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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 3 months

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࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."

#My own brand new dividers!#Arthur's photo is from my playthrough but the other pictures come from Pinterest.#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 photography #arthur morgan fluff #pinefic

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prone-to-fleeting-obsessions · 3 months

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(An Aventurine/reader one shot, short and sweet, established relationship, mildly suggestive at the end if you squint, trying to get back into writing real stuff after a year so idk about the quality)

It was methodical. The tapping, the way his fingers thrumbed rhythmically on the table, one after the other, how his rings would sometimes catch the light as he did. What an odd thing to notice...

Aventurine was mindlessly tapping the bar top as he watched you with eyes like blades, slicing deep into you. Not harshly of course, as if he could ever look at you harshly... But intense all the same.

That ever-present smile was more strained than usual. Another odd thing to notice, really, especially when you were supposed to be avoiding looking at him, eyes trying to find anything else to focus on.

"Hello, friend."

It made you tense, that infliction... It sent the nerves under your skin into a frenzy, unsure whether to flee or fight, really wanting nothing more than to just disappear. He didn't seem keen on letting you off the hook, though.

"Don't give me that look. I'll almost believe you don't wanna see me."

He teased, sliding into the barstool next to you, his arm brushing yours, making you suppress the urge to jerk away.

He'd been singling you out ever since he noticed your active avoidance, you could tell. The last few days, the amount of time you've 'accidentally' run into each other in public... You cringed slightly at the thought, it wasn't coincidence.

He huffed at your silence, rolling his pretty eyes as he gestured for the server to make you another of whatever drink had been long forgotten in front of you, condensation pooling on the table.

"Actually, I was just leaving—"

The words died in your throat as he put his hand under your chin, tilting your head up with a teasing little smile. It was almost like his face softened when he held yours, his smile a bit more genuine than that strained mess you've seen the last few days.

"Oh don't be like that, darling. This one's on me after all. I miss that pretty face of yours." He tilted his head, blonde hair falling over his eyes as he looked at yours, as if analyzing every little feature. Once satisfied, he let go, humming happily, leaving you utterly confused and a little flushed, as much as you were trying to stay cold and unreadable. An air of silence settled for a moment, and only a moment.

"You've been avoiding me."

He spoke thoughtfully, just as playful as it was accusatory.

"I... I haven't—"

Still not keen on letting you finish a sentence, he cut you off.

"Now now, don't go lying to me. A good relationship is built on trust." He chided, almost scolding. His hand settled on the back of your head, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as he went back to analyzing your every little micro expression.

"I've been busy." You finally spoke, the tone not having the bite you would have liked.

"...You're still upset."

He sighed, arms falling away completely as he opted to rest his head on his hand, almost pouting.

"Come on, darling, work with me..."

That was said more to himself as his eyes strayed, his pout becoming more prominent.

It was true you were upset. Livid even. Another one of his little gambles, life threatening as usual, ended with a nasty little gash right at the base of his neck. It was healing nicely at least, probably wouldn't even leave a trace, but the implication remained. Something sharp enough to cut was pressed right up against his jugular, tearing into that pristine skin of his.

His composure was faltering slightly at your silence, lips twitching into a notable frown as he shifted slightly, trying to get ever closer. You finally couldn't ignore him anymore when his arms snaked around your waist, head moving to rest on your shoulder as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry..." He practically whispered against your skin, his breath ghosting on your neck, making you shiver involuntarily.

"I know you don't like when I do things like that... You know I can't help it."

It was truly in his nature, you knew that... He had nothing to lose but his own life for so long, a meager sum in his own eyes, and it was... difficult, for him to rewire his brain to accept his life was something actually cherished by another. The purely devotional look he gave wasn't lost on you. A look that asked, kindly, for understanding, through a plea that would have died in his throat if he even thought about manifesting it.

Punishing him hardly seemed fair, but for him to still be so stubborn...

You gently brushed a few of the stray hairs out of his face, and he absentmindedly leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering.

"I know. I still don't like it." You spoke quietly, bluntly, but there were only so many ways to phrase the fact you'd rather him not greet death so openly, so familiarly.

"I've missed you..." He spoke back after a moment.

Your avoidance had left a pain much more pronounced than the little cut on his neck. An unpleasant reminder of where his weaknesses really lay. You didn't say it back, but it was obviously true.

"...I know."

He smiled slightly at that, leaning up till eye level to steal a quick kiss, his lips just grazing yours for a moment, hands on the back of your chair as his body leaned over yours. He was all of about two inches from being on top of you and showing a fair bit of restraint for someone denied of their lover touch for so long.

"Want to go back to my hotel room, darling? I'd like to make it up to you." He mumbled with a grin, close enough for you to smell his cologne, a certain palatable need in his voice. Whether it was just for your touch, away from prying eyes, or for something more than that, was left hanging in the two inches of air between you.

You hesitated, but nodded, and as soon as you did, he laced his fingers with yours, palm to palm, a certain intimacy in that action alone.

He tossed a few bills on the counter without glancing at the amount as he pulled you straight out the door, happily really to indulge in what he'd been so longing for, with the silent promise that he wouldn't let this event repeated itself.

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #x reader #oneshot

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wutheringcaterpillar · 6 months

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“You Know I Got It, Come and Get It.”

Pairing: Sugar daddy!Emmett x College!Reader

Summary: A struggling girl walks into a bar looking to drown her sorrows, only for a man to notice her distress, insisting on showing her a good time that turns into something more that neither expected.

Warnings: Slow build, fwb to lovers, oral (f & m receiving), road head, unprotected sex, squirting, p in v, age difference (reader is 21), public sex, daddy kink, praise, happy ending, Emmett is divorced with joint custody, cigarettes

After a long, tiring day of work Emmet found himself at the local bar, having a drink to relinquish the stress from the day.

Two of his men had quit, leaving the project that was supposed to be done today unfinished, but Emmett wasn’t one to complain. Yeah the shit irritated him but, another day, another dollar was his motto for life. He’d just have to finish it himself.

The shuffling of the bar stool caught Emmett’s attention, glancing to the side he saw you, a distraught woman ordering a shot of Jameson and a smirnoff’s. He couldn’t help but notice the way your denim shorts rode up your ass cheeks, and the way your cleavage was nearly falling from the spaghetti strap, black tank top you had on.

The first word that came to his mind when he saw you was hot, but he kept to himself.

You looked rather young to be ordering drinks, so he waited for the bartender to check your id, settling his eyes back on the baseball game, sipping from his budweiser.

When the bartender served you your shot, he knew that he had to indulge in conversation, at the very least see what was going wrong with your night.

“Rough night?” His voice was gruff but casual, you were rummaging through your purse, looking for a hair tie but oh how he liked your hair down.

The soaked mess and the water droplets dripping down your chest into your cleavage.

You had delicate facial features, plump lips that were glossed, sparking in the dim bar light even.

He couldn’t help but picture your body naked and in unspeakable positions underneath him.

You attempted to respond to the stranger still looking through your belongings.

“Yeah, yeah my boyfriend dumped me off around the corner cause I caught him cheating. I’ll tell you men aren’t shit no offense.” He chuckled, ordering another beer as he finished his off.

“None taken but a true man doesn’t leave his woman in the the pissing rain, no matter what happened. Besides if you ask me he sounds like a bitch that doesn’t know a good thing when he’s got it.” Downing your shot, Emmett didn’t know if he was turned on or scared when you didn’t recoil from the harsh liqour, perhaps both.

When you finally turned to him, his angelic blue eyes placed a trance on you, and the scruff of his beard. Maybe he had a point, it wasn’t men that were your problem it was boys.

Pursing your lips in interest, and narrowing your eyes in on him, you leaned in close, your lips just brushing by his ear.

“Oh yeah? And how would you know?” Emmett smirked in his seat, turning the stool ever so slightly your way, putting on the most devious yet charming smile.

“Cause sweetheart, I was a boy once. To me you need some liquid healing, why don’t I buy your next drink, maybe play a game of pool? The name’s Emmett by the way.” Rolling your tongue over your lips playfully, you nodded, but only under one condition were you going to play.

“If I win, I request a dance. A memorable one that I won’t forget, I’m aiming to have fun tonight. Y/N.

“And if I win I get to take you home with me Y/N.” High stakes it was, either way it sounded like a win-win situation. Grinning, you nodded in agreement only when you left the bar to head to the table, the bartender looked at Emmet in bewilderment.

“How’d you do that man? She’s way out of your league, you made it look so easy.” Emmet winked at the guy, pointing his finger making a comment of how you live and you learn the way to a girl’s heart.

Throughout the game a questionnare took place. You learned a lot about the mysterious, good looking man. He was divorced, has two kids with joint custody, he was a private business owner of an entrepreneur company.

When he noticed you not being able to shoot a ball for shit, he came in behind you, his chest pressed closely to your back while his large, veiny hand settled on top of yours.

You couldn’t help but smile mischievously not even listening to the words coming from his enticing lips, instead pushing your ass back against his crotch.

“Darlin’ I don’t think this is the place. Why don’t we go for a drive and talk first hm? After I win this game that is.” Just as he finished his sentence, he shot the eight ball into the hole, not even having to look. But damn those muscles in that white wife beater he was wearing making you salivate, how you wanted that man to bend you over this pool table right now.

Smirking playfully, you followed his suit. He retreived his denim jacket that was coated in fleece, wrapping the fabric over your shoulders as he tried to shield you from the pouring rain.

You were in disbelief to see what kind of truck he drove. It was black, shiny, tall with four door, looked brand new. The man had money and it was an understatement to say you were impressed. “This is yours?”

“Yep, all 25 grand of it. Hard work pays off honey.” Opening the door for you, your cheeks burned an amber shade of red.

Giving you the aux cord, he extended his arm to your seat, flexing his biceps as he looked at the back window to reverse, and continue to fix the wheel with one hand.

Lighting a cigarette before pulling out of the parking lot, offering you one in the process.

Oddly enough, he liked your taste in music, but could tell you wanted to sing, yet you weren’t.

“Don’t be all shy on me now sweet peach. If you wanna blast that and sing your little heart you go right ahead.” Your stomach was swarming with butterflies, becoming all hot and flustered in your seat.

And you did just that as you were told, blowing smoke out of the window, feet up on the dash, while the warm summer breeze blew threw your hair, but never taking away the smile plastered on your face.

For the first time in awhile, you were having spontaneous fun and felt infinite in this moment.

When he was getting closer to his house, Emmett found it wise to address what this was going to be.

“Now, I’m not looking for a relationship, no time for one with work in the kids and I’d rather not deal with the heartache if you catch my drift. But I have a proposal.” Sitting up in your seat, you gazed into his ocean eyes with interest, wanting to hear me. You nodded for him to carry on, flipping your cigarette out the window.

“I don’t like seeing a pretty young girl like yourself upset over some lowlife douchebag who means nothing and you seem like a nice, fun girl.”

“Just nice and fun?” You raised a playful eyebrow at him before trailing your hand up your thigh seductively.

“Well that too honey. Tell you what my place is always open to you when you need a break from life, but I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve been dying to know what that pretty cherry tastes like. If you’re not looking for anything serious, figured it’d be a good deal for the both of us.” He had to say no more, and before he knew it your fingers were fumbling with his belt buckle, taking his length fully down your throat.

Emmett sat there a wide spread smile on his face while his breath hitched in his chest from the sudden warmth around his cock.

He was surprised you could take him so easily, no teeth, gagging or anything.

Your tongue swirled around his shaft, lips puckered around the tip of his cock as your head bobbed up and down slowly at first, wanting him to relish in the moment.

He began to drive more careful, worried of hurting you, though you kept rhythym, sucking him sensationally, hallowing your cheeks, deep throating him without a problem, regardless of the potholes.

Emmett stirred in his seat, attempting to stay focused on the road, only one more mile.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re a natural aren’t you.” He glanced down at a red light, your eyes meeting him while bashing your eyelashes playfully.

A car pulled up in the other lane next to him, seeing the scene and making a disgusted face to which Emmett flipped the guy off, and began to thrust his hips slowly up, needing more.

When the light turned green, his foot stuttered on the gas making you giggle while your face was stuffed with his rather large member, saliva running down his thighs, making a mess.

Feeling his toes curl, you began to hit that sweet spot repetitively. Picking up the pace your plump lips could feel his dick begin to tighten and swell, his thighs slightly vibrating while the intensity of his orgasm took over him, eventually releasing his seed down your throat.

When you came up, he realized you swallowed his whole load, wiping your bottom lip seductively.

“So how’d I do?” Emmett was left speechless for once in his life, he wasn’t sure he’s ever had head given to him where a girl could take all of his length. If you had to say yourself he was about nine inches, with a heavy girth.

“Oh, you’re going to be trouble.”

Maybe this would work after all.

You imagined a small, run down house with a chain fence and a guard dog but that’s not at all what he owned.

The house had a stone path, flowers and other green plants covering the sides of the sidewalk, the grass was pristinely trimmed. Trees bordering the wooden fenced perimeter, of the large, beige house.

Pulling up into the driveway, seeing your mouth drop open, Emmett smiled, knowing full well that this deal would be worth it.

His house was open to you whenever you desired, every room, every amenity available to you, along with what was in his walllett, in return you gave him the relief he needed. Only thing was, it was a relief for you as well, not requiring the effort of a relationship. No feelings, just sex.

“This is your house?! Who are you?” Exiting the truck, he opened the door for you once more, leading you inside, and giving you a tour.

The living room had a built in aquarium, a plasma screen tv, the kitchen he did himself with a rare stone tile he came across during his time in Canada for a job.

Then the patio, another project he did himself, with a gazebo, an expensive grill, an outside bar, even an in ground pool that was clearly kept up with, surrounded with a built in deck.

Maybe you should call your ex and thank him for leaving you stranded in the rain.

“Don’t really have friends over other than the Lee’s from time to time and my kids every other weekend. House was a piece of shit when I bought it but trying to fix it up and sell it for good money then move onto the next one. You’re going to have to give me a couple days to make a spare key. But what do you think darlin? We gotta deal?” You looked at him with a playful, mischievous grin before shedding yourself of your clothes, leaving him speechless.

“Oh I think we have a deal daddy.” You ran your finger over his bottom lip seductively, pressing your lips firmly to his in a heated clash before he took you right there on the cool kitchen counter.

Ripping your shorts and panties down your shaved legs, he marveled in your nude body, running a hand down the smooth skin of your back, lightly squeezing your ass cheek.

When his pants dropped and his cock slapped against your sex, you were grinning with anticipation.

He hadn’t expected for your pussy to look so pretty, and delicate but he knew he was ready to absolutely drown his cock in it.

He ran his shaft teasingly between your already soaked folds, causing you to whimper in desperation and impatience.

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you dear?” Simultaneously, he yanked your head back by your hair, sinking his cock deep inside your aching, throbbing, wet cunt.

The sudden warmth, and tightness taking him by surprise, as the feeling of being so full caused you to moan loudly in pleasure, hands gripping at the surface of the marbled counter.

It had been awhile since Emmett had, had sex, since his divorce a year ago. Never really found the time but seeing your ravishing body on display for him, stuffed with his thick cock turned him into an animal that he forgot lived inside him.

Sending a hard, powerful slap to your ass cheek, he began thrusting into your soaked pussy, watching the entire length of his dick disappear in you, as his balls dlapped against your skin.

His breath was hot against your neck, as he panted harmonious moans in your ear.

“Fuck darlin’ I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last seeing you bent over, taking me so well like this.”

In a quick motion, you turned stopping him and as if he read your mind, he picked you up effortlessly, and slammed your ass cheeks down on the counter before inserting his lengthy member.

“Oh fuck, daddy! Harder!” He didn’t want to bresk you but he did as you asked.

Drilling into your cunt relentlessly, watching your boobs shake up and down with such velocity.

His lips connected with yours once more, tongues colliding in a battle for dominance, deepening with each kiss.

You smacked your head against the cupboard but didn’t care as he devoured your neck, marking his territory, while you locked your ankles around his back.

The scruff of his beard tickled your skin as he sucked on your skin, like his life depended on it. When he found that sweet spot deep in your core, your eyes fluttered shut, none of the men in your past never findind it before.

He pressed down on your stomach with his free hand, knowing that it helps the process for women to orgasm, as the head of his cock prodded rhythymically against your cervix.

“Em-daddy I-oh fuckk- I feel like i’m going to piss myself maybe we should-. He pulled himself away from your neck, wanting to see that pretty little face break from how much he was pleasuring you.

With each aggressive thrust, and each passing second you felt like you were going to piss but with Emmett’s experience he knew that wasn’t the case.

“Trust me darlin, that ain’t piss. Just let go.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper, but sounded more like a moan. You winced, feeling so full and stretched, until Emmett hit that sweet spot just at the right moment, causing you to gasp and cling to his chest, nails digging into his back. Your toes curled, eyes rolling toward the back of your head as in a split second moment, a feeling of ecstacy, and adrenaline rushed through your veins.

Gently he pushed you back, sapphire eyes fixated on you delicate, fucked out face, before scanning down, watching your sweet syrup absolutely drown his torso.

“Daddy!” Your thighs were twitching, back arching, as your chest rose and fell at a tremendously fast pace. You felt completely at his mercy, entranced in the man’s face, wanting to remember who made you feel this way, who the first man was to make you cum.

Within seconds Emmett was bursting at the seams, lips dropping subtly agape, moaning loudly with such lust as he emptied his seed into your raw, aching pussy.

You were almost too stunned to speak, needing to catch your breath as you weary head collapsed on his toned chest.

Reaching for the paper towels next to the sink, he wiped himself off, chuckling and smirking.

“Too rough honey?” You shook your head against him, still trying to come down from your high, your thighs weak and still twitching.

Picking you up and carrying you like a baby, he lead you up the stairs to the bedroom, laying that pretty little head down to rest.

“I-I didn’t know I was capable of doing that.” Pulling the blankets up and sliding in next to you, he pulled you close, laying a kiss to your temple as you drifted off into a deep slumber.

In the following weeks, the bills began to add up, your car insurance, loan, phone bill, medical pills, the college debt, you were struggling financially and wanted to cry.

Emmett showered you in gifts, but you were reluctant to tell him about the piling debt, not wanting to seem like you were taking advantage of him and risk losing the on going pattern of having amazing sex all over the house, occasionally in public.

Mostly it was also the romantic dinners, the way he cared about how your day went, how he was protective of you in public, never letting you walk on the side of the sidewalk near the road, opening doors for you. What if this would ruin it all?

Closing your car door, you headed straight to Emmett’s house, not knowing where else to go. Knocking impatiently, not wanting the neighbors to see you weep, you propped up your hoodie, hiding any evidence of the apparent tears.

Opening the door before he didn’t even have the chance to say anything when you swooshed past him, heading straight for the sofa, burying your head in the pillow, holding back tears.

Emmett sighed, remembering back to the days of being a student, the debt being too much that he dropped out, luckly being smart enough to know how to form and run a business.

Walking toward you, he crouched down to your level, elbows resting on his knees.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” You continued to weep, at a loss for words. Yes Emmett offered you money anytime you were over but this was too much and you were frightened that he’d cut you off for asking.

When you didn’t speak, he brought his hand up stroking the silly strands of your hair caringly, whispering sweet nothings to get you to talk to him.

Eventually rising your head, he wiped away those pretty little tears, eyebrows raising expectantly waiting for an answer.

“I-I can’t afford my car payment this month, and if I don’t pay I-“ Emmett stopped your sobbing, scopping you up and sitting you right down on his lap.

“Why didn’t you just tell me sweetheart? You know you’re stressing for no reason. Remember our arrangement?” You nodded through your troubled eyes, looking up at Emmett who you could tell wasn’t fucking around, he was serious.

“Give me the number and i’ll call over and change the card, okay honey?” You nodded, dialing the number as he pulled out his wallet.

The man really gave you anything you needed and want just to be able to have sex with you, though you weren’t going to tell him you’d be willing to for free.

He nodded off toward the upstairs, whispering that there was already a towel and washcloth set out for you along with rose scented bath salts per your request.

Mouthing thank you, you gleefully pecked him on the lips, undoing your top and disposing of your pants.

He hated to see you leave, but loved watching your hips move, and those voluptuous ass cheeks jiggle as you walked away.

After getting off the phone he sneaked into the bathroom, enjoying seeing your head layed back on a towel, eyes closed, relaxing for once as you should be.

But he had another surprise that was sure to lift your spirits even more. Shedding himself of his clothes, he kept the object held behind his back before submerging himself in the bubble bath on the opposite side of the tub, groaning from the heat relieving his sore knees.

“All taken care of sweetheart, anything else you need covered?” Picking up your head, you smiled softy, shaking your head no and splashing your face with the warm water.

When your eyes opened, Emmett held out his hand, the silver key placed in the middle of his palm, suds of bubbles surrounding the metal object.

“Em! When did you get this?” In a hasty motion, you snatched the key from his hand, grinning like a school girl, thinking of how much you’re going to be coming over when his kids weren’t there.

Though part of you wanted to prod, to ask more questions about his life, maybe something small wouldn’t hurt.

“I know it took longer than expected but I went down to the store when I had the time, knew I promised you one and I’d feel much safer knowing you have a safe spot to go.” He held his poker face, thinking it was best not to get emotions involved and push you away, but his mind was on you even when you weren’t around. He was looking forward to texts, hearing your car pull up, seeing your dazzling face, all of it, and it was starting to frighten him. The thought of losing you was starting to scare him.

The next few weeks you found yourself staying with Emmett nearly four nights a week when he didn’t have the kids.

He’d given you one of his cards to splurge and treat yourself whenever needed, never giving you a limit. The man worked nearly sixty hours a week by choice, but damn did he love spoiling you and seeing that smile light up your face. He’d grown to learn many of your interests, as you did his.

Starting to get used to you falling asleep in his arms, helping him with side projects without him asking.

Eventually introducing you to the Abbott’s during a backyard BBQ. They were kind people, never even batting and eye at the clear age difference, instead asking questions and seeming interested in your life. Things were starting to change.

“Fucking thing.” Kicking the air conditioner that was broken, you giggled from where you lay on the bed, watching him repaint the wall with a paint roller, cigarette from his lips.

Having an idea, you quietly removed your shit from behind him as he chattered on about all the things he wants to redo in the house, though nothing need it considering it was all brand new.

Unclasping your bra and removing your shorts along with black laced panties you had on. You positioned yourself at the headboard, spreading your legs and running your fingers in between the fold of your heat.

“Daddy?”

“Yes darlin?” When he turned around his eyes sparked with excitement, cigarette falling into the paint but he didn’t have a car in the world.

He was too focused on your breasts hanging freely, the way your fingers were rubbing your soaked heat, seeing the small amount of nectar dripping out from your glorious cunt, landing ontop of one of his astray shirts under you.

Taking a step forward, he closed the distance by burying his face between your thighs, lapping his tongue over you sweet succulency, not minding the smell of sweat on this hot summer day.

His hand slowly slid up your thigh, eventually resting on your breast, cupping the sensitive skin gently as his tongue rotated in agonizingly slow circular motions around your throbbing clit, releasing a desperate mewl from between your lips.

His free hand teased your dripping cunt before submerging deeply into your tight, warm abyss. The sudden intrusion taking you by surprise. His fingers worked at stretching your tight hole while he ate you pussy like it was the last meal he was ever going to have. Sucking sensual kisses on your clit, his tongue gliding and flicking between your folds while his beard rubbed roughly against your smooth skin.

Your hand reached for the metal headboard in a lustful haze, glancing down only to be met with Emmett’s determined, icy eyes as he passionately devoured all of you, his digits curling inside of your tight, drenched pussy, quickening his motions.

His fingers were much bigger than your own and felt so desirably good filling the void in your body.

“Fuck daddy, more- more please.” Your ass grinded down against him, thighs tightening around his head nearly suffocating him in your sex. His beard burning the sensitive skin. Removing his hand from your breast, he squeezed your leg, wanting you to use all the strength you had to keep him locked in, and you did.

Adding another finger, his pace was sending you over the edge, needing to feel your cum on his face. His tongue was licking, and rotating around your clit so fast that it felt like a vibration.

He never once looked away from your fucked out gaze, noticing beads of sweat forming on your chest, snd your back beginning to arch.

“Daddy-Daddy I’m gonna- Oh fuck!” Your ankles were crossed behind his neck, holding his head in place as you fell to crumbles.

Losing all sense of reality, forgetting where you were as waves of pleasure crashed over you body, painting Emmett’s face with your delectable nectar.

When you legs loosened, he came up for air, wiping his beard with the back of his hand.

Seeing you so weak at the knees, muscles still convulsing from the extraordinary explosion, he wanted to see just how far he could push you.

“Round 2?” Whimpering but also desperate for his cock to be subermerged inside of you.

Panting you allowed him to pull you up from your fragile, tired position on the bed, leading you out the sliding glass door onto the balcony facing the backyard.

“Isn’t someone going to see?”

“Well that’s the appeal of it, risk of getting caught, now lemme see that sweet ass.”

Pulling down his pants, he bent you over the balcony, stretching your cheeks apart to see that eager, throbbing cunt, still drained from just minutes ago, before fully impaling you with his cock in one swift motion.

If it weren’t for his nails digging into the sides of your hips, you were sure you would have fallen over the cool metal railing that was digging into your torso.

The warm breeze mixed with the adrenaline of possibly someone seeing the private act made you all the more turned on. Your walls tightened around him, your clit sore from being overstimulated as he clutched your ass cheeks, slamming into you relentlessly, the sweat building between your warm bodies. If Emmett was sure of one thing it was that you had the tightest, unstretched pussy he’d ever been in, and fuck was he grateful that you found him as attractive as he found you.

Placing his hands on both side of your head on the rail, he closed the gap between you, his dick as far in your kaleidoscope trench as possible, while he leaned in, whispering sweet words of praise into your ear.

“Look at you, taking my cock so good baby girl….you’re doing amazing…think you can last?” Shaking your head no, your body was more than tired, rendering you speechless for words. Not wanting to push you too far Emmett quickened his pace, watching your ass ricochet off his torso before shooting his cum up into your overstimulated pussy.

When the semester neared an end, you fretted over losing Emmett now that there were less bills for him to pay, diminshing the original agreement. A part of you, though it was against the rules, was catching feelings for the older, mature man. No guy before has ever treated you with such kindness, or put your needs before his own. He was chivalrous, attractive, caring, and now here you were at his door step nervous to turn the lock and see how this conversation would go.

Walking in the aroma of freshly cooked eggs, and possibly ham filled your senses. Rounding the corner he was in the kitchen, cooking with the table already set for two, along with what looked like to be a present.

“Just in time, food’s about done. Have a seat.” He dished out the breakfast onto the plates, filling the porcelain mugs with steaming coffee.

He glanced down, noticing the nervous habit you had of twiddling your thumbs and shaking your leg. Deep down, he knew what this was about, but he had no intention of ending it anytime soon.

Taking his seat, he folded his hands beneath his chin, nodding toward the present.

“Open it.” He tried to hide his smile behind his hands, excited for you to what he had gotten you.

Removing the gold tissue paper from the bag, you pulled out a medium sized blue square box that read Tiffany’s.

Upon opening it, there lay a beautiful, diamond encrusted necklace, holding your birth stone in a heart shaped locket, with the initials of your name, and birthday engraved on the back of the heart. The diamonds shimmered in the sunlight peering in through the window. You wanted to cry, thinking this could be the last gift and last time you see Emmett.

“Em, this-this is beautiful. How much did you-“

“Don’t worry about it. You deserve it and more. I know your college career is nearing an end, and I just want to address the elephant in the room. There’s one more thing in the bag.” Holding back tears, and reaching further in, you pulled out a pair of car keys.

Looking up at confused, he nodded toward the garage, leading you out to his big surprise.

There sat a brand new car, with tinted windows. In Emmett’s opinion your car was a piece of shit, and you needed a reliable one. There were no holding back the tears anymore.

Gasping in astonishment, Emmett came uo behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head upon your shoulder.

“You like it?” Unable to form words, you simply nodded before turning and nuzzling your head into his neck, forming a puddle on his warm skin, surely staining his shirt. He rubbed circles into your back soothingly, and slowly.

“Honey it’s okay. I’ve been doing some thinking. How would you feel about moving in permanently?” All of a sudden your tears stopped, and your lips curved into a quivering smile, taken by surprise from his offer.

“But-but our agreement-“

“Darlin’ I’d be a fool to let you go, especially with how close we’ve grown together. What do you say?”

A week later, all of your belongings were moved in, there may or may not have been some sex involved when you saw Emmett carrying the boxes in, not needing a singular hand of help.

Sitting at the table eating dinner together, it finally felt like things were piecing together, but what was next made you nervous.

“So I was thinking, my kids have a baseball game coming up. I figured it’d be a good opportunity for you to meet them. How would you feel about that?” Stopping from chewing, you placed the silverware down onto the glass table, wiping at the sides of your mouth before looking at Emmett hesitantly.

“Oh Em- I’d love to but is their mom going to be okay with it? Nora’s her name right?” He nodded in return, scoffing not really caring what his ex wife would have to say or think about the subject.

“She’ll be fine, besides, she didn’t ask me about them meeting her new husband.”

So it was settled.

The drive to the game you were consistently asking Emmett questions about them. The food they like, their hobbies, movies, extracurricular activties.

Emmett smiled and couldn’t help but chuckle at how anxious you were, he thought it was cute seeing you take an interest and at the same time freaking out in the passenger seat, but he did his best to answer all your questions before pulling into the lot.

The sight of seeing the Lee’s calmed your nerves immensely, that was until a woman approached you, with who you assumed to be one of Emmett’s son’s.

“Hey buddy!” Emmett swooped the boy up in his arms effortlessly, while Nora ignored your existence. Bidding her som goodbye and handing Emmett an overnight bag, he rolled his eyes at how immature and inconsiderate she could be.

“Daddy I want to sit down.” He nodded, motioning you follow his lead pass the crowd, holding his son with one hand underneath his bum, while clutching your hand with the other

Nora sat on the opposite side of the bleachers, glancing over at you every now and then with hateful, disgusted eyes while his son sat beside you with Emmmett, the Abbott’s not too far from you guys

“Don’t pay her any mind, she thrives off negativity now that she got promoted to CEO of some big, fancy company.” Lee’s wife was always very friendly, and pleasent toward you, wanting to ensure you were comfortable, and always able to come to her for anything. Even giving you advice on how to manage kids since you didn’t have much experience.

When the game came to a break, his other son came forth.

“Guys, I have someone I’d like to you meet, this is Y/N, she’ll be staying with me, and I know she’s been dying to meet you.” Introducing yourself, his sons were very sweet but entirely focused on the game regardless of the break, still chattering on about the score. A lightbulb went off in your head, talking about the time you used to play softball as a kid. Mentioning how you had too many baseball jersey’s, offering them each one from a MLB game you attended a few years ago.

Their eyes lit up and though Emmett was no sap, his heart melted at the conversation, seeing his boy happy and screaming in excitement.

Perhaps this was a start of something new, something worth lasting.

#Emmett #emmett x reader #emmett x you #a quiet place #a quiet place two #A quiet place 2 #emmett imagine #emmett a quiet place #ranaewrites #A quiet place imagine #Emmett imagine

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impala-dreamer · 5 months

Text

Stay With Me

A Supernatural Story

~Dean is into his second bottle of whiskey, desperate to drive his problems away. But he knows deep down, the booze isn't what he truly needs...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

1,390 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

In one fluid motion, he cracked the seal on the new bottle of whiskey and plopped back down into his chair. The old seat groaned and the wheels rolled back a bit, sliding with the force of his weight over the polished floor.

Dean poured himself another healthy shot and stared down into the glass, enjoying how the light from the glowing table beneath set the crystal aflame. His lips turned in a half smile and he sighed.

“If you hold it up to the light at the right angle, you can see a rainbow.”

Y/N’s voice hit his ear and he lifted the glass to his lips, smiling even wider as she came into view.

Dressed in his old green flannel and seemingly nothing else, she leaned against the archway, arms and bare ankles crossed. He looked up and licked a drop of drink from his lips, savoring the taste and the way she looked. Her hair was a beautiful mess, the day’s makeup smudged around her eyes like she had meant it to look that way. Her mouth still held a faint stain from her faded lipstick and she pouted as he stared, driving his mind towards unholy thoughts.

“Rough day?” she asked, pushing off the tiles to walk slowly towards him.

“You should know,” he sighed around the rim of the tumbler. “You were with me.”

Y/N nodded and pulled out the chair across from him. “True.”

He eyed her over the glass, loving the way she sat down so delicately only to slump against the back of the chair. She leaned back and kicked her feet up onto the map, toes casting a shadow over Brazil.

“But really, it wasn’t that bad,” she teased. “Not bad enough for a second bottle of bourbon, anyway.”

“It’s whiskey,” he corrected.

She shrugged. “Same thing.”

Dean shook his head and set the glass down, fingers lingering on the sharp edges of the design. “Not true. Bourbon is always whiskey, but whiskey ain’t always bourbon. This is just straight up, get ya drunk, forget your life for a few hours whiskey.”

She knocked her feet off the table and turned to face him head on. “And why would you want to forget your life, Mr. Winchester? What’s so horrible lately that you’d want it to go away?”

He laughed sadly, bowing his head, avoiding her eyes. “Oh, you know me. Just being overdramatic.”

Y/N leaned forward and set her clasped hands in front of her. The ring he’d given her glinted in the warm golden light from below and Dean’s gaze was locked on the antique silver and brilliant red stone.

He remembered when they saw it in that little shop outside Paramus. The old hippie behind the counter told them that carnelian was special, used for protection and to ward off evil spirits. Y/N had laughed so brilliantly when she heard that, rolling her eyes at the thought of a cheap little ring keeping the demons away. Her smile had been so beautiful that Dean doubled back later that day and purchased the ring for her.

She never took it off.

“Dean Winchester, you are never overdramatic,” she asserted. “Medium dramatic, sure. A little crazy sometimes? We all are. But never overdramatic. Under dramatic if anything.”

She winked and Dean’s shoulders relaxed, his heart melting for her like it did every time she was close by. He was quiet for a long moment, just studying her face. Memorizing the way the lights and shadows played on her cheeks, the unique line of her nose, the fan of lashes curved over her pretty eyes. She was engraved in his mind, her face always hiding just behind his closed eyes.

“Under dramatic, huh?” He took a sip and let the whiskey burn his tongue a bit before swallowing. His mouth was mostly numb by now, but the little bit at the roof of his mouth still felt and that feeling needed to be punished.

“You know I’m right,” she grinned and sat back. “I always am.”

Dean chuckled and drained the glass. “Sure are.”

It was an old joke between them. She was always right no matter the situation, no matter the topic being discussed. The unwritten rule was that even when wrong, Y/N was always right. She also seemed to win every single competition and argument. A smile could get her out of trouble, a pout would break him enough to roll over and let her win. Every single time.

“You’re damned right, Winchester. I’m always right.” She dipped her chin and stared at him, gorgeous eyes peeling back the mask he so often hid behind. “So, spill. What’s wrong?”

Dean licked his lips and tried to look away. “I’m fine.”

She clicked her tongue. “Bull. What’s going on?”

Again, he tried to tear his eyes away, but he was locked in her gaze, trapped by her voice. “Nothing.”

With a huff, she stood up and kicked the chair away with her right foot. It coasted across the floor until it hit the wall and spun around on itself.

Slowly, she walked around the table and perched on the edge next to him. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in the sweet smell of her. Faint coconut and something sugary filled his senses and Dean leaned back with a squeak of antique coils.

Y/N reached for his glass and Dean watched as she lifted it to her lips, held her breath, took a long sip. She shivered as it burned down her throat and coughed gently.

“This is terrible,” she laughed, setting the tumblr back down.

He nodded. “It’s not great.”

“So, what’s got you trying to kill your liver with the worst fucking whiskey I’ve ever tasted?”

She wiggled a bit to get more comfortable, spreading her knees just enough to touch his leg with her toes. He melted into the touch and fought back a fresh wave of tears.

He knew she wouldn’t let it go until he confessed, knew she’d keep on teasing and prodding until he gave her what she wanted. But he couldn’t say it aloud, couldn’t let the words leave his head and fly out into the world.

If he did, she would leave.

He needed her there, just for a little while longer.

Needed to smell her coconut lotion, feel her toes on his thigh, see her sweet smile. He needed to hear her say his name in that sweet, secret tone she only used with him.

A single tear slipped through his defenses, sliding carelessly down his cheek.

Y/N gasped under her breath and reached for it, wiping the wet away with the soft pad of her thumb. “Oh, baby… it’s ok.”

Before she could pull away, Dean grabbed her wrist. He wrapped his fingers tight around her arm and held her there, letting her heat fill his mind, soothe the pain.

“It’s not OK, Y/N/N,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and took a breath, one last drink of her air, her being. “I- I don’t want you to go.”

She leaned forward, dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “I have to, Dean. You know that.”

Drunken tears flowed freely; his throat closed tight. “Please,” he begged, close to choking on his grief. “Stay with me. Just a little bit longer…”

Y/N sighed and slid down off of the table, her hand still locked in his. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to go.” She chewed her lip and smiled softly. “But I’ll always be with you. I promise.”

Green eyes rose to her face. She was haloed in something brighter than the Bunker’s lights, something sacred, some glow cast down from Heaven.

“Please… Stay with me.”

Her image began to fade but her smile never did.

Dean closed his eyes, kissed her hand, whispered her name into the empty room.

She was gone again, drawn back into his memory, a ghost only in his whiskey addled mind.

He knew she wasn’t really there when she appeared- he’d set the pyre ablaze himself. But still, whenever he met the bottom of a bottle, he’d dream her up and feel her spirit around him. Nights like these he wondered if maybe, if somehow… she had stayed with him.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester #SPN Fanfic #Dean x reader #angst #one shot

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the-witch-of-one-piece · 1 year

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Mines and Mines Only 18+ Ft: Taiju Shiba, Ran Haitani, Izana Kurokawa, and Tetta Kisaki WC: 2700+ (unedited) TW: Breeding Kink, Creampie, Strong Language, Rough Sex, Masturbation, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Vaginal Penetration, Orgasm, Breast Play, Unprotected Sex . MINORS DNI 18+

Taiju

His hand was protectively wrapped around your waist all night. He saw the way men looked at you, knowing what could be going on in their minds when they looked at you. The smell of your perfume filled his nostrils all night. For man who was so into God he spoke like a sinner, all the things he wanted to do to you tonight was going to come out of pure possessiveness. How dare you wear that dress. Did you want this kind of attention from other men? Or did you wear it to get under his skin? Taiju’s mind began to process all these questions in his mind over and over. When arriving at your table Taiju took a drink of his alcohol of choice before leaning down causally close to your ear “You knew exactly what you were doing when you wore that dress tonight. Having all these men looking at you when you belong to me.” You felt his hand resting on your exposed thigh giving it a squeeze. His large hands grabbing your thigh sent chills down your spine. Taiju’s mind began to wander a bit, maybe showing them who you really belong to. The more he thought about it the more he was becoming turned on. He leaned down once more “You belong to me no one else remembers that. Best be prepared when we arrive home later on my pretty little wife.”

He made sure of his promise. His large hand pressing the back of your neck holding down on the bed. Your ass was raised as you arch your back. The merciful thrust and cries of pleasure as Taiju mumbled underneath his breath. The sound of his balls slapping against your swollen lips. He watched his cock disappear in and out of you. “Fuck fuck fu~~~.” you cried out loud.

“That's the only words that come out of your mouth?” he spoke with a devilish grin his slick back hair was a mess. Hearing the deep growls coming from his throat as he savored the cries you called out. His hand was slipping as his free hands gripped your ass. “You love all that attention but guess what, let's give them something to look at. Let them take a good look when I fuck a baby into you.” Before he got to the sinful pleasure in your shared bedroom, he discarded all your birth control pills. When his mind was set on something he wasn’t going to change his thought. Not even for a second. The thought of him fucking a baby into you was making you more wet. His cock kept hitting your special spot over and over. “T-Tai you can’t.” you called out. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him when he fucking you.

“I can because like I told you in the beginning you belong to me and only me. If I want you swollen with my child then I’m gonna do it. My child is going to be the one growing inside of you.” the thoughts became more real in his mind seeing you swollen with his baby. He began to thrust faster. “Your pretty tits are going to produce sweet milk for my baby.” his hand gripping a bit tighter on the back of your back, his other hands digging into your fleshy ass. “You, my pretty little wife, is teaching them verses out of the bible.” You couldn’t even respond at this time you were so wrapped up in your own pleasure bubble. Your pussy began convulsing as it wrapped tight around his cock. He noticed it was becoming harder to thrust into you. “Fuck your so tight… you must be thinking about it too. My hot cum filling your empty womb. Was this part of your plan? Well I will make it come true.” he smirked. As his peak was reaching the final thrust he slammed into you as his hot sticky cum shot inside you deep. You felt his cock twitching inside of you. He was confident in himself this fucking he gave you would be the the one to knock you up. But to play it safe he fucked you all throughout the week multiple times as days until he saw the positive test.

Ran

Ran always wanted a family. He just didn’t want one kid, he wanted about three of them. He wanted his family to be big. The first time Ran met you he already knew you were going to be the one who has his babies. His first words to you were ‘You're going to be the mother of my children.’ You didn’t take it seriously until you began to date and noticed some odd things. The reckless not wearing a condom. Forgetting the morning after pill and even hiding your birth control from you. Ran watch you cradle the small toddler to their room. The eldest was already in bed. He saw you bent over as you placed them into their bed. It turned him on seeing you be a mother to his children and he didn’t want it to end. It didn't take him long to follow you into the kitchen. His hands snaked around your waist, his head dropping a bit as it rested on your shoulder. He softly kissed the nape of your neck. “Did I ever tell you how much it turns me on seeing you doing your motherly duties?”

The moment those words fell from his lips you knew what he wanted. Even with you telling him to hold off on another baby. He was so convincing, and you were a sucker for it every single time. He couldn’t wait, placing you on the kitchen counter. Your clothes were on the kitchen floor. He told you to keep your legs spread apart, Ran’s thumb rubbing on your clit stimulating it as his dick slid nice and slowly inside of you. You watch his cock going in and out seeing the bulge of his cock as he went inside of you. It was hard to keep still when he stimulated your clit the way he did. His hand sliding up from your clit as it went to your lower abdomen as he felt his cock bulge as he thrusted into you. “You were just made just for me honey.” he cooed softly. His violet eyes may look sweetly at you but behind the charming sweet smile was a more hidden agenda. His constant work hours were unpredictable. He couldn’t be there all the time. When he was the best dad when home. He noticed when having one kid you were more busy and possibly didn’t pay attention to him coming in late from home. As your eldest got older and easier to manage it was time to give them a little sibling. He didn’t want to hear you question him being late at work or think you could leave and take his kids away. Getting pregnant was the key to all the problems. But oh how he loved seeing you pregnant, he felt his child moving inside your womb. How much hornier you would get when pregnant.

“Tell me how much you love carrying my baby inside of you honey..” he cooed softly at you, flashing a dashing smile.

“So much Ran~~~.'' Your legs were trembling as you spoke to him.

Feeling his hands hooking around your thighs as he brought you closer to the edge of the counter. He watched as your tits bounced as the steady thrusting continued on. “I can’t wait to see you bearing my child again. You know how much you mean to me babe? So much to me.” he whispered softly. He loved to hear himself speak. But you loved it as well it turned you on more. Your arms wrapping around him, your hands lightly tugging the back of his hair. Your chest pressed against his. “Promise me that my pussy is the only one you're going to fill up with your baby Ran.” your lips inches away from yours.

He eyes focusing on you, the lucid look in his eyes were more clear to you. You saw him flexing his jaw before speaking “Of course honey your pussy is the only one I want to fill up.” he let a shallow breath out. You saw the trickle of sweat coming down from his temple. Under his breath “no one else will have you.” you couldn't make out what he said. You couldn't care less what he was say you were so engulfed with your charming husband.

Izana

You weren’t going to leave him, not even when a disagreement happened between you two. You were his world, and he gave you everything your heart desired. You came back home late without texting or calling him sent him over the edge. He didn’t know where you went or who you were with. He didn’t like you weren’t giving him answers to the questions he asked, and at this point you didn’t feel like you needed to because of how he was acting. “I need to know who you were with and why you didn’t call me or text me...Tell me.” He hands grabbing your wrist.

“So, you can threaten my friend no.” You were stern with him. You never asked him who he was with or how long he was out for. You were getting a bit frustrated. He was displeased you wouldn’t give him this information. His mind began to wander if it was another man how could you do that to him? You said you loved him, and you wouldn’t leave him. Over analyzing the situation more than needed. Izana had been contemplating his next move for months. Thinking now it was the right time to put his plan into action.

You didn’t know if his apology was sincere at that moment. You weren’t even thinking about the fight. The only thing you were focusing on in this moment was your bliss of pleasure. Your hands being pinned above your head. “Look at my baby girl.” His panting your eyes focusing on him. He noticed the dilated look behind your glossy eyes. The moans filling his ears coming for your lips made him moan as well. He leaned down kissing your lips and the kisses trailed down to your perky breast. His tongue swirling at your nipple he could imagine how good your breast milk would be. “Tell me you love me. Tell me how much I mean to you.” His warm breath hitting your dampened skin.

“I love you Izanaaa mmmmmm” your voice lingered his name “You mean a lot to me Izana ahh~~ so much to me.” Your voice hitched at the end of your sentence.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” He released your pinned hands from above your head. Izana pulled himself completely out of your warm cunt. Feeling his hands raise your legs up in the air. You felt your ass being lifted up as well, almost folding you completely and half. Your cunt was facing him directly. He admired the wet mess you made on yourself . His feet pressing on the mattress lifting himself more up. He angled himself back into your cunt. You lost your breath for a moment as his penetration was deep inside of you. You could see the ring of cum around the base of his cock as he thrusted into you. “I love you _____ I love you so much. I will do anything to keep you close to me.” He panted and pull his full length out then put it back in with a hard thrust. “You are forever mines ______.” His eyes fixated on you more.

You couldn’t even say his name or form the proper sentence. Only moaning and curse words coming from your lips. He was so deep in you and you were giving into you thoughts of pleasure. You thought it was the heat in the moment as he spoke to you. And you went along with it.

“Your gonna look so beautiful pregnant with my baby ______. You and I will be forever bonded with this child. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You gave in thinking he wasn’t serious, it was just talk. Right? You nodded looking up at him the words falling from your lip “It does Izanaaa~~~~ Don’t pull out.” The words your spoke just sealed your fate. You were gonna be his forever.

The phrase don’t pull out, kept repeating in his head over and over. His thrusting became more rapid and sloppy. He was reaching his climax, noticing you were going to cum too. The warm sensation of his cum filled inside of you, but it didn’t stop him from thrusting inside of you more. After reaching his first climax, he felt the verge of his second one coming again the phrase he repeated “I’m gonna come again” his body was shaking as released his second load is he filled you to the brim. All the cum he released inside you was coming out. When he pulled out his finger scooping up the cum that was seeping from your cunt he pushed it back into your filled pussy.

Kisaki

His eyes were already focused on you threw out the party. You mingled with some of his colleagues laughing and smiling with them. You were a sociable person and couldn’t help but talk and see how people were doing. Haman approached Kisaki and it didn’t help but stir the pot more. Commenting on how the others were looking at you, or seeing if someone was being a little friendlier than needed. He wouldn’t make a scene at all, he waits for you to look at him. When your eyes met with his, he looked towards his office down the hallway. He casually walked down the hallway with his hands in his pockets. It took you but a minute to follow him into his office. As the door closed behind you, in a quick motion you felt yourself become pinned to the wall. Kisaki letting out an annoyed sigh. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself a bit too much.” He looked down on your finger seeing the pretty diamond ring he bought you. “You think you would show that kinda attention to your husband and not these other men.”

“I’m sorry my darling husband” Your hands draping around his neck as your playful spoke to him. “Isn’t it a wife’s duty to talk about how wonderful of a husband you are to other people?”

“Stop with the smartass remarks…” his voice was lower yet stern as his thumb dragging across your lower lip.

“Come on Kisaki I’m only playing with you…. but maybe since we are here maybe we can play together.” Nibbling on your lower lip as you looked at him, batting your pretty lashes his way. He couldn’t ignore a request from you ever. Especially when it came to this type of request.

Both of you were panting in a lower tone, you didn’t want to bring attention to his office having people come and disturb you. His hand hooked underneath the back of your knee as you both were standing up raising it up to his side. His other hand was supported on your lower back. Both of you stared into one another's eyes as he did slow thrust savoring each moment. His tie was undone, a few tops of his buttons were undone, his perfectly neat hair was becoming undone. The shallow grunting as your cunt squeezing his cock. “shit”

“Kisaki give it to me~~~.” You bit on your lower lip, your hand pressing against his chest. You were the one who filled his mind with the thoughts of bearing his child. Someone who could keep the his name going on. “You love the idea of having a baby with me don’t you.”

“All those men wishing they were my position. Killing for a taste of you, they can envy all they want but I was the one who fucked you first.” His eyes intensified as he looked at you. “You would be given the privilege to have one of my kids ______, you know how many women would like to be marry and fucked by me?” His unhooked your leg his cock sliding out of you. He was feeding his own ego when those words came from his lip. He bent you over facing the wall. Your delicate hands pressed as you felt his cock insert in you once more. “When they see you beginning to show they will know I fucked my child inside of you. No one will ever try to take you from me. As I told you from the beginning when and I meant what I said, I’m not letting you go.” He spoke in a low husk voice.

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lenoraslament · 6 months

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Tom Riddle x Y.N.

Hot Mess Part 1

2.8k words, angst/romance

You’re the resident Slytherin party girl, known for getting wasted with your best friend Mattheo and dancing on tables. Mattheo’s older brother Tom thinks you’re a joke, until you show him that playing with fire can be fun and he learns not to underestimate you.

Part 2

(Trigger warning: language, some mentions of drug use. Some sexual tension)

“Are you fucking deaf?” You see his sneer before you hear his words

“Excuse me?” You say only responding to the knit in his brow and the downturn of his lips.

“Are you fucking deaf, we’re up” Tom Riddle hisses at you under his breath.

Of course he makes sure only you hear it, as the perfect head boy holds out his hand. It’s an insincere gesture, you may be friends with his brother but neither of you can stand the other. You were a little bit of a mess, and Tom hates mess.

You disregard his hand, as if he was holding a frog out for you to take. You didn’t hear them call your name in dueling class, you could hardly focus.

Last night you and spent the better part of the evening taking shots with Mattheo until the room began to spin. In the morning your head felt cracked open, remnants of your braincells spilling out along with your ability to hear apparently.

You had sunglasses on, the light spilling in from the skylight was too much to bear. Before you slunk into the class, you had doubled over in the bathroom heaving in what some may consider to be ‘an unladylike manner’.

Your only salvation was a piece of peppermint gum you begged Pansy for. It helped, you felt a little bit of strength returned to you.

Enzo flanked your side giving you nervous look as your name was called with Tom’s. He was the top in the class. You didn’t seem as bothered as him, because you were closely following behind him. Most classes you barely skidded by, showing little promise besides charming the professors for a bump up in your grade.

Dueling however, you have a true knack for. Whether it was skill or your temper that fueled your abilities didn’t matter. You were good.

Enzo gave you a hand up the dueling platform, professor Fig approving of his own appointment of opponents. You were his favorite student and Tom was his strongest student.

You raise your wand to the ready when Fig stopped you.

“Are you going to spit out your gum Y/N?”

“Wasn’t planning on it .”

“And your sunglasses?”

“Nope”

The class erupted into laughter, it was a mix of amusement at your overconfidence and excitement to watch you be crushed by their favorite head boy.

Little did they know you had a plan. You had been watching him for a month in class. He was capable but formal. He followed the rules, every flick of the wand perfectly placed, every spell enunciated loudly and clearly.

To the naked eye. It didn’t take you long to realize that he was secretly casting Legilimens and reading his opponents mind. He was anticipating their every move. When you found out, you were so tempted to turn him in. Let him be found out so his perfect reputation would be tarnish. But then you decided humbling him was a much more satisfying route to take.

“Wands at the ready.”

You lifted your wand as he stared at himself in the reflection of your sunglasses, you blow a bubble pop your gum in his face just to piss him off.

“Disgusting creature” he scowled at you as you smirked letting the bubble pop onto your lips.

Don’t think just do. You warned yourself as you took strides away.

You both turned, he immediately cast as you caught. Then again. You only protected yourself from hits as he went at you a little harder than in most duels.

You felt the tiny needleprick in your head and you knew he was trying to read your mind. Even hungover you were able to occlude pretty decently since you anticipated his intrusion.

Two could play at this game you dirty cheater. You let that thought float to the top of his head.

Across the platform you saw a quick flash of shock on his face.

As you defended yourself you did the most difficult magical maneuver you had ever attempted. You held your occlusion while casting a wordless spell.

Expelliarmus you focused and to your excitement his wand flew and clattered. Everyone in the class grew quiet.

“Drop your wand riddle?” You ask smiling,”how clumsy of you”

For a split second the rage that registered in his face took your breath away. Then he smiled the charming smile that had every other girl in school staring at him with dreamy eyes.

“Well Miss Y/N, no need to brag, I know when I’ve been bested” his voice was so gracious and polite. His face almost beseeching. You knew better though.

After class you headed for your dorm in Slytherin, the hangover was intensified by the exhaustion of using wandless magic and occluding. On a regular day it would have tired you but now you felt absolutely spent. Tom cut you off in the common room.

“Get over here you little bitch” he said in a low tone dragging you by the arm to a corner where no one could witness his rage.

“How?” He towered over you, his handsome features darkened by anger and the shadows of the corner of the room.

You tipped your sunglasses onto your head and gave him a delicious grin.

“Oh I don’t know a thing you’re talking about Tom. No need to be a sore loser” you say your voice dipped with honey.

He yanked your arm so hard you know you’ll have bruises. You reach for your wand ready to duel him again or stab it in his eye you aren’t sure. Then Mattheo comes up.

“What gives?” He asks his brother, standing nearly between the two of you.

Tom releases your arm roughly and looks at Mattheo whose eyes are challenging him.

“Your little girlfriend was being a cheating twat in class” he snapped under his breath.

You glared at him,”me?”

Just as Mattheo puts his hand on Tom’s shoulder to mutter some sort of taming words you cut in

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Mattheo looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes at you.

Tom raises his eyebrow watching for Mattheo’s reaction

Mattheo is unphased. Any feelings he may have had for you vanished in year 3 when you became friends.

“She’s not worth it Tom,” Mattheo said,”right?”

His words are low and soft, calm and ready. He truly is the opposite of his cold, angry big brother.

“Hey!” You protest at the insult but Mattheo lifts his hand to shut you up and for once you do. Tom’s lips curl up into a smirk, the insult enough to tide his anger. For now.

“She is certainly not” Tom says as he walks away without as much as another glance your way.

As he does Mattheo lets out long breath of relief, his smile when he turns to you is devilish

“So I heard you bested my brother at a duel,”he is nearly giddy and it makes you laugh

“Utterly destroyed him,” you crack a smile that turns into a yawn. Finally solace awaits you in your dorm room where you fall asleep for hours.

Tom Riddle picked up a book on his desk and slammed it back down.

You had pissed him off so much, he couldn’t even study. It had been two years since he had lost a duel. To lose to you was beyond his belief.

Stupid. Vapid. Whore.

The words spinning in his head making his chest tighten. The image of you in your sunglasses, popping your gum onto your lipgloss was enough to make him throw the book at the wall of his dorm. He wanted to go curse you. His brothers stupid best friend who he never took seriously.

You barely skated by in your classes, you were popular, a party girl. If it wasn’t for your looks he was sure you wouldn’t have even registered on his radar.

He had to admit he liked watching you duel in class. The fiery way your temper overtook all sense of reason shilling out charms to quickly that you never even had to use a defensive charm.

Today was different, he thought. You had been cold, calculated, you had been watching him. The idea disturbed him deeply. The idea of someone as shallow and insipid as you studying him.

He of course, would now have to return the favor. He needed to know how a hungover mess like yourself manage to occlude and cast a wandless spell. Impossible.

It was after dinner when he saw you stumble out of your dorm in a pair of tiny pajama shorts and a ratty old t shirt. You sat next to Enzo where he and Theo were talking.

Tom was in an armchair across from them reading, hardly listening. Waiting.

He watched as you reached over and grabbed the bag of chips that Enzo was eating stuffing your mouth full and complaining about missing dinner.

“Finally sleep off that hangover?” Theo teased and you threw a chip at him.

Your eyes shift over to Tom who you can see is glaring at you in the corner of his eye.

“What can I say” she start smirking at him,”victory wipes me out”.

Tom’s eyes shift back down to his book,”Getting blackout drunk on a Wednesday is what wipes you out Y/N” he snaps.

Enzo sheepishly smiles at you both, always the peacekeeper.

“Speaking of getting black out drunk, what time are we getting bottles for the party on Saturday?”

You roll your eyes, “Draco is just sending his elf, I’m not worried about it”.

Tom put his book down,”party this weekend?”

You almost laugh, you hardly saw him at parties. Only to pick up one of his fan girls with a charming smile and quickly take them back to his room. You couldn’t count how many times you saw those same girls crying the next day. Heartbroken when he kicked them out the next morning in a hasty fashion.

“Yes in the common room” Enzo answered him eagerly.

“If you weren’t such a loser you would know” you added as the other guys shook their head at your aggressive words.

Tom quickly dipped into your mind, ‘god I hope he doesn’t go’ you lamented to yourself.

This made him grin as you immediately glared at him feeling the small pinprick in your head sending a thought to the top as you tried to occlude.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD FUCKFACE” the thought practically screamed making him jump in his seat.

You both shared a look. Dripping in resentment.

Theo tugged the back of your hair,”wanna go smoke?”

You nod and scurry away with Enzo following Theo so he can help you get high enough to suppress the rage that Tom makes you feel.

Saturday comes too slow for Tom’s liking.

Although he is rife with anticipation, he doesn’t even bother to leave his room until close to midnight. The common room is thumping with the sound of music heavy with bass. The room is heady with the mixed smell of cologne, perfume, sweat and alcohol.

His arrival prompted the hungry eyes of many girls he hoped to avoid but a couple did swarm.

He politely grinned at them even throwing a wink as he scanned the room of writhing bodies around the dance floor looking for you. Some girl handed him a glass of bourbon, he sits down on a lounge chair as she saddles next to him. He sips and ignores her chatter, finally he spots you.

You stood on a coffee table, swaying your hips side to side to the rhythm of the music. You are saddled by Enzo and Mattheo. Mattheo has his hands loosely on the hips of a blonde Ravenclaw as he danced. Enzo’s fingers are clutching into your waist, his head is bent forward muttering something in your ear to tempt you but you only laugh.

Tom makes note of your tight, short dress and strappy heels. Such a tawdry display seemed to be held onto your body by just sweat and body glitter. He surveys heavy eyelids and parted lips instantly aware that you are not only tipsy but also must have smoked a joint beforehand.

Theo hands his blunt over to Mattheo, he lifts you by the waist sitting you on the bar top table.

You’re distracted pouring salt on the crook between your thumb and pointer finger. Mattheo takes a hit as he pours a shot glass of tequila handing it to you. You place it between your breasts easily.

“Gonna be a good girl for me Bella?” Theo asks with a smirk.

You roll your eyes before he sticks the lime in your mouth, “you know the only reason I let you do this is because I get to smack you right?”

Theo and Mattheo both laugh as Theo roughly shoves the lime between your lips. He licks the salt off your hand before shoving his face between your breasts making you roll your eyes. You draw your hand back and smack him just hard enough to make him laugh.

He delicately takes the lime from your lips with his teeth but you draw back only letting his lips brush against yours. Theo is forever unphased, picking the joint out of Mattheos fingers and taking a hit.

Tom watches this exchange greedily, with curiosity. He feels a hand on his thigh, and turns to see the little yappy girl smiling at him. He takes her chin in his hand and lets his lips fall on her ear.

“Go get me another drink darling” he says softly. She looks as if under a spell as she smiles eagerly and nods her head.

Tom stands up to lose her and heads over to where you sit. Enzo remaining hopeful, is begging to take a body shot.

“You know I can’t slap you Enz,”you tease,”you’re too cute”.

His eyes look up at you hungrily,”then don’t. Just let me take it”.

You tut and grin,”that’s against the rules”.

“What are the rules?” You nearly jump at the sight and sound of Tom. Although he’s been observing you half the night, you only barely become aware of his presence.

You stick your tongue in your cheek as you observe his appearance. You’re so drunk, so damn drunk, but you knew even sober he was fucking hot. His dark button down and slacks fit him perfectly. His stupid perfect hair and dark eyes. Your eyes drift down, making him smirk.

“You can only take a body shot if I get to slap you,”you mutter.

He grins and nearly shoves a protesting Enzo to the side.

“Show me”.

You raise your brow, doubting he would go through with it.

“I wouldn’t want to cause damage to your only redeemable quality” you tease squeezing his face.

He shoves your hand away and looked at Mattheo to pour the shot. He hands you the lime and watches as you lick your hand and salt it.

Mattheo nervously gives you a full shot of tequila observing as you and Tom lock in a glare.

Tom’s hands roughly dig into your thighs pulling you down the table closer to him as you let out a muffled noise against the lime in protest.

He snatches your wrist fingers pressing into your pulse point. His eyes keep yours as he licks the salt from your hand flicking his tongue.

If your mouth wasn’t full, you would have gasped. His hands squeeze your thighs again as he takes the shot from between your breasts, taking his time before tipping the glass into his mouth.

Theo, Enzo and Mattheo watch as they swim in horror and amusement.

You draw your hand back and slap him so hard his face goes to the side. It rings. Everyone around you is watching the show now. Crazy Y/N smacking the ever living magic out of Tom Riddle.

His hand snakes up and tugs the back of your hair pushing your face forward. In shock you drop the lime and instead feel his tongue plunge in your mouth. He kisses you roughly, leaving you breathless and biting your lip hard before he draws away nearly shoving your head back.

You push him away with your leg in frustration. God I hate him. But your mouth is still buzzing with the kiss. Theo and Mattheo are laughing at the two of you. Enzo is forlorn as he goes to hook up with another girl to get his mind off things.

You hop off the table to take a shot of your own but Tom lingers.

“Do I get to slap you next,” he teased with a grin.

“Only if you want my heel in your face” you snap back.

“Are you going to pretend you didn’t like it?” He stands so close his chest it on your arm

“I’m going to pretend it never happened, suck it easy Riddle,” your words are slurred but angry, “not if the entire magical race depended on it”.

He leans over so his breath tickles your ear,”I don’t like sluts anyway”. You both stare at each other, eyes burning in pure hatred. For a moment he falters, his eyes draw down and land on your lips. Even in your drunken stupor the tension send a little shiver down your spine. Tentatively you begin to lean forward. At your movement he draws back quickly, as if you were fire, leaving you wanting.

You watch as he leaves, grabbing the arm of some girl who happily followed him and they walk out of the party.

Part 2 here

#slytherinboys #slytherin imagine #slytherin boys #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #slytherin fanfiction #y/n #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #theo nott #hp fanfic #tom riddle #hp fanfiction

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silverstonesainz · 11 months

Text

a thing

─── the one where max drunkenly admits to something frat!max x reader 1.6k words prompt: putting the word "my" in front of their name when calling for them

d rambles. . . i used "my girl" instead of my + y/n bc i hate using y/n. hope thats fine!!

max’s fingers are splayed against your bare stomach, just under the hem of your crop top. he’s warm, smells of sweet musk and a mix of vodka. you stand with your back pressed against his chest, watching a match of beer pong unfold between daniel and alex. your eyes follow the white ping pong ball from side to side, watching it bounce into red solo cups. the game is neck and neck, three cups left for daniel, two for alex.

touchy. max is touchy when he’s drunk. but it’s nothing new to you, nothing new to his brothers. its why no one bats an eye when he snakes his arm around your waist, or when he rests his chin on your shoulder. it doesn’t phase anyone anymore. it doesn’t mean anything, you both insist.

it doesn’t. right?

“bets on who wins?” max says into your hear, voice loud as he competes the bass blaring through the speaker

“daniel.” you don’t miss a beat, “he always wins.”

“fine then i bet on alex.”

and at that second, the thai boy flicks his wrist a little too hard, the white ball bouncing off the plastic table and past danny. you giggle, turning your head to look at max— his face flushed and pink lips parted in disbelief.

“twenty bucks?”

his closes his mouth, pulling back slightly so that he can look at you. his eyes darken, glint of excitement in them as he grins. “you’re on.”

three perfect throws from daniel and one failed redemption shot from alex later, you’re twenty dollars richer. max glares, rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. you grin, waving the bill in his face before stuffing into your back pocket.

“fuck you alex.” max calls out as the two boys join you.

alex laughs, leaning against the wall next to him, “what did i do?”

“lost me twenty dollars is what you did.” max flicks his middle finger up at his fraternity brother, and it returned another round of laughter.

danny slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a wide grin on his face. “it’s what you get when you doubt me verstappen.”

you see it, the way max’s eyes flicker from yours to daniel’s arm hanging off you. you see the way he clenches his jaw before he looks up at his brother, rolling his eyes. its less playful, more annoyed. but daniel is too oblivious, already talking to alex about a rematch.

“i’m… i’m gonna get a drink,” max mumbles, pushing himself off the wall. he stumbles past you, disappears in the mess of drunk people.

neither of the boys in your presence seem to notice the shift in the atmosphere, the way max left so abruptly. you shift on your feet, straightening your posture. daniel’s arm slides off with ease, goes unnoticed by the man as he leans in to hear whatever it is alex has to say.

“… so we play doubles then.” you hear daniel say. he turns to you, “play with me?”

you scrunch your nose, “i dunno, i’m not very good.”

“nonsense. we’ll be fine. c’mon.”

your eyes scan the room, trying to catch a glimpse of max between all the bodies in the room. but he’s lost, your don’t find him. so you concede to the offer, following daniel to one end of the table while alex pulls another brother to join him.

and true to your word, you weren’t very good at the game. but to be fair, you were much better than alex. the boy scowls at you as you make another ball, cups swindling down from seven to six. daniel chuckles beside you, giving your back a pat.

“atta girl.”

you blush, shifting nervously on your feet as daniel takes his place at the head of the table, the small ball resting between his index, middle, and thumb. it take no effort for him as he flicks his wrist, the ball coming close to a cup but ultimately bouncing off the rim. the aussie clicks his tongue, drumming his fingers against the edge of his table.

alex’s partner chases after the lost ball disappearing between bodies as he scurries for it. danny looks down at you, leans over so you could hear him.

“so you and max?”

you smile, roll your eyes, “me and max.”

“that a thing yet?”

your cheeks tint pink again, shrugging. “dunno, you’d have to ask him.”

an age old storyline, one you hate to admit you have. but it’s true. you stand in a weird limbo with max. while it’s clear to his friends, to the people around you, the words had yet to be said. because if you were both being honest, there are no real boundaries. there are no rules, no limits. just an unspoken assumption that you were only sleeping with him, and him with you. that he was only taking you out for lunch, or that he only invites you to sleep over. but you’d never really know, there isn’t much backing to the theory that it really is just you.

alex throws the ball, sinks it in the cup by you and you move it to the side. his partner does the same, and you have to toss the balls back.

danny hums, “funny, max says the same thing when i ask him.”

you turn your head, but before you could ask him to explain further, the ball bounces off the table and down to your feet. the game carries on without much conversation about max, and in the end you and daniel end up winning.

alex waves you both off, screams that he’s off to grab another drink.

you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see an unfamiliar face. young, almost afraid as he says your name. it’s a question, like he’s asking you to confirm you’re you. you furrow your brows, nodding, and the boy sighs relieved.

“been looking for ya. carlos is looking for you. upstairs.”

you frown but nod, thanking the boy before pushing your way through the house. you squeeze past sweaty bodies, past people making out in the open and dodge cups being passed around. you move further and further, up the stairs and away from the mess of the party below. carlos is leaned against the wall, waves you over when he sees you.

“max is asking for you.”

you tilt your head, following his lead two doors down and into the only one thats open. max sits on his bed, red in the face with a dopey smile on his face.

“there’s my girl!”

my girl. my. my. my.

you smile awkwardly up at carlos, who just chuckles. “hes been saying that for the last ten minutes. where’s my girl? find my girl.” he mocks max’s voice. “my, my, my.”

you nod, cheeks hot and lips pressed together tightly. you exhale through your nose, looking at max who reaches out of you. “yeah… i got this.”

“im across the hall if you need me.”

carlos walks out the door, humming softly as he shuts the door. you make your way to max, whose hands are quick to attach themselves to you. he pulls you between his legs, head tilted up at you. “missed you.”

“i was only downstairs.” you mumble, pushing strings of sweaty hair away from his face. his eyes falls shut, bottom lip pushed out in a pout

“with daniel.” “with our friends.”

his eyes pop open, looks up at you with furrowed brows. “you like daniel more than me?”

“why would you think that?” he shrugs, “maxy…”

“you’re my girl you know.” he mumbles, “he can’t have you.”

you chuckle. “am i? am i your girl?” its a half playful, a way to gage his reaction. to see if he laughs along or means what he says.

he frowns, “you don’t think you are?”

you shrug, pulling his hands from your figure so you can sit by him. you sigh, rubbing your face before looking back at max. his cheeks are so red, eyes so soft.

“we shouldn’t have this conversation while you’re drunk.” you mutter, biting down on your bottom lip for a second.

“i’m not that drunk-“ “-max-“ “- and if i was, it doesn’t change how i feel.”

“max.” he says your name in the same tone, and you raise a brow.

he bursts into a fit of giggles, rubbing his face before pushing his fingers through his hair. “fine. tomorrow. okay? we’ll talk.” he falls onto his bed, turns his body and pulls the covers back so he can slip under them. but he doesn’t pull it back, instead looks up at you with wide blue eyes. “you coming?”

“max.” he huffs your name back, and you scrunch your nose. “fine. i’m coming.”

he grins, watches as you kick off your shoes before slipping under the covers with him. he holds you close, eyes falling shut immediately. you watch him, watch the small content smile slip from his face he lets sleep take him.

“max” you whisper. he hums a soft hm, squeaky and tired. “will we really talk about it in the morning?”

he peaks out of one eye to look at you before shutting it again. “about you being my girl? yes.”

okay, you squeak. you turn over to switch off the lamp before melting into him again. his breathing turns shallow, sleep surely near.

you poke his chest and he whines. “so you think were a thing?”

his laugh is tired, dry, “we’ll talk in the morning. now let me sleep. my head is spinning.”

quiet. shallow breathing. the soft buzz of a forgotten party happening beneath you.

and in the dark, you feel max kiss your forehead softly.

“but yeah,” he whispers. “i think so. we’re definitely a thing.”

come to the house party!!

#🔖 house party #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen one shot #frat max

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writinground2 · 1 year

Note

62, 70 with Alessia Russo please :)

62 - Did we meet?

70 - Let's have some fun

Good Paying Customer - Alessia Russo

“Ms. Russo,” the hostess slipped the blonde a slip of paper with a coy smile as the players made their way to their reserved room for a team dinner.

Alessia ignored the varying looks the girls gave her, shrugging off Beth shaking her shoulders smiling at her. She discreetly opened the note.

LET’S HAVE SOME FUN

She supressed her laugh when she saw the note scrawled in marker, the paper looking like it had been torn harshly from receipt paper.

“Get some digits Less?” Lotte tried to read over her shoulder while she shoved the note in her pocket.

The blonde just shoved her away as they continued to make their way through the restaurant. With the national team players leaving for the camp in a couple days, so Arsenal reserved the back room of a popular restaurant for a night of fun.

The room had a small separate bar with large tables spread out. They had a personalized menu for the players to choose from.

Players mingled, keeping the bartenders busy as they all enjoyed the night off, many well at tipsy by the time they were called to be seated and order their meals.

“Oi! Settle up so she can take your order!” Kim shouted at the loud players while the waitress attempted to take peoples orders.

The waitress smiled and thanked the captain for controlling the busy group. The players all remained silent while each politely spoke their orders.

“Oh, uhh, she knows what I want,” Alessia smiled to the waitress. Everyone gave her a confused looked, while the waitress just smirked and moved on.

The room erupted in noise as soon as the waitress left the room, several jumping up to the bar to top up their drinks.

“I’ve eaten here a few times,” Alessia shrugged while the players bombarded her with questions.

“This place is widely exclusive, no one gets a table here,” Leah protested.

“Yeah, you’ve never brought me here!” Lotte started to lean heavily into the blonde, speaking loudly into her ear, the cheap bar catching up to her.

Alessia ignored her, knowing they would all be distracted soon enough. Which was true, they all quickly moved on to something else.

The room quieted again while everyone’s meals were brought back in. Each quietly thanking the staff as dishes were placed in front of them.

Alessia felt a hand gently brush her shoulder while hers was placed in front of her, glancing up, she made eye contact with Y/N. The blonde quickly brought her hand up to grasp Y/N’s wrist before her hand was pulled away. They squeezed hands briefly before parting.

“Evening ladies, I’m Y/N, head chef and owner here. Thank you all for coming here tonight. Enjoy your meals, I’ll be out later to check in again,” Y/N smiled to the group, waving slightly before leaving.

“She looks super familiar,” Lotte watched her leave.

“And was very interested in little Lessi here,” Leah teased.

Alessia hid her blush, focusing on her plate in front of her.

“Hey! That wasn’t an option on the menu!” Lotte leaned over, attempting to pick food from the blondes’ plates.

Alessia used her fork to knock Lotte’s out of the way, “I told them she knew what I wanted.”

Lotte continued to try and stab at the food, eventually Alessia just shoved her away with a firm push to the shoulder, knocking the table and several drinks over in the process.

The two pushed their chairs out from the table to avoid getting wet as the liquids dripped off the edge of the table. Lotte shot her fork back over, spearing gnocchi off the blondes’ plate.

“Damn that’s good!”

They players around scowling in her direction, Alessia flushing under the attention.

The bartender rushed over with clothes and napkins, quickly wiping up the mess, before it got too big.

Alessia glared when Lotte scooped her plate up, beginning to eat it as her own. Huffing, she left the room to find a bathroom to clean the wine off her arms.

The striker returned a few minutes later in a much better mood. Y/N following not long after with a fresh plate of food. Gently squeezing her shoulder while she set it down.

“Oh, that looks good too!” Lotte started to lean towards Alessia’s plate.

“That won’t be necessary,” Y/N halted her, a waitress following behind, placing a similar plate in front of her.

Lotte danced happily in her seat, quickly taking a bite of her own plate, moaning at the flavour.

Y/N chuckled and left the room again.

Alessia slowly cut into her chicken, sighing as she chewed her new meal. She ignored the curious looks a few players were giving her.

“How was everything tonight ladies?” Y/N returned, folding her hands in front of her, smiling at the crowed.

There was a chorus of everyone agreeing the food was delicious. Lotte speaking loudly about how good her second supper was.

“How come Less got a special meal?”

“Oh, she’s a regular,” Y/N placed her hands on the blonde’s shoulder, winking down at her.

“Did we meet before?” Alessia teased, glancing over her shoulder. Y/N flicking her ear harmlessly in response.

Y/N was called away from another staff, apologizing quickly to group. Giving Alessia shoulder a squeeze, she winked and left the room.

“Lessi Lessi Lessi, I think you have some explaining to do,” Leah leaned back in her chair, smirking.

Alessia tore her eyes away from the door where she had been watching Y/N leave, “Y/N’s my wife.”

She winced, waiting for the backlash of her announcement.

The room was silent for seconds while everyone processed what she had said. Then it seemed everyone spoke at the same time, speaking over each other, shouting questions.

Alessia gave them time to react, biting her lip, trying not to laugh at some of the questions being thrown. She rolled her eyes when she heard Beth trying to say she already knew.

When they finally quieted down, she waited another second before speaking, “we got married a few months ago, after dating for a few years.”

She paused when Lotte started smacking her arm, she held her hand to stop her.

“How could you not tell me?” the brunette looked hurt now.

“We weren’t hiding it or anything. I talked about her all the time, you guys just didn’t figure it out,” she tried not to laugh at the pout Lotte gave her.

“I put in the transfer for Arsenal when she opened her new restaurant here. We’ve been doing long distance too long to waste any more time. It’s been great, this is the first time we’ve been able to live together. Not travelling constantly to see each other, or scheduling months in advance just for a weekend together.”

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, silently listening.

“Getting to be this close to her is amazing. I honestly am a regular here, I usually sit at the bar for dinner while Y/N finishes late. When it slows down, she’ll come eat with me sometimes.”

Leah smirked, spying Y/N watching from the doorway.

“What she means is, she’s taking a seat from good paying customers,” Y/N pushed off the wall and approached the room.

Alessia whipped around, smiling as her wife.

#woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader

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twst-drabbles · 11 months

Text

Heartslabyul 6

Summary: While you didn’t go out trick-or-treating like Crowley wanted to, you did get a bucket full of candy. A little too much candy. You decided to throw some of the excess to the plant nymphs.

(Hehehehe, I made a neocities website right here. I’ll be loading all my writings up there eventually for safe keeping. But yeah, check it out!)

“Alright, ready for the next round?” You asked from your lawn chair, fingers drumming against the big and overly fancy black pumpkin bucket you got from Crowley for Halloween, “I think the next layer is white chocolate.”

Ace jumped up high, shaking his arms and legs, almost screaming in impatience that you won’t just start already. Deuce was stomping around in excitement, ready and revving to catch some candies and added them to their combined pile.

“Don’t scream, you’ll blast my ears out,” you deliberately slowed yourself down as you rubbed at your ear, dropping your scoop of candy right back into the basket just to annoy Ace further, “though, I am getting sleepy. Maybe we should do this another day.”

Then, you heard something else fall into the candy treasure trove you have. Looking over, you saw a pair of leafy legs wiggling about. Righting himself up, Trey presented the wrapped sweets high above his head before throwing it towards Ace and Deuce. Trey turned towards you with the sweetest look on his face, giving a little determined chirp before patting a little fist against his chest.

Leave it to me, he’s probably trying to convey. Adorable. He thinks you’re actually falling asleep in your chair and is trying to take up your duty for you.

“That’s alright Trey, I was just kidding,” you gently grabbed him before setting him down, “Go on. Grab some candy of your own before Ace and Deuce make themselves sick with it.”

As Trey walked to the candy zone with a nod, you shot your arms out and captured the basket that was in the process of being carried away by Cater and his clones.

“Stop that Cater,” you flicked one of the clones legs. It tripped and puffed into smoke, “I know you hate sweets but you can’t destroy them yet. Wait until the game’s over.”

The true Cater planted his butt on the table, kicking his legs out in annoyance. You patted his head.

“I’ll get you something nice later, alright? So stop with the tantrum just because I only have candy right now.”

Cater turned his head away from you, as though that wasn’t enough.

You tucked a finger under his chin, guiding him to look at you. “How does that new spicy ramen I found sound?”

Only then did Cater perk up and clap his hands with a trill of chirps escaping him. He hopped right up, dusted the dirt off his knees and ran off towards Ace and Deuce, probably to mess with them.

“You want to join in, Riddle?” You looked to your shoulder as soon as you felt a weight press upon it. You had a scoopful of small candies in your palm. “Those roots of yours will throw better then my hands ever could.”

Riddle’s little face creased with curiosity. He bent down and grabbed a candy, turning it this way and that before commanding a root to wrap around it and throw it over the heads of Ace and Deuce. Deuce decided to be a little menace and tripped Ace before speeding off towards the candy.

You snorted and Riddle gave a soft laughing trill of his own. A rope of roots grabbed each individual candy from your hands and threw them in high and wide arcs. Trey spotted something he liked bounce on the ground and slide under a tree’s roots. He slid right there with it, getting his butt stuck.

Cater had his clones at the ready to grab as many candies as possible, but one heavy lollipop bounced on his head, then onto the heads of the rest of his clones in succession.

“Whoops,” you said with a sigh, “threw it a little too well, Riddle.”

Just to ease the worried look on your Roseling’s face, you unwrapped a strawberry cream candy and held it to his face. He only took one sniff before practically wretched it from your hold.

Adorable. They’re all adorable.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #heartslabyul #riddle #riddle rosehearts #trey #trey clover #cater #cater diamond #ace #ace trappola #deuce #deuce spade #house pet au #reader insert

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bluebayousblog · 8 months

Text

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 16)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Eve

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART FIFTEEN

Christmas Eve called for an illustrious dinner prepared by Catherine Starkey and Lora Cooper, so the two women had both went off to the kitchen. And Richard and Charles snuck off to the balcony to smoke cigars while their wives were preoccupied, too busy to scold them about the nasty habit. This left Isobel awkwardly still sitting on the floor from the intense game of spades everyone had been playing while Drew and Chandler sat on the sofa across from her in silence.

It was so excruciatingly awkward but no one moved to get up or leave the suffocating quietness. Isobel just pretended she wasn’t stealing glances at Drew whenever he wasn’t discreetly attempting to do the same. He was better at it, the sly looks, but she felt him—everything about him. The short glances, his presence, all the words she hadn’t allowed him to say to her last night and the ones he wanted to express because of it.

The thought of the mess she’d made of their relationship made her entire body cringe as she tried to expunge the negative thoughts from penetrating her mind. The thoughts telling her that he would never want to speak to her again, that he would never be able to look at her like he did before, that things would never be the same. And Isobel wasn’t sure what point in their friendship she would want to revert back to because as disorienting as their feelings for each other made everything she’s not sure she would ever want to be just friends with Drew again—or if it was even possible.

Her manicured nails scratched across her palms for some sort of distraction and looked over to Chandler. She hoped that he couldn’t sense the tension between her and his brother, but to her relief he seemed to be consumed by whatever was on his phone. That is until he threw the device on the cushion beside him, took one glance at them both—to which she smiled—and then his eyes squinted.

“What’s going on with you two?” He asked with suspicion heavy in the last two words. He definitely felt the tension.

“What do you mean?” Isobel tried to smile again, but the bored glare he gave made her muscles go taut.

She felt self-conscious for a multitude of reasons in the moment, but the most pressing was at the awareness that everyone knew she was being phony. As if she was just like them, sitting on the sofa and looking down at her pathetic self trying to make it seem like everything was fine. But there was also a part of herself that resented Drew for sitting there wordlessly while she did everything to seem at least the littlest bit of normal. Because she cared enough of about the both of them and he was making her feel like her efforts were for nothing. Like protecting them wasn’t even worth it anymore.

Isobel sometimes believed that she cared too much and it was mistaken for her being a coward and stubborn—which she was definitely being to some extent—but the majority of it came from the overbearing emotions for the people she grew close to. And she feels extremely hard to the point where it feels too good to be true because she knows it can all be ripped from under her just like it has before. It forces her to run, to break away so viscerally it makes her seem heartless when really it’s the exact opposite.

In reality, she is hurting inside, she is missing the simple thought of Drew being hers and his kisses and his mindless touch on her skin. Most of all she regrets. She regretted walking away from him as soon as her back was turned, but she’d made a decision and she needed to stick with it because if she doubled back she would be in his arms taking back everything she’d said in the truck. Isobel still wanted that, to throw herself in his embrace and explain herself, but the more time passed the more difficult it was to convince herself to do. Time allowed doubt to creep in and for Drew to realize all the reasons he shouldn’t be with her.

“You guys can barely look at each other,” Chandler assessed, “Which is quite noticeable for someone who has witnessed the two of you drooling at the sight of each other literally a day ago.”

Isobel’s heart wrenched. A day ago. When she and Drew had went on what could be considered their first date. It went so well but the memories were overshadowed by how badly the night ended. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel Drew shifting in his seat. She wondered if their thoughts were the same in this moment. “-so are either of you going to tell me what happened last night?”

“No, Chandler.” Drew finally spoke, the deep, gravelly sound causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

His little brother’s eyes rose at his choice in words, “You’re not denying that something happened?”

“It doesn’t matter if something happened. I’m telling you to mind your fucking business, Chandler.”

His harsh words pulled a gasp from her throat that caught his attention, his usual soft eyes filled with frustration that he was misdirecting at his brother. It was discomforting he could feel such negative things about her that it was so visible in his eyes, yet knowing that he at least felt something towards her was oddly settling for her, “Drew.” She scolded before she could stop herself, hating how Chandler was getting caught up in anger she’d caused.

Drew’s eyes could not help but soften when he looked at her undeniably pretty face and heard her melodic voice say his name. Although, there was still a flame present, one that she knew just pretending nothing happened wouldn’t put out.

“Isn’t this what you wanted Isobel? To ice everyone out so you don’t have to come to terms with your bull shit.” Drew knew he was being cold, yet he couldn’t stop the words from leaving his lips. He just hated that Isobel wouldn’t let him in, that she didn’t trust him enough to do so. She’d given him so much of her but knowing that she didn’t have faith in him or what they had with each other hurt him more than he expected. He was being a hypocrite because Drew wasn’t exactly handling all of his feelings like someone who was ready to be with a woman like Isobel—like someone his father or Cooper would be proud for her to be with.

“Drew, you’re being mean.” Isobel thickly swallowed. The wavering in her voice making him want to reach out and hold her until it returned back to its full ability, but he was the one causing her voice to break like this. “I’ve never seen you like this, and if I can pull that out of you then maybe last night was for the best.”

Isobel knew she was the blame for how things ended between them, but she refused to blame herself for how Drew was choosing to react to it, especially towards his brother. And she hated how unrecognizable he seemed sitting across from her, the same man that was just making her smile so fluidly she was beginning to associate the muscle movement and feeling of adoration with him.

“Chandler come on I told you we would go into town together today, we can walk.” Isobel stood and brushed her hands against her leggings. He was up in an instant and moving toward the coat rack to grab their coats. Her heart squeezed at the sight, he could be just as sweet as his brother if not more.

“It’s freezing, Isobel.” Drew countered.

His tone shifted fiercely with so many varying emotions and she heard each so clearly in her mind as if only she could heed and interpret every chord of his voice. She could hear that he was genuinely worried for her wellbeing in the frigid temperature, hurt that she would rather be out there than in the warmth of the cabin with him, and she heard how the sight of her attempting to leave him once more added to the already open wound.

Because Isobel was just as immature as he was she grabbed her coat from Chandler and walked out without sparing Drew another glance.

“Can we not actually go into town, you know I hate the cold.” Isobel immediately pleaded when the crisp wind wept against her face. She knew it would be cold like Drew said, but she needed to get out of there before they caused a scene in front of everyone.

“That’s cool with me, let’s just walk the trail around the cabin.” Chandler smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lead the way. She was glad to see him smiling, still desperately holding on to the hope that her and Drew wouldn’t affect everyone’s Christmas—that things wouldn’t change. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

When he first asked what was going on in the living room it scared her to think of having to detail anyone in on why they were being so weird, but now as they trudged through about a foot of snow she wanted to just tell him everything because it was starting to feel like if she didn’t get some sort of outlet she would combust. And if she didn’t confide in somebody now, she knew she never would, “Drew told me your father knows about me and him last night.”

“Shit, Chuck knows? That makes me feel a lot less special.”

“Chandler please don’t joke around right now.” Isobel mumbled but still couldn’t help but smile at the ground at how unserious he truly could be.

“Alright, alright sorry, when did he find out?” He asked.

Isobel’s mind returned to their conversation in the car like it had been doing all day. She had been the one to abruptly end it so she wasn’t completely aware of the details surrounding Charles knowing about their relationship, just that he supposedly had known since the day they got into town. Her entire body cringed at the revelation, at the fact that she thought she could hide something like this from her family. Isobel just didn’t want him to see her differently than he did before, she didn’t want any of them to.

“Remember when I used to tell you no boy would ever be good enough for you? Don’t you ever forget it.”

She froze at the memory of Charles randomly reminding her of her worth at the winter cocktail. She remembered how confused he left her as he walked off without an explanation. How she’d felt so disoriented until she turned around and saw Drew—that he’d been the one who was in Charles’ line of sight as he spoke to her.

Isobel could’ve connected the dots that night but she chose to ignore the odd moment between the father and son, but anyone who wasn’t blind with infatuation would’ve known what Charles meant.

“I didn’t really give him a chance to tell me before I broke things off.” She finally answered.

“Damn, Isobel you’re cold.” Chandler loved to be involved in gossip and people’s business and he could be extremely animated when retaining it, “Makes me kind of glad Drew’s on the receiving end and not me.”

“Chandler!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it! We both know I would let you treat me however you wanted.” He insisted and Isobel squinted her freezing eyelids back in response.

“-so you guys broke up, huh?”

Isobel and Drew weren’t together, they had a relationship but they weren’t official. They were merely two people messing around, two people who hadn’t even had sex yet. What they had was rudimentary, insubstantial, and nothing worth making a big deal over with their families. And despite all of this she still solemnly nodded her head because the grief she was feelings could only come from the demise of an actual couple.

Suddenly, she heard her father’s hardy laugh traveling from the backside of the cabin, and it made her hyper aware of how openly she was talking about this, “Come on let’s walk a little further down.”

“What’s so bad about everyone knowing, Isobel?” He asked the question she thought she knew the answer to, that she thought made sense the moment her and Drew crossed that boundary of friendship.

Now, after everything that’s happened, from the progression and abrupt ending of Isobel and Drew her reasoning didn’t quite make sense at all.

Because deep down it was in the best interest of Isobel to keep them hidden, not for the benefit of them both even if Drew did somewhat agree with her in the beginning.

“I don’t know, Chandler.” She groaned at the internal mental battle she was having, trying to articulate a worthy defense, “I just don’t want you guys to think of us differently especially if things don’t work out.”

She knew she was being presumptuous, already thinking the worse and banking on the failure of a real relationship with Drew, but that’s what she learned to do after getting her heart broken the last time. She’s never experienced anything different. “And you saw how Drew was acting back there, that’s not how things should be.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Izzy, but change is inevitable,” He sighed before pausing and finding the words to continue, “I hate that some douchebag took away your faith in family to love you no matter who you’re with—however you’re with them.”

Isobel couldn’t even deny his claim because it was true and it was just plain sad because she had let a man she hadn’t seen in years affect her just that much. She let what he did to her affect what she was building with another man.

“-Also ignore that temper tantrum he had in there, I would act the same way if I thought I lost you too.” His voice sincere as he gave her a gentle smile.

Isobel pulled him into a tight hug and pressed her face into his chest, which was nice because of the body heat but it wasn’t Drew. “You’re really sweet, whatever girl you swindle into a relationship is going to be lucky to have you.” Isobel squealed when his arms tightened around her shivering body.

“Really, Izzy? You have any friends that would be interested?” He joked above her head and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Stick to girls your age for now, Channy.” She looked up at him with a grin.

Eventually the wind picked up speed, running Isobel back inside while Chandler went around back to get on Richard and Charles’ nerves. As soon as she swung open the wooden door to the entrance of the cabin there was Drew with that same indecipherable look he’d been directing at her all day. Isobel was tired and was craving some time alone so she slid past him without any acknowledgment.

“Don’t put me in a position where I have to tell my brother to keep his hands off of you, Isobel.” Drew sneered at her retreating back

She slowly twisted her body around on the step she managed to get to as he spoke, her eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief at his words. It was crazy how one second she could feel so bad for him she was going to sulk alone in her room for making him deal with her insecurities and how in another she wanted to ring his neck.

“It’s pathetic how a girl who you haven’t even fucked yet can make you act so out of character.” She hissed and then continued upstairs to her bedroom.

Isobel didn’t cry when she shut the door and sat on the chest adjacent to her bed. She never felt the urge when it came to Drew, she never felt anything she went through was worth the tears not when things could be so much worse. It was easier to keep everything in for Isobel, to keep her pain in categories so she knew what she was dealing with, so her emotions didn’t come rushing out with no end.

She could feel the distance building between her and Drew, how every interaction was a tug and pull until one of them pushed the other to an unreachable edge. She wanted to erase how she reacted last night and then her fears would supersede her wants and when Drew decided to be a dick her needs when it came to him didn’t matter as much before.

So she shut down to the point where sitting across from Drew at dinner was hard, but not as hard as it could’ve been. Christmas Eve dinner was casual so they didn’t dress up once everything was prepared. She once again let a man affect something she thought to be sacred, happily spending the night before Christmas with her family. She was just as pathetic as he was.

Neither of them looked at the other at the table, and everything carried on as normal around them. Lora and Catherine lead the conversation as Charles’ listened with amused eyes and Richard roared in laughter at the simplest jokes. That seemed to be the things that pulled Isobel out of her Drew induced funk, hearing the familiar gossip and incessant howling from her father. Drew on the other hand seemed to still be withdrawn and quickly ate his food before he eventually excused himself from the table. Charles hadn’t spared her any glances in response unless he was actually directing conversation to her. Nothing felt different with him which abated her anxiety, but that was because they hadn’t addressed what was going—because he wasn’t aware the she knew he knew.

It was proving to make an extremely complicated situation to have love for any of the three Starkey men.

Their mothers insisted that they be the ones to clean up after dinner that ended up running later than expected, and Isobel didn’t argue knowing that was their way to get all the kids upstairs so they could wrap gifts to place under the tree. Alone once more in her room she was able to dwell on the possible reasons why Drew left dinner so quickly. She knew she was capable of doing this for hours, spiraling about all the ways she contributed to the nightmare of an evening she’d caused for Drew until she drifted off to sleep, so she did something Isobel before Drew would never even think of doing.

She called a friend.

Charlotte was the most qualified she thought to herself, she was logical, she wouldn’t judge her, and she most likely already knew what was going on if what she implied at the party before break said anything. As the phone rung, a part of of her desperately hoped, no prayed, that she wouldn’t answer, but she did because this was Charlotte and Charlotte was always there for her even when she thought she didn’t need anyone.

“Hello” Charlotte sung into the microphone as she always did, making Isobel smile at the greeting.

She didn’t realized how much she missed her friends until this very moment, “Hi, Char.”

“What’s wrong, Isobel? You’re usually too busy with family to call me on Christmas Eve.” Her friend asked, voice filled with a subtle amount of concern.

It had always been easier to tell Charlotte things compared to her other friends because she had a way of reading your voice and just simply listening to you for a few seconds or more and knowing something was wrong. She’d always appreciated that about her especially because she always struggled to express her feelings.

“Lottie, Drew and I started hooking up before break.” She blurted, not quite saying what was wrong but offering up a little of the secret she’d been keeping from her friends to see if it would piss her off and distract her enough to avoid talking about what she really needed to discuss.

“Is, you’re saying it like the two of you didn’t make it as obvious as possible before you left.”Charlotte’s smile was evident in her tone, “Thank you for telling me.”

Isobel’s eyes prickled with tears at the sound of her friend’s voice, at how genuinely sentimental she sounded. At how aware she was that it was truly hard for Isobel to simply talk about herself because if she did it felt like she would be burdening them to have to worry about her. But she didn’t let the tears fall, she blinked them away until nothing remained, just like she did with everything else. “You’re welcome.”

“That can’t be all, girl, you wouldn’t call over just that.” Charlotte spoke and every word caused her stomach to twist in regret for getting her involved in all of this despite how little she’d told her.

Isobel stayed quiet and Charlotte patiently waited, not checking to see if she was on the phone even when minutes of silence had passed. Finally, she thought about hanging up but that would make her worry more than just talking to her would. Nothing was worse than knowing someone you cared about was sad, but not knowing what was going on in their head. She knew that feeling all too well.

“Things were going well between us until there was a compromise and I broke things off.” She admitted.

“Why’d you do that if things were so good?” Charlotte questioned yet a knowing tone was present in her voice, like she knew just how destructive Isobel could be.

“I told you something came up-“

“Isobel.” Charlotte sternly interrupted obviously not in the mood for deflection.

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as a way to stop the words from tumbling out—it was easier to want to admit something than to actually do it. So she closed her eyes and just breathed until the words eventually came out, “I was scared, Charlotte, I don’t how to be with someone like that anymore.”

“So you made the decision for the both of you?” Charlotte sighed and Isobel remained silent. She hated hearing her irrational actions being vocalized because then she was forced to accept just how wrong she was. “Isobel, you have to let go at some point, just have fun if you really want to be with him—and I can tell just from your voice that you do.”

Isobel couldn’t think of any point in her life where she was good at letting shit go. She had always felt hard, loved hard, and completely immersed herself when it came to the people she cared for. Then her past relationship happened and it was like she sunk into a suffocating pool of all of her emotions and hurt from being so brutally betrayed. And instead of swimming to the surface and processing everything she pushed it all aside allowing her unresolved feelings to haunt her like a large wave tall and threatening to destroy her the moment she turned around to face it.

“But it’s not ‘just fun’ feelings I’m having for him.” She whispered as if barely saying it would make it any less true.

“I know, Is, how could they ever be just fun feelings when you’ve known each other for so long.” Charlotte stated, “That doesn’t mean you have to push him away though.”

This made Isobel smile, thinking of how her girls used that same excuse to explain to her why they would never go for Drew. Never did she expect to be so grateful for her friends being so respectful of their relationship that hadn’t even existed for all those years.

Their call ended up being cut short by Charlotte’s mother who needed help wrapping gifts for her little siblings, and while Isobel was relieved she didn’t have to talk about herself any longer, the thought of having to sit alone in her thoughts didn’t sound too appealing either. So she occupied herself by taking a long shower where she thoroughly exfoliated and shaved her entire body and stood under the steaming water until her fingers pruned. When she finally got out she lathered her body with lotion and slipped on her red, silk pajama shorts and its matching long sleeve button up.

Isobel didn’t go to her bed when she was done, no, she paced around her room and thought over everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. The good things, the sad things, and the unexpected things. It all clouded her mind until she was moving without thought, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor until she was standing in front of his door and slipping inside his room before she could change her mind.

Drew was sitting on the edge of his bed with his feet planted on the floor. He was wearing plaid pajama pants, but nothing else on his naked upper body. His arms and chest bare for her dark eyes to slide over with no restrictions. The lights were off but the light from the moon and sky shone through the windows. When his eyes looked up to meet her own she could see the light dancing around in his eyes.

Isobel walked toward him, and as angry as she was with him earlier she still felt that pull she’d always felt when it came to him. She felt it earlier in the day when he was trying to ignore her, when she was jogging up the stairs away from him like coward the night before, and now as his eyes bore into her brown ones like he was trying to decipher each fleck of color in them despite them being in the dark.

She stopped right in front of him, just a step away from being in between his spread thighs. “What do you want, Isobel?” The question was broad, it could mean anything but she took it as him not wanting to be bothered, so she took a step back to retreat. Then his hand was gripping her right hip as he pulled her into him and she actually was between his thighs, his body heat warming the bare skin of her legs, “Don’t leave, Isobel, answer me.”

She couldn’t answer because she didn’t have the words to articulate just how much she wanted from him in her mind, so she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his soft lips. He didn’t kiss her back at first, her lips moving against his still ones in slow pecks until he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, running his hand up her back to wrap around the back of her neck and pushing her further against his mouth. It all happened so quickly how Drew was somehow dominating the now messy kiss, how he yanked her down into his lap and bent her knees so they were on either side of his hips. Isobel’s touch was gentle as her soft hands grazed his shoulders and back and shy each time she swiped her tongue against his greedy one, but they didn’t clash.

‘I want to have fun’ she thought as he groaned into her mouth, that’s what she could’ve said when he asked her what she wanted but she was too occupied to say it now.

And Drew like always seemed to know what she needed even if she didn’t say it.

TABLE OF CONTENT:

PART SEVENTEEN

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

Text

Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

#dd:dne #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fan fiction #spiderman fanfic #avengers fan fiction #peter parker angst #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction #marvel au #peter parker x reader #spiderman angst #andrew garfield fanfic #spiderman andrew garfield #spiderman fic #spiderman au

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mistypsych · 1 year

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 4

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. As promised slowly we have reached the chapters where Suga will be usually taking the main lead! Sorry it took me a while and this chapter might be a bit rough but work has been hectic. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment. They are very motivating.

Blood pulsed in your temples, feeling it flow mercilessly threw your veins, you threw the brunette a annoyed look. Knowing that there was seemingly no backing out, you sighed, picked up the medical bag and tossed on the banged up table.

“If you want proper care so badly I would recommend investing in some decent furniture at least. Everything here in general screams sepsis guaranteed…” you muttered shaking your head. The whole place was creepy as if someone took it out of a horror movie. Surely not a great environment for any kind of medical procedures. But why did you care? Maybe this was the way to get rid of the viper himself? A infection? Everyone knows those could turn out to be deadly.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts you started to prep. After disinfecting your hands and tossing on some sterile gloves you looked at the man standing next to you, and wordlessly pointed your hand to the wonky table. Your face was written with disgust and discomfort. This was not a way to treat patients and it made your skin crawl. If you were at a war zone it would be a totally different scenario. But you weren’t, were you? And a big shot, bad, gang boss has you work on him here instead in some fancy spot? Unbelievable.

When he laid down on the table, you could see a small grimace show on his face. Of course he made sure it was gone right away. There was no way he would let himself show any weakness. It made the end of your lips curl into a smirk. It never stopped to amaze you how men usually had the need to seem unfazed by pain.

“Lift your back up for me a bit…” you said calmly. When he did as you asked, you rolled up his slightly blood soaked t-shirt, uncovering the source of the red stains. A couple of stitches have came undone. Surely he was not resting much since you sutured his wounds. You weren’t able to contain the annoyed sigh that slipped out of your mouth. Such a nerve wrecking, masterpiece of a job ruined because this asshole had to mess about.

“Well… now you will end up with bigger scars. I can’t stitch it as tightly as before. Surely it got dirtied up in the process of whatever you were doing… so I need to have the sutures looser in case of any infection. It will need to have space to come out. Also looking at the fact that you ripped these… you will be better off with looser ones…” you mumbled unpleased. You prided yourself in swift work and minimal scaring, but of course this individual had to fuck up things up.

“Just make sure it holds. I need to be… mobile… and as much as I enjoy looking at your pretty face, I’d rather not have this sort of meeting anytime soon.” after these words he smiled at you. Clearly he was enjoying getting under your skin. You helplessly clenched your fists to the point your gloves let out a squeaky sound. He had a sort of effect on you and you did not like it one bit. You worked with pain in the ass clientele before, but normally you were able to completely contain yourself.

Agust-D tho… he irritated you on whole new level. He was a smart ass, full of confidence, who clearly knew how to poke people to get a reaction. Letting a breath out threw your nostrils, you braved yourself as much as possible. You could not let him take control over the situation. Turning to your bag, you shook your shoulders a bit. Focus is what you needed. Taking the vial of local anesthesia, you pulled the needed amount into a small syringe.

You looked at his toned stomach. Even with the wounds, it was clear he was in shape. Blinking your eyes, you pulled yourself back into reality. You stabbed the needle into him, a bit harder than you needed to. He let out a quiet groan and shot an icy stare at you. He was well aware, you were purposefully hurting him more than the process required. “Bit rough hands eh?” he seethed threw his teeth.

Sitting yourself down on the rusted stool, you gave him the sweetest of smiles, as you chimed “Feel free to change to a different doctor. Would you like me to get you some recommendations?”. Lifting a brow, he let out a low chuckle while shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Now. Don’t move.” you ordered him coldly. Pinching hard on his skin, you checked if the injected spots were completely numbed out. Not earning any reaction from his side, you hummed quietly. Truth be told you were a little bit disappointed that the meds worked so quickly, you kind of hoped that pinch would’ve hurt at least a little.

As your skilled fingers were slowly working on each suture, you could feel his stare roam over you. Beads of sweat started to creep down the nape of your neck. His whole persona made you nervous. You could not put a finger on it but something about him felt off. Yes, he gave that criminal vibe, but also there was a weird feeling of calm surrounding him. Some things just did not seem to go together.

You were carefully tying up the last stitch “Last one…” you said quietly, still focusing yourself on the task. “Quite skilled hands you have doc. No wonder you managed to bring me back from the dead that night” his voice was gravely and echoed around the room. It made a shiver crawl up your spine. You shook it off with a shrug of your shoulders. You were not about to let some strange gangster have any sort of control over you. This whole situation and your bodies uncontrolled reactions, were starting to get on your nerves.

Pushing yourself away from the table, you winced at the screeching sound of the chairs legs, rubbing on the concrete floor. It slipped your mind that you weren’t sitting on one of your comfortable stools, that actually had wheels on them and made moving around way easier. “Done…” you took off your gloves and started to collect all the articles and tools you used.

Yoongi lifted himself up slowly and pushed his shirt down. Not turning your head towards him, you stated “Would be wise to change…” your sentence got interrupted by his rustling around. Allowing yourself to peek, you saw his shirtless back. It was pale but carved with subtle muscles. He wasn’t ripped like a gym fanatic but his body seemed naturally slim and toned. “Just like Hoseok…” you commented in your mind and quickly shook your head disapproving your own thoughts. Why would that even pop up in your brain?

��Well we need to manage a check up visit…” his silky voice ripped you out of the whirl of anxiety that was starting to form in you. Furrowing your brows and wiping off your hands with disinfectant, you give him a stern look “Plan on blasting up my stitching again?” he grinned at you while buttoning up his Hawaiian styled shirt. You felt relieved you didn’t have to stare at his bare chest and abs.

“Nah, but usually these things get checked up no? Also I’d rather not remove the sutures myself so…” you glared at him and shot out “Have Kook do it… I am a too busy for this…”. He stared straight at you, tilting his head to the side and running a finger over the table while moving your way. “I thought we discussed this… do we really need to push back to square one?”

There was seemingly no way this guy was giving up. You looked up a bit at the dark, tall ceiling. The big spiderwebs around the corners made the place even more gloomy. A breath loudly came out of your lips. You grabbed and squeezed the bridge of your nose, trying to compose the annoyance that was threatening to creep from within your whole being.

As if reading you, he huffed a bit and ran his fingers threw the thick lock of his hair. “I am being considerate and letting you chose the time. You should know by now, I can simply have someone escort you from the hospital…” you were clearly testing his patience at this point, you could not help but get defensive in this whole fucked up situation. Gritting your teeth and stuffing forcefully things back to the bag, you replied “Wooow how thoughtful of you! How did I get so lucky to run into such a compassionate human being like you?”.

His already black eyes seemed to get even darker, as he stood so closely that he towered over you and said slowly “As much as I enjoy when people are capable of using sarcasm, you are starting to get on my bad side doc…” rolling your eyes you mumbled quietly under your breath “So there is a good one?” and of course it came out louder then intended. A chuckle filled the room “Stick around for longer and you just might find out” he winked with a sheepish smile on his face “But going back to our discussion… check your little calendar and let me know…”

As you were about to make another comment, he grabbed your bag and started walking towards the exit “Come. We should get you back home…” he threw over his shoulder. Your feet helplessly followed behind him. The effect this creep was holding over you, started to freak you the fuck out. Reality of how utterly screwed your life will be in the nearest future hit you like a bag of bricks. What the hell did your friend drag you into? But most importantly what could you do to get out of this?

A slam of a car door, woke you from the badgering thoughts. You had no recollection of how you got outside already. You were really losing focus and spacing out due to all the shit that was thrown your way. To your surprise the raven haired mobster was climbing into a black Hyundai Palisade from the drivers side while telling you to get in.

“You’ve just been stitched back up again and you plan to drive?” you asked, a bit taken aback. He gave you a look that made you finish the discussion and climb in the passenger seat. Your bag was tossed on the back. This whole predicament was getting absurd. Never in a million years would you have thought, you’d find yourself in a car with a mafia boss. Clearly the world was putting you threw some sort of messed up test.

Yoongi drove the car smoothly out of the alley. While on the main street, he opened the window slightly and pulled out a cigarette. Seeing that made your blood boil, so without thinking you ripped it out of his mouth and tossed it passed his face. Your action clearly shocking him. Giving you a side eye he commented “you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”.

Realizing what you did, you bit your lower lip and looked forward. You decided no answer was the best answer. Feeling his eyes on you made your skin prickle, so finally you decided to speak “Eyes on the road! I simply don’t like being locked up in a small space, while someone smokes. You can poison yourself without dragging my lungs in the process…”.

He smiled lightly “Always speaking your mind hm? Quite refreshing. Most people don’t speak much around me”. You arched your brows in a way of asking, if he was trying to insinuate you better shut your mouth. “As I said… it is refreshing. Besides I like ladies that have fire in them” he chimed. “Whatever…” you sighed, deciding to keep quiet the rest of the way.

*** *** *** *** *** ***

Half of a block before your building you asked him to pull over. When he gave you a questioning look, you explained you’d rather your fiancé not see you getting out of some suspicious looking car. Your response made him laugh as he leaned an arm over your seat giving you a mischievous glare “Scared your little Hoseok might think you got yourself some sugar daddy to spoil you?”. Without thinking you grabbed your bag and simply stated “Next Friday I can do your check-up”. Without waiting for his answer, you jumped out of the SUV.

You could feel his gaze before you were able to disappear at the corner. Letting out a breath you had no idea you were keeping in for such a long while, you felt a bit relieved. That was until you got inside your apartment to be ambushed with a “Where the hell were you Y/N?” Hobi was standing in the hallway shooting daggers at you, his slim arms crossed over his chest. You could see he was greatly upset.

You looked at the clock on top of the entrance to the kitchen. Of course it was fucking late. “I asked where were you? Do you know what time it is?! I was worried!” his tone was full of irritation and that was the moment something in you snapped. How dare he stand there and get on your ass while he was the one to be meddling with this forsaken gang himself. Just thinking about his lies made you lose it and get ready for the fight of your life “I WAS WITH YOUR BEST BUDDY AUGUST-D!” as the words hit him, his face dropped but you continued your attack “RING A BELL DON’T IT MR DETECTIVE HUH?!”.

Hoseok’s face turned pale as all the blood flew to his brain. How the fuck did you know? Did you just say that? Did you actually throw Augst-D’s name out there? Did you fucking find out and how? All these questions ambushed him at once, so all he could let out was a quiet and completely confused “What… what did you just say Y/N…?”

@wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16

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ashc-from-ao3 · 2 months

Text

Free fallin’

Peter Maximoff x female reader

You weren't sure how you got into this mess. Actually you knew exactly how. You had been sent on a mission with your secret crush Peter Maximoff. It should have been simple, get in, save the mutant, get out. Easy right? Wrong. The instant you stepped door into the compound the mutant was being held, the two of you were under attack but guards, a lot more guards that's you originally anticipated. Peter took off in an instant, you scowled and got to work dispatching the guards. Your ability to control metal left people thinking you were another child of the famous Magnito, you thanked the lord everyday that it wasn't true,it would have made your crush on Peter weird, really weird.

You easily deflected the bullets back at the guards, incapitating them and leaving them groaning and clutching legs or arms on the ground. You strolled past them you weren't aware of a hidden guard aiming his gun at you. It wasn't until you heard the crack of a fun being fired and felt a rush of wind pass by you did you realize something was wrong. You turned and were horrified to see Peter on the ground, a red stain was quickly blossoming from his stomach. You looked over at the guard and the poor man seemed to know he had done something terribly stupid. With a short scream of fury you sent the man flying backwards by his belt, he hit the wall with a dull thud and lay unconscious on the ground.

You rushed over to Peter's side and hesitantly looked over his wound, it was still bleeding a lot and you were panicking. You knew you needed to get Peter somewhere safe, or at least somewhere you could stop the bleeding. With a bit of difficulty you used your ability to make a small metal stretcher under Peter. You carried the bleeding man into the compound and searched for a medical wing. Upon finding it you put Peter on a table. The instant he touched it a loud bang echoed through the room, someone had shut the door on you. You rushed over to check it and found it locked. You turned to look at Peter and sighed.

"Looks like we’ll be trapped for awhile"* Peter looked up and groaned, he held a hand to his stomach and in a flash he was standing infront of you.

"Really? How long is "awhile?" The silver haired mutant groaned again and doubled over in pain before he stood up looking determined. You signed and tried to lead him back to the bed.

"Peter, you just got shot. Please sit down...." He shook his head and stood firm.

"I'm fine (Y/n) 100% fine." No sooner had these words escaped his mouth did his eyes roll back and he started falling forward. With a surprised yelp you leapt forward to catch him, you stagger d under his weight, you had to get him back on the bed. It took you five minutes but you managed to do it. You waited an hour, trying to keep him alive. You managed to stop the bleeding and carefully remove the buller. But you had no supplies in the room to sew the wound closed. You were starting to get worried he would die here, yo never even got to tell him how you felt. You felt tears prickling your eyes, you sniffed and out your head on the table.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in the medbay of the mansion. You sat up confused and were instantly greeted by a gust of wind and Peter's face extremely close to yours.

"Glad you're up. I've been up for an hour and you know I hate waiting.....what happened?" You smirked and hopped off the bed.

"You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Peter's face paled for a second before he returned to his normal self.

"Of course I wanted the attention of a pretty girl. And especially one as pretty as you" you frowned and turned to look at him.

"You mean that?" Peter smiled and the next second all rational thought flew out of the window. Peter has pressed his lips to yours in a rather passionate kiss, your hand flew up to his hair and gently tugged on the silver strands. Peter groaned and started walking you towards the recently vacated hospital bed. Before anything could go further a voice rang out in your head, it was Charles.

"As much as I am happy you both have admired how you feel. Peter isn't supposed to do anything.....strenuous.....for awhile" you blushed heavily wondering who else in the mansion had know your feeling for Peter. You shrugged and decided that in that moment you didn't care, you went to kiss Peter again but he pulled away and looked around in exasperation.

"How long is awhile?!?"

#peter Maximoff x reader #Fox quicksilver #the superior quicksilver #Evan Peters quicksilver

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madeintheniamh · 1 year

Note

can we please have a dadrry one shot of tilly maybe getting rejected by someone she likes at school and harry comforts her? 💞

sorry this has taken me so long!

late night (boy) talking

stmf one shot #12

a/n: late night talking, but it's actually late and harry is having a detailed convo about life with his teenage daughter.

warnings: fluff. boy talk.

song: cardigan- taylor swift

Tilly had always embraced routine. Whether it was her skincare routine, her warm up routine for gymnastics, her morning routine or her night routine- she couldn’t go without them, and had been this way since she was as little as you both could remember, Lottie surprising you by being the complete opposite and doing everything on impulse in the same way that Harry did. He had just finished up a long song-writing session and was making his way out of the studio you had set up for him downstairs when he noticed the light shining through the small crack between Tilly’s bedroom door and the doorframe, along with the soft hum of a sad song coming from her laptop speakers, and he knew something was off. He always knew when something was off with his girls, it was just his thing, as if he was constantly in tune with their emotions and had some telepathic link to them. He peered down at his watch, his reading glasses slipping slightly further down his nose as he did. Tilly was never awake past midnight, yet the dainty hands told him clearly that it was close to one in the morning. He scratched at the patch of stubble beginning to grow on his chin, because he never shaved when he was hyper-fixated on writing new music. Or cut his hair for that matter, which was touching his chin again. His cheek was now rested against the doorframe, and he knocked softly, before letting himself in.

Her room was a mess- completely different from the neat and ordered state she religiously kept it in. Although it was barely illuminated by the soft glow of her bedside lamp, he could see clothes scattered all over her pink window seat, pillows strewn all over the floor, six different half empty bottles of water on her bedside table, tissues scattered across her bed and finally her, wrapped under the covers dressed in one of his old hoodies.

“Go away, Lottie,” She hissed, her words muffled slightly as her head was buried into her pillow.

Harry snickered a bit at that, putting on a high-pitched voice in an attempt to mimic his youngest daughter. “Fine, I’ll go, god you’re so mean,”

She lifted her head up slightly as soon as she realised that it was him, revealing a huge black mascara stain on her pillowcase as she did. As soon as she saw him smile hopelessly at her, she burst into tears yet again, coughing slightly from the force of her sobs.

“Hey baby,” He whispered, holding her shaking frame in his arms. “What’s got you all upset, hmm? You’re going to make me cry,”

“Daddy, I can’t, I just, I-”

“You take your time, sweet angel,” He soothed, rubbing his hand in circles across her back. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready,”

“He said no,” She sobbed. “He said no, in front of everyone,”

“You’re joking,” Harry cackled. “How could anyone turn you down?”

“Well, obviously,” She began to catch her breath again. “I’m not pretty enough for him. He probably thinks I’m ugly, because I am,”

“Whoa, hey,” Harry warned, taking her chin in the palm of his hand and forcing her to look at his eyes. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself, Matilda Gemma, because you know it isn’t true,”

She scorned slightly at hearing her full name. “But it is true,”

His eyebrows raised further up his forehead, a line forming in the middle of them like it always did when he was irritated.

“I think we need to look at getting you another eye test,” He sighed. “You obviously can’t see properly, if that’s what you believe,”

“I can see, Daddy,” she snapped. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, like you always do,”

“You know that’s not true,” He replied, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from out of her eyes. “Do I ever lie to you, baby?”

“Sometimes,” she began to smile slightly. “Last time we went to the dentist, you said it would be fine, and then they said I needed a filling, remember,”

He almost snorted at that, but put his hand over his mouth to avoid you getting out of bed to moan at him about keeping you up so late. He held his hands up in defeat.

“You got me, Tilly Gem,” he giggled. “But I mean about serious life things.”

“That was serious!” She moaned, her lips pouted slightly.

He had stopped himself from laughing now, but his dimples were still showing.

“I know, I know,” he replied. “But teenage boys are stupid. I mean, I know, I was one, many years ago,”

“When you had that stupid haircut,” She mocked.

“Yeah, maybe- actually, that’s quite rude, you know,” he scolded, but his lips were still set in a smile. “It wasn’t my best haircut, but I had more hair than I do now, so that’s something,”

That made her laugh, and as she did, he reached down to swipe the leftover smeared mascara from under her eyes.

“Why do you need a boy to tell you you’re pretty, hmm? What makes this ‘rupert’ or whatever his name is, so special? I bet he’s punching,” He laughed.

“But Daddy, he plays rugby,”

“Ooooh, he plays rugby,” he cackled. “But is he going to write you songs, like your Daddy does? Can he even sing like me?”

She stared into space for a second, trying to justify all her reasons for being upset, but they were beginning to fall away.

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” she sighed. “No one sings like you,”

“That’s very kind, Tilly Gem,” he smiled. “But you shouldn’t like a boy because he can sing, or because he can play rugby, or because he drives a Mercedes, or any of those things. You should like him because he’s nice to you, and he cares about you, and he treats you like you’re the most important thing in his life. That’s what you deserve,”

Her eyes lit up slightly, although they were still glossy. “Do you think?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And if he embarrasses you in front of people, or he makes you upset, or he makes you feel like you should change things about yourself, then he’s obviously not the right one, is he?”

“Maybe you’re right,” She leaned into his arms, feeling his stubble scratch against her cheek.

“The right guy will come, baby,” he smiled. “Don’t waste your time on guys who make you feel like shit, you’re too young for all that rubbish,”

He tucked the covers in over her, making sure her shoulders were fully covered, before reaching over to switch off her lamp.

“And you should really wear your glasses more,” He giggled, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead, before approaching the door. “Because you and Lottie are the most beautiful girls in the world, and the best thing that has ever happened to me,”

----

HARRY LOVES HIS GIRLS. HE LOVES THEM. NO MAN WILL MATCH HARRY. i said what i said

i am still taking requests for my dadrry series! if you have anything, literally anything, if you think it's weird, too vague- send it over and i will try my best. i always love writing using your prompts!

if you liked this one shot, the link to the slipping through my fingers series masterlist is here...

i am going to bed now bc it's 1.30am. goodnight x

#harry styles #dadrry #harry styles dad #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #stmf #harry styles fanfiction

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angelgoeslewd · 7 months

Note

Angel, hello, as you may have noticed I'm a slit for Wren and Landry so if i could request something with Wren Landry and Mickey like maybe a mission that requires the three of them or just play cards or maybe both like playing cards will talking about a mission, sorry if it's too loose just tell me and I'll try to add to it, thank you!

I was FEELING this one!!! the new dol update has me thirstin for Landry + Wren hardcore (and Whitney….. and Kylar…. but SHUSH.)

Wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be lewd or not so made it suggestive but open for more endings ;3 still an 18+ rating because of the game itself tho

enjoy!

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI!, the use of the c-slur, lots of suggestive flirting, open ending, GN!Reader, lots of swearing

🌟 this work is being REWRITTEN! check back for the completion check ✅ and a new story with extra content!

ever since the new laws came into effect, your petty thievery seemed to have less and less… appeal.

your repeat offenses from before had your fingers too quick for any cops to actually gather hard evidence against you. there was nothing like the threat of being caught. would they put you in the stocks? would they punish you off the table? even their degradations did something to you that you couldn’t explain. the risk was high, even if the prize was mediocre. but Quinn was cracking down on the corrupt officials and honestly? it bored the hell out of you.

no longer was there a risk of any… hard justice. what little morals you had prevented you from diving too far into a life of true hard crime and the small acts of terror you did manage no longer paid off in terms of satisfaction. even messing with Whitney seemed more appealing than any small acts of crime around town now.

so here you sat, utterly bored out of your mind and tipsy off your ass (you might even be drunk out of sheer spite of Quinn himself, but you’d never admit that to anyone), the only patron allowed into the pub this early into the day. your sharp wit and constant theft had made you good friends with Landry, enough so that he rewarded you with access to the pub even when it was technically closed. sometimes it felt like he was the only man you felt really understood you.

(Robin was too innocent, Kylar idolized you too much, Whitney’s retribution had a weird tinge of softness now, and Sydney nagged too much about how you needed to change your character- too much too much toomuch.)

of course, even Landry’s understanding of you and what you desired was only an arm’s length, only reached so far under the surface that it was impossible to tell what you really wanted.

and that was your need. that never ending desire. the heat that pooled low in your stomach when you lifted something. endorphins swirling. how shaky your hands felt when they rushed through you, despite knowing your fingers were as calm and still as always.

you wished to be caught.

you wished to held against your will as you struggled and punished.

you wanted to see how his eyes somehow managed to sparkle and darken with absolute delight at your newest prize. you wished to be rewarded.

but… how could you even bring that up? the man was almost a decade older than you, if only that. how could he ever get that dark part of you? to see you in that sort of light, when you were eternally shrouded the dark cloud that loomed over this town.

it was why you were even here, at his place of business. bitterly loitering around for some sort of thrill. a cat, pacing endlessly at the rat’s nest, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

but Landry was no rat, however. and you were more of a lap cat playing tiger. you know this.

your face soured at the thought. ridiculous. your need was going too far this time, maybe due to the fact you no longer had any outlet. and with that, you raised your finger for another shot — whiskey to damper the dullness of what your every day life had become thanks to fucking Quinn and his idealistic political agenda.

“Hey, kid.”

You heard Landry’s call, and despite the little worm in your brain aching to ignore it, you raised your messy head from the bar’s countertop and stared at him in response. his hazel eyes looked concerned as he ran them over your face, most likely catching on the dark circles under your eyes; it was nothing more than a slight wrinkle of the forehead to indicate such, but you knew him well enough at this point to know his tells. he was worried. “Don’t ya think that’s enough? I mean… it’s still so early.”

your brow raised at the man, a scoff erupting from your throat. you pointedly ran your own eyes over him. typical bartender, thinking they knew what ails you, polishing a pint glass, but you knew what those rough hands were capable of. you had seen what passed through them and goddamn, you were fucking jealous of those musty old jewels. “You’re complaining about me spending money…? At your place of business? Who are you and what have you done with Landry, ‘he who doesn’t ask questions’?”

despite his concern, he barks a laugh, his face relaxing at your humor. Landry sets down the glass behind the counter and picks up another. “No,” he states, very simply, quickly turning the wet crystal in his toweled hand. “I’m complaining about your appearance.”

“Not fit to be seen in your be- bar?” you hiccup, hoping your inebriation hides the slip of your tongue.

“Not in the slightest.” His eyes flicker back up to you, taking in your state once again. “You just seem… off, yeah?”

You don’t really know what to say to him then; like him, everything with you costs a price. You both stare at each other for a moment, silent.

It’s a challenge.

It’s a game.

It’s the most thrilling experience you’ve had all day.

and you hate it. emotionally held hostage by the man you want have a clean slate with. but without payment, you weren’t budging. Bailey had at least taught you that resolve.

so like any brat would do, you spit back, “I asked for fucking whiskey.”

Landry rolls his eyes.

you once again find yourself in an empty bar, late this time, after everyone has been kicked out by the owner himself. everyone except for you. it’s almost like deja vu. your head slumped against the counter, Landry washes glasses yet again (how boring being a bartender must be, you think, no wonder he’s gotta get his rocks off with fencing.)

“Bailey’s gonna be worried.”

your head shoots up this time, a look of incredulous disbelief smeared across your features. “Bailey?” you ask, huffing a laugh. “Please. The man could not give less of a shit about any of us.”

Landry himself seems as calm as ever, not even bothering to look your way. but you don’t base anything off of that. you yourself do it all the time.

he shrugs, “He’s called a couple times, looking for ya.”

“He’s making sure I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere so he can properly balance his ledger,” you say bluntly, picking up your glass and taking a swig. your voice is raspy when you begin again, “Besides, if he cares so much, he can come look for me himself.”

“Don’t say that.”

you’ve looked away from Landry when you feel it. the tension that lines the air. the shift of the mood to something dark and heavy. it’s so sudden that you turn your head back to him; the water is running, but his hands are still in the sink as he gazes down into it. “I don’t like you thinking like that,” he says softly. you blink a couple of times, wondering where the hell this is coming from, open your mouth to reply, but you don’t get anything out before he starts again, “Look, something’s the matter with ya, and if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But that’s no reason to do- this-!” he gestures at you, haphazardly. “It bothers me seeing ya like this. You used come in here with a spring in your step and pawn off whatever goodies you’ve gotten those pretty little hands on, throw a few punches, then disappear like you got somewhere to be. So what’s going on? Boyfriend dump ya? School stressing you out? Fuckin’- get it off your chest or something, stop acting like a wet cat and-”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you. Thought you didn’t care.” The smirk on your face is there to piss him off. If one of your skills was spitting back at any blessings thrown at you, you’d be a master at it. And it works. Landry looks downright offended at you when-

when he laugh? he’s laughing. at you. your smirk turns into a pout.

“‘m sorry, doll,” he manages, “I didn’t- I’m not laughing at you- I- I just love that about ya. Always trust ya to be a little brat.”

“Yeah… well.” Landry continues to bubble with laughter, wiping away fake tears from his eyes.

“And- and as a side note, never said I didn’t care- just knew I had to push you a bit to find out more.”

“You are such a fucking asshole.”

“No wonder we work so well together, huh?” he says, a toothy smile growing wider by the second, “The cunt and the asshole. A perfect system.” Landry turns off the water, drying his hands and making his way to stand in front of you. there’s so much about this conversation you don’t want to dissect. an uncomfortable feeling of standing on ground that you don’t know will hold. why is he doing this to you? playing with your goddamn emotions, like he knows. he can’t fucking know, you’re sure of it. there’s no possible way. but the way he’s looking at you now. proud. that look in his eyes the same you saw when you got your hands on that microchip, but now he’s looking at you.

isn’t this what you wanted?

you don’t know.

“So… you gonna tell me? Or do I gotta buy you another drink?”

“You own the place. That doesn’t count.”

“You askin’ me out?”

you choke on your drink. fucker.

“Hey.”

you stare at your phone. after last time, you expected things to go back to being a little more normal between you and Landry. he got what he wanted. finally able to pull out your disillusion with life. yeah, you knew he could feel you were hiding more than you let on, but he didn’t push any farther than that, nodding while you spoke, letting you vent your grievances with Quinn and his stupid fucking town. it was kinda nice, to get it off your chest. but you were positive nothing would come about it. Landry was just a friend, you reminded yourself. a good friend.

“Who the hell said you could call me on this phone?”

Always up to your level, a crackling laugh came through the speaker. “I did,” he said. “Now listen- I think I got a way to cure that little bug of yours.”

You were intrigued. “Uh huh.”

“Come by the bar tomorrow. 8am. You were probably already plannin’ to but I want you there sharp, ‘kay?”

you showed up at 8:15.

“There they are!” Landry’s voice seem to echo across the bartop, booming through the empty pub as if through a speaker. He stood to greet you, with arms open as if expecting a hug. You begrudgingly gave him one.

“Why am I here.”

“Aren’t you usually?” it’s a unfamiliar, bored tone that has you looking over Landry’s shoulder, landing on a thin boy, who looks not much older than you, black roots that melting into wild electric blue hair, choppy and chin length. he’s wearing a black and grey hoodie, slumped back in a bar chair, thin fingers clasped around an equally blue drink. he looks at you, expressionless, and his eyes surprise you. they’re bright yellow. cat-like and gleaming. those lithe fingers raise the glass to his lips, sipping it, and coughing just as quickly. “Fuck- Landry! I fucking hate this shit, you know that!”

“Hey now,” comes the smooth purr of a unrecognizable voice. the owner was a man who’s face was obscured by a dark cowboy hat, tipped just so that his eyes were hidden from your gaze, he was draped over the chair, like a sweater that had been forgotten and sat casually enough to feel like such, easily blending in to his surroundings despite the bar being empty. he held a highball glass filled with golden liquid, swirling it around, making the metal accents of his outfit clink with every arm movement. “You be nice. Ol’ Landry’s already putting out with these free drinks, the promise of a fair game, and…” His hat suddenly lifted, his eyes piercing as he finally met your own. You felt very naked as they trailed down your body. “—some very nice company.”

You immediately turn to your hospitable host, whose arm is slung over your shoulder and hiss, “What the hell is this-!”

He just smiles, a bit apologetically, his eyes shifted away from you as he answers. Not a wonderful sign. “Just a… little get together. Some old friends-” A scoff erupted from the blue-haired boy, who still sipped on that god-awful colored drink.

“We’re gambling, darl’,” the cowboy stated, gesturing loosely at a stack of chips on the table.

Your eyebrows knitted as you blinked, mouth parted, but for once in your bratty life, you felt… speechless. The bar owner’s arm is slightly tensing and relaxing around your neck and that’s when you realize —

That’s when you turn to him, letting his arm drop between you two, and lower your eyes to the floor shyly —

Your voice, a whisper, to ensure the other two don’t hear, because you’re sure Landry wouldn’t like them catching onto this —

“You did this… for me…?”

Landry won’t look at you, his own gaze fixed onto the table as the cowboy reaches for the blue drink and the smaller man smacks his hand away. But his head gives a small tilt downwards, before it just as quickly tilts back up.

You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t either, judging by the way he sets and unsets his jaw.

“Come onnn,” The smaller one says, “Are you guys done whispering over there?” He fixes on you, “Done having daddy issues? Ready to get your ass kicked?”

The effect is immediate. “Yeah fucking right,” you bite back, moving to take the seat next to him. “You’re going to regret saying that when I bust your bank-!”

“I think he would rather you bust something else of his-”

“Shut the absolute HELL up, Wren! Like you weren’t undressing them 2 fucking seconds ago!”

Landry figures he should start the game before Mickey starts throwing stuff at Wren…

Again.

(But you fit in so perfectly. You look so at peace, content with this thrill of adrenaline that he really couldn’t ask for much more. Even if it costs him another set of glassware.)

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol mickey #mickey the hacker #landry the criminal #wren the smuggler #dol wren #dol landry #🍩 of dol #angelic songs #.SMS SENT

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