is, it feels good against my burning bum. He rubs it sensually, taking his time, being gentle despite the damage he inflicted before. 

“This is what will happen if you disobey me,” He says. I believe him, and it’s enough to make me not want to ever think about acting up. 

He squirts another dollop of lotion, but this time it’s between my cheeks. I can feel his fingers coaxing my crack open. Tracing, searching for my little button. 

“I like that you shave your pussy,” He says, “I want it to stay this way.”

I whimper, twitching as he pokes and prods at my hole. I can feel his dick stiffening in my lap as he presses his finger into me. The most pathetic moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. He plunges his finger deeper and deeper into me. I welcome every single knuckle, even press my hips backwards, hungry for more.

He chuckles again, “Such a little slut you are.”

I’m panting, like a bitch in heat. The combination of his finger and his words are driving me crazy. I’m humping backwards against his finger desperately as he presses down on my prostate. Mixed with the now dull throb of my blistered cheeks, it’s almost too much to handle. I’ve always enjoyed my pleasure spiked with pain.

He raises my hips up so that he can have access to my dangling dick underneath. “Such a teeny weeny clitty” he teases, wrapping two fingers around it. He works his hand up and down on my cock while driving his finger in me from behind. Before I know it, I feel that familiar tingle.

“Ask permission to cum.” he growls.

“Can I cum, sir?” I moan, not even bothering to try to make myself sound the least bit masculine. It’s pitchy and pathetic and desperate.

“Not yet.” He continues to work me with his masterful hands. I groan into the couch, grabbing at the cushions, his burly legs, a pillow, anything. 

“Please!” I shout, “Sir! Can I cum?! PLEASE!”

I can’t hold out any longer. It’s by some small miracle that he says “You may,” just before I explode all over his lap. A second later and it would have happened without his say-so. What would he have done if I were to cum without his permission? I loathe to find out. He shoves me down on the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. It takes me a couple minutes to collect myself. When I do, he’s still smiling down at me in a victorious sort of way.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.

“Y-yes…sir…” I say between breaths.

“Good.” he says, “Because you have a mess to attend to.”

He points down at the gooey, white puddle I made on the crotch of his pants.

“Every load you make ends up in your mouth.” He growls, “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir…”

“Clean me up then.”

I don’t have the same eagerness as I did before. I’m a bit repulsed as I crawl between his legs and start lapping up my loser goo. But as my tongue runs over his pants I can feel the outlines of his hardening cock. I suck and slurp the mess off the hem of his pants, running my tongue through the flap of the zipper, making sure I get every last drop. He’s damp by the time I’m done, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He stands up. Again, it’s almost like nothing just happened. He goes to the cabinet, pulls out a glass, fills it up with water and takes a long swig. “Ahhh…” he exhales, looking off into the distance, then eventually back at me. “Go to my room.” He says, “I want you on my bed. Face down. Ass up.”

******

“This is my asshole now!” Max grunts, slapping my tender cheeks while he pumps his cock in and out of my rectum. “Tell me whose ass this is!”

The pillow is moist from me biting and drooling on it to keep from screaming. His dick feels amazing, but I’m not used to being pounded like this. There was only so much training I could do with my dildo…

“It’s your ass, sir!” I squeak louder than the springs of the mattress. 

“Daddy.” He growls. “Call me Daddy.”

“It’s your asshole, Daddy! It’s your asshole!”

“I own you,” he groans, “Do you understand??”

“Yes Daddy!” I really gotta get my voice under control. It gets so whiny and wimpy when I’m getting fucked.

I can feel his dick swelling, getting even stiffer than I thought possible. “I’m going to cum!” He tells me, “Where do you want me to cum?”

“In my asshole, Daddy!”

“Whose asshole?!”

“Your asshole!!” I correct. 

I can hear him laughing between the grunts, I wonder if we’ll joke about this later. It’s amazing what people say in the heat of the moment. 

“I’m gonna breed you like a little bitch!”

“Cum inside me Daddy!”

“You’re fucking miiiine!!” an exasperated groan, a warmth filling my insides, I can feel him convulse behind me as he deposits his load in my rectum. He removes his member and collapses on the bed shortly after.

I don’t know what to do at this point. What do you say to someone that just came inside of you? ‘Thanks’? I wait for him to come to, still in the doggy-style position.

He peeks an eye open. “Go to your room.” He says. “You’re not sleeping here.”

I wonder if, now that he’s lost his lust, he’s no longer interested in me. Is this how girls feel all the time? Constantly wondering whether or not they’re good enough? Worrying if they’ve done something wrong?

I climb off the bed and take the (luckily short) walk of shame back to my room, his cum leaking down my leg.

When I enter through my door, there’s a buzzing coming from my desk. Did I leave one of my vibrating toys on?

No…it’s just my phone, but it shows you where my head has been all day. The light stings my eyes as I look at it. My stomach drops a bit when I see who’s calling.

I tap the little green button.“Hello?”

“You know, Jake…” Zoey’s sweet voice says, “Part of having a girlfriend means you have to actually talk to her on the phone every once in a while!”

To Be Continued

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