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sixosix · 4 months

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synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho

a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^

Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.

Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.

“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.

Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.”

Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”

“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.

Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”

You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.

“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—

“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.

But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.

“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.

Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.

Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”

You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.

Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”

Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”

“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.

Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”

And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.

“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”

“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”

Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”

Satoru bristled. “So?”

“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”

He gaped. “So rude!”

And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”

Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”

Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.

“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.

“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”

Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.

You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.

It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.

“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.

“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.

“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”

You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.

Your face fell. “Satoru.”

“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”

Your hand gripped the door tighter.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”

You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.

Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“It creeps me out when you act nice.”

He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”

Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”

His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”

He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.

There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”

Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”

“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”

Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”

“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.

“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”

Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.

You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”

Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.

Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.

Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”

“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”

You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.

“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.

You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”

“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”

“You read the messages?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”

The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.

“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.

“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”

Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?

“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”

Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.

“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him. “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”

“Did I miss something?”

“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”

His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”

Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—

you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?

you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had

you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead

you i love him can someone please comfort me

shoko oh no

shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth

suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n

shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?

you more than anything, unfortunately

Wait.

The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?

Wait.

Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”

You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”

“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”

“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”

‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”

“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.

“Say that again,” he demanded.

“My life is over?”

Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”

He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.

“I love you?” you said.

“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”

You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”

Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.

“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I get a please now?”

Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.

“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.

“I’ll show you manic.”

You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.

“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”

“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”

“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”

Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.

“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x reader

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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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There’s a child wandering the streets of Crime Alley. Unfortunately, this is nothing new for the area, riddled with crime and homelessness as it is. However, Red Hood and Nightwing are vigilantes and helping lost looking children is firmly in their job description. Plus, Crime Alley is Red Hood’s. He protects what’s his. With a single shared look, the brothers swung down to the child clad in just a white dress and some thin flats completely unsuitable for Gotham’s worsening weather. Hell it’s be unsuitable for the general poor weather.

“Hey, kiddo.”

The girl’s head swung to lock gazes with the duo, eyes blinking blue- and green? Red Hood allowed his brother- he worked so hard to beat down the pit madness in order for Nightwing to even remain near- to take the lead.

“Oh. There you are.” She said, turning to face them fully. The kid’s face filled with relief.

Nightwing blinked.

“You were looking for us?” His soft voice saved for children firmed into something more serious, more concerned.

“Mmhm. I was looking for Red Hood, but you’re a good bonus.”

“And why were you looking for me, kid?” Red Hood interjects. He knows Dickolas is clocking the same things he is: the kid’s white whispy hair, pale face, and… Lazarus green eyes? It’s more solid now, that she’s looking at Jason.

Dick straightened, eyes going heavy as he looks at this wisp of a girl. He’s fiercely protective of Jason and they’re both equally wary of the League of Assassins. Still, the two of them couldn’t help but let their guard down a bit because this was still a child they’re talking to.

“Because… um. Did you know you’ve died?”

Hood stiffened, hand going towards his guns. Granted, they’re rubber bullets, but the kid clocks that immediately. She threw her hands up in the universal gesture of “I’m unarmed and mean no harm.”

“I- well, to put it frankly, you kind of… stink?”

“What.”

“Ugh, I’m totally messing this up!”

“Why don’t you start again?” Dick said, shifting into a subtler fighting stance. He kept his voice light, but Jason saw the way his hands inched towards the scrims sticks. Distantly, Jason thought it was hilarious that this tiny kid could evoke that kind of response. Looking into Lazarus green eyes though, he couldn’t find the humor anywhere. The worst thing, though, is that the pit quieted. The rage the bubbled incessantly underneath his skin calmed. Jason did not like feeling bereft of the rage, not when he didn’t know why it was gone. He had just gained control of it, minimally, and to have that control be unnecessary left the vigilantes off kilter.

“Right, okay, sorry. Um, did you, uh, die and wake up surrounded by glowing green stuff?”

Before Jason could reply ‘yes, and why the hell do you know that?’, the kid continued with, “Because me too!”

She did jazz hands as Jason’s and Dick’s brains short circuited. Jason thought he even heard a little “yay!”

“What.” Jason sputtered out. His stomach and heart clenched as he thought about how young the kid looked. Fuck.

“Yeah. So, anyways-”

“Don’t speed past that like you didn’t say what you just said!” Dick interrupted, hand tugging at his hair in distress. His body language slipped from battle ready to extremely distressed. “You died?”

“You were- you were dipped in the Lazarus pits?!” Jason felt the need to address that specific point.

“I mean, it’s not that important? The important thing is- wait, what’s a Lazarus pit?”

Jason froze again. She didn’t know what they were?

“It’s… the glowing green stuff.” Dick answered her.

“Oh. Is that what you were dipped in?” She tilted her head at Jason. He nodded, wariness climbing. “Oh. Well, I mean, that’s not we call it. But the stuff you were dipped in, it’s rank. Contaminated.”

Jason thinks back to the burning, drowning green. The agony he felt as it slipped into his mouth and nose and his very being.

“It was bubbling.” He said. The girl grimaced. Jason had no idea why he was being so honest with this kid.

“Gross. Anyways, I can, like, help you with that?”

“With what?” Dick asked, eyes darting from the girl to Jason.

The girl groaned. “Okay, so I guess you guys are kind of new. Uh, the contaminated green stuff,” she points at Jason’s chest. “That’s making you angry, right? Leaving you in the backseat of your head as your body breaks whatever got you angry to begin with and you have no control over it?”

“…The pit madness.” Jason mumbled, feeling numb. “Yeah.”

“…Right. I can help you clear that out,” she pauses, fidgeting. “If… If you help me talk to Batman? It’s kind of… urgent.”

“Batman?”

“Why?”

“Uh. There’s kind of… a whole mad scientist thing going on and like… experimentation and dissections… you know?” The kid waved her arms around, distressed.

Dick and Jason unfortunately did know.

“Cave?” Jason grumbled.

“Cave.”

“Okay, we’ll bring you to the cave. Then you tell us everything.”

“Really?”

She looked up at them hopefully, and Jason could see the moment Dickolas melted. Not that Jason could say anything, since he was already taking off his jacket and bundling the kid in it.

“Um.”

“Who the hell let you walk around Gotham like that?” He scowled down at her, not that she could see it with the red helmet in the way. Dick looked at him carefully, eyes roving over the oddly relaxed state his little wing was in.

The kid shrugged. Jason sighs.

“What’s your name?” Dick asked. Scooping her up, the blue and black clad raised his free arm to grapple away. Jason follows him, heading towards the motorcycles they’ve got parked nearby.

“Dani. With an I.”

“Nice to meet you, Dani. I’m Nightwing. This is my… this is Red Hood.”

“Okay. Cool.”

#danny phantom #danielle phantom #danielle fenton #red hood #jason Todd #dick grayson #nightwing #dani going: you stink but I can help with that #dani trying to save her siblings from the GIW by bribing/blackmailing the vats #like they wouldn’t just take a look at this literal child and jump a cliff to help #dani: I need help #also dani: let me insult a crime lord #the plan worked though #this has been sitting in my drafts for too long #dani is both traumatized and a sassy little shit #dani ‘haven’t learned social cues’ Fenton #to be fair it’s not like vlad cared for social niceties #vlad the creep #dani dresses like she wants to get mugged on purpose

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shybunnie20 · 2 months

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BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, includes swearing.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute.

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess.

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy,” Eddie smirks. “Could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha,” you leer, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs, “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight,” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily.

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it.

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.”

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah,” Eddie answers. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll,” Eddie cautions, pointing the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously,” Eddie says while reaching for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie reaches for the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is,” Eddie exclaims. He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," You offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips, “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best,” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There,” you adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah,” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He adds, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly,” you scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe,” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah,” you maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back,” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?”

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight,” He says, striding toward the front door.

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one,” He insists and heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so,” his tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you say, begrudgingly taking it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated,” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing,” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter.

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently,” you acknowledge, barely having the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” You suggest as you struggle to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the eerily quiet hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked, “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off, “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve,” Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He asks, instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid,” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you,” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong, I thought-”

“You’re not and you didn’t,” you choke out. “They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault,” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry,” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there,” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch,” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me,” you grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you,” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little,” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful,” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” he nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too,” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Holy shit.”

“You can say that again,” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could,” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that,” you smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much,” you remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though,” You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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midnightarcheress · 2 months

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it wasn't my initial plan but let's go stalker!gaz again <3

cw: nsfw. stalking. obsessive gaz. perv gaz in denial lol. f!reader. part one | part two

Kyle sees you again. it's totally coincidental, of course.

the first time was in the market. he had postponed a grocery run for far too long, and a man can’t live solely on takeout, so he headed to the nearest store. walking down the pavement, he sees the familiar blue logo across the street, the same one from your hoodie, and the image of your pearly smile comes fully into his mind for the first time after the encounter.

he had been too obsessive that day, and a part of him felt disgusted by his behaviour. he’s a good man, a good soldier, not one of the creeps in white vans studying women like a hunter waiting to attack their prey. so he shoved the temptation to search for you in the back of his brain, tucked away in a corner with the rest of his dysfunctional urges.

but the other side, the one he maintains caged when he’s home, kept calling for him, itching for the surface, almost slipping his fingers to his cell phone so he could engage in the pursuit of the sweet little thing that invaded his lustful dreams. a side that he managed to hide until his gaze laid on your form on the frozen food aisle.

you looked just as stunning as he remembered. glossy lips, pretty plush thighs, delicate fingers pushing the shopping cart around. your hair was in a ponytail, easy grab, sports bra neatly holding your soft tits, could be my hands, a small drop of sweat sneaking down your exposed lower back, the mere sight making his cock twitch in his trousers. of course you go to the gym. i can train with you. how about some hip thrusts with you on– no. he can’t be thinking like that again.

he bites back the urge to follow you. or even spark a conversation, to test if you’re good with faces. it would be weird. but then he gets lost in the movements of your hips, in how gorgeous you look slightly bent down at the waist, reaching for a lower shelf and prancing your ass up, in how easy it would be to cause you any harm in that position. wouldn’t even hear me sneaking up with those headphones on.

the second time was outside of a cafe. he had just ordered a coffee and was waiting by the counter, aimlessly looking out the front window when he saw you, walking out of a bookstore with a big bag. hi, sweetheart. he promptly steps out the door, the barista calling his name fading in the background as he rushes to you. or at least, rushes to a safe distance from you.

he wishes nothing more than to take the heavy bag from you, interlock his fingers with yours and stroll back to his flat like a perfectly happy couple. he’d even build bookshelves for you. buy you an entire library, if you wanted. make you tea while you read, caress your hair, lazily eat you out for hours, hearing your muffled moans as you try to remain focused– fuck, quit it, Garrick.

but he doesn’t quit. he can’t. not when you’re so beautiful, so easy, so soft. such a good girl. not when he notices some guys eyeing you up on the street and he silently curses the lack of a weapon on his hand. not when you look over your shoulder and don't see him as a threat. do you recognize me, love? not when he finally looks at his surroundings and realises that he’s in his street and that you’re entering the building across from his.

he takes that discovery as a sign from the universe. it must be fate that you’re so close to me, right? it’s a blessing, a sign from god that his thoughts are justified. the green light he was waiting to reveal the worst part of him, to unleash the demon gnawing at his self-control.

with a few clicks, he finds all of your socials. too easy. some were restricted, some were open, and some barely had content, but he doesn’t mind, the few pictures on your instagram are enough. at another time, he’d teach you about online safety – how there are bad people out in the world who yearn for an easy catch, and how a smart girl like you shouldn’t allow it.

his dick aches in his boxers as he studies every pixel of your photos. he feels it throbbing, leaking, painfully craving for any kind of friction, but he refuses to provide. he knows that once he starts, he would never stop, and the idea of spending his cum on anywhere that isn’t you – your cute little mouth, displayed on your tummy, your warm cunt – is not worthy.

the third time was in a pub. he had finally caught you on your kitchen window, looking a little too dressed up to be staying at home and downing what seemed like a shot of vodka. so, when you stepped on the sidewalk, he knew he had to follow you. pretty girl going out at night? alone? not on my watch.

the bar is a couple blocks from where you live, known for being filled with college students. very different from his crowd, but he doesn’t care, watching you from afar acts like a remedy for the headache caused by the loud noise of the place. just a peek at your sheer blouse, exposing the lacy bra underneath was sufficient to clear his heart of any cracks.

but, not everything is perfect, and he immediately tags the face making its way to you. Marcus. just as ugly as in the tiny contact picture he saw. fuck, is she back with him?

he gets his answer quickly – you push him aside and go back to your friends, chugging the rest of your pint like a lifeline. good girl. the man's left with an open mouth and shocked expression, and Kyle doesn't miss the flash of anger in his eyes.

the next few minutes are a blur. Marcus stepped out in the back for some fresh air after nearly throwing up due too many drinks, and he didn't notice the guy following him. stupid prick, should've used your brain.

Kyle re-enters the bar in no time, thumb brushing the edge of the switchblade in his pocket. he admires you in your booth – lips parted in a laugh, locks of hair cascading on your face, and a hazy aura pairing over you. well, aren't we tipsy, sweetheart? good thing i'm here to look over you.

he heads to the counter to get a drink, and he almost jumps when you appear by his side, finishing your tab for the night. your eyes shine when they land on his, brightness shared by your wide grin, “hey, i know you! you're the plane guy!”

you do recognize me. fate. he gives you a once over, feigning that he doesn't instantly recall your face to hide the excitement bubbling in his chest. like he hasn’t been dreaming about stuffing your pussy with his thick cock and hearing your mewls every night. “yup, that's me.”

“nice seeing you again– oh, are you alright? you got some,” you motion to his forearm, “blood on you.”

shit. he forgot he needed to clean up after his last activity. his mind scrambles to find an excuse, but a thought pops in his brain and he can't contain the growing bulge in his pants. look at you worried about me, love. such a sweet girl. “it's nothing, i was just a little clumsy,” he brushes off, watching the concern on your face evolve into a timid smile, “you leaving already?”

“yeah, got an early day tomorrow. shouldn't drink too much,” you answer, putting your jacket back on. he stays glaring at you, mind too blank to form a coherent sentence. alone? this late? drunk? do you even know how many men are lurking outside, waiting for a minor slip-up to rip you open? “so... goodnight, then.” you say, giving the counter one last tap and heading to the door. think fast.

“wait!” he calls out, “you shouldn't go alone, it isn't safe.” your head tilts to the side, and his eyes trail down your pretty neck, just begging to be bitten. focus, Garrick.

“it's just a couple blocks from here, it's alright.” no. no it isn't. don't be stubborn, sweetheart. do you want me to throw you over my shoulder for being a brat? give your pretty ass a slap?

his eyes narrow, but the soft smile on his lips does a damn good job of luring you in – a trick he learned over the years. “may i walk you home then? i'd hate to see something bad happen to a sweet girl like you.”

you ponder for a moment. you shouldn’t accept, he’s still a stranger, and if the alcohol wasn’t fuzzing your brain, you would say no. but his smile is so convincing, the dog tags around his neck are so reassuring of his good intentions that you don’t even notice when you nod.

he smirks, and the tent between his legs gets even bigger. he’s such a good man. won’t let anything stain your soft, pure flesh. i’ll protect you, sweet girl.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #gaz x you #stalker!gaz #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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cumikering · 3 months

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Neighbour Ghost x reader 2

2.1k | fluff You had many dinners with Simon (part 1) (part 3)

Simon Riley white-knuckled the vegetable peeler against the poor carrot in his other hand like it owed him money.

He’d knocked on your door that morning with the full intention of being helpful, but it was painfully difficult to hide the fact that he was beyond clueless as he stood there at the counter. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing a loose black shirt to not dirty his sleeves. It was his first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie, and he caught your momentary gaze on his tattooed arm.

Sure, he kept telling himself each time he came up with an excuse to have you over was for his mum’s company. It made him happy to see the smile on her face as she chatted with you, your laughter filling his otherwise quiet flat. But was it really for her company now, when it was just the two of you as he embarrassed himself?

Regretting what he thought was a brilliant idea, he glanced at you, absolutely horrified of being a hold up and ruining lunch.

You didn’t even look up from the pot you were stirring. “You know, I really don’t like doing the dishes. Would you like to help with that instead?”

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he dropped everything on the cutting board, thankful you spared the sliver of dignity he had left. He did most of the cleaning while he watched you. You said you weren’t the best cook, but your movements were serene, easy. You didn’t look like you were going to chop your fingers off, and to him, that made you far above decent.

Evidently, Melanie complimented the meal generously while Simon simply asked for a third helping. He beat you to the dishes after that, not allowing you to lift a finger after all the cooking you did.

At your door, you turned to him. “In case I don’t see you again before you ship out-“

“You will. I leave Thursday morning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have your number?”

You handed him your phone and Simon Riley called himself from it.

“I’ll see you around, Simon.” You smiled at him.

Again, he only left when you’d closed your door. When he entered his flat, his mum looked up from wiping down the dining table.

She sighed softly. “How long am staying, Si? It’s been over two weeks now.”

“As long as you want, mum. I’d rather you here.” He walked over to her. “At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“What’s going to happen to your dad?”

“You wouldn’t let me bash his face in, and he’s not my dad. Not sure he ever was,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned away, the discomfort evident in her eyes. Simon knew the look to well.

“You need to leave him, mum,” he said under his breath.

“I think I’m going to stay a few more weeks, two months tops,” she finally said. “Until things settle. I’ll look for a job meanwhile.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to feel useful, Si,” she reassured. “You’ve been too kind to me.”

��Never enough.”

When's the latest you can have dinner before it's not called dinner anymore? Simon texted you Monday afternoon.

Is this the premise to a joke?

He tilted his head. On second thought, it did sound like one of his dad jokes.

No, was a genuine question actually.

9, maybe. Why?

I'll be home before 7:30. Would it be okay to wait for me for dinner until then?

Who's cooking?

Takeout chef down the street. You pick who the lucky bloke is

You smiled as he stood at your door with takeout in hand. The way you looked at him made him question his clean shaven look that day. Did he look too much like an adolescent with no scruff?

Simon didn’t like making conversation, let alone with someone as sunny as you, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to put himself in a social situation with you. Still, he wasn’t used to it. He tried saying more, he really did, but the most he managed to tell was that he was an apprentice butcher back in Manchester before he enlisted, and that he was a currently a lieutenant in the SAS.

After dinner, you sat facing each other on your small couch sipping on tea, knees almost touching each other’s.

At this point, he noticed you didn’t look away as much as you did the previous instances. Either you’d got used to his unyielding stare or his attempt to appear less scary succeeded. You didn’t ask further about his job, and he hoped it was because you thought it was mostly confidential, not because you were afraid of him. That was alright though, you were far more interesting than his work anyway. He enjoyed watching the way you lit up talking about your interests.

Perhaps it was patronising how he wondered why you could be so much like sunshine in this bleak world, walking around like no one was going to break your heart. He found your generosity reckless, even foolish. Guilt pricked his heart for having these unsavoury thoughts, yet he was still utterly and shamelessly fascinated by your smile.

Despite him not wanting to leave, he excused himself for the night before it was remotely late.

“The day at the base starts early, yeah?”

He gave you a small smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Good night, luv.”

On his way to the lift, he knocked on the door of his own flat. His mum answered, clutching her cardigan close to her chest.

“Oh, Simon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside. “Are you staying the night? I’ll get the bed-”

“No, ’m just dropping by.” He closed the door behind him.

“Did you need something? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did, yeah.”

A knowing smile tugged on her lips. “Was it with someone I know?”

“Wanted to say good night and make sure everything’s alright.” A blush might have crept up his neck as he stepped in for a one-armed hug.

But the next night, Simon dropped by again before going back to base.

“Why are you here every day now?” Melanie looked at her son with a teasing smile. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you were too busy to come home.”

“Can I not want to see my own mum?”

“Sure, Si.” She gave him a playful side eye. “Let me see what ingredient I’m missing, in case you want to run to the shops.”

He groaned. “I’m shipping out Thursday. Wanted to take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. Get yourself an outfit. Use my card.”

“How nice!” She beamed. “Is she coming with?”

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her.”

“Would you like to?” When he gave her an unsure look, she reassured, “I don’t mind at all. She’s sweet and I’m happy you’re meeting new people.”

Of course it didn’t take any convincing for him to invite you to his favourite steakhouse in the city. In fact, he very much looked forward to having another excuse to see you, especially dressed up. Not like you didn’t look nice, but thinking of taking you out made him giddy. He suddenly didn’t dread the med evals, trainings and briefings he usually detested before each deployment.

When he arrived at base, your reply waited.

Thank you so much for the invite. The place sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude. Have a nice evening you both!

His shoulders sagged. Can I at least see you after dinner?

Mrs. Riley beamed when Simon picked her up with a rose in hand. He didn’t remember ever seeing her so dressed up, and he was glad to have given her the opportunity to. She gushed over the delicious dinner, the wine and how polite the waiters were that it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

He could tell how much the evening meant to her, and it broke his heart that no one had cared for her that much in a very long time. He held her hand as they walked back to his flat.

“You be safe, Simon. I’ll be waiting for you,” she hugged him tight at the door as her voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He gave her a squeeze, feeling the emotions rubbing off on him. “Will do, mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said into her hair.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before he headed to your flat.

Simon didn’t recall feeling this heavy upon shipping out in recent memory, but as you answered the door in your loose shirt and shorts, his arms ached to wrap around you. Instead, he shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I can’t,” he said. Because if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave.

You looked away, seemingly a little embarrassed by his rejection.

“May I ask why you didn’t want to come earlier?”

You stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind you. “I feel your mum would appreciate it more if it’s just the two of you, that’s all.”

“Maybe next time with you then?” he asked hopefully. “Just us?”

You nodded and a smile blossomed on his lips in return. You both lingered a few more seconds in silence.

“I’m wishing you and your unit the very best on your mission. Please take care out there.” You cast your gaze down.

He caught the wobble in your voice and the sincerity was the push he needed. You barely had time to react to him stepping in for a hug. His arms encircled your frame loosely, but tightened as soon as yours wrapped around his waist. He curled over you, inhaling your scent as your breath tickled his neck.

The lack of distance only highlighted how much he towered over you. He was sure you could feel his racing heart under his turtleneck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold you.

“Let me know when you’re back,” you said when he pulled away.

“’course.”

Simon very much looked forward to your texts whenever he had time to himself. While he asked you about your days, he unfortunately couldn’t say much about his. Instead, he sent you photos of the sunrise, or the shit cup of tea he was having. In return, you sent photos of the Hereford sunset and your meals. He said the kind of food he ate would ruin your appetite.

You told him his mum got a job at that bakery you loved – you knew the owner. On some days if her schedule allowed, you could walk back home with her. Simon thanked you for keeping her company, knowing how much she must have appreciated it.

The two weeks seemed to roll by a litter faster than usual. You were the first to know as soon as he was scheduled to fly back. He said he’d probably get home a late, but would love to see you if you had the time.

At his first knock, rapid footsteps came from behind your door which you swung open with a grin on your face. “You’re back!”

“May I come in?”

You made way for him, and when the door closed behind you, he stepped in, arms lifted a little. With a chuckle, you closed the gap, squeezing him tight.

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “No, going out with friends.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sunday then?”

“That’ll do.” You smiled, walking backwards to the kitchen. “Come, I’ll make us a cuppa. Co-worker gave me some oolong tea.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry, can’t stay long, luv. I’m going back to base.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday. I thought you stay home on weekends.”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now. I don’t want to bother my mum.”

You gestured at the couch with a chuckle. “I’d offer you this, but it’s way too small for you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bother his mum - he wouldn’t. He could get in and out the place without a sound, nor was your couch a problem. He could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places he’d had the pleasure to sleep in.

He wasn’t ready yet, especially not when he just got back, with his mind still reeling 1000 miles an hour.

“That’s okay. I can head back.”

Your brow rose at him. He understood how silly it was now, driving all the way to you at this hour to not even stay 15 minutes. It was embarrassing, if he was honest, how much he was transfixed on seeing you that he didn’t even think of the logistics of the visit.

“Sorry, I’m not a late sleeper. I’m dead tired and always sleep like a log the first night back.” His eyes flicked to your lips as he swallowed. “I’ll pick you up Sunday?”

You smiled. “Where are we going?”

“The same place. I think you’re going to like it.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @ghostslittlegf @luvecarson @sparrowgalaxy @insert-weird-name @nocturnalreader106

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floatyflowers · 11 months

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Dark Platonic Adoptive! Parents Barbie And Ken x Reader

They adopted you because you were wandering the streets alone, not knowing where your mommy and daddy were.

So they decided to become your parents instead.

And indeed they were the perfect parents.

They allowed you to do whatever you want, however with one condition, that you always have to be with them.

You are not allowed to have fun without the.

They want to be included in every part of your life, as they believe that it is their right.

They also tried to understand why you have flat feet.

"Why is our daughter's feet different from us, Barbie?"

"I don't know, but they look unique just like the rest of our baby, Ken"

"I agree, Barbie"

When I say they let you do whatever you want, I meant 'eating candy' and 'playing games' as much as you want, not going out whenever you want.

Most of the time, you spend your day at home.

All your clothes are pink or pastel pink.

Unlike the black dress with no hint of pink or white in it, they saw you wearing the first time they met you and they were terrified by the color.

You call them 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' in every sentence directed towards them because it makes them happy.

As you grow older, you start remembering more of your past life.

And the fact that your adoptive parents look like the dolls you play with.

You switch between your parents' houses because they are not married and don't live together obviously.

When you get your full memory back, you freak out, but decide to tell them everything.

Hoping that they would understand why you want to return back to the 'real world'

It just became too creepy for you to live in a doll's world.

Ken is the first to refuse the idea, followed by his extremely worried girlfriend.

But you decided to run away to the real world.

Leaving an apology letter.

However, they decide to follow after you.

And get you back.

So, after two months in the real, you were terrified to see them at your doorsteps with wide smiles on their faces.

"We have missed you so much, honey"

"Are you not going to hug me and your mommy, sweetie?"

#tw: toxic relationships #platonic yandere #daughter reader #reader insert #barbie #barbie and ken #Yandere Barbie and Ken #barbie 2023

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savingcrxws · 11 months

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EYES ON FIRE | just pretend

[ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen start off on the wrong foot and richie stirs the pot.

word count. 3.5k

warnings. language, hardly proofread but i tried

authors note. lets goooo, this is based off of this headcanon that i would recommend reading before this chapter(kinda treat it as a prologue)--lets get to part one!

"Richie, you dick."

If you had a dime for everytime Richard Jerimovich managed to inconvenience you, you could probably buy the Bean three times over.

But this, this really takes the cake.

“Well if it isn’t our little college graduate here in good ol’ Orleans Street,” Richie cheers, throwing his hands in the air in fake surprise as a smirk rises slowly onto his face. You feel like if you were to glare at the man any harder, you might actually make his head explode.

“What brings you here, sweetheart?”

You take a minute to try to collect yourself before you absolutely blow up in Richie’s face. Carmen stands directly across from you, just behind the bar, dressed in a dirtied white tee stained in a sauce of some kind. He’s very obviously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning over the bar and seemingly very interested in the walls around you.

“If I recall correctly, you asked me to come here, Richie,” you grit out, gripping the tote bag that hangs over your shoulder tighter. You press your lips together before a choice few words slide from between your teeth.

You see Carmen tense up at what you said, shoulders hunching up before dropping almost as quickly. The dirty blonde brings a hand up to his forehead in what you can only assume to be pure disbelief.

You continue. “You called me literally like, two hours ago.”

“Really, me? You sure it wasn’t another Richie? Maybe a Rick?”

“Richie, please don’t piss me off right now. I swear to God–”

A loud slam interrupts the developing argument and nealyr sends you flying out of your skin.

Your eyes dart over to Carmen, whose hands are splayed flat across the span of the bar. His head is tilted down, curls falling to cover almost all of what you could see of his face. He takes a breath before turning his head to look at the older man behind him.

His face is a bright red, angry flush sinking down past the collar of his shirt.

“Richie, you motherfucker,” he grits out, dragging a hand down his mouth before slamming his fist on the bar counter, rattling the plates and miscellaneous cups that littered across it. Richie tenses up behind him, catching on to the anger almost radiating off of him.

"Why the fuck would you invite her here?" Carmen yells, speaking of you like you weren't only a couple feet away from him. You frown, insulted at his disregard of you.

"Oh believe me, I hardly am jumping to be here myself, Berzatto." You spit.

Richie raises his hands in defense, taking a step back as Carmen bucks up towards him. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He casts a stray hand in your direction and Carmen’s eyes instinctively follow, making eye contact for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

The heat of his stare was strong, something that you could best describe as a blend of anxiety and anger. You notice that his eyes trail up and down your form, not in a "checking you out way" and more of a "I cant believe you're here right now" way.

“Bug usually never responds to my messages! Honestly, how was I supposed to know she would now,” Richie continues, still trying to maintain distance away from Carmen.

Carmen seems overwhelmed, split between jumping at Richie for his fake naivete or running a million miles away from you. He curls his hands into fist, and for a second, you think he's going to throw a punch. Quickly though, Carmen steps away from Richie and casts one more look towards you.

You wait for him to say something to your face, but he doesn't.

“I’m leaving,” Carmen mumbles under his breath, taking in another deep breath before abruptly turning and throwing open the kitchen door. The swinging door flies out and hits the wall, a sudden crack that you are sure would leave a dent later. Almost immediately, you hear the sound of distant bustling and pans clattering around.

A voice yells out in confusion. “What the hell, Jeff?”

You bring a hand to your forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes and simply being around Carmen had given you more stress than you’ve had in the past week. Casting a glance up at Richie, you give him a final glare. The man simply shrugs his shoulders and gives a charismatic grin. “Well, that was pleasant wasn’t it, bug?”

“Ayo, Richie, what the fuck is up with Jeff,” a voice questions as they walk in from the path of destruction that Carmen left in his behind. The owner of that voice is none other than Tina, and for some reason, seeing her alleviates at least some of the headache you feel pulsating across your skull. Tina casts a confused glance at Richie, who simply points over in your direction. Tina’s eyes follow and when she makes eye contact with you a familiar smile drapes across her lips.

"Oh, well now I understand why Jeff's so pissed off."

"Yeah, and then the asshole has the nerve to act all coy, like he didn't blow my phone up with messages begging me to go down to the restaurant," you complained, throwing your head back to take another gulp of the wine in your cup.

In front of you, Sugar swirled her own glass of sparkling grape juice, shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Shortly after Tina had walked out, you had left the restaurant (not before flipping Richie the bird) and immediately went to text Sugar for a rant session. Being the absolute angel that she is, she agreed almost immediately, stating that she had some qualms she wanted to rave about as well. Two glasses of Merlot for you and some non-alcoholic beverages for Natalie later, you two were sitting on the two ends of Sugar's couch, the TV playing a rerun of Selling New York as background sound for your current conversation.

"Yeah, Richie is a jerk." You nod in appreciation for her understadning your annoyance.

"And don't even get me started on you-know-who's reaction? He barely even acknowledged my existence!" You throw your free hand in the air. "Speaking about me like I wasn't right there?"

You release an exasperated sigh. "The ego on that guy."

Natalie hums, taking a languid sip of her drink. "Well, that sounds like Carmy alright. A tiny little ball of asshole-ery at any given point of time." The blonde reaches a hand over and places it on your knee. "Sorry my brother is such a dick."

You give a small smile at Sugar, resting your own hand on top of hers. "No need, it's clear you took all the 'sane person' genes in the Berzatto bloodline." Your joke pulls a giggle out of Sugar, the slight truth of her statement not missing between the two of you.

"But enough about me," you place your glass down on her coffee table before continuing. "What's going on in your life Nat?"

You listen as she rants about the stress of preparing for a bringing baby into the home. She talks about how those Al-Anon meetings she regularly attends are going, and how her one coworker Bryson seems to have a vendetta against her.

After a moment, Natalie coughs slightly, eyes darting across the living room in thought before returning back to you. "And well, I hate to keep talking about Carmy but..."

The smile drops quickly off of your face as Sugar trails the last word. "But what, Suge?"

"Buttt, Carmen's trying to rebuild The Beef," Sugar peers down into the contents of her glass as she speaks, "he's rebranding it as The Bear, and I've been trying to help him and the crew get everything sorted before they start tearing the building down."

You press your lips together tight at the mention of the familiar name.

"Personally, Carm, I don't see much wrong with the restaurant now?"

"The place is held together by a roll of duct tape and a dream, bug, I don't think you have to look very hard to see some issues."

You glance up at him from your position on his chest, looking as he gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom. While his gaze was physically directed at the old glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling, you could tell his head was in a total different world.

"So you want to start a new restaurant?" You question, watching as Carmen shakes his head as soon as the words leave your lips.

"Nah, I just want to make it better, ya know? For Mikey, and Sugar, and Ma."

Sugar, noticing you are distracted, stops her sentence and gives a little frown, watching as your gaze drifts off somewhere distant.

Despite the years that have past, she knows that you still have feelings towards her brother. She was there for most of it, watching as you and Carmen went from daily hangouts to a weekly phone call, to a monthly check-in text, to, well, nothing.

She consoled you through most of the grieving phase of a post-breakup, like you had done for her a couple of times before. And after a few weeks of busting into tears anytime his name was mentioned, you began to heal, and focused those strong emotions towards improving yourself.

Natalie let a wistful sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts. Shaking the fog away, you give a remorseful smile at having basically cut Sugar off midway through her spiel. She gives you another small smirk before shaking her head, dismissing your silent apology with a wave of her hand. She draws another sip of her sparkling juice.

"But Carmen has been driving me up the wall with all the shit he wants me to help juggle. If I schedule one more appointment I might pull my hair out."

"Oh no, please don't do that, honey," Pete calls out from the kitchen, very obviously having been listening in on your gossip time from the kitchen table. Sugar gives off slight grimace at Pete's abrupt callout at her obvious exaggeration, shrugging her shoulders and giving a placating call back towards her husband.

Reaching back towards the table, you grab the wine glass from earlier. "Do you have anyone to help you? You know I have some connects who can manage the money and strategy end?" You offer, more than willing to alleviate some of the stress from your friend's shoulders.

"Yeah, can I have that guy who assisted you when you managed La Raison?" Sugar teases. "I have no idea how you managed to help that business go from near bankrupt to one of the best sellers down Michigan Avenue."

"Carter? Yeah, no. That dude was an asshat. He was more useful kissing up to the store owners than actually doing his job," you shake your head at the mention of one of your old employers. Since graduating, you had taken into strategic and financial management for businesses across Chicago. La Raison had been one of your main businesses for a while, the owners soon becoming close friends of yours.

You loved what you did, though business management sounded like a right pain to most, you found joy in being able to rub your braincells together and actually make a difference. Plus, the pay wasn't too bad either.

Sugar chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wish I could just have you as a little angel on my shoulder, giving me all the answers to all of these problems that keep popping up."

Though she was joking, you can see the way her brows furrow simply thinking of all of the things that she has to do. You could only imagine the stress she is under right now. Balancing opening a new restaurant with her ever-present family dilemmas, and a baby on the way?

Natalie was beyond used to extensive stress, so you know she won't verbally express all of her worries. But the thought of Sugar carrying all of that on her shoulders draws a slight frown on your face.

Before you know it, the thoughts are falling from your brain and past your lips.

"What if I helped you manage the place."

You honestly do not know why you offered to help manage this fuckery that is disguised as a restaurant.

Shortly after you had offered to help, it was as if Natalie had died, saw the light, and returned back to Earth. She squealed like a teenage girl and thanked you profusely. While she shaked you and explained all the things that needed to be done, you slowly began to realize the implications of your offer.

You, helping Natalie manage Carmen, your ex-boyfriend's, restaurant. A responsibility that would obviously take months.

And honestly, you were tempted to withdraw your offer despite the happy squeals of relief that Natalie was letting out. That was, until the tears of relief started pouring from her eyes.

Those pregnancy hormones really guilt tripped you.

Now, a week later, you're back at The Beef. Well, you suppose The Beef is gone officially now, the rusting sign pulled down from its former position hanging above the restaurant entrance.

"Why the hell did I sign up for this shit," you question out loud, watching as Manny and Angel pulling out a broken sign from inside the restaurant. Sighing, you reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette box, pulling one out before digging for your lighter in your back pocket.

"Mami, what are you doing here?" You turn around at the voice behind you, cigarette hanging loosely from your lips. Tina stands behind you, a smile stretched across her lips. "Seeing you two weeks in a row? Someone must be dying."

You smile, opening your arms for a hug that Tina reciprocates. "Oh you know, I'm here to save your asses from complete and utter failure." Tina gently pats your back as you pull apart, and it makes you regret not checking in on her and the rest of the crew more often.

"Missed you, T." You mutter, a small grin pulling up on one corner of your mouth.

"Missed you too, mami," Tina pats your arm before wrapping her hand around your elbow. "Now, I'm not trying to step on your toes but...you do know who your helping out right?"

You grimace at her implication, the reality hitting you once again. Behind those glass windows stands the man who took your heart and literally tossed it away like it was nothing. Took all of those years that you had spent together and wasted it away.

Broke up with you over fucking text.

And now, you're about to walk into his restaurant and help Sugar, and, consequently, help him fix this fuck up.

Talk about fate.

"Yeah, T," you start, letting her guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant, where you see Marcus and Fak carrying out some lockers. You wave towards the men, to which Fak responds with such enthusiasm that he drops some of the lockers on the ground, much to Marcus' chagrin.

You grimace before continuing. "Just helping my asshole ex because his sister is my bestie."

Sugar had texted you that Sydney, Carmen's former sous chef and business partner, had been more than happy to hire you as a strategic manager for the business. Although she didn't mention it, you knew that a certain dirty-blonde was not so excited at mention of you coming to help.

"He knows we need the help, no matter how fragile his tiny little ego is," Natalie had told you, a knowing smile on her face.

"Don't lose your head, boss." Tina teases, pushing you first through the doorway. As you finally enter the store, you take note of the pure chaos that is the restaurant.

Plywood and debris scattered across the flower, miscellaneous kitchen supplies and utilities lining the walls. Ebraheim and Sweeps were taking a sledgehammer to some random panels, while Richie was yelling something from the kitchen. As you take in the madness, Tina pats your elbow before heading back towards the kitchen.

"Welcome to The Bear!" Richie calls out as soon as he notices you. Spreading his arms out in what you assume is a hug, you only offer him a solid stare. Richie drops his arms and heads towards you despite your very clear disdain for him at the moment. "Glad you could join the team, bug."

"Richie, why the hell are you covered in black dust?"

"Inconsequential, sweetheart," you roll your eyes at his response before stepping over the debris in front of you.

"Where's Nat, Richard," you question walking behind the bar and towards the office in the back. Richie grumbles something under his breath before shouting out 'office.' Busting through the kitchen door, you note that the kitchen is just as messy as the front of the house. Stepping over black dust on the ground, you tread over to the office.

"Suge? You in there?" You call out, peering over the corner and into the office. The room is unoccupied, filled with nothing but discarded papers with miscellaneous phone numbers and sprawled writings.

You make note of what you know to be Nat's handwriting, eyes trailing over all of her notes for appointments and scheduling. Your eyes also rove over the chicken scratch that you also know to be Carmen's scribbles. Placing your bag down on the desk, you sit down in the rolling chair and decide to wait for Sugar to come in.

You grabbed a random pile of papers and attempted to digest some of the information being presented to you.

Bank statements, IRS requests, insurance, licenses, permits.

Judging by all the shit that needed to get cleared just for the restaurant to legally be open, your surprised that Mikey wasn't being physically chased down by the IRS and thrown into jail.

"Hey, Sugar, Syd and I are going to work on the chaos menu tonight so I'm going to leave the rest up to you, okay?"

Carmen slings around the corner, too focused on pulling his coat on his shoulders to notice who exactly was sitting in the office.

Instinctively, you freeze at his sudden appearance in the doorway, breath caught in your throat. At the lack of response, Carmen finally looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

His blue eyes widen, clearly not expecting you to be the person in the chair. You rack your brain over the next move to make, the silence continuing as he just stands in the doorway and practically gawks at your existence.

Deciding that staring indefinitely at each other was probably one of the worst things you can currently think of, you clear your throat to break the silence. That seems to break Carmen out of whatever state of shock he seemed to be in; you watch as he awkwardly wrings his hands, like he was at a lost of what to do next.

You're half-expecting him to make a repeat of the last time you saw each other and storm away from you. However, Carmen just stands there, eyes darting from you to random objects in the office then you again on repeat.

Both of you are waiting for the other to say something. To yell, chastise, and start an argument.

Biting the bullet, you start. "Hey, Carmen."

He seems to be taken aback that you even uttered his name, eyes meeting yours once again. You almost forgot how blue his eyes are-so bright that they're almost clear.

He nods in acknowledgement before saying your name to greet you in return.

Awkward silence fills the room once again. While you know that Carmen is hardly a conversationalist, this has to be the most painful quiet you've ever experienced.

Be amicable, you think to yourself. He's your boss/business partner now.

You're doing this for Sugar.

"Umm..," you trail off, eyes scanning the office around you in attempts to find something else to talk about. "I tried to find Nat, but she might have gone A.W.O.L"

Carmen nods his head a couple of times, a soft hmm leaving his lips. You can tell that he wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but sealed behind his lips.

"Yeah, ok-okay, yeah." He nods rapidly, crossing his arms across his chest, lowering his gaze down to your shoes.

"Yep."

God, someone shoot me now.

Carmen clears his throat. "I-I-uuhh, you know, Sugar really appreciates the help."

You nod, licking your lips out of habit. "Yeah, she's told me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

Just when you were about to figure out a way to turn invisible or sink into the floor, Sugar rounds the corner and lightly bumps into Carmen's back. She lets out a noise of surprise from her throat and Carmen jerks forward a little.

"Carmy, why the fuck are you standing in the fucking doorwa-" Sugar cuts herself off when she spots you over her brother's shoulder. She makes eye contact with you and you swear you see a little mischief in her eyes. She pushes past Carmen to step inside of the office, crossing her arms over chest to assess the room.

You, sitting in the office chair, papers still grasped tightly in your hands and your lips practically licked dry from your nerves.

Across, Carmen stands angled towards Sugar, almost trying to physically minimize the amount of eye contact you two share.

Natalie surmises that she just saved the both of you from a very awkward moment "Oh, shit. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No-no, uh, you're good, Sugar," Carmen sputters out, face flushing a bright red. He brings a hand over his mouth to physically stop the word vomit that was about to fall out of it. "Umm, was just gonna tell you that Sydney and I are leaving to work on the new menu."

Sugar's eyes dart over to you again, sitting stiffly in the office chair. She raises her eyebrows in question but you subtly shake your head.

Let's not talk about it right now.

She nods in acknowledgement before turning to fully face Carmen.

"Okay Carmy, you're good to go. Me and Bug here are just gonna get some paperwork sorted." Carmen looks in your direction at the use of the familiar nickname before he hmms again.

He takes a step back and waves his hand in goodbye. "All right, bye Sugar," he's fully outside of the doorway now, but he pauses before leaving you and Sugar's line of sight completely.

He stands there for a beat, running whatever thought across his mind a couple times. Finally, like he settled on an answer, Carmen gulps and raises his head to look at you.

He nods his head and whispers out your name and a goodbye, followed by a swift exit out of the kitchen.

You're practically stuck in the chair, the past five minutes having been a complete whirlwind. The kitchen door whips against the wall in a crack, the squeaking echoing from your place in the office. Your gaze is still focused on where your ex-boyfriend had stood not even a couple of seconds ago.

"Well," Sugar starts, a knowing smile across her face. "That wasn't as violent as I thought it was going to be."

requests to be in the taglist for this fic in the replies below or send me an ask! thank you all for reading!

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #the bear x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear season 2

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lordprettyflackotara · 1 month

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sharp fangs || sam golbach & colby brock

SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI. sam & colby are vampires teehee🙈 TW: BLOOD. THEY DRINK YOUR BLOOD. AS VAMPS DO. threesome and there’s a plot😛umm you get chased in the beginning but that’s about it for triggers i think. enjoy!🥰

part two is here

It wasn’t unusual for you to leave your apartment late at night for a bite to eat. After all, living in such a compact town everything was in walking distance. Not many places were open past midnight, the only one being a popular little grocery store. It sold mostly munchie snacks, perfect for night owls like you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to eat your snack on the way home. The streets were vacant of any sign of human life, the most attention you got being from a stray cat behind a trash can. You took any bite of your twinkie, admiring how quiet everything was. The silence was a nice change, considering in a few hours the sound of honking cars and people would ruin it.

What was unusual, was the feeling you were being watched.

Typically you weren’t a paranoid person and you felt generally safe about your short travels to the grocery store. You did this regularly, twinkies and all. But as you continued your walk home you felt unsettled, as if you were being observed from a far. You finished your twinkie, tossing the wrapper in a random trashcan before continuing home.

You glanced at your watch, figuring the lack of sleep was just affecting your brain.

That was until you heard footsteps.

Your face went white, your ears trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. You forced your feet to keep walking forward, afraid of what would happen if you stopped. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the footsteps were coming from behind you.

Following you.

You quickly turned around, only to reveal that absolutely no one was there.

You blinked a few times, looking around. Were you really that paranoid?

Sighing, you decided to take a different route to your apartment, just in case you were being followed. If it were some loser or serial killer, no one would go down the southeast dark alleyway. Its appearance was intimating and scary enough you figured it would scare your stalker away.

Despite its scary appearance to strangers, you had been down it several times. Walking the city every day forced you to know a short cut or two. You turned the corner, going down a few steps before continuing your journey home.

Your heart began to pound as you heard rustling. You couldn’t quite understand it, what was it you were exactly hearing? It sounded like movement, you could solely feel the presence of someone else being there. Nervously you looked around, your surroundings being limited. You were behind two different restaurants to the left and right of you.

It couldn’t have been an employee, both restaurants closed hours ago.

“Hello?” You called out.

Maybe it was a homeless person who started residing here and you were intruding.

“So she speaks.”

You whirled around to find who the words belonged to, yours eyes landing on a tall, dark man. His dark brown hair almost covered his eyes, his eyes a deep crimson red. He was dressed in all black, his jacket being leather. His fingers were dressed in silver rings, a silver chain hanging from his neck. He was much taller than you, his height alone intimating. Not to mention his eyes.

“Was starting to think you didn’t have vocal cords princess,” He said, snickering to himself.

Your eyes quickly darted to the exit of the alley, your feet moving you towards it for you.

Before you could blink your body was slammed into the brick wall behind you, knocking the air out of your lungs. You struggled to breathe, your eyes blinking a few times before they could settle on the man in front of you. He pressed you flat against the wall, leaning towards your neck.

“Get off of me, fuck off,” You said boldly, trying to sound as intimating as possible. You shivered in terror as you felt him inhale, smelling you. With his arms planted on either side of you, you had no where to go, forced to stay still.

“You smell, so fucking good,” He complimented. He leaned back, admiring your face this time. The smell of your blood alone was nauseatingly delicious, but your scent of fear was arousing. “I wonder if Sam will let me break the rules this one time,” He murmured. You shook with fear as he stroked your face, admiring how warm your soft skin was. His fingers were freezing to the touch, despite it being early fall, he felt like he had been in a blizzard.

“Let me go, I won’t tell anyone, really-” You began babbling, listing excuses. The brunette grinned devilishly, as if he enjoyed hearing your pleas.

“Colby what the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes landed on a blonde man with similar crimson eyes who was standing on the roof, staring at the situation. You assumed this to be Sam, as you watched him jump from the roof to the ground with ease. It was easily a twenty foot jump, your mouth forming the shape of an O as he strode over to the both of you.

Sam looked a lot like Colby in terms of unusually pale skin and crimson eyes, additionally him being dressed in the same edgy biker clothing. His face was stern as he focused on Colby, his eyes not even glancing at you once. “Cmon dude, have you fucking smelled her?” Colby asked. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at him, holding you in the same trapped position.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as they began arguing, their voices sharp as knives. “Of course I can smell her, the wind doesn’t make my nostrils dull dude,” Sam argued. Colby grabbed your arm, hastily pulling you in front of Sam. The blonde was taller than you as well, both of them towering over you as they talked like you weren’t there.

“I don’t think you smelled her correctly the first time, do it again,” Colby growled. His growl was genuine, one that had emerged from the back of his throat. It was animalistic, your mouth running dry at the sound. These weren’t just weird cosplaying serial killers, they were something else. Something not human.

“It doesn’t matter what she smells like we have fucking morals. We don’t kill any mortals. You know the risk of what happens if we try to drink from them,” Sam debated. He still hadn’t glanced at you, acting as if you weren’t even there. Colby rolled his eyes. “Morals are great but when’s the last time you seriously smelled anything like her? Seriously, here,” Colby argued further. He pushed you into Sam’s chest, his body as hard as a rock.

For the first time Sam looked down at you, studying you intently. He could see the fear swirling in your eyes, your teeth practically clattering in terror. Sam didn’t want to admit it, but you did smell ridiculously good. Nothing like they had smelled in the past few hundred years. “I can see it on your face, you want her just as bad as I do. We can share,” Colby offered. You felt frozen, neither of them physically constricting you but your body still planted in place.

Every fiber in you was screaming to run, Sam’s unusual crimson eyes not helping console any of your horror.

“No dude, that’s final,” Sam said finally. He pushed you towards the exit of the alleyway. “Get out of here, don’t come back,” He ordered. As you began to quickly walk away, you felt a large hand grip your arm. “You may not want her but I do, and i’ll have her,” Colby snarled. You gasped as you tried to pull away desperately, his hands locked around your arm. Before you could process it Sam was standing between you, removing Colby’s hand from you.

“I said no, get a fucking grip,” Sam growled.

You began slowly backing away, watching as Colby pushed Sam. His shove resulted in Sam flying into one of the many brick walls, the bricks crumbling around him as he stood up. Before Colby could reach you Sam was on him, grabbing his arm and pinning it behind his back. He tripped him, both of them landing on the ground. You stood terrified as Colby was pinned down, baring what looked like a set of fangs as he desperately tried to reach you.

“Did you not hear me? Get out of here!”

Sam’s voice snapped you out of your hypnotic state, your feet carrying you as far away from the alley as they possibly could.

You couldn’t get the image of Colby’s fangs out of your head. Both of them were scary and ominous, sure. But the look of pure hunger, pure desperation, haunted you. Nightmares ensued nights after you had escaped the duo, your mind plagued with fearful thoughts. You couldn’t explain what you saw, the idea of someone being thrown into a brick wall and breaking the wall being impossible.

It had distracted you from your job and college work, you even stopped leaving the house. You were scared you’d run into them again, somehow someway. Sam didn’t seem too terrible, but you knew he was the same monster Colby was.

Your sleep schedule was backwards at this point, your mind afraid to allow you to relax as soon as the sun went down. You felt like you were going insane, your mind finally allowing you to sleep once it became dawn. You had become a recluse, one who avoided anyone who tried to talk to you.

It was right before midnight as you lounged in your living room, mindlessly channel surfing. During the night you longed to cure your never ending boredom, your paranoid mind insisting on you being wide awake.

Knock knock.

You jumped at the sudden sound, your body shifting uncomfortably as you forced yourself to sit up. You scrambled to your living room side table, digging through the drawer for any weapon of self defense. You found an old can of pepper spray from when you were regularly dating. Awkwardly you shook it, putting it up to your ear to hear if there was anything even in there. Was it expired? Maybe.

It wasn’t like you to avoid your problems, and you most certainly were not going to start now. Deciding that if it was expired it would only make it worse for your victim, you stood up. Tip toeing over to your apartment door you peaked through the peep hole, attempting to see who your visitor was. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the hallway was empty.

Gripping the pepper spray you opened the front door, Sam and Colby standing at your doorstep. Your mind took a couple of seconds to process their presence, Sam awkwardly waving. You raised the can of pepper spray.

“Wait wait wait we’re here to apologize-”

Aiming at Colby’s face you pulled the trigger, a stream of red liquid shooting out of the can. You used all that was in the can, throwing it at his face before promptly shutting the door. Your fingers shook as you locked the door, pressing your body weight against it so they wouldn’t break the door down. You swallowed hard as you looked through the peep hole again, not seeing either of them.

You sighed in relief, hoping they just went away.

You had showed them just who they were messing with. Even if you were only human.

Making your way back to your couch, you plopped back down on the cushion, searching for a decent show to watch. Maybe your brain would finally let you get some decent rest now that-

Tap tap.

Your eyes slowly shifted over to your living room window, your dark curtains restricting your view from the outside world.

There was no way-

Surely they couldn’t-

You boldly yanked the curtains open, revealing Sam. You stared blankly at him as he hung from your window. Your apartment was on the sixth floor, the blonde hanging onto the ledge of your window. Colby didn’t seem to be in sight, Sam awkwardly waving to get your attention. Slowly you pried open the window, glaring at Sam.

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat. Sam climbed up a little further, propping himself up with his arms on the concrete window ledge. “We came here to apologize, Colby specifically,” He said calmly. It was as if he was trying to trace his words carefully, like he was walking on eggshells. “And why would I want to hear an apology from either of you? Just go away!” You argued.

“I thought you said humans like apologies?” Colby called from the outside of your front door. Sam rolled his eyes, sighing. “They do dude just give me a second!” Sam yelled back. Your mind felt like it was spinning, trying to process the supernatural being hanging out of your window. Sam’s gaze returned back to you, his crimson eyes borderline hypnotic. “Not to be invasive but we know you haven’t been sleeping and are on the verge of losing your job. We didn’t intend to fuck up your entire life. If you give me permission to come in I can explain,” Sam said. Your eyebrows raised at his words. Were they actually stalking you?

You tilted your head to the side. “You need my permission to come in? As if you can’t break my window or door down?” You questioned. Was he really giving you bullshit formalities? Sam sighed. “It’s just sort of how it works for us. We can’t enter anyone’s home unless they give us permission,” Sam explained. Noticing your doubtful facial expression he added, “You can of course just start with me.”

As much as it pained you to admit to yourself, you wanted answers before you wanted them to go away. “Fine, but only you can come in. Not Colby,” You agreed. Sam slid into your apartment with ease, visibly stretching his legs as he stood up fully. “Oh cmon!” Colby groaned from the hallway. His displeasure made you giggle, even if the situation didn’t call for it.

“Firstly I just want to say the pepper spray attack was hilarious, thanks for the good laugh,” Sam complimented. Defensively you walked into your kitchen, your kitchen island keeping you at a safe distance away. You raised your eyebrows, signaling Sam to get on with it. He cleared his throat, his eyes solely focused on you.

“We are, very obviously, vampires,” Sam began. He was waiting for you to freak out. To scream or cry or something. Instead you stood freakishly still, your arms crossed as you waited for him to continue. “We usually don’t drink from humans, we steal blood bags from the blood bank down the street or at the hospital,” He continued. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Great so you steal blood from those in need, fantastic, what’s your point?” You asked.

“What would you rather us do? Drink from live humans?” Colby called from outside of the door. Sam turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “Shut up Colby!”

The blonde turned back to you, shaking his head. “My point is, we don’t drink from humans like you, ever. However we haven’t smelled anything like you in our few hundred years,” Sam continued explaining. His words finally caught you off guard. “Wait so you both are what? Three hundred?” You asked. Sam shrugged. “We’re both twenty six, but we’ve been twenty six for about three hundred and forty years, give or take a few,” He informed you.

“Yeah it gets blurry after a while,” Colby agreed from outside of your front door. You almost had the pleasure of forgetting he was there, your face twisting back into an angry expression as you resumed your conversation with Sam. “We are very controlled members of our kind, believe it or not. You’ll have to forgive Colby for losing his head, we usually don’t interact with your kind either. Kind of a double whammy,” Sam finished.

“Can I come in now?” Colby whined from outside of the door. You sighed, nodding. “Yeah come on in,” You agreed. The locks on your door broke off in seconds, a unfazed Colby entering your apartment. Words of protest hung on your tongue before Sam cut you off. “Dont worry we’ll fix that,” Sam told you. You watched as Colby awkwardly shut the door, your chain lock lying on the floor. As Colby joined Sam’s side the blonde nudged him with his elbow.

“I am truly sorry for what I did in the alley. But in my defense you are very hot and you smell divine,” Colby apologized. You felt your face heat up at his compliment and you silently prayed neither of them noticed. “In order to make it up to you we have an offer that might entice you,” Sam told you.

Colby rounded the corner of the kitchen island, slyly approaching you. “You see we’ve noticed that you seem to be pretty lonely, locking yourself in this apartment all alone,” He whispered. Colby leaned in closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “How you desperately grind against your vibrator to get off,” He purred. Heat dashed across your cheeks, your blushing so intense you knew both of them noticed.

“You see when vampires do bite a human, it sends the human into a state of blissful euphoria,” Sam continued. He followed Colby’s lead, walking over and standing directly in front of you. “B-but you said there was risk?” You questioned, trying to remember what Sam had previously said. It was hard to think as Colby towered over you from the side, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. “If one of us bites you there’s a chance you’ll become immortal if we feed for too long, but if we share you, it’ll force us to let you recover so the other one can feed,” Sam explained. Your eyes met his, his full attention on you.

Both of their attentions felt overwhelming, their mere presence making you weak in the knees. “It’ll only be more pleasurable for you if we fuck you, make you beg for more,” Colby murmured. He pressed a kiss against your ear, shifting himself behind you. His strong hands guided you to press your back against his chest, a whimper escaping your lips. Sam stepped forward, guiding your chin to look up at him. “If you want this you have to tell us, the smell of your arousal isn’t enough,” Sam said firmly.

You felt Colby’s boner poke you front behind, both men making your mouth water. The idea of taking them both at the same time sounded exhilarating, the idea of being bitten only making the idea sound better. You nodded profusely, grabbing Sam’s shirt to bring him closer. “Please, I need it,” You whimpered. Colby snickered from behind you, his hands exploring your body. “There’s our girl,” He praised, planting kisses on your neck. Sam planted his lips onto yours, roughly kissing you.

Neither of the boys would admit to you they hadn’t bothered having sexual relations in the past decade, the lust for blood ending in some bloody accidents. But they had enough trust in one another to stop the other from accidentally draining you dry. You were a delicious prize, one they wanted to keep around for a while. It didn’t help that you were also extremely attractive, your doe eyes enough to bring either of them to their knees.

Colby’s hands snaked their way up to the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath the fabric. His touch was ice cold, goosebumps spreading across your skin as his finger tips made their way up to your breast. “No bra? Naughty girl. It’s like you wanted this to happen,” Colby teased, smirking into your neck as his finger trips grabbed your perky nipples. You groaned into Sam’s mouth, the blondes cock growing harder by the minute.

“Let’s take this to the couch, yeah?” Sam suggested.

In the blink of an eye you were teleported onto the couch, your back now rested against Sam’s chest. The blonde moved your hair to the side, kissing your neck gently. His chest grew heavier as your heart began to speed up. He could hear the delicious blood flowing through your veins. “I’m gonna bite you first, that okay?” Sam asked. He exchanged a look with Colby as the brunette settled between your thighs, pulling down your pajama shorts and panties.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine,” You agreed, swallowing hard. Colby kissed your inner thighs, trying to shift your focus away from being afraid. As divine as your fear smelled to them, they wanted you comfortable. “Hey princess, focus on me,” Colby ordered. You forced yourself to open your eyes, looking down at the brunette between your thighs. He brought two fingers to your soaked entrance, sliding them in with ease.

Your hips rose to meet his touch, a sinful groan escaping your lips as he curled his long fingers inside of you. You could feel the coolness of his rings against your entrance, your head tilting back onto Sam’s chest as he finger fucked you. “There we go, you’re doing so good for us,” Sam praised. Colby attached his mouth to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud like his soul depended on it.

While your mind was distracted with pleasure, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly bit down on the side of your neck, his sharp fangs piercing your skin. You gasped in pain, your head spinning as Sam began to feed. Colby maintained his assault on your cunt, the pleasure helping the foreign pain subside. He briefly detached himself from your clit, his fingers not slowing down. “Relax for me, it’ll feel good in a minute, just relax,” Colby cooed.

Your hand instinctively reached down, searching for Colby’s spare one. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, gripping Colby’s hand. If your eyes had been focused on the brunette you would’ve seen his face, his eyes widening at the intimate exchange. You were seeking comfort in someone like him, as his best friend was feeding on you. He was mesmerized by your naiveness and how desperately you held his hand.

Sam on the other hand was having the time of his life, sucking warm blood from a warm body. The sound of your moans only enhanced your taste. You squeezed Colby’s hand as the euphoria settled in, your face going pale. “Sam chill, you’re going too far,” Colby warned, choosing his wording carefully. Sam slowly pulled away from your neck, panting as he looked at you. You felt a familiar knot forming in your stomach, your mouth running dry.

“Fuck, i’m so so close,” You warned. Colby kept his fingers going at the same brutal pace, putting his mouth back on your clit. You whined at the sensation, throwing your head back. “Thats a good girl, cum on Colby’s fingers,” Sam praised, lapping at your wound. Droplets of your blood trailed down his chin, his tastebuds on fire as licked you clean. Your legs trembled as you cried out Colby’s name, cumming shamelessly on his fingers.

Sam’s boner was begging to be released, the slightest movement you made only making him harder. “You look so pretty cumming for us,” Sam whispered to your ear, peppering kisses all over your exposed skin. You were seeing stars, your mind spinning as you came down from your high. Colby slowly slipped out of you, the boys repositioning you quickly. They had forgotten how fragile humans were, your heart pounding so loudly they almost thought it was going to jump out of your chest.

You were positioned on all fours, your back instinctively arching as Sam took his place behind you. Colby was quick to attend to your sweet face, watching your doe eyes slowly open. “Hi Colby,” You whispered, giving him a dazed grin. Colby found himself smiling back, admiring your natural skin tone flooding back onto your face. “Hi princess,” Colby replied, giving you a genuine smile. You were able to see his fangs up close, the ends of them looking sharper than you had imagined.

Sam ran his tip up and down your drenched folds, the sensation making you shudder. “Why don’t you tell Sammy had badly you want his cock?” Colby asked mockingly. You tilted your head back, your adams apple visible to Colby as he leveled in front of you. “Sam please, I need it, so fucking bad,” You whined. Colby watched as you swallowed, trying to regain some moisture in your mouth.

Colby used one hand to tilt your head to the side, admiring the veins in your neck. “So beautiful,” He murmured. Sam slowly slid in, his cock bottoming out with ease. The brunette couldn’t help it anymore, deciding Sam fucking you senseless could wait. He needed to taste you now.

Holding your head up with one hand Colby sank his fangs into the other side of your neck, groaning at your taste. You were frozen in ecstasy, whimpers escaping your lips. You could feel your blood being drained out of you as Sam’s cock filled you whole. Sam moved his fingers down to your clit, swirling the abused bud as Colby drank from you. With each beat of your pulse he consumed more of you, before finally forcing himself to move away. He panted as blood dripped down your neck, the brunette using his thumb to wipe it away.

“Sam please move,” You begged, your words running together. You felt like you were on cloud nine, your eyes finally meeting Colby’s as Sam began to fuck you. “Colby, please,” You whined. The brunette smirked as he undid his belt, your desperation only turning him on more. “What is it princess? What do you need?” He asked mockingly, taking out his cock. Between unholy groans you managed to pant, “Please let me suck your cock, please.”

Colby grinned at the sight of you rolling out your tongue for him, your innocent doe eyes meeting his. “Fuck, i’m going to ruin you,” The brunette muttered. Sam’s assault on your cervix and clit continued mercilessly as Colby pushed his cock inside of your mouth, your jaw going slack as you maintained eye contact with him. “You have to try her mouth dude, fuck. It’s like she was made to suck cock,” Colby moaned, pushing himself in further.

His words only made Sam speed up, the blonde behind him coming closer and closer to his orgasm. “Next time we’ll switch, her cunt is milking me. It’s like she wants to be filled up by us,” Sam replied, grinning mischievously as your walls squeezed him. Your moans vibrated around Colby’s shaft, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You began to gag, spit pooling down the sides of your mouth and down your chin.

“Awe there we go that’s it, take my cock down your throat,” Colby praised, his face full of pride as he slid in further. You could feel your second orgasm coming, your body so incredibly full. Sam felt your walls squeeze him tighter, the blonde throwing his head back. “Fuck, that’s it, cum on my cock like the good whore you are. Go on. Let me breed you,” Sam spat, his hips snapping into yours. He gripped Colby’s thigh as you came on Sam’s cock, his fingers slowing down their assault on your clit.

Your vision became hazy as Sam came inside of you, groaning your name as he did so. Colby grabbed your hair, putting it in a makeshift ponytail. “Hope you didn’t forget about me princess, this is payback for the pepper spray,” Colby told you before cumming down your throat. You struggled to breathe as he slowly pulled his cock out of you, before swallowing all of his cum. Your waterline was flooded with tears as you looked up at him, completely and utterly dazed. You presented your tongue to him, proudly showing him that you had swallowed all of his seed.

You were filled with cum, covered in saliva and blood, tears threatening to escape your waterline and both boys could only think one thing: you were so fucking beautiful. Sam redressed himself first, while Colby guided you into a more comfortable position. As the brunette redressed himself he smiled, digging in his pocket. You watched as he pulled out a twinkie, handing it to you.

“I figured you might want this.”

You giggled as you took the sugary treat, watching as Sam grabbed a wet washcloth. You realized then, in that very moment, you would be seeing them again.

#sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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love-bitesx · 1 year

Note

is it possible for a Hobie X fem reader on her period? Like maybe he swings by her place thru the window, goes in and the first thing he sees is reader lying face flat on the bed or ground, hand clutching her stomach 🤯

: ̗̀➛ JUST NEED YOU. hobie brown x fem!reader

genuine question: do i write hobie too soft?? idk if he's too ooc or not, any feedback would be amazing! thank u for the req !!

summary: hobie comes home to find you curled up on the floor in pain. words: 952 REQUESTS OPEN! warnings: no pronouns are used, but reader is on their period so, apply that as you choose! gn friendly. obviously, mentions of period, no graphic blood description but mentions of bleeding. hobie being a softie, as per usual.

all he could think of is you.

gliding through the streets, his shoulder aching at the joints slightly from swinging all day, his evening consisting of darting around the city and scanning the streets for any mishaps. pulling himself along, his fingers itched for you, needing to be close, smell your scent and kiss your skin.

almost crashing down onto your fire escape, he scaled the staircase to your room, sighing to himself at the familiar orange glow radiating from your window. it was open just an inch, the warmth spilling into the cold london air, and he couldn’t help but smile thinking you’d left it open just for him.

letting the glow swallow him whole, he dragged the window off it’s latch and kicked through to your bedroom, comforted by the familiarity. your laptop was open on the visibly slept-in bed, the duvet ruffled, no longer molded on the mattress. worn clothes discarded onto the carpeted floor, there was all evidence of your presence, but you weren’t anywhere to be seen.

“darlin’?” hobie called out, kicking his boots off and pulling your bedroom door open, met with the darkness of the rest of your apartment, “y/n, it’s hobie, you ‘ere, love?”

a muffled rustle in the bathroom sent a tingle down his spine, and he turned to see the door shut, the gentle white illumination spilling from underneath it. knocking gently, not wanting to alarm you, his brows furrowed at the silence that followed.

“y/n?” voice softer than his usual harsh exterior, apprehension beginning to bundle in his stomach at the lack of response, until he heard a soft, exhausted groan from within, “you okay?”

another groan sounded, and he immediately reached for the handle, shaking it rushedly to check if it was locked. it wasn’t, the door creaking open on it’s hinges, revealing the harsh white light from within. his eyes went straight to you, his heart dropping at the sight.

curled up on the freezing, tiled floor, you clutched at your stomach in pain. crouching to his knees, his cold hands reached to pull you to him, cradling your head to his chest. fingers running along your skin to check for wounds or injuries, he furrowed his brows.

your skin was drained of colour, the subtle bags under your eyes damp from tears. gently, he brushed the hair from your face, the familiarity of his touch melting you like putty in his hands. he was just the comfort you’d been craving.

“what ‘appened, sweetheart?” his hand cupped your face, bringing it up to look at him, your eyes filled with water, “use your words for me.”

“it’s silly,” voice cracking with tears, you pressed your cheek into his hand, the chill of his metal rings a weird solace.

“tell me, i can help,” a kiss to your forehead cracked a soft smile on your lips.

tearfully you begun, “i just, i woke up and- and i was bleeding…you know,” your cheeks warmed in an innate wash of embarassment, “the cramps just, they hurt so much and i didn’t know what to do.”

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t panic a little bit. not that he was uncomfortable with periods, he was never conservative about that kind of thing, but the feeling of helplessness created a conflict within him. in almost every situation, he lived to save you, it was part of his humanity, his purpose in the world. this felt like something he couldn’t save you from, it unsettled him.

“what do you need?” he spoke against your hairline, thumb caressing your plush cheek.

bringing your hands to his vest, you pulled him impossibly close, breathing in the scent of him and nuzzling into his chest, “just need you.”

melting, his chilled heart turned soft at your words, chest spreading with warmth at the feeling of you, small in his embrace. something itched at him, he was a compassionate man, but prided himself in his cool, harsh exterior at times – until you came about. a spring of safety in his dangerous conscience.

“come on, darlin’,” he muttered, securing his strength underneath you and picking you up from the inhospitable bathroom tiles. you clung to his neck, arms fluid against the sharp collar.

carrying you through to the bedroom, he placed you softly on the mattress, kissing your cheek delicately on the cheek before stepping away, “’ll be back in a sec, love.”

left without him, you tucked yourself under the covers, wincing as a wave of aching pains split your lower abdomen in half – a tear falling down your flushed face. shooting up your spine and fuzzing your head, you barely noticed when hobie stepped back into the room.

opening your eyes at the weighted feeling of hobie sitting on the bed beside you, you’re met with a fresh glass of water and painkillers, hobie shrugging off his vest and jewellery to climb in beside you.

“you didn’t have to get all that,” you smiled gingerly, sipping the liquid and sighing at the feeling.

“’course i did,” he kicked off his jeans and pulled the comforter over you both, snaking his bare arms around your waist, careful not to put pressure on your abdomen, burying his face in your neck, “need to look after you. love you too much.”

“i love you, too, hobie.”

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie x reader #hobie #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #spiderpunk #love-bitesx

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daydreamingleclerc · 1 year

Text

corrupt // mason mount

in which; he’s the university’s superstar sports player, and you’re just an innocent little bookworm. he walks you home one night after commotion in the street and you can’t help but offer him inside.

includes; corruption kink, uncomfortable cat calling, master manipulation, excessive usage of pet names (it gets annoying, sorry), dom!mason, sub!reader, foul language, fingering, oral (m, f rec), choking, protected sex, squirting, swearing, a sprinkle of CNC.

i was listening to sk8er boi by avril lavigne and it spiraled into this. i’m not sorry. thanks @landopeaches for helping me w all the ideas and being there to lust over mason with throughout the process <3

this is filthy. and just under 10K words. please read at your own risk. don’t say i didn’t want you.

22:04.

the library didn’t normally stay open this late on friday nights, especially during the week of varsity, but you had a way with words and a very appreciated knack for batting your eyelashes.

“i think it’s-”

“-ssh, i'm writing,” you held a hand up to your housemate and best friend, becca, as you finished your train of thought before your new column ultimately came crashing to a halt, “okay, continue.”

she sat beside you, flicking through a book she clearly had no interest in. she’d given up on her sociology assignment long ago, as had savannah, who was now half asleep on one of the sofa’s further down the room. aside from the odd one or two chess club players downstairs, you were the only three in there.

“i think it’s probably a good idea for us to get going,” becca hummed, and much to your distaste, savannah had never been happier. “it’s ten p.m on a friday night, y/n, why don’t we all go pick up some food and watch a movie?”

savannah had already gotten her jacket on and slipped her bag over her shoulder. she didn’t need anymore persuasion.

“you guys go ahead,” you responded, wiggling with the mouse of your laptop as the screen dimmed, “i’ll catch up soon, i just have to finish this section of next weeks column,” becca scowled at you and before she could open her mouth, you eased her racing thoughts, “becca, i'll be fine. just pick me something and i'll pay you back later. i promise i'll be home before eleven.”

the house that the three of you lived in with two of your other housemates was only a short walk away from campus and that gave you roughly forty minutes to finish up this segment. savannah yawned and becca still looked unimpressed.

“you’d better be,” she picked her bag up off the back of her chair and slid it on her shoulder. she left a kiss on the top of your head, “because if i find your dead body in a back alley tomorrow morning, i'll kill you.”

“charming,” savannah yawned. “love you, y/n.”

“love you.” becca gave you a reluctant wave as she walked down the stairs of the library.

you didn’t leave long after the girls and as you exited the warmth of the library and walked out into the crisp april chill, you regretted not bringing a thicker jacket to cocoon yourself as you walked home. blaring music came from all angles, as did the stares and wandering eyes.

it was clear to all eyes you weren’t making your way to or from a party, dressed in a white sundress with cherries printed on the fabric and a white knitted cardigan. the pockets of the cardigan gaped with just your mobile phone, id and house keys inside them – you'd rented out a locker for the night to keep your laptop safe rather than dragging it back home and threatening to drop it.

as you turned the corner onto the main loop of on-campus flats, your palms grew sweaty. you had to pass the flats and walk across the courtyard – which was full of spillover students itching to go out to either one of the clubs in town – to get to the back gate so you could slip out into the car park and cross into your estate to get home.

a drunken body bumped into you as you crossed the road, and in turn your phone fell out of your hand as you tripped up the curb. you managed to steady yourself but unfortunately for you, your little stumble had caught the eye of a small group of drunken boys.

“hey sugar, you look lost, fancy coming up here with us?”

you didn’t recognize any of them, which was unusual considering they looked like the kind of boys who did sports, and you were a columnist in the university newspaper. you only did two sports columns a month, and the rest were focused on arts media – which was your degree, after all – because of that, you knew everybody.

you knew you should’ve responded, told them to fuck off, or at least say no; but you didn’t. you froze. all you did was shake your head, and when they got closer your legs began to speed up.

“hey, i was talking to you,” the same voice echoed, “don’t walk away from me when i'm just trying to have a conversation.”

you fought off the urge to throw up. confrontation was something you despised, especially in front of a big crowd. “are you deaf?” the voice shouted, clearly agitated now, and you could hear it getting closer and closer until it was virtually behind you.

mason, one of the school’s star ex-students and most glorified alumni noticed the commotion going on in the courtyard. luckily enough, he was stood with a friend who was smoking outside in a small congregation of people waiting to head to another party. he recognized you from the times you’d sat out on the pitch during games with your notepad and fluffy pink pen, that would always get dampened when the inevitable rain kicked in. he had a lot of time for you, even if you had no idea.

“i’m offering you sex on a plate here, love-”

“-gareth, piss off.”

your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest in that moment, and when a familiar face stepped out of the shadows, you let out a puff of air. your eyes caught mason’s, and immediately he rushed over to you.

“y/n, are you okay?” his hand rested softly on your shoulder and massaged the hot flesh of your skin in an attempt to calm you. he waited for you to nod, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “you’re freezing, do you want to borrow my jacket?”

you shook your head and couldn’t help getting lost in the way he got the boys to mutter an apology and scramble away with their tails – dicks – between their legs.

“where are you off to?”

“uh, i, um,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and tried to compose your thoughts. in the three years you’d known mason, he’d never once touched you this way. a complimentary nod of the head after a quick post-match interview or a stolen glance in the hall followed by a soft smile were all the emotional bridges you’d built together. “i'm on my way home.”

mason gestured to his friends to go on without him as he continued to walk with an arm around your shoulder. “i’ll walk you home, babe, okay?” he hooked his thumb under your chin and got you to look over at him, “i’ve just got to stop off at a party and show my face for ten minutes, whereabouts do you live?”

“uh, forty-two goodwood drive.” your voice came out quieter than expected, and mason hummed, nodding his head when his lips formed a smile.

“perfect, the parties at twenty-eight goodwood drive, we can stop off there for ten minutes, have a drink and then i can walk you to the door.”

“we?” you frowned, “i'm not good with big crowds, mason.”

he tutted, “that’s a lie, remember last year when you stood up in front of all the freshers with that powerpoint on how they could join the school newspaper?”

you were shocked he remembered that, and it took you a minute to compute his words and formulate a response. “that was different, it was work related,” a knot formed between your eyebrows and that usual smirk had found its way back to mason’s face. it seemed to be a permanent feature. “honestly, mason. it's fine, i can walk myself home.”

“no, darling. i've said i'll walk you home, please,” he stopped to look at you for a minute, and the knot between your eyebrows released as if subconsciously, “let me at least walk you home.”

it flattered you that mason mount of all people was willing to walk you home. not even men you dated offered to do that. and he had almost begged you.

“if you insist.”

he patted your shoulder with the tips of his fingers and you began walking again, safe in the cage of his arm.

“atta girl.”

22:50

it seemed to be a night of firsts.

for the first time, the campus celebrities, as becca called them, had allowed you into their party as if you were one of their own. mason had poured you a drink and you held the red cup between both hands to hide the shakes. you wanted to say they’d come on because of the drunken cat calling, but you knew on the surface it was because mason was keeping you close.

you were thankful, nobody really knew you at this party other than maybe two people, one of them being mason. it was clear you were uncomfortable; the push and shove of drunken antics wasn’t something you were particularly used to. you knew your limits, and at the grand old age of twenty-three, you expected everybody else to know theirs, too.

it seemed, wherever mason was, a flock of people followed. he had his very own fan club. mason was already a student when you’d arrived, he'd graduated university from his sports science combined course a year early because he was scouted by a football agent and now he was off playing league football and crushing it, you had to admit. he still had a lot of friends here and came back semi-regularly to join in on the parties and sex.

the pair of you sat down on a plush suede sofa, and he noticed you checking your watch for the time. you’d been twiddling your thumbs at this party as mason’s impromptu plus one for twenty-five minutes, and you anxiously tapped your fingers on your knees. you were supposed to be home in seven minutes.

“whats up, princess?”

your cheeks heated up at the use of his constant pet names, but this one seemed to take the cake. “i told my housemates i'd be back at the house for eleven.”

when he flashed that signature mason smirk that you found yourself fawning over for months, the familiar knot formed between your eyebrows. “you can allow yourself to be a little bit late, darling,” mason’s expression then mimicked yours, “do they keep tabs on you like they own you or something?”

his question took you by surprise. it was the first proper rude thing he’d said to you all night, and that’s how you expected him to be around you, but so far, he was everything but. “i’m kidding,” he suppressed a chuckle and scooted closer, “just tell them you’re gonna be a little late, babe. don't worry, you’re safe with me.”

he shot you a wink, and it sent butterflies swarming around your body and wetness pooling in your underwear. this was probably the most turned on a man had ever made you, and he hadn’t even touched you, or said anything remotely sexual.

before mason could open his mouth, a boy you vaguely recognized as someone from the hockey team slid over and sat on the corner of the coffee table. immediately, they got into conversation, and you found yourself once again admiring the way he held himself. you snapped out of it almost instantly.

“who's the girl then, mase? got yourself a new toy?”

“his new what?”

“got myself a new what?”

yours and mason’s questions overlapped, and immediately his friend could sense that what he said was wrong. he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or apologize, and then he saw mason’s expression and chose the latter. he scurried off, and you placed your cup down on the coffee table in front of you.

“i think i should just go,” as you went to get up, mason grabbed your wrist and you caught one another's eyes, “mason, please.”

he pleaded with his eyes to get you to stay, “don’t listen to anything dom says, sweetheart,” mason scowled in his direction and dom couldn’t help but keep flickering his eyes over at the pair of you in regret, “he doesn’t know his brains from his balls, and that’s why he’s on the hockey team.”

he pulled a laugh from your lips and it immediately put him at ease.

“promise you won’t listen?” his hand brushed your knee, and you fought every inebriated urge you had to not pounce on him.

“mhm, i promise, mason,” you smiled, placing your hand on top of his. he smiled and scooted closer ever so slightly, “thank you.”

“good girl,” his words ignited a flame inside of your stomach, and the wet patch inside your underwear grew significantly. you'd never been called those words before, and he knew what he was doing when the knowing smirk grew. “would you like another drink?”

“yes, please,” you squeezed your legs together when his fingers brushed closer as he stood up, and he knew how he made you feel within seconds. you grabbed his fingers as he lifted them from your leg. you looked so innocent he could’ve exploded. “don’t be too long, please.”

“you’re so cute when you’re clingy,” he watched as your cheeks lit up in heat, “i'll only be over there. two minutes, tops.”

eleven o'clock had been and gone. becca and savannah had tried to ring multiple times to stick their noses in and find out what was going on, but you’d be leaving soon, and once mason had walked you to the door, they’d be all yours to gossip with.

you shifted in your spot, and tried to peel yourself off the sofa without distracting mason from his conversation with somebody you didn’t recognize at all, but it was unsuccessful. “where are you going, babe?”

“i need to pee,” you shifted again, and got up successfully without mason stopping you. he finished his conversation abruptly and you almost rolled your eyes, “where are the toilets?”

“i’ll take you.”

“i don’t need you to be my bodyguard, mason. just tell me where the toilets are and i'll go on my own.”

his lip quirked up into a hint of a smile. you got sassy when you’d had a drink. that boded well for him and his everlasting thoughts of you in compromising positions.

“darling, with all due respect you don’t know anybody here and i don’t want you wandering,” he finished the dregs of his drink, “i'll take you and then we can leave, c’mon, give me your drink.”

“why?”

“because i don’t want people seeing you holding it and it getting spiked, c’mon.”

you gave in rather easily and handed mason your half-full cup with a thoughtful smile. you hadn’t gone for a wee since before you left the library, and now you’d been holding it for a while it was something of a relief to be going. he took you to another bathroom, one in a less quiet part of the house. he had clearly been here multiple times before.

“you’re not gonna come in with me too, are you?”

“depends,” mason shrugged, “are you offering?”

you swatted his arm with a friendly punch, even though a part of you wanted to say yes and have him take you then and there in the bathroom. the door unlocked and a couple walked out, hair in disarray and clothes mismatched. brilliant.

“you just wait at the door, big guy.”

it stank of weed and sex in the room as you homed in on your surroundings as you peed. what started out as a stressful night had soon become enjoyable, and all thoughts of anxiety you had before you arrived at the party had washed away. you couldn’t hear mason at the door, even though you wouldn’t have been able to anyway because of the thumping bass; but you half expected him to be gone by the time you opened the door.

you wiped your hands on your dress and smoothed over your hair in the mirror. your mascara smudged in both corners of your eyes, and you cleaned it up, merging the outer smudges into your eyeliner. mason was stood with a soft smile on his face when you walked out, and you mimicked it, “i expected you to have found someone better to spend your evening with, thank you for waiting.”

“better than you?” he handed you your cardigan, the one you didn’t even realize you were missing, and you slipped your arms into it, “impossible, darling.”

you blushed again and covered your face with your hands, suppressing a delicate giggle from masons ears. he made sure the cardigan was on your shoulders, and a shiver trickled down your spine when he pulled your hair out, so it wasn’t trapped between fabrics.

“okay princess, finish your drink,” he handed you the cup and you downed it in one, trusting him enough in that moment to know that he wouldn’t spike it, and he raised his eyebrows, impressed, “all in one, good girl.”

your mind raced at the dirty scenario echoing through it, and heat pooled all over your body. you were honestly surprised you couldn’t feel your own slick on your thighs. nobody had ever made you feel like this before, and mason loved the hold he had on your achingly innocent persona. you subconsciously bit your lip and mason fought off a guttural moan.

“what’s with that expression, darling, hm? was it something i said?”

you opened your mouth to react, but he pinched your hip, laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders once again, the pair of you wandering down the hall like nobody's business.

he checked the time on your watch as you walked, lifting up your wrist as if it were a feather, and pulled a faux shocked face at the time. “oh dear, sweetheart,” he tutted, “eleven eighteen, your owners will be waiting up for you.”

you rolled your eyes at his jab, the second rude one of the night. one more and you’d be summoning up the courage to punch him in the face.

“they aren’t my owners, mason. they're my friends and they care.”

the two of you stepped out into the cold night air, your nipples hardening against the lace of your bra and scratching against the cotton of your dress. your thighs immediately came up in goosebumps and the cold was a nice juxtaposition to the heat pulsing your clit.

“so you’ve never submitted to anyone, darling?” he asked, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket, ignoring the crowds of people wandering the streets and girls throwing up in bushes, “let them take complete ownership of you? let yourself go?”

his words shot straight to your core. you fumbled for a reply.

“uh, no, i.. um, i don’t think so.”

stupid reply.

“you don’t think so? oh, sweetheart. you'd know if you did,” as you got closer to your house, a swarm of longing pulled at your chest and you yearned for him now, in a way you’d never yearned for anybody in your life. “but then again, you’ve never tried it with me.”

the last part was muttered, and you could barely hear it.

“what?” you whined, the short, abrupt question coming out in a far more sexual tone than necessary.

“nothing for you to worry about darling,” he patted your cheek softly, “look, you’re home now.”

you half expected him to fall back on his promise, to walk away now and leave you high and dry. to leave you to sort out the mess he’d created, but you’d yearn for more than just the touch of your own fingertips or the ripple of a vibrator. you just didn’t know how to ask him.

he walked you right up to the door, as he said he would.

“thank you, mason,” you smiled. everything inside of you screamed to ask if he wanted to come inside, but when you opened your mouth, you just found the question too overwhelming. “i... uh...”

“what’s up darling?” he questioned, “don’t be shy. use your words.”

he smirked at the way you shivered. there was that feeling between your legs. again.

“do you... um. will you come in?”

he couldn’t help but lean across to kiss you. your lips soft against his slightly rough ones, and your hands flew up to his chest and your palms rested on the warmth of his white shirt. he kissed by the book, exactly how you imagined he would, and when he took your bottom lip between his teeth and swiped his tongue along it, you yelped.

you were too innocent, like bubble wrap left unpopped. he wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

his dick hardened in his jeans.

“want me to make sure that you get into bed safe?” you nodded and his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and in a bold move you took it into your mouth and circled your tongue around it. you'd never done that to anybody in your life. it even shocked you.

“god,” mason groaned, finding the doorhandle with his free hand, “such an obedient little girl, hm?”

23:27

when becca and savannah saw mason standing in their hallway with a playboy smirk dressed over his face and a charm they just couldn’t resist, they couldn’t quite believe it. it boded worse for you in the long run, because they now saw with their own eyes that he was standing in your hallway, and they would be pacing around the livingroom until he left in the early hours so they could finally get their answers. becca was on the netball team, so mason recognized her.

“hey, becca,” he hummed, as effortlessly as ever. as if he didn’t just make out with you on your own damn porch. “still playing netball?”

she towered over him, her five-foot twelve slim frame was the perfect one for netball and she used it to her advantage, even if she wasn’t that good at the sport.

“mhm,” she nodded, snapping out of her trance for a minute. savannah was still simply stood next to becca in awe, “thanks for bringing y/n home.”

“it was my pleasure,” he looked at you and smiled, and your entire body rocked with heat. “she’s asked me to stick around for an hour or two, if that’s okay with you two, of course?”

you couldn’t help the little smirk that quipped at the corners of your mouth and you hid your face in his bicep. mason was playing into the joke he’d made earlier at becca and savannah being your owners. the pair of them nodded, and mason looked over at you.

“where’s your bedroom, darling?”

savannah almost choked when she heard the pet name.

“uh, top floor on the left,” his hand ran down your arm and his fingers entwined with yours as he walked to the stairs, and once again you tugged on his fingers, “would you like some tea?”

mason's mind raced. your innocence really wasn’t an act. he wanted to pity you, or patronize you, or build up an orgasm until it bubbled up inside of you and you squeaked and squealed and thrashed around in his arms until you begged him to let you cum. his dick grew again, but he just smiled.

“sure, darling,” he squeezed your fingers, “milk and two sugars, please.”

you nodded and watched as he walked straight up to the top floor of the house. you averted both becca and savannah’s eyes as you walked past them through into the kitchen. pizza boxes sat on the counter, with one unopened for you.

“what the fuck was all that about?” savannah questioned.

you unintentionally ignored her, to focused on drowning out the slick between your legs. nobody had ever made you feel this way, nobody had ever left you as needy or as desperate for sex as he had. in all fairness, you’d only had sex with one person, and it wasn’t even that good.

becca snapped her fingers in front of your eyes and you zoned back into the conversation. you smiled.

“oh, uh, he walked me home and we got to talking,” you shrugged as you pulled the milk from the fridge, “turns out we get on well, so i invited him in.”

“go y/n,” savannah clapped her hands together, “finally got a sexu-”

“-bye girls, thanks for the pizza!”

as you juggled with two cups of tea and the box of unopened pizza, mason walked into your kitchen. he'd already made himself at home, it seemed, seeing as his jacket and shoes were back up in your bedroom. “need some help, princess?” he asked, and when the pet name arose again you blushed heavily, and mason took the pizza box from your hand, “see you girls later.”

23:52

“i’m so boring, aren’t i?”

you asked him. you couldn’t help it.

you were sat between his legs and watching a movie on your teeny tiny tv screen at the foot of your bed. mason's eyebrows furrowed and he stroked at the skin on your arm. he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your head.

“not at all, darling. why do you say that?”

you shrugged, too embarrassed to answer. sex never came easy to you, you were the stereotypical bookworm student. you stayed out of trouble, you did your assignments and handed them in way before they were due. you were co-editor of the student newspaper, for fucks sake. you weren't the kind of girl that brought home hot, sexy, god-like alumni into her bedroom on friday nights just for a hook up.

mason knew that, and it was all part of the reason you enamored him.

“i’m not... i just... i'm... frigid.”

mason tutted and tucked some hair behind your ear, “you aren’t frigid, darling. you just need someone to loosen you up a little bit, someone to answer to, don’t you?”

you felt his dick grow harder underneath you, and it sent a shiver up your spine. you nodded, and mason spun your head around, so you were looking at him. his breath was hot on your face and you heaved for a breath when his fingers found your thighs.

“there’s so much i wish i could do to you, little one,” you gulped audibly, a shaky, hot breath, “but i won’t do it if you aren’t ready.”

“w-what.. um, w-what do you want to do?”

mason's fingers grazed higher and higher up your leg, and he was painstakingly close to the sticky slick on your inner high thighs.

“i want to do so much to you, darling, but i fear if i tell you, you’ll break my heart,” his fingers grazed at the soaked cotton of your pants and he laughed lowly, “but then again, if i tell you, it might make you wetter than you have been all night.”

you mewled when he dragged his finger between your folds over your underwear. you opened your mouth to ask him a question, but he shushed it with his free hand, bringing the tip of his index finger to the middle of your plump lips. “is this the first time you’ve been touched here, darling?” you shook your head. “yes? no? use your words.”

“n-no, mason.”

“you’re not a virgin?”

“shockingly, no,” your sarcastic comment left mason pinching your clit over your underwear and you yelped, “i’ve had sex once before.”

“just once?” he questioned, and watched the way your body writhed when he finally pushed the damp cotton aside to stroke your clit. he could’ve growled at the feeling of your pussy in his hand. “oh, darling, you’ve got so much to learn.”

mason's fingers worked expertly on your clit, and you couldn’t help but widen your legs. he certainly found it with ease, which is more than you can say for the guy you lost your virginity to. you lifted your hips and mason helped you wriggle free from the cotton restraint, and his mouth was watering at the thought of your bare, naked pussy. he wanted to scoot around and lick it.

“was he good, baby?” mason asked, lips nibbling along the outer shell of your ear. “did he touch your clit like this, hm? or did he -” with his free hand, mason rubbed at your nipples through your dress and bra, “- roll your nipples like this? hm?”

you wriggled around and let his fingers explore your body, itching to let him touch you more. “n-no, mason. he didn’t touch me like this.”

mason tutted, “come on, baby, what did he do?”

“he used me to make himself feel good,” you hummed, getting more and more used to the fact that he was swirling your clit around with his fingers, “i didn’t enjoy anything.”

“such a shame, darling. you're gonna be used to make me feel good, but i promise you’ll enjoy it because i know how to handle innocent little girls like you,” he kissed your neck, “i was hoping to be the first person to bury myself inside your pretty little cunt, but i'll just have to be the first to do everything else.” he chuckled lowly at the way your breath hitched, and when he slapped your clit it made you jolt.

“did he ever make you cum?”

you shook your head.

“n-no, mason.”

another clit slap.

“why are you slapping me?” you pouted, “have i done something wrong?”

the confusion was evident on your face. you couldn’t figure out why he was slapping you, and the crease between your eyebrows formed. mason’s hand moved from your chest to your chin and turned your face to his. “are you going to address me by my name like a good girl?”

the crease deepened and mason couldn’t help but laugh at you, and you frowned.

“w-what?”

“are you going to be a good girl for daddy?” your heart almost jumped out of your chest. your eyes grew a shade darker with lust and mason didn’t go unnoticed. he slapped your pussy again. “answer, princess.”

“d-daddy?” you questioned, and mason almost blew a load in his pants.

“mhm, yes princess. understood?”

you nodded your head. “yes, daddy. thank you, daddy.”

he rolled his eyes and released a groan, unable to suppress it any longer, and now he could feel a wet patch of pre-cum forming in his pants. “fucking hell, babygirl, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” he shifted, and moved so you were now sitting against the headboard and he was staring down at you. he got down to his knees, the way his breath hitched when he was face to face with your pussy made your back tingle. “do you want me to eat this pretty little cunt?”

“uh.. uhm.. okay,” you hesitated. mason noticed and began to massage your thighs with his fingers, digging into the soft flesh. “i’ve never... um. nobody has ever...”

“relax, princess, i'll make you feel good. it's all part of daddy’s job to look after his little girl.”

a rush of blood swarmed to your clit and you moaned softly at his words. he was corrupting you already. he traced the cherries on the hem of your dress, “these are pretty fruits, baby, can you tell me what they are?”

he began to kiss your inner thighs in that moment.

“uhm, they’re cherries, d-daddy.”

“mhm, well done darling,” you wriggled when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your thigh, but he soon soothed the sting when his tongue ran over it, and it formed a pretty mark of his teeth, “tell you what, princess. if anything gets too much – today, or ever – in one of these situations, you just say cherries, just like the ones on your pretty dress.”

you nodded, but you were still confused. “why do i have to say cherries though?”

“because, baby, sometimes your brain won’t be working properly and you’ll need a distinct word that means stop, do you understand?” you nodded again, and mason’s fingers traced your pussy again. he wasn’t looking at you now, his attention had been drawn to your clit, red and aching, but he was still talking. “it’s easier for daddy to pick up on that word rather than stop, baby, because sometimes i won’t be listening. i need to make sure you’re safe.”

“w-why?” you could feel his fingers swirling around your inner lips and you fought every urge for a moan.

“because, you’re my submissive, and as your dominant, i have a duty of care over you.”

you shivered at that. your head was spinning so fast it felt like it was going to fall off. mason's tongue had darted out of his mouth and licked at your clit, you jolted, but he didn’t put it away. instead, wherever your hips dragged you, he followed, his lips never leaving your clit. his tongue flicked repetitively, and his lips suctioned around it, sucking at your clit as if he were drinking through a straw.

as you wriggled, mason's arms caged your hips down onto the bed, so now you were unable to wriggle away and you cried out his name in a weak, pathetic little moan. he pulled off of your clit with a pop, “oh, babygirl,” he tutted, “you can do better than that for me, can’t you? i know you can.”

he licked a teasing stripe up your pussy and delved around your hole, where his tongue slipped inside and you yelped, bucking your hips up into his face and crying out his name again. “oh, mason... oh.. fu- your tongue.. feels so good,” the sensation tingling away inside of you was one you’d never felt during sex before, and the pad of a tongue licking and lapping at your clit felt particularly strange. “oh.. god.”

mason used his hands to part your lips further, allowing his face to be buried deeper into you and your hands sprung to his hair. he hummed against your clit as he licked, nibbled and swirled his tongue, and the pleasure was almost unbearable. he bumped your clit with his nose when his tongue slipped back inside you again, and raised his eyes so he was looking directly into yours. the contact was almost too much, and the butterflies were beginning to get overwhelming. your orgasm was fast approaching.

he held your legs open further and pushed the hem of your dress up, so it rested at your bellybutton. you could see his nose and cheeks glistening with your wetness, and the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach had begun to travel south.

“d-d-daddy... i... i can... i'm all tingly... i think i'm gonna...”

mason pulled away from you right as you felt like the dam was going to open, and you whined, thrashing around in protest. he raised an eyebrow, “you need to ask daddy for permission to cum, little one,” he slapped the inside of your thigh and you winced, biting down on your bottom lip, “because your pretty little cunt is his, and you need to ask for permission to use something you don’t own.”

oh.

he lay there, waiting patiently.

“can i please cum, daddy?”

mason was satisfied with your plea, at least for now. he wasn’t going to have you begging until you cried this time. “of course, princess,” he hummed, delving back into your pussy. you mewled and he mumbled against your clit, “daddy’s pretty little cunt.”

with that, your orgasm hit you. you thrashed around at the feeling, lifting your hips off the bed. immediately, mason’s hands splayed under your bum, holding you up as he continued to eat like his last meal. you cried out, almost screaming at the sensation. becca always talked about her boyfriend doing this, and you never understood why she liked it so much – until now.

you tapped at mason’s head when you couldn’t take it anymore, and he pulled off of your clit with a pop. his entire chin glistened, and it ignited a fire in your eyes. arousal seeped through your veins, and mason couldn’t help but laugh against your lips when you sat up and pulled him closer by the collar of his knitted jumper.

in a bold move, your hand dropped to his crotch and you felt his dick, rock hard and straining his jeans. you blushed upon having the realisation that you’d never sucked anyone off before, and you were almost definitely about to suck off mason. that, and his dick felt fucking huge.

“what’s up, little one?”

mason pulled away from your lips and tucked the loose hair behind your ear, and you couldn’t help but bury your head into his neck. he hooked his hand under your cheek and lifted you up softly, looking deep into your eyes. there was a moment of peace, where he scanned your eyes for any discomfort, but you were determined to see it through.

“it feels... big.”

your cheeks felt hotter than the sahara desert by this point, and mason chuckled at your innocence.

“do you think so, babygirl?” he questioned, and his fingers curled around yours and made you squeeze at it. he groaned at the contact. “should we see if you’re right, hm?”

you nodded eagerly, and mason almost fainted when your eyes grew black with lust. he placed your hand firmly back into your lap, and he stood up to pull his shirt off. you almost drooled at the sight of his naked torso, and the tattoo’s scattered around it. he unlooped his belt effortlessly, and within seconds his jeans were tossed to the floor. his dick was so hard that the tip poked out from the waistband of his jeans, red and desperate for some attention.

he kept his eyes on yours to gage your reaction as he pulled down his boxers. you were right. it was huge. and thick. it inflated mason’s ego to triple the size it already was, and he loved how easy you were becoming, but this was only the tip of the iceberg. he wanted to make you his, and by the end of the night, he would make sure you were the only girl that he was corrupting.

“t-that’s supposed to fit... i-inside me?”

“mhm,” mason’s hand jacked himself off as he stood up at the edge of the bed, your head at the perfect height to suck. “it will, baby, and it will hurt, but i'll make it fit, you haven’t got to worry about a thing,” he pinched your cheek and you subconsciously smiled. commotion went on outside your bedroom door, one of your housemates was sneaking along the landing, and it caught your attention, but mason pulled your head back to face him with his finger hooked under your chin, “it’s not gonna suck itself, darling.”

you gulped. “i’ve... i haven’t... you're going to have to teach me, daddy.”

mason had to stop jacking himself off and pause for a moment in fear of ejaculating all over your face at the sentence that just left your mouth.

“okay, princess, but first you’ll need to take this off,” he ruffled the hem of your dress and you frowned, “don’t give me that look, babygirl. it's only fair.”

you hooked your arms out of your bra and dress all in one, and mason helped you step out of it steadily. his breath hitched when he saw you naked, drinking in the sight of your naked body. you'd never looked more beautiful, and he’d never been so desperate to be buried inside of someone.

he leaned down to kiss your lips, and then slid down onto the bed, so his head was at the pillows. you followed suite, kneeling down at his side. he guided your hand to his dick silently, and you giggled softly when he helped you move your hand up and down, “that’s good, baby,” he said, running his fingers up to your wrist to loosen the movement slightly, “now lean over so your mouth is hovering over it, and spit on the head.”

“t-the head?”

“the tip, baby, the tip,” mason chuckled at your innocence, and you did as he asked. spit hung from the tip of your outsplayed tongue and trickled down to the head of his penis. as you smeared it around with your hand, your thumb ran over the slit of his dick and he jolted, a groan tumbling from his lips. your eyes shot up to face him, looking like a dear in the headlights as you feared you did something wrong, but mason shook his head. “that’s good darling, so good. why don’t you – fuck – why don’t you try and take it in your mouth.”

you leaned down, so your lips were millimeters from his dick, and took a deep breath. you’d always envisioned doing this, and who it would be with, and none of your fantasies could ever compare to this.

your lips pursed around the head, taking just that into your mouth and looking up at mason through your eyelashes. he seemed to like that a lot judging by the way he looked down at you and nodded. “okay, little one, you’re doing such a good job,” he patted your head subconsciously, “now, alternate between bobbing your head, twisting your hand and running your tongue around the head. just get a feel for it, darling, okay? i don’t want to cum just yet.”

you nodded, and much to your surprise you enjoyed the compromising position you had been put in. mason made it feel so easy, so comfortable, and it made your heart flutter and your pussy throb. you began to bob your head gradually, taking more and more in with every move. mason admired your innocence and every time he remembered that his dick was the first one you’d had inside your mouth – your sweet, innocent, virgin mouth – he wanted to bust a load.

“oh god, yes, little one,” mason’s hand bunched your hair up in his hand out of habit, and you gagged around him as he thrusted up into your mouth ever so slightly, “you’re doing so well for me, got such a pretty little mouth.”

you moaned, and the vibrations sent shockwaves up his dick and all over his body. he thrusted up into your mouth and you gagged again, your eyes watering at the sensation but you liked it. “play with my – fuck – play with my balls, baby, just squeeze them gently,” mason cooed, smoothing your cheeks with his free hand, and you did as you were told, halting the movements of your hand stroking his dick so you could use it to stabilize you as you fondled his balls. he groaned loudly, “fuuuck, baby. that's it, such a good little girl.”

he thrusted up into your mouth again and this time spit came spluttering out of your mouth and landed along the prickly skin around his pubic bone. your eyes watered again, so much so that the tears soaked your eyelashes and mason lowered his hips. “you okay, baby? do you wanna stop?”

you nodded sheepishly. mason's dick fell from your mouth and the tip rested at his bellybutton. he noticed your knotted eyebrows, “what’s up, darling?”

“my mouth.. it tastes weird.”

he chuckled and couldn’t believe how innocent you were.

“that’s because it’s no longer a virgin mouth, little one. it's now forever tainted with the taste of my pre-cum,” he leaned over and kissed your lips, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, “you’re going to be tainted with my taste forever now, baby. never getting rid of me.”

he used his strength to roll you over, so you were now laying with your head at the pillows. he admired how pretty you looked. anxiety pounded in your chest, and you suddenly got overwhelmed, but you knew it would pass, it was just nerves. mason noticed, and tucked some hair behind your ear.

“do you remember your word, darling?”

“cherries, daddy.”

“good girl,” he leaned down to kiss your lips, “if you want daddy to stop, you need to use that word, understood?”

“mhm,” you nodded, and leaned up to kiss him. he chuckled at your neediness. “there’s.. um... i have... in the bathroom cabinet.. there’s some... condoms.”

“daddy’s shy little girl wants him to fuck her, hm?”

you mewled underneath him and fought off a blush by buring your head in the pillows when his finger grazed between your folds, and you jolted at the sensitivity, “please, daddy, i... i... i need it. i need you.”

mason fought back the urge to fuck you raw.

“babygirl, listen to yourself beg for me,” he tutted, standing up and slipping on your dressing gown momentarily to go to the bathroom, “such a naughty little thing, hm? weren’t like this an hour ago. i've turned you into a little slut, haven’t i?”

the last part of the sentence was partially shouted as he wandered into the bathroom you shared with another housemate, and you could’ve died there and then. you only hoped everyone else was minding their own damn business.

he came back with a handful of condoms, and the dressing gown was tossed to the floor with the rest of the clothes. “go on, baby, say you’re daddy’s little slut,” he teased, “otherwise i'll leave you high and dry, begging for my cock all night.”

your cheeks heated up as you opened your mouth. mason stood there, cock on full display, waiting patiently. you took a breath, “you’ve turned me into a little slut, daddy.”

he made a satisfied hum noise and ripped the condom open with ease. you watched as he rolled it on and he climbed back on the bed, the sheer touch of his skin on yours leaving you with goosebumps. his fingers ran through your folds again and your wetness was enough.

his hand outstretched your leg, so it was out at an angle to the side while the other was bent at the knee draped over his shoulder. you moaned at the feeling of being poked and prodded so he could get you exactly how he wanted you.

you squirmed with anticipation as mason guided himself to your pussy, and when he slipped inside you let out a strangled, desperate moan. every time you thought his dick was fully inside of you, you were proved wrong, and with the angle of your legs, he only penetrated you deeper. he groaned at your tightness and the way his dick seemed to slot perfectly inside you.

“fuck, little one,” his pubic bone hit your skin and he successfully buried himself to the hilt inside of you. “your cunt is so wet and tight, fits me so well, like it was made for me.”

you mewled at his words and attempted to buy your head in the pillows beside you but mason grabbed your chin with his hand and forced you to look at him above you. he pulled out and pushed back in the whole way once again. “don’t you ever look away,” his fingers squeezed at your cheeks and moved down your face until they gripped at your neck, “daddy always wants to see the way your eyes roll back when he hits -” mason raised his hips up so the angle of his hips changed ever so slightly and he smirked when your eyes rolled back with a moan of his name, “that spot. such a naughty little girl.”

“mhm,” you mumbled, already feeling a pressure building between your hips, “your naughty little girl, daddy.”

“fuckin’ right,” mason's fingers squeezed your neck in approval, “daddy’s dirty little girl, you’re filthy, aren’t you?”

you could feel him hitting so deep inside of you and the way his hips slowed with each pull out had you on the verge of screaming. your headboard began to thud dully against the wall and you couldn’t help but let out a long, drawn out moan.

“gonna wake up the house if you keep moaning like a whore, baby,” mason cooed, pushing himself forward so the stretch in your legs began to sting and the angle of his dick grew deeper, “i can feel you clenching my dick, darling. such a tight little pussy.”

your hands gripped at his shoulders and mason’s head dropped between your bodies so he could watch himself slipping in and out of your pussy. the angle of your body underneath him was driving him insane and he couldn’t help it when a moan slipped past his lips.

the closer you got to an orgasm, the louder you became, and it only spurred mason on further. he was itching to get you cumming, and so when his fingers brushed your clit and you almost screamed in pleasure, he smirked. you were almost positive that savannah and becca could hear the entire thing from their rooms on the bottom floor.

“d-daddy...”

mason smiled, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “yes, little one?”

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried, arching your back up off the bed, “please, daddy.”

mason tutted. you were going to have to beg a lot better than that.

“come on, darling, you can beg better than that,” he left a kiss to your jawline, “i know you turn into a mindless whore when you’re being fucked, but that was pathetic.”

you squeaked and clenched around his dick again. your body was in overdrive and with every thrust it felt like you were going to explode.

“d-daddy... please,” you choked, throat running dry, “p-please, i need to cum, i'll do anything, p-please, daddy.”

“you’ll do anything? oh, darling. i wouldn’t say something like that if you don’t mean it.”

“please, i’m so close,” you were panting now, fighting off your orgasm with every passing second. mason leaned down to kiss your lips hotly, pulling your lip between his teeth and biting down so hard he almost drew blood, “please.”

your begging attempt was satisfactory. for now.

“go on then, darling,” he drawled, “cum for daddy like a good girl.”

you couldn’t help the scream that left your mouth, and your orgasm shook your body so hard that it left your limbs twitching. this orgasm seemed to be more fulfilling, and lasted longer than the others you’d had this evening. your clenching pussy triggered mason’s orgasm, and despite the fact he came into the condom, you could still feel the heat of his cum inside of you.

it was only when you noticed the wet sheets underneath your bum and mason’s wet torso that your eyebrows furrowed.

“fucking hell, little one,” mason groaned, pulling out of you and looking down at the seeping sheets, “look at the mess you’ve made.”

“what happened...? what did i do?”

it had only just dawned on mason that you were completely clueless. this was the first time you’d ever squirted.

“you just wet the bed, babygirl,” he rolled to the side of you and your eyebrows furrowed, “daddy fucked you so well and so deep that you squirted.”

he admired the way your eyes widened, and he smirked. if he wasn’t sure about keeping you in his life before, he was definitely going to keep you around now. you yawned, completely and utterly exhausted from the night’s events, and mason pushed the sweaty hair out of your face, “we need to get you clean, sweetheart.”

“mm, tired,” was all you could say, fighting off a yawn, “just wanna sleep.”

mason stood up and slipped your dressing gown back over his shoulders. your eyelids continued to flutter, and you would’ve fallen asleep had he not have handed you his shirt and boxers, “come on, darling, you need to clean yourself up,” you sighed but obeyed his words, pulling the shirt over your head, “i’ll help you put fresh sheets on too, okay?”

his hand looped through yours as he guided you to your bathroom, and your eyebrows furrowed again. mason began to run the water and you sat on the toilet seat. “you’re helping?” you asked, scrunching your nose, “i thought you were just going to leave.”

mason laughed. you really were clueless, and it was adorable to him.

“you really think i'd fuck you like that and then just walk away?” mason raised an eyebrow, and once again, the thought dawned on him that that’s exactly what happened to you after your first time. that was all you’d ever known. “oh, sweetheart, no, i wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

he tested the temperature of the water with the tips of his fingers, and helped you wriggle out of his shirt as you stepped into it. he kissed your forehead as you rested your arms on the side of the bath.

“pack a bag and come to my house next weekend,” he said nonchalantly, and suddenly, all your exhaustion had dissipated, “please.”

“y-you want me to...”

“i’m not asking you, y/n,” his stern bedroom voice had returned and it sent shivers down your spine, “i’m telling you.”

your heart settled in your chest and he smiled against your lips when you leaned over the bath and kissed him. “i’ll stay at yours if you stay here.”

“i wasn’t planning on going anywhere, darling,” he kissed your nose, “you’re going to get sick of me.”

you smiled.

“impossible.”

#mason mount #mason mount x oc #mason mount x yn #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x you #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount drabble #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #footballer x you #footballer x yn #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #football smut

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lunaroserites · 2 months

Text

Too Sweet - Drabble

This song has been on loop in my head for days, it has me in a choke hold.

Paring: Established Bucky X Fem!Reader (Sugar)

Summery: Just a snippet at Sugar and Bucky's juxtaposition as a couple. Bucky is an Avenger and Nat's alive.

Warnings: Mild depiction of violence, blood, alcohol and fluff, implied smut at the end.

Word Count: ~560

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

His vibranium arm made contact with this guy's jaw instantly snapping it. He dropped him to the ground and shook the blood off his arm and it splattered on the concrete below his feet.

You watered your little ivy plant and touched the leaf gently, examining it for decay. You placed the small watering can down and then scratched under the little white cat's chin. She mewled softly and purred loudly.

“Fuck,” he groaned and shot back his whiskey as Widow pulled glass from his flesh arm. Jumping through a window to pursue a target wasn’t the smartest move. But he got him. His vibranium fist clenched the shot glass tightly as Sam poured more amber liquid in it.

You pulled his sweater on and pulled your thigh high socks up and snuggled into the plush couch he helped you pick out when you moved in. Alpine snuggled into the gray fluffy blanket tucked next to you as she stretched her front legs out. The book you were reading clutched tightly in your hands as you got to the good part. You phone laid face up, a picture of him smushing a kiss to your cheek displayed as it lit up from a text.

“I’ll take a black coffee,” his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you placed your order, a caramel frappe with extra caramel. He scrunched his nose up at the sickly sweet concoction you drank happily as you walked together up the street toward your shared apartment.

Black combat boots were lined up next to your ballet flats, his leather jacket hung next to your peach linen coat. Your flowery phone case laid next to his plain black case on the island counter. Your key lanyard was adorned with tickets and pretty keychains and 2 small keys, and his was a plain key loop with about 10 different keys and couple key cards.

Alpine rubbed up against his rough black jeans a couple times before circling your bare legs and playing with the scalloped hem of your sundress. You reached down and picked the little cat up and cuddled her in your arms, Bucky rubbed under her chin with his metal hand and she purred.

“Bucky come to bed?” You called softly leaning against the office door frame, it was 2am, you had been bed a couple hours waiting for him at this point. He preferred doing his reports at night, less likely to be interrupted. He turned in his computer chair and took in the sight of you, his t-shirt hung over your frame, bare feet and a sleepy smile. He opened his arms for you to come and snuggle into his chest while he finished the last of his reports.

“You’re too sweet for me,” he murmured softly into your hair and you passed him a cup of black coffee.

“You could always do with some sugar hunny,” you said with a sweet smile. Your gruff, rough around the edges boyfriend, and you his sweet as sugar, soft in every way girlfriend. He would never understand how he landed you.

“You’re the only sugar I’ll ever need,” he whispered into your ear, and his teeth grazed the shell lightly. You shivered at his words and clenched your thighs as his hands gripped your waist gathering his shirt up higher as he picked you and planted you on the counter, filling the space between your legs as they fell open.

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more. <3

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fluff #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #no use of y/n #reader insert #bucky barnes fluff

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starks-hero · 2 years

Text

brother dearest

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: John is the only one with any emotional intelligence and Mycroft is faced with the horrifying ordeal of realising his younger sibling is dating, so they're all idiots really

Mycroft Holmes could practically feel his blood pressure rising. Confidential documents had been stolen from the very hands of the British government, putting the democratic well-being of an entire nation in jeopardy. And his little brother wouldn't answer the phone.

The moment word of the breach had gotten to Mycroft his first plan of action was to call Sherlock. Of course, he could have hypothetically dealt with the issue himself had it not required leg work. But to his dismay, contacting the youngest Holmes seemed to be as unlikely as winning the lottery.

Tossing dignity to the wind in the name of restoring balance to the western world, Mycroft stooped to the, in his opinion, ever embarrassing low of visiting Baker Street himself. He ascended the stairs, his displeasure evident in the weight of his steps, and refused to practice the common courtesy of knocking before entering the flat. Sherlock had lost that privilege when he refused to pick up the bloody phone.

Mycroft tutted with annoyance when he found both the living room and kitchen empty. Sherlock's coat, with whom he refused to go anywhere without, still hung idle on the clothes rack. He was in the flat and Mycroft was going to find him if he had to tear away every brick.

With all the begrudgement of a man who'd had his morning routine seriously uprooted, Mycroft marched towards Sherlock's bedroom and swung open the door.

He almost immediately wished he hadn't.

Sherlock lay sprawled out on the bed, white sheets twisting over alabaster skin. His eyes were shut, his hair a tangled mess of curls and you lay by his side.

Mycroft's jaw fell so quickly he expected it to unhinge and clatter against the floor with all the comedic effect of a nineties cartoon.

Sherlock's head rested against your shoulder whilst the lower half of your face was largely hidden by his curls. Your lips brushed his forehead in a prolonged kiss and Sherlock's arm was thrown over you almost possessively. Your own hand curled softly around the nape of his neck.

Disbelief, embarrassment and anger chased each other across Mycroft's expression before he settled with complete mortification. He couldn't explain it, not really, but seeing his little brother in bed with someone made him feel ridiculously nauseous.

Sherlock shifted, stretching out his limbs like a content cat before nuzzling closer to you.

Having no idea what else to do, the eldest Holmes shut the door. After a quick and failed attempt to purge the last few moments from his memory, he made his way back towards the living room.

He was met by John.

The doctor quickly did away with his fresh bag of groceries in order to make small talk, much to Mycroft's disdain. When John got around to the reason for his visit, and therefore Sherlock's current whereabouts, Mycroft shifted awkwardly.

“He seems to be occupied.”

A look of confusion clouded John's expression. He glanced down the hallway, jutting his thumb in the direction of Sherlock's room.

“I'm fairly certain he's just–” John's words were dissolved by the bitter look that was thrown his way by the eldest Holmes. “–oh, he didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Mycroft asked with a painfully fake smile.

John swallowed thickly, suddenly very unhappy with the fact that he was the one that had to break the news to possibly the most powerful man in Britain that his little brother was seeing someone.

“He uh– he didn't tell you about himself and Y/N?”

Mycroft blinked. “It would appear he left out that minor detail.”

The silence that followed was awkward at best and utterly painful at worst. John, who wanted nothing more for the interaction to end but had no idea how to make that happen, nodded. Mycroft cleared his throat and readjusted his hold on his umbrella.

He glanced back towards his brother's room and John didn't miss the subtle glare he was trying to hide. Ah, so that's what this was about. John may not have shared Sherlock's observational skills but he did have a sister. He knew what overprotectiveness looked like.

“Mycroft, you do realise that Sherlock is an adult.”

“If that's what you would like to call him.”

“Right,” John dismissed quickly. “But he and Y/N are together. They have feelings–”

What was very much beginning to sound like a new rendition of ‘the birds and the bees’ was shortened by a scoff on Mycroft's behalf.

"My brother is barely capable of understanding his own feelings, you think he can handle someone else's?"

“You'd be surprised.”

Surprised was certainly one word for it. Mycroft simply couldn't imagine his brother being emotionally involved with anyone, regardless of how much imagination he tried to employ. He failed to imagine Sherlock in any situation that involved intimacy or vulnerability, let alone with you.

As if the very thought of you had doubled as a summoning spell, you entered the kitchen, steps lazy and eyes tired. If you were surprised to see the eldest Holmes you hid it well.

“Mycroft,” you greeted with a tight-lipped smile.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes moved between him and John, trying to piece together what exactly you'd walked into. John cleared his throat. You fought the urge to just go back to bed.

“Can I get you anything?” You motioned to the kitchen.

“My brother, if it's no trouble.”

“Showering,” you yawned. You decided not to add the bit where Sherlock had mentioned needing to ‘cool off before facing the devil so early in the morning’ upon realising his brother was in the living room. “He won't be long.”

“I see. I hate to show up unannounced. But I tried to call this morning and it seemed he was unavailable.”

You smirked despite yourself. Mycroft's grasp on his umbrella tightened.

After a few agonising moments that consisted of you cluelessly making yourself a morning cup of tea, Mycroft glaring holes into your back and John all but hiding behind his newspaper, Sherlock joined you.

His hair was damp, curls frizzed up due to the warm water. Mycroft hadn't seen it in such a state since Sherlock was a child. The unruly nature of his hair, as well as its tendency to make him look far less intimidating and far more endearing, often led to embarrassment. Which is why Mycroft was so surprised to see him so at ease.

Sherlock didn't so much as acknowledge his brother's existence as he made a beeline towards you, accepting the tea you offered and leaving a lazy kiss against the side of your head. He was smiling fondly all the while.

Said smile immediately fell when he spotted Mycroft. Sherlock muttered something about god under his breath and took a long, almost purposefully so, sip from his mug before speaking.

“Terrorist attack or security breach?”

Mycroft raised an unamused brow.

“It's ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, from my understanding you should be having tea with the prime minister or something–” Sherlock waved his free hand around dismissively. “You wouldn't be here if it wasn't of national importance. So which is it? Suspected terrorist attack or a security breach?”

“That, brother mine, is something you would have already been clued in on if you'd learned how to answer my calls.” Mycroft intended for his words to be somewhat scolding but judging by how Sherlock reclined in his chair and crossed his legs he figured his attempt at exerting some sort of authority over his younger brother had failed. “Now, it's not as threatening as initially believed but still relevant enough to warrant some sort of investigation. Which is why I need you to–”

His words fizzled out at the sight of you moving to stand behind Sherlock's chair. Your stance was relaxed, comfortable, as if you felt you belonged where you stood, as some sort of watchful protector. Mycroft glowered.

You seemed unfazed and Mycroft couldn't tell which he hated more, your hand now on Sherlock's shoulder or the fact that his brother was smirking because of it.

By some miracle, he managed to make it through the rest of the briefing without giving away just how much he wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow him.

He didn't know why the sight of you both together irritated him so much but by god was it getting under his skin. The glances you shared that Mycroft knew had hidden meanings behind them. How his brother, who needed a week's recovery in his room after any social interaction, preened under your touch. The youthful look in his eyes, the boyish smile. It was somehow painful to look at.

Mycroft could still recall when he was the only one that could placate his brother. When they were children, spending hours in their garden estate, finding insects and frogs and recalling their Latin names. Anything to keep their brilliant young minds entertained. He remembered how Sherlock would light up with each new nugget of information Mycroft gave him. Even into their teenage years, he was the one Sherlock trusted, the one he looked to for help and guidance. It had always been him.

But now, now there was you.

He had you to confide in. To talk to. To irritate with a tirade of useless facts that anyone else would think irrelevant. He had you to look out for him and comfort him and Mycroft couldn't understand why this was angering him so–

Oh.

The notion that his little brother had, in fact, grown up and didn't need him anymore came as a very unwelcome realisation. Mycroft had the sudden desire to leave the flat as promptly as he could.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “I should be getting on. I trust you'll fill me in on your findings?”

Sherlock groaned, in agreement or dismissal it was hard to tell.

Mycroft, who now wanted nothing more than to leave, turned to make his way to the door. “Good day, doctor Watson.”

John nodded, not failing to notice the change in Mycroft's stance.

‘He's copped on then.’

Partially because of your closeness to the door and partially in an attempt to rectify whatever you'd done to wrong Mycroft, you moved to show him out.

He passed you silently but as you stepped back to close the door, he stopped you.

He seemed uneasy, an emotion that looked unnatural and foreign on him. His nerves were infectious and you quickly found yourself growing anxious, expecting him to gift you with some horrific piece of information to pass on to Sherlock to save him from dealing with the mess of telling his brother himself.

His actual request was something much softer.

“Take care of him, will you?”

It took a few moments for you to blink away your surprise. As confused as you were, you nodded all the same.

“Of course.”

Mycroft responded with a nod of his own, offered a surprisingly genuine smile and then turned to leave. He'd descended the stairs entirely by the time you finally closed the flat door.

“What was that about?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

You shook your head. “Absolutely no idea.”

John took a sudden interest in his newspaper in an attempt to ignore just how hard he was biting his tongue.

thank you for reading!

Sherlock tag list: @miraclesoflove @ilovefanfictions @mylovelysnowflake @quentawewe @bakerstreethound @andreasworlsboring101 @doozywoozy @xxinvisiblexx @the-worst-critic @the-queer-dungeoneer @jellyfishbeansontoast @starrykitn @starryeddie @ladymercury8 @themorningsunshine @evelynrosestuff @mywellspringoflife @simp-for-scammanders @Xhz17x @allieberries @kealohilani-tepise

#finally starting to clear out my drafts to help me get back in the writing groove #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #1k

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my-own-walker · 11 months

Note

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

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