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ashwhowrites · 4 months

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The mother of it all

Plot- Eddie finds himself crushing on his girlfriend's mom

⚠️Eddie is a perv! Fair warning. Eddie is legal (18) but the reader is 35, age gap relationship/sex

Extremely long....but I hope you guys enjoy it🫶🏻 I really loved writing this and I hope you guys love it 🤞🏻 I also gave up proofreading half way through so lets ignore mistakes

Y/N went through a messy divorce, a husband who never loved her the way she needed. She felt alone in her marriage and craved to mean something to someone. Her daughter, Brittany was a daddy's girl. Brittany saw her dad with this sense of pride that Y/N never received. When Y/N asked for the divorce, Brittany turned on her. She couldn't see that her dad was the bad guy in it all, she tore Y/N apart and would never forgive her for being the reason their family broke apart.

Now Y/N was in her 30s, starting over in a world of dating. She met losers, creeps, cheaters, and everything under the moon. Except for a handsome man who has potential. She quit looking, she gave up on the idea that she'd fall in love again and that someone would fall for her.

That was until Brittany met a boy named Eddie Munson.

~~~

Eddie Munson was Brittany's boyfriend, their relationship was rocky. They fought constantly, then made up with sex. That was all the relationship was. Y/N could see there were no feelings on either side, it was just sexual tension. But Y/N would never say a word of that to her daughter. Brittany already hated her, giving relationship advice would cause a war. So Y/N let Brittany do what she wanted, but she felt bad for the poor boy. She wasn't sure why he still bothered to come around.

He came around for Y/N. The first time Eddie ever met Brittany's mom, he couldn't get her out of his head. Her sexy curves, her chest, her smile, and those eyes. She was gorgeous, effortlessly beautiful. Eddie was attracted to Brittany of course, but something about her mom called to Eddie even more. Maybe it was his mommy issues, the abandonment he felt growing up. Y/N provided everything for him when he was over. She cooked dinner, and she was an excellent chef. Not that Brittany would give her the credit. She refused to eat anything her mom made, yet Eddie sat down and had seconds. He didn't understand the toxic environment between the mother and daughter. He didn't understand how Brittany could be so cruel to Y/N.

He always felt a snap in his chest when Brittany brushed aside Y/N, the painful look in Y/N's eyes as she forced out a smile. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss all the pain away. But he also wanted to drill his cock so deep inside her that she'd feel him in her stomach. He wanted to watch her tits bounce as she rode him. He wanted to feel her skin drenched in sweat and her cum smeared into his pubic hair. He was obsessed with Brittany's mom.

~~~

Another fight between Brittany and Y/N left Eddie awkwardly sitting in his girlfriend's room. He learned to block out their screams. He took his time walking around Brittany's room. His eyes catch all the photos, but none of Y/N. Eddie couldn't help but feel disappointed, he knew they would fight for hours. Then Brittany would come upstairs and they'd fuck her anger out.

Eddie slowly made his way across the hall, the sweet smell of Y/N's perfume filled his nose as he traveled into her room. He slowly closed the door behind him, signing in relief as it shut quietly. He walked quickly over to her dresser, he searched and searched until he found the lacy and silk lingerie. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans as he grabbed a red lacy thong. Eddie felt no shame as he brought the thong to his nose, inhaling the laundry detergent she used, but that tiny smell of her. He whimpered as he could feel his cock pulsing. He tucked the thong into his pocket and closed the dresser. He raced to the bathroom, quickly yanking down his jeans. He wrapped the thong around his cock, eagerly jerking off. He bit down on his lap as he fucked himself, he knew he had to be fast and quiet. He closed his eyes as he imagined her hands on him. Her nails scrape down his stomach, a smirk on her face as she teased the tip of his cock. Her mouth was on his neck, marking him as hers before she sank her wet cunt on him.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Brittany screamed, Eddie's eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice. He could hear her feet pounding up the stairs, he quickly tucked his cock back in his jeans, the thong in his back pocket as he washed his hands. He left the bathroom by the time Brittany made it to the top.

She growled and grabbed his hand. Eddie couldn't help but look down the stairs, Y/N stood there with fire in her eyes. He knew the pissed-off look was meant for Brittany, but he couldn't help but whimper. When she noticed his eyes on her, she let out a small smile. Eddie wanted to smile back but Brittany yanked him into her room.

~~~

"Wanna go out tonight?" Brittany asked, her hands moving up and down Eddie's chest as they sat in the cafeteria. It was a Friday and Eddie planned to sit in his room and work on his music. He wasn't much in the mood to listen to Brittany argue about something.

"Who's weekend is it?" He asked he crossed his fingers under the table.

"Dad. He's been asking to meet you. He doesn't know why you only go to my mom's." Brittany said, a small glare in her eyes. "Neither do I."

Eddie knew why.

"I can't, Wayne and I are going to a work thing." Eddie lied, shrugging his shoulders.

The second Eddie made it home, he thanked God Wayne was still at work. He stripped himself naked and dug in his nightstand. He felt around until he felt the thong, he grabbed it and slid it up his legs. He pulled it up until his cock was covered, he closed his eyes and pictured Y/N. He pictured his hands were hers as he trailed his fingertips down his chest, slowly moving down to his cock. He teased himself over the thong, enjoying the way the lace scratched against his sensitive skin. He moaned as he began to rub himself.

"Fuck, Ms. Y/N, that feels so good." He moaned. He rubbed himself until he felt that tight feeling in his stomach and until he came inside her underwear.

~~~

Eddie got excited as the new weekend came closer, knowing this weekend was Y/N's weekend. He agreed to whatever date Brittany wanted, his mind just on the fact he'd get to see her mom again.

"Eddie, nice to see you again," Y/N said politely, Eddie felt his mouth go dry as she leaned over the counter to scrub the table. He licked his lips as he checked out her ass in the leggings she wore.

"Don't talk to him." Brittany snapped, she yanked Eddie up to her room.

"She's just being nice," Eddie said as he stripped off his shirt, Brittany gagged and rolled her eyes as she unclipped her bra.

"She's not nice. She's just sucking up to you." Brittany argued. "But not talking about her, she'll kill the mood."

But Eddie disagreed, knowing he was going to picture Y/N under him as he brought Brittany to an orgasm.

~~~

"Should we get dinner?" Brittany asked as she got herself dressed. Eddie shrugged from the bed, lying in his boxers.

"We could eat here...maybe your mom is making dinner?" Eddie asked, Brittany glared at the idea.

"Yeah right. I'm not eating anything that witch makes. Probably poison in it."

"Brittany, don't you think you are a little harsh on her?" Eddie asked, but Brittany turned around with fire in her eyes.

"No! She's a horrible person. She divorced my dad and broke up the family. For what? So she can slut around and hop on as many men as she wants." Brittany scoffed. Eddie couldn't help but feel a burn of jealousy in his stomach at the thought of Y/N having sex with other people.

"She's dating?" Eddie asked, he wasn't sure if that was hope or disappointment in his voice.

"who cares, let's go get dinner with my dad," Brittany said, grabbing her phone and texting.

They finished getting dressed and walked downstairs. The smell of pasta filled the house and Eddie could feel his stomach growl.

"Just in time! I was about to call you down." Y/N said she cleaned her hands off on a towel as she looked over at them.

Eddie was zoned in on her sweaty skin. The sweat in her hairline, the wetness on her neck, and the way she threw her hair up to be out of the way. A few pieces framed her face, she wore no makeup. Her skin looked soft and flawless.

"We are eating with Dad so," Brittany said, a mocking pout on her face as she grabbed her coat.

"But Brittany, it's my weekend and I spent the last hour making Alfredo with chicken, broccoli, and garlic bread."

"No one asked you to," Brittany said, walking right out the door.

Eddie stood silently as he watched Y/N deflate. He moved a little closer to her, his movement reminded Y/N he was still there.

"Um here!" She said as she reached into her purse, she handed Eddie a bundle of cash. "That loser won't pay for anyone but himself. Get whatever you'd like and don't worry about change."

Eddie shivered as her hand touched his. He hated the sad look in her eyes. She looked exhausted and lonely.

"I'm sorry about her," Eddie said he didn't think twice before he pulled her into a hug. He had a few inches on her, his head on top of hers. He tried to focus on making her feel better and not on the fact her chest was pressed against his.

"You're an amazing mother and one day she'll realize you aren't the evil one."

Y/N gladly accepted the hug, she needed someone. She tried to ignore how amazing he smelled, how warm he felt, and how hard his chest felt. She pulled away and quickly wiped away the tear in her eye.

"You're a gentleman. Thank you." Y/N said. She watched as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

That was the first time she felt something towards Eddie.

~~~

"Oh, Brittany isn't home yet," Y/N said as she checked her watch, Eddie stood on the doorstep.

"That's okay, I can come back," Eddie said, he went to turn around but Y/N stopped him.

"You can wait inside, hun."

Eddie smiled at the nickname, accepting her invitation inside.

"Want a snack?" She asked she walked into the kitchen, and Eddie followed behind. He took a seat at the counter as she opened up the cabinet, she named snack after snack. But Eddie craved to be between her thighs.

"Any of that pasta left?" He asked, "It smelled amazing the other night." Eddie felt himself smile as her face lit up.

"There is!" She sounded so excited as she began to warm up the meal for him on the stove. He tried to ignore the big amount she had left, knowing it would be left untouched by Brittany.

They made small conversation as she recooked the meal. She played it for him and set it in front of him.

"Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N, this is amazing." Eddie complimented as he took a few bites of the pasta.

"You can call me Y/N, and thank you. At least someone will eat it." She joked, but both knew it wasn't meant to be funny.

"She's missing out," Eddie said, taking another bite of the pasta.

"Does she ever...say anything nice about me?" Y/N asked, the vulnerability in her voice. She looked down at Eddie's plate, too shy to look in his eyes.

"Does she say anything nice about anyone?" Eddie joked, pride in his chest as Y/N let out a laugh.

"Fair enough." Y/N laughed.

"I think you're underappreciated though. You love her, you care about her so much. You're funny, I know you're incredibly smart, and independent. You don't let anything knock you down. There are so many nice things to say about you." Eddie said, his words soft as he looked into her eyes.

She tried to bite her lip to stop the huge smile creeping on. She felt her cheeks flame up as she took in the compliments.

"Effortlessly beautiful too," Eddie whispered, he didn't realize he was leaning closer to her until her lips were right in front of his face. Her elbows were on the counter as she leaned forward.

"You think I'm beautiful?" She whispered, her heart racing as he leaned further into her.

"Fucking breathtaking. Your beauty never leaves my mind. Your eyes, your hair, those lips and curves. "

She held her breath as he looked down at her lips. For a moment, she was weak. For a split second, she looked down at his lips too.

Then the front door slammed and Y/N jumped back. Her eyes wide as she realized she was seconds away from kissing a teenager, a boy who was still in high school, at least seventeen years younger than her, her daughter's boyfriend.

"Good, you're already here," Brittany said as she grabbed Eddie's arm and yanked him off the stool.

Y/N held her breath as Eddie gave her one last longing look. He was filled with disappointment as Brittany led him into her room. His heart was still racing from having Y/N so close, seconds away from tasting her breath.

Y/N rubbed her hands over her face before grabbing Eddie's plate. Panic in her chest as she anxiously scrubbed the plate clean. She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to forget the look in Eddie's eyes. A look she longed to see someone have, that look of lust and desire. She shook her head as different thoughts filled her head. Thoughts of his lips on hers, her chest, and her thighs. What was she thinking? It was so inappropriate to think of Eddie in that way. And it was inappropriate for Eddie to think of her the way he did, but she couldn't help but like that he did.

What the fuck was she doing?

~~~

A week passed since her moment with Eddie in the kitchen and she couldn't forget it. But she knew she needed to.

She sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand as she watched some old movie. She sat in a T-shirt and panties, a blanket on her naked legs. She groaned when she heard a knock on the door, she sat down her glass and wrapped the blanket around herself as she walked to the door.

"Eddie?" Confusion on her face when she opened the door. "Brittany is at her dad's house."

"Not here for her," Eddie admitted, his hand on the door as he pushed it open further and walked in.

"Eddie." Y/N sighed as she closed the door. The speech died on her tongue when she turned around and he towered over her.

"hm?" He asked, his eyes scanning all over her face.

"What are you here for?" She asked, taking a step back. She took a big gulp of air as she tried to ignore how hot her body was. She walked to the couch and sat back down. She sipped on her wine, praying it would calm down her nerves. But she grew more nervous when he took the spot next to her. His fingers grabbed the blanket, moving it off her bare legs.

"I can't get that moment out of my head. Being so close to finally kissing you." He said, his hands skimming up her naked legs. She tried to keep her breathing even as he moved up her thighs.

"Eddie, we can't." She said, stopping his hand and moving it off of her.

"I don't care. I want it." He argued, his voice deep and raspy.

She gasped as he pushed her knees apart, easily placing his body between her. His knees were against the cushions as he towered over her again.

"You want it too. You want to feel wanted, desired and loved. You want someone to make your skin burn and your toes curl. You want someone to need you so desperately." He whispered, his hand grabbed hers. She whined when he placed her hand on his thin sweatpants, his hard cock easy to feel. "And I'm that someone."

"Eddie, you are my daughter's boyfriend. This is very inappropriate." Y/N tried again, but Eddie kept her hand right against him. He listened to her words but pushed his hips forward, pushing his cock into her hand.

"Forget about her. Focus on just me." He said softly, leaning down as he softly pecked her lips. He waited a second, watching her as she licked her lips. He could see the gears working in her mind. His lips were inches away from hers.

She freed her hand from his grip, using both her hands to tangle them into his hair as she smashed her lips on his. Her eyes closed as she let herself melt into him. Eddie moaned as he pushed her body down on the couch, his tongue working inside of her mouth as he let his hands feel every inch of her. The kiss was hot and messy, but she didn't care.

Y/N wasn't sure how they moved so fast, but before she knew it her panties were pushed to the side as Eddie's tongue dove between her thighs. She moaned as his tongue flicked her clit and three fingers pushed inside her cunt.

She wasn't even embarrassed that she hadn't shaved. With her ex-husband, she was always smooth and prepped, otherwise, he'd never go down on her. But here Eddie was, eating her out with no care in the world.

"Fuck Eddie." She whined, her hands in his hair, pushing his head against her cunt. He happily let her take control, he let her rock her hips against his tongue. He sucked on her clit, fingering her as fast as he could. He loved the way she got louder and louder. His name on her lips, the way her thighs clenched around his head. She gripped his hair so tight as she rocked her hips against his face. With his free hand, he reached up her body to play with her chest.

"RIGHT THERE!" she screamed, his fingers hitting the spongy spot inside of her. Eddie smirked against her cunt as he continuously hit that spot, watching her body twitch beyond her control.

She gasped as she felt her orgasm building, one hand on his head as the other flew behind her, smacking her glass of red wine straight to the floor. Her back arched as she came on his fingers and tongue.

~~~

Y/N whined as she scrubbed her carpet. The red stain did not leave as she continued to work on it. She felt sweat on her brow as she scraped and scraped.

"Don't mind her. She spilled wine over the weekend and won't give up on it." Brittany scoffed as she welcomed Eddie inside the house.

Eddie tried to hide his smirk when he watched Y/N scrub the stain on her hands and knees.

"Oh no, wonder how that happened," Eddie said, his voice catching Y/N's attention. Her head snapped to look over her shoulder.

"Who cares." Brittany said, walking up the stairs.

Eddie gave Y/N a wink before he followed Brittany up the stairs.

~~~

Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. Ever since Eddie ate her out on the couch, she's tried to sleep with this burning ache in her cunt.

She barely slept that Friday night after he left. Saturday she got a blink of sleep. And now Sunday, was worse than ever knowing he was just down the hall.

She groaned as the bright red lights shined

2:05

Another night of no sleep. She might as well make the best of it. She slid her hands down into her panties, instantly moaning as she spread her wetness up and down.

"Psst." She jumped up when she heard a sound. She flipped on the lamp next to her bed.

"Eddie!" She scolded quietly, the boy stood in her doorway, a cheeky smile on his face.

She couldn't help but let her eyes rank down his naked chest. He was a skinny boy but toned in the rest places. He had a clean chest but a happy trail that made her mind wander. Some tattoos scattered along his chest, she always questioned if he had more than just the ones on his arms.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, slightly embarrassed that she was about to finger herself to the thought of him to get rid of the ache between her thighs.

He closed the door behind him, the sound of the lock made her shiver. He tugged down his sleep shorts, and his cock sprang up to smack his stomach. Y/N couldn't help but clench her thighs together underneath the sheets.

"Trying so hard to sleep. But my mind kept thinking of you laying here, thought of the way you tasted when you came all over my tongue." He moaned as he walked to her bed.

He yanked down her blanket, ignoring her gasps as he crawled between her legs.

"I can smell you, smell so sweet and wet." He moaned, he leaned down to nudge his nose against her covered clit. His tongue ran over her cunt.

"Someone started without me." He said with a smirk, looking up at her.

Y/N wasn't sure what came over her. She didn't know if it was the fact he looked so hot smirking between her legs, or that she's been craving him in ways she shouldn't. But she lost control.

Before she knew it, he was under her, his hands bruised her hips as she rode him. Her nails clawed down his chest as her cunt clenched around him. His mouth sucked on her chest, creating a trail of marks.

"Fuck you're so good. Such a good cock." She praised, her brain melted with the way he fucked back up into her.

Eddie whined under her praise, her words alone had him clenching his thighs.

"Oh someone like that? Does someone like praise?" She teased, he whined louder. His hips struggled to keep up with his rhythm.

She leaned down to pinch his cheeks together, his lips puffed out.

"Answer me." She demanded, her nose against his as she slowed down her hips.

"Yes, mommy."

His eyes flew wide open when he released what he said. Fear in his stomach as she froze on top of him. The apology was ready on his tongue.

"Say it again." She asked, her eyes bored into his.

"Fuck me, Mommy. "

Y/N moaned as she began to move her hips again. She fucked him and she fucked him hard. She placed her feet on either side of Eddie's body, the extra leverage helped her ride him faster. Her hands held on to his hairy thighs as she bounced on him.

Eddie couldn't keep up with her, his orgasm so close that he couldn't think straight. It felt so good to be taken care of. He loved that she had the control and he was forced to take it all. She used his cock the exact way she wanted it.

"Fuck, gonna." He warned, he quickly gained his control, flipped them over and pulled out. He painted her stomach with his cum. He kept his eyes on her the best he could as he pumped himself dry.

"That's mommy's good boy." She praised, she scooped up his cum and placed it on her tongue. Eddie felt himself choke on his spit as he watched her.

"You're so fucking sexy." He praised, his lips pressed against hers.

"Make me cum, Eddie," she said against his lips.

~~~

Two months passed, Eddie and Y/N found themselves sneaking off to see each other. Some nights they hooked up and other night they talked.

Y/N hated that she found herself falling for Eddie. She hated that he made her feel so loved and wanted. She felt like an idiot for craving something real with him. Which could never happen. He was young and had a whole future ahead of him, oh and the fact that he's dating her daughter.

So she went back on the dating websites. She needed to move on and get Eddie out of her head.

~~~

Eddie didn't question why Brittany bounced on him the second they heard the front door open. His mouth was covered by hers as she practically choked him with her tongue.

Her hands were removing his clothes faster than he could ask what was going on.

"Brittany, slow down. What's going on?"

Before she could answer, Eddie heard laughter coming from downstairs. The sounds of giggles and a male voice.

"Who's that?" Eddie asked

"My mom and her date. Can we fuck now?" Brittany scoffed, her lips on his neck.

Eddie sat in pity as she kissed his neck. All he could hear was the sound of Y/N giggling and flirting with that man. With her date.

She was dating? And bringing him home? Was she hoping they'd have sex? Eddie couldn't help but wonder if she showered, shaved, and bought sexy lingerie just to wear for her date. He felt the jealousy burning in his skin when he heard that familiar moan.

"That's so good." Y/N moaned, it was needy and whiny, and it caused something to snap in Eddie.

He had Brittany screaming underneath him as he fucked out his anger and jealousy. He pounded into her hard, no part of him cared to be gentle. Her bed was smacking into the wall, guaranteed echoing throughout the house. And the thought made Eddie smirk. He wanted Y/N to know he was fucking Brittany like there wasn't a tomorrow. He wanted her to be just as jealous as he felt.

"BEST CUNT I'VE EVER HAD." Eddie screamed, his hand smacking against the wall.

Eddie panted as Brittany began to get dressed. The sweat was thick on his skin as he pulled on his boxers. There was silence downstairs, no more giggles and moans. Eddie felt sick at the thought. Maybe it was silent because their mouths were busy.

But then Brittany's door slammed open. Y/N stood pissed on the other side. Eddie couldn't help but take in the beautiful tight red dress she wore. It framed her perfectly. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, makeup simple but captivating. She looked stunning.

"I ASKED YOU FOR ONE THING! I asked you just for once not to fuck something up for me. Why can't you let me have anything?" Y/N screamed, her finger pointed straight at Brittany, who simply rolled her eyes.

Eddie gulped as he covered his mostly naked body with the blanket. Not like either person in that room hasn't seen it, but he felt like he was just as in trouble.

"Oh I'm sorry! Was that date tonight? The one you asked me to not interrupt?" Brittany asked, a fake confused look on her face.

"I'm tired of you disrespecting me. You get to be happy, your father gets to be happy, why can't I be happy? Your father fucking cheated on me! He hooked up with every whore in his office, and he's the one with a girlfriend and a daughter that loves him. Why can't I ever just have something without you ruining it? Especially when you admitted you didn't want it" Eddie swore her eyes landed on him before she went back to Brittany. "WHY DO I HAVE TO BE ALONE AND SUFFER?" Y/N cried, her eyes watered. Eddie couldn't tell if it was from sadness or pure anger.

But now he couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. He ruined her night just as much as Brittany did. He purposely ruined her night just as much as Brittany did.

For once, Brittany was silent.

Y/N took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Her once perfect makeup was starting to smear as more water dropped from her eyes.

"Eddie, I'd like you to leave for tonight." She said before she closed the door.

"You've got to be kidding me, Brittany!" Eddie scoffed, throwing the blankets off as he stood up.

"what did I do?"

"You planned it! You invited me over, telling me you wanted to have sex. Then we sat here for two hours doing nothing. The second your mom comes home you attack. You wanted to ruin her date." Eddie said as he realized. He couldn't help but feel like such an idiot. He knew his jealousy was getting out of hand, it killed him to hear Y/N giggle with another man. He didn't even think about how Y/N might have felt throughout it all. The embarrassment she probably felt as Eddie and Brittany's sounds traveled down the stairs to interrupt her date.

"Oh please! Like you didn't enjoy it? Who were you putting the show on for, Eddie. Me or my fucking mom?"

Eddie froze as the words left Brittany's lips. His back to her as he thought about what to say.

"You two really thought I wouldn't notice?" Brittany scoffed. "I always knew my mother was a whore, but to fuck my own boyfriend? New low."

Eddie turned around in a heat of anger. His jaw clenched as he grabbed Brittany's arm and held it tightly.

"Don't you call her that." He seethed.

"I knew it," Brittany laughed, she yanked her arm free. "I did plan it, Eddie. I planned to kill two birds with one stone. Ruin the relationship with whatever poor excuse of a man she found on that website, and to ruin the relationship she had with you."

Eddie was looking into the face of evil and didn't know what to do. He was scared he fucked up with Y/N. He was so fucking scared.

"The relationship isn't ruined. I'll talk to her, I'll apologize and explain it all." Eddie said, he threw on his clothes.

"I'm afraid that won't work, sweetie." Brittany smirked. "You see, I already had a conversation with her about you. She admitted she really fell for you," she mocked. Eddie felt his heart race, Y/N fell for him? "Think of how hurt she probably was when you were so busy making sure I could scream your name so she could hear. So she could hear just how much you wanted me."

"You set me up." Eddie snapped.

"Yeah I did. We're done. My dad and I are leaving the state tonight. Hope you two are happy." Brittany said, grabbing a packed bag from her closet. She walked out of her room, down the stairs, and out the door.

Eddie stood in the silence of her room. Y/N's across the hall, the door shut. He hung his head as he walked the distance. He felt like his tail was tucked between his legs as he knocked on the door.

"Y/N?"

"I asked you to go home." She said through the door.

"I know, but can we talk? I need to explain." He begged, his knocks continued on the door.

Y/N yanked open the door, her eyes were red and her makeup was cleaned off.

"Explain what? That you were simply having sex with your girlfriend? Trust me, Eddie. This was so fucking stupid of us. I'm a mom, and you are only eighteen. It's time I act like an adult. Go home Eddie. And please don't come back here again."

The door slammed in his face.

~~~

Eddie went to her house every day for a week. And each day she never answered. But this time was different, he didn't leave. He refused to leave. He wanted her, and he wasn't leaving.

He opened the door, walking right in.

"Eddie come on!" She whined in frustration.

"You want me and I want you. You fell for me and I fell for you. Why are you saying no?" Eddie asked.

"I'm saying no because you are my daughter's boyfriend."

"I'm not anymore and you know that. I'm single now and so are you. What's the real reason you are telling me no? Why are you scared of there being an us?"

"EDDIE!" She snapped, "My god, think logically! You graduate in what, a month? Then you are off to college. And once you see college girls, you're not going to want this." She said as she gestured between them.

"I'm always going to want this." Eddie said.

"You're too young to understand. But I'm right about this."

"Stop treating me like I'm a child!" Eddie snapped, "I know how I feel and that has nothing to do with my age."

"Yes it does! You think in a year when you are surrounded by college girls, having the time of your life going to parties, that you are going to want to come back here to visit your girlfriend that graduated college ten years ago?" Y/N scoffed.

"I won't have to come visit you, because I'm not leaving."

"Eddie-"

"No, listen to me. I don't plan to go to college, I didn't plan to go before I met you. You just gave me more of a reason to want to stay here. For once in your life, I need you to believe that someone loves you and that someone wants you. Let me be that someone." Eddie said, he slowly moved closer to her. He grasped her hands.

"Just give me the chance." Eddie begged, he dropped down to his knees, he kissed her hands before he let them go. Then he wrapped his arms around her, his face against her stomach.

"Let me love you." He said, moving down her body as he began to tug down her leggings. She huffed but she didn't stop him.

"Let me show you how happy I can make you." He said against her bare thighs as he kissed her skin. His mouth moved closer to her cunt.

"Please. I love you" He said, his nose inhaling her sweet scent.

"I love you too." She whined, her head thrown back as he rubbed his nose against her covered clit.

He smiled in victory and kissed back up her body, landing on her lips.

"Tonight, I'm taking you out on a real date. I don't care what anyone thinks. I want to be with you and call you mine."

"I want to be with you too." She said as she wrapped her arms around him.

Their relationship may have not made sense to anyone else. It may have been very frowned upon. But for once, she was happy and felt loved. She deserved that. And Eddie was more than honored to be the one to give it to her.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x older!reader #eddie munson x mom!reader #ashwhowrites

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seeker-of-stories19 · 3 months

Text

Autistic Ghost Headcannons

- Intentionally ignores social cues

- Scowls all the time at everything and everyone but usually not on purpose

- Takes full advantage of his ear defenders and balaclava to avoid sensory experiences he dislikes

- Incredibly restrictive eating, often chooses to go hungry rather than touch something he dislikes

- One of his favorite stims is smelling Soaps hair

- Gets overstimulated by certain things but is also very sensory seeking in other ways

- Wears tight gloves and sleeps under four weighted blankets because he likes the pressure

- Stims by making a tight fist, chewing his lips, scratching, hitting himself, leaning against things, rocking, pacing, rubbing the seam of his balaclava, tapping his ear defenders

- One track mind, he hates switching tasks and never does more than one thing at once unless it’s a hundred percent necessary

- Wears a mask largely to hide his scars and identity but it has the added benefit of keeping him from having to worry about making the correct facial expressions

- Very prone to dissociation

- Violent meltdowns, tends to have a vicious temper and destroy everything around him, hurting himself or anyone else unfortunate enough to cross his warpath

- But eventually when he’s in private he ends up just curling into himself and crying and rocking like he did as a kid

- It makes him feel incredibly vulnerable and he goes to extreme lengths to avoid the meltdowns which is a huge part of why they’re so bad

- Only Johnny and sometimes Price can calm him down

- Everyone else just thinks he has an explosive temper for no reason

- Ties his boots dangerously tight to get more sensory input

- Thrives under military routines but ignores rules that don’t make sense

- This definitely caused problems with COs in the past but Price is way more understanding and generally the 141 gets a lot of leniency on rules because of the type of work they do and the specific value of their skill sets

- Soap sleeps on top of him and always squeezes his hand a little too hard

- Hides in his room when overstimulated and shuts down completely, will literally disassociate for hours until Soap finds him

- Obsessively neat, nothing is ever anywhere other than where it’s supposed to be

- Doesn’t mind loud sounds but hates multiple sounds at once

- Explosions and gunfire are usually fine as long as he has his headphones but people talking and eating all at once in the mess makes him want to cry

- Absolutely despises crowds and will get very agitated and pissed off before eventually checking out until Johnny can get him back to a quiet space

- Soap letting him have the best vantage point when they go out because of how bad Simons PTSD and sensory issues are and he trusts Simon to watch his six

- Drinks but never to the point of being drunk

- Has the shittiest temperature regulation ever, gets so overheated but can’t figure out why and would freeze to death if it wasn’t for Soap making him put on layers because he’s basically immune to the cold

- Other than keeping his space clean which is mostly because it’s been beaten into him by his dad and then the army to the point where having a messy space will send him into a panic attack he’s a disaster. He never remembers to bring his dishes over to the tiny kitchen in the 141s rec room and routinely stares at things for days unable to complete simple tasks until he gets so pissed he ends up crying

- Price used to get annoyed by it and they’ve all three harassed him about it but once they realize that he’s genuinely struggling all three of them step in to make things easier for him, helping clean up his stuff in common spaces and wash dishes

- Soap definitely helps him with his laundry but only at 3am when he suddenly has the urge to do his own because ADHD

- His interoception is appalling, he’ll be furious and yell at recruits or just look at people like he wants to kill them on missions until Johnny leans over to subtly remind him that he hasn’t gone to the bathroom or eaten anything in eight hours

- Is fluent in BSL and uses it to communicate with Price when he’s in a verbal shutdown

- Soap and Gaz ask Price to teach them secretly and when they start signing to Ghost one day he’s absolutely shocked

- Generally he gets by with everyone else by grunting and scowling, people are too scared of him to call him out

- Most of his masking relies on peoples fear of him even though it often makes him feel even less human and it’s a vicious downward spiral

- Soap not being afraid of him was a really big deal because of this but also lead to him being really freaked out and unsure how to handle his prying

- Soap just finds him impossibly endearing and loves all the hidden little movements and noises he makes when they’re alone

- Lets Simon use his hands to fidget under the table during meetings

- Even though Soap isn’t the best at social cues himself he takes up explaining things to Ghost subtly whenever he can

- When Simon comes to his room to ask him about something someone said for the first time he’s ecstatic and considers it a great victory

- While a lot of Simons stims are more subtle or at least misinterpreted Soap will absolutely get hyped up when he’s stimming and start jumping or rocking or flapping his hands eagerly

- Soap sends him adhd x autism memes all the time and encourages Ghost to send back anything that interests him even if he thinks Soap won’t like it

- Is shocked to realize how strong Ghosts special interests are as his phone turns into a constant flood of articles and artwork about things Ghost loves

- Included but not limited to guns, puzzles, animal anatomy and bones, flowers (specifically the meanings of flowers) and many others

- Taking things apart and putting them back together, usually his rifle but will generally do it with everything from pens to knives

- Hoards weird things like old ink cartridges and bullet casings

- Has an unbelievable memory for details of old missions, can remember building layouts from over five years ago

- Soap’s room is so chaotic they barely spend time there because of how much it stresses Ghost out

- Generally they just balance each other out well with Simon being aggressively introverted and Soap being just as extroverted

- He pushes Simon a bit outside of his comfort zone and helps him socialize while Ghost reigns him in

- No one else really gets how they operate in the field except each other

- Soap was professionally diagnosed in school while Ghost was professionally diagnosed after Roba under a fake name with Price’s help so it’s not officially on his military record

- Ghost is actually very okay with how his brain works because it’s made him who he is and allowed him to surpass the regular limitations of a soldier

- He struggles more in his personal life but being around Soap heals a deep part of him that he’s buried since early childhood

- They understand each other like no one else ever has

#autistic simon ghost riley #soap mctavish has adhd #call of duty #soapghost headcannons #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod mw2 #soap cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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berriweb · 10 months

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ wrong place, wrong time ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. brief description of reader’s injuries

: ̗̀➛ part two / part four

: ̗̀➛ a/n. y’all are way more into this than i expected LMAOAOAO and I totally didn’t pick tostones bc that’s what i was eating while i wrote this (im lying) also here’s a daily reminder that I don’t proof read bc im lazy

Blood. Cologne, air freshener, and the familiar scene of a laundry detergent you could never guess from a specific brand you never remember.

As your brain filled with thoughts and you became more aware of your surroundings, you took note of the first smells you picked up as you awakened. Unlike what was expected, you weren’t lying on another cold, hard and rough surface. You were in a bed, a comfy one at that, sinking into the mattress and covered with a blanket so soft you were tempted to act like you hadn’t regained consciousness and fall right back asleep in it’s warmth, snuggling further into the sheets and willing yourself to forget you ever woke up. But you knew better.

Memories of what had recently occurred flashed through your head without warning and you lost all desire to go back to sleep. Maybe you were right, maybe it was just an incredibly outrageous nightmare?

You shot up without thinking and your head almost immediately missed the comfort of the pillow, pain shooting through your temple so sudden that for a moment you feared you’d pass out again. Gritting your teeth, your hands hurriedly reached to rub your forehead in an attempt to dull the headache brought upon you while ignoring the aching in your side. Once it was tolerable again, you opened your eyes and almost felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You were in Miles’ bed, hence the familiar scent you’d initially smelled. His bed was made, surprising considering how messy he normally was. It was a struggle to ever find your way out of his messy sheets, a neat bed was unlike him.

…a neat bed was unlike him. This isn’t Miles’ room.

The art on the walls was unfamiliar, the posters were in different places and some of the clothes scattered around were different colors than you remembered. Not only that, there weren’t any of the pictures you two had taken together pinned to the walls like before. In it’s place were print outs of news articles and pictures of you that you’d never seen before. You’d never posed like that, you’d never been to that restaurant, you’d never worn those clothes.

That wasn’t you and this wasn’t Miles’ room, but if it wasn’t his then who was that sitting in the corner?

You eyed the desk and the dark figure sitting hunched over in the chair beside it, seemingly asleep by the way his head rested on his crossed arms and his back seconds at a time with every inhale. Carefully, both for the sake of being sneaky and not hurting yourself, you removed the blanket and pushed yourself out of bed, being careful as you stood and took another quick look around the room. You made your way to the door, being used to knowing which spots to avoid in order to keep quick, but the loud creaking sound of wood when you stepped on a certain spot of the floor made you freeze.

You looked back, and thankfully the figure went back to sleep after a moment stirring, but you found yourself still stuck in place when you took a closer look at the person.

It was Miles, or at least looked exactly like your boyfriend. From his nose to his jaw and the arch in his eyebrows, the boy was practically identical in every way, but you knew it couldn’t have been him, he wasn’t yours. You guessed that he must’ve been tired, there were eye bags big enough to carry groceries even with his eyes closed, and contrary to how peaceful you always admired Miles’ appearance when he slept, this one had his brows furrowed and a slight frown on his face. Not to mention the obvious inconsistent hairstyle, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the look of the braids on him. Maybe if you ever got back home you’d ask him to try it out.

Home.

You left the room without a second thought, the bathroom thankfully still being where you remembered. Rushing in without a second though, you pushed the door behind you and your hand searched for the light, flipping the switch and slowly turning on the faucet to splash water on your face in a weak attempt to gain some awareness. When you looked up into the mirror you could better understand the constant headaches. Two layers of bandages were wrapped around your head with a small hint of red being seen underneath. You’d likely hit your head when you first hit the ground and hadn’t noticed.

Lifting your shirt up, there were matching bandages wrapped around most of your abdomen, understandable considering the trouble it’d given you earlier. It was more bearable, but you’d probably be uncomfortable for a long while.

You missed Miles.

You hated to admit it, you really did, especially knowing how you left things off the last time you saw him, but you really did. He wasn’t always the best problem solver, but he was damn good at taking your mind off things and you’d always appreciated him for it. You missed his nerdy speeches about comic stories he read, you missed his corny jokes and his goofy expressions, you even missed the hour long rants he’d go on, rambling to you about how much he needed to go to his dream college and study what he loved, and how of course you’d be there with him.

You let your mind wander as your fingers absentmindedly ran over fabric of the bandages, only for your hand to fall still as your train of thought came to a sudden halt. What was it Miles said he always wanted to study?

If there was a visual description of your thought process you were sure you would’ve seen the gears turned and the wires connecting in your head to light the bulb you were ashamed to admit had been unlit for an embarrassingly long time.

“I’m in another dimension!” You declared, admittedly louder than you’d planned for, the nasty ache in your head returning to cause you more distress. Your hands held your head until the throbbing eased up and you could lift your head with more relief. That would certainly make all of the inconsistencies explainable in your mind, as well as the portal. It wasn’t answering all of your questions, but you’d take what you could get for now. Was this really possible? If so, how did you end up here?

“Are the bandages too tight?”

Saying you jumped out of your skin would be an understatement. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around, bringing a hand up to rest on your chest above where your heart rate spiked, back flush against the counter. Your gaze met a familiar pair of gorgeously brown eyes, the same tired ones you noticed earlier, and your assumption seemed to be right. It didn’t seem that late into the night from the window you’d passed when leaving the room, late afternoon at best, making you wonder what could’ve left him looking so exhausted. The differences were more noticeable with him awake, he didn’t carry the same energetic stance your boyfriend always seemed to have when he was around you. His posture was stiff, even with him leaning lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed and an unreadable expression. He wasn’t exactly a mess, in fact he seemed far more put together than yours based off of his energy alone, but something was missing.

“Did I scare you?” What do you think? “Sorry, you left the door open so I kinda thought…sorry.”

Another difference. Miles had an accent you almost immediately caught onto. It took you slightly by surprise, but you would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t like it.

You let yourself relax as your heart returned to a normal pace, but kept your distance out of nothing but caution. “I- no, it’s fine, I should’ve closed the door. And they aren’t too tight.”

The room fell into an awkward silence and you found yourself shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to say. It was a bit hard to not be uncomfortable when Miles’ eyes were practically staring holes into you. It wasn’t exactly in a creepy way, more or less as if he were studying you and your every movement, waiting for you to say or do something wrong, like he knew you didn’t belong here. How were you supposed to react? Casually tell him you were from another universe and expect him not to think you were crazy?

“…are you hungry?” Miles broke the silence with a question so casual it made you rethink whether or not the tension had just been there. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and turned around, gesturing for you to follow him without giving you a chance to answer your question. You weren’t going to fight it, considering your stomach was actually begging you for something to eat, so you obliged and followed him.

It was almost as if there were an unspoken rule forbidding you from speaking or asking questions, something in your gut just told you to play along and ask questions later. He pulled up a chair for you at the table and you quietly thanked him for it as he returned from the kitchen with two plates and a comment about how his mom had leftover tostones. “I remember they used to be your favorites.”

Well that sentence wasn’t very assuring. Especially with the narrowed look he gave you when you sheepishly agreed.

The silence that you fell into gave you a moment to yet again try to process everything going on, but on top of wrapping the idea of suddenly ending up in a completely universe (which was only the case if your theory was true, and you had no way of finding out whether or not that was true), you couldn’t bring yourself to not focus on how unsettling the way he acted was.

You could compare the feeling to spending weeks learning a school subject only for the test to cover absolutely nothing that you learned. Being able to read Miles was like second nature to you know, you two went hand in hand. Years of experience practically made you a connoisseur at knowing how your boyfriend was feeling or what he was thinking without you having to say it, and vice versa, but this wasn’t the same. It was as if someone had taken your Miles and replaced his mannerisms with a complete strangers, it might as well have been a cardboard cut out.

He kept his eyes trained on you the entire time without so much as a word, the same uneasiness in his gaze that made you lose most of your appetite and leave you nibbling at your food. You wanted to believe he was content, but his face was twisted in a way that made you think he had something against you. You couldn’t help but still admire his features, it was still your boyfriends face after all, but this wasn’t your boyfriend. The lack of conversation was agonizing but you couldn’t figure out how to start a conversation while in the house of a stranger you’d never met. You blamed him for making the aura so strained.

Clearing your throat, a stupid attempt to get his attention considering it never left, you guilty pushed away the rest of your mostly full plate to signal that you were finished and trying to break the silence, but he beat you to it. “…so-”

“Why are you acting like this?”

You weren’t certain that it was intentional, the malice in his tone, but the manner in which he hissed out his words was enough to momentarily shut you up, leaving you sitting there with a stunned expression to counter the frustration he’d let show itself on his face.

“Acting like…what?”

Suddenly your previous thoughts were proven wrong. This Miles may not have had the same actions you knew as well as with yours, but you’d be a fool not to see the irritation—and that was an understatement—on his face. His jaw was clenched, the hands that’d previously been picking away at cracks in the table now hidden under the table, but you were willing to bet that they were balled up into fists. Without warning you’d been put under a beaming spotlight and unexpectedly became the victim of his interrogation, feeling somewhat guilty for something you weren’t even sure you did towards a person you did not know.

“Are you for real?” Part of you wanted to talk back with the same condescending tone, arguing that he had some nerve getting on your case when you had no part in whatever beef or grudge he held against what you assumed to be your counterpart. “You disappear for over a year, no notice or anything!” The context made you want to believe he was angry at you, but the strain in his voice told you otherwise. Had you hurt him?

“I thought you were dead!” His brows knitted together tight enough to highlight the vein in his forehead, teeth clenched together with such tense posture as he half pushed himself out of his seat to lean forward on the table that you wondered whether or not he was giving himself a headache from the stress. “Do you know how long I searched for you? And then you had the fucking nerve to show up at my house like nothing in your state? What’s your deal?”

It was like you were a child getting scolded for coming home last curfew, but listening to him go on and on with zero context to the situation was irking you. You could at least try to make sense of it, and snapping back might not have been the best way to go about it, as tempting as it was.

“I don’t know.”

He paused, and for a split second you couldn’t tell if he was going to curse you out for playing dumb or keep ranting about your supposed insensitivity, but after a moment of silence he let himself fall back into his seat, hands retreating to his sides as his face fell, thankfully into a more neutral expression. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“What, you need me to spell it out for you in another language? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hissed, admittedly more harsh than you’d intended. Miles didn’t seem offended by it, in fact the revelation seemed to do the opposite as you could’ve sworn a defeated look crossed his face. The knot in your stomach was unnerving, you weren’t used to seeing him like this. Whether it was your Miles or not, it was off putting. “You…don’t remember?”

You shook your head yes, which seemed to be the answer he wasn’t hoping for. Miles clicked his tongue and pressed his lips together, and his slumped shoulders were more than enough of an indicator that whatever he was going on about was more serious than you expected.

“You still came back, you knew where to find me, didn’t you? Uncle Aaron told me so himself, he knew you were following him. What do you remember?”

There was disappointment in his tone, and suddenly regardless of your own situation, you felt pity for him. The looming reminder that this wasn’t your boyfriend kept you from wanting to express that pity as you normally would’ve, but even then you couldn’t help but feel bad for doing so. You had no clue what his situation or intentions was, but his story clearly had it’s fair share of negatives and even if you wanted to believe you didn’t really know him, he was starting to remind you of your boyfriend. You were feeling more guilty for unconsciously convince yourself that he wasn’t Miles than anything else, who were you to decide that?

Now it felt like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. No matter how guilty you felt, you had no idea about what he was going on about. Would going along with it make you a bad person? Should you just admit you weren’t even who he thought you were and pray he doesn’t immediately turn hostile? Who’s to say that’s how he’d even react? You weren’t heartless, just up and leaving felt criminal. No matter the previous harshness, he clearly still had some level of empathy if he was willing to take you home and care for your wounds, not to mention feeding you too.

“I remember you.”

Maybe playing along for a while wouldn’t hurt, at least to figure out what was going on. Can’t hurt to mention the basics. “And…I remember your friends! And your Uncle, obviously.” You glanced around the room for a moment, taking note of a lot of the family pictures on the walls with Miles and his mother. “And your mom, I love her, she’s- was, always so nice to me, her food is to die for. And your dad-”

“My dad is dead.”

The attempt you made to ease the tension and slightly lighten the mode was abruptly cut short with that sentence. You temporarily lost your voice and your chest tightened, eyes going wide. Miles’ eyes bored into your own, voice heavy as he dropped the fact with an unreadable expression, as if he’d done so to see if he could catch you off guard with that fact, and it worked. “I…” Saying that would explain a lot seemed like an insult in and of itself, yet it’s what came to mind, surprising at it was. You didn’t think the differences in this world could be so major, but you clearly didn’t know to what extent another universe could go to. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t remember that either, did you?” Miles chuckled dryly, but you didn’t see any humor in what he said. He took your silence as an answer and you took note of his now avoidance in meeting your eyes, instead turning away to look at one of the hung photos on the way.

“What about that day? Do you remember that the last time I saw you was the day he died?”

His voice was low and monotoned, and you hated how you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You could guess, you could assume how he felt and try to predict what he’d say next, but there was no way of knowing for sure. The unpredictability of his actions was maddening. As you watched him you couldn’t help but constantly compare.

A scowl doesn’t look good on him. Smiles always suited him better. You hated to be the reason he wasn’t showing it off.

“Do you remember that you were the reason he died?”

You hated it more than you thought.

╰┈➤ ❝ tag-list ❞

— @brokeb1mbo, @ravieaesthetic , @sp1derm4nluver, @isa-444, @wassuppartypeople, @namtaeh, @whoisgami, @ponyboys-sunsets, @go-to-sleep-salem, @hana-1235, @j-natsuka, @lavzxx, @itzmeme, @iimng, @nycweb-slinger, @empress-pug-pug, @planetliaa, @mividaasi, @dolliied, @ukranianacearo, @solecitoszn, @izukusnovia, @abbyrxx12-blog, @conventionally-unconventional, @mileslovelygf, @ditto737, @iinlovewithfictionalppl, @superiorbyfar, @bingewatcheraf, @the-smut-plug, @whotfismirah, @gyuville, @blackspideysstuff, @1uv4jiya

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv fanfiction #atsv #atsv x reader #spider man #miles morales #miles g morales #miles g #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #miles 42 #e42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader

659 notes · View notes

whole-circus · 8 months

Note

hello! could i ask for nswf alphabet for ben?? i dont know if you do things like that so feel free to ignore it! thank you in advance and take your time love! ❤️

BEN Drowned NSWF alphabet!

➥ Ofc i will write it!! Here you go! Im so sorry that i kept you waiting so much...!

˚　　✦　　　. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚. 　　　✦　　˚

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Ben is definitely more on a chill side, he wont do very much but i would say that he still does a nice job. Usually the whole love-making ends up with you taking shower together, and just cuddling in bed with a drink of your choice. It is either this, or you playing in some video game (or you watch Ben do it while laying on him).

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Okay, Ben is totally a chest guy. Doesnt matter if you are male or female, small or big - boobs are boobs and he loves them. And he also loves thighs! Like you could just choke him with them and he would thank you... Loves grabbing them when you guys have sex. I should say something cute and lovey-dovey like he adores your eyes..well, they do lit up in pretty way when you are reaching your climax i guess??

Body part that he loves the most would propably be his hands? They are..just pretty, okay? A bit veiny with slender fingers, the perfect to reach every place on your body!..Plus holding hands during sex!!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Ben love to either cum inside you or on your belly/ back - depends what position are you in (with your consent ofc). There is something about watching you so messy and dirty just becasue of him!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ben is 100% a panty thief, he either steals them from laundry basket or from your drawer. What he do with them? Jerking off obviously..

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I see Ben as someone not really experienced. High possibility that he isnt a virgin, but he definitely takes all his knowledge from porn. Because of that his knowledge isnt the best and he may act suprised that things doesnt works the way they do in porn. But Ben is eager to learn! So no worries, you bothwill be satisfied!

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Pretty basic, but positions like missionary, doggie style or cowgirl/cowboy keeps him going and he finds it the most comfy.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Humorous! Im not saying sex with him isnt romantic, but im sure you guys both giggle a lot during it! He dont tell you jokes or anything, but he sometimes can say such a dumb thing that you just cant help but laugh. Awkwardness with Ben doesnt exist, he will make it all better and make a fool of himself just so you wont be stressed!

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Carpet does match the drapes, blond yet a bit more dark than his hair (on his head). He is either well groomed, or he has a full blush. Will make it clean if you ask him tho! Ben himself doesnt have preferences when it comes to you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There is intimacy, just on this weird way! Like yes, you both giggle a lot but its all from love! He definitely says "i love you" a lot, but isnt the type of guy to scatter the roses and lit candles in the room.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He did jerked off a lot, at least once per day, before he met you. But after he get into relationship with you, he does it way less - its either if you are not around for a long time or you dont want to have sex with him at the moment.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I think he would be into praise kink, call him good boy and tell him how a good job he did and he is all weak. Also mirror kink and he has a thing for recording your both acts - not like you both will show it to anybody, but there is some kind of arousal in it. Ben also loves creampies! He feels so proud of himself that he made you feel so stuffed, and just watching his cum leaking from you make him feel something.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Mostly his/your room and bed, its the most comfortable for you both and you have the privacy. But! He wouldnt be opposite to do it in aome more risky place.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Oh man, what doesnt turn him on? You could do anything and he still finds you attractive and sexy, no matter how you look at this moment. But mostly you wearing his clothes, teasing him and flirting with him or just light touches on his body (yk, the one that are supposed to be innocent but they arent). Ben also loves to receive nudes from you and not nude photos (in underwear and stuff).

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurt you or do something that you dont want to do. Sex should be for the both of you, not only one-sided.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Ben doesnt mind giving, you would be suprised how good at it he is! He is great at using his mouth and his fingers, and no matter if he is deep inside you with his tongue or if you are deep inside him you always feel good.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

More on slow and sensual side, but its becasue of his laziness. When he is extremaly horny tho, he will be faster, but nothing too much.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies are pretty often, usually when you both are in rush but want eachother really badly. And Ben loves them, not as much as proper sex but still. He enjoyes the rush and the adrenaline.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Ben is willing to take a risk, he is kinda unexperienced so he is eager to try anything you want to try.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

One round and he needs to take a break, yet he can last pretty long. But if you havent came, then he will gladly use his hands or mouth to help you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I believe Ben would own toys, just basic things like dildo or vibrator and often use it during masturbation. Maybe so a fleshlight?? He will gladly use them on you, and will be happy if you do the same for him during the whole love making.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ben is a huge tease, both with his words and actions. He definitely will make you all horny for him, and then just leave you be until you wont beg him to touch you. When you are close to cumming, he just straightly pulls out and mock you. And when he is a bottom, such a brat he is, doesnt listem to anything you say!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Ben is really LOUD. There is literally every possible sound coming from his mouth, whimpering, growling moaning..you name it!

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

You will hate me for that so much but he seems like type of person to have one of dakimakuras with his waifu or something and using it for not tasty purpouse (humping ofc)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Around 6inches (15cm) and his dick is definitely more on a width side, nothing too abnormal but widther than average. He has couple of veins, dick curved upward and Ben has very sensitive balls..!

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HUGE. Its easier to tell when he is not horny rather than when he is. If you will want to have sex with him, then he mostly feels the same!

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If the sex was during night hours, he would fall asleep pretty quickly - yet he still would fall asleep cuddling to you closely. He always want to wait until you will fall asleep, but he does that way more quickly.

#ben drowned x reader #ben drowned #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #headcanon #nswf alphabet #creepypasta fandom #crp #wholecircus #horror #slasher #requested

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cloudwhisper23 · 7 months

Text

“Lizzie… also said you had Fredbear?” Evan mumbled quietly, uncertain if Michael even remembered that he was there.

Shaking himself out of what seemed to be a different world, Michael nodded. “Yeah, he was buried in the laundry basket. He has a few new tears, but I can stitch those up.”

“You’d do that?” Evan whispered.

Michael ignored him, pushing the door open further. “You can sit on the bed while I work.” He folded the note again and stuck it in his shorts. “Just don’t talk too much.”

Evan nodded, stepping into the room. He hadn’t noticed before, but Michael’s room was decidedly messy. Despite the fact that Lizzie had just done laundry, clothes were strewn about everywhere on the floor. What caught Evan’s attention, however, was the open sketchbook on the bed.

Michael hastily flipped the book shut and tossed it on the floor to join the clothes. He pulled open a drawer, and the frayed threads of Fredbear’s body were next to catch Evan’s attention. Evan let out a faint whimper as he saw the proper damage done to his favorite friend.

Not only were threads loose and fraying, but an entire section of the stuffing from Fredbear’s belly was missing completely. An eye sagged in its socket, and Fredbear’s hat tumbled from between his ears when Michael picked him up. Evan sat stiffly on the bed, focused on every moment Michael made with the thread, every chance he had to make things worse. There were moments when Michael had hurt Fredbear on purpose, and those were the rare moments when Father would appear to scold his oldest child and scoop up the damaged stuffed bear to repair him. Fredbear never seemed quite right after Father took him away, but at least Evan could be sure Fredbear would come back.

#cloud writes #yes I made another au #so what #idk what to call it yet though #and this is just from the prologue #honestly I should post the full thing soon #but I need to work on like three other writing projects first #XD #tagging takes a lot out of me #and i need a title before I show y'all the rest of it #but yeah #afton siblings #evan afton #michael afton #fnaf au

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weepylucifer · 3 months

Note

43 for Steban/Uli?

43. “Are you drunk?”

From the moment the door opens, Ulixes knows that today is going to be messy.

Steban's room is dark, illuminated only by the dim but warm glow of the desk lamp. That's nothing unusual, but today, Steban has unearthed one of his most prized possessions from under his bed: his old, cheap and banged-up tape player that doesn't see a lot of use, because the neighbors complain about having to hear revolution-era folk anthems on endless repeat. Tonight, though, there are no secular hymns about the working class striding united into battle for a brighter future. Tonight is a Slow Mesque Jams night, and Slow Mesque Jams nights are dire.

The songs are actually quite pretty, when one doesn't know what the words mean. When one goes through the trouble of translating them, a startling number of them revolve around lonesome, heartbroken boiadeiros riding into the pale to be consumed in there. When Steban puts those tapes on, he's in a very special mood.

Ulixes has seen enough of Steban's depressive episodes by now to rank them by severity. It should be a good sign that he's had the mental energy to put music on. But it also means that things might get... esoteric.

He takes a fortifying breath and enters the room.

The air smells like cigarettes. Steban is sprawled on his bed with his ashtray perched on his chest, smoking and staring into the middle distance.

Ulixes has seen enough of Steban's depressive episodes by now to know, also, that they usually just... happen, fluctuations in brain chemistry, inexorable and inevitable as the tide. Steban is always a base level of depressed, he has explained once, just sometimes it can be ignored and sometimes it cannot. There is a social factor, because how would the state of capitalism not exacerbate the condition, but much of it is random and out of Steban's conscious control.

Today, however, is different, because yesterday there was, earlier, a clear and obvious trigger. Because yesterday they went into that new church nightclub, having heard tell of a mysterious pale anomaly there, and Steban met that man that scurried on the ceiling like a crab, and they had a long and intense conversation that Ulixes couldn't understand because he never got the hang of Mesque, and then Steban went outside and cried so hard he threw up into the sand, and lastly sent Ulixes home, citing a need to be alone. This is the day after that.

Hesitantly, Ulixes clears his throat, announcing his presence. "Hello, Steban. Do you still need to be alone, or can I come inside?"

He's half afraid to be rebuffed, but Steban waves an inviting hand. "No, please, comrade, make yourself at home."

Ulixes steps inside and takes off his shoes and jacket, as per usual. "Are you doing any better?" he asks. "That man yesterday seemed to have hit you pretty hard." He looks around for a place to sit. The only available chair is piled high with laundry.

Instead of answering the question, Steban pats the mattress beside him. "Sit here with me."

Uli's treacherous heart speeds up as he does so. From here, he can feel Steban's body warmth. "So?" he prompts again. "What did you talk about with that man yesterday?"

"The world..." Steban lowers his eyes with a frustrated scoff. "The world is such garbage sometimes."

This is so uncharacteristic for Steban to say, it alarms Uli deeply. Without thinking, he blurts out, "This is unlike you."

Steban sighs. "You can't expect me to keep hope alive the entire time. Not when this world drives people to throw themselves willingly to entropy." He rakes a tired hand through his hair. "The crab man - that's what they call him over there - he's from my neighborhood, you know. Not this one, I mean, the one I grew up in. And it's... I thought it would be nice, meeting another one, but it just reminded me of why I moved here. Everyone of them's an entropolist or a petrofash these days, everyone's either in a gang or weirdly loud about not being in a gang, and... what is it about us as a people, Uli, that makes any and all of us this prone to despair?"

There's nothing culturally sensitive that Ulixes can possibly say to that. He doesn't usually get information like that from Steban. Now that he thinks about it, while his family seems great, Steban doesn't really talk about how he grew up, ever. "Steban, are you quite alright?"

Steban rubs at his eyes. "I sometimes wish I didn't have to exist here and now."

It makes alarm bells go off. "Okay, show me your hands."

"I haven't done anything," Steban says, a bit sullenly, but he proffers his hands anyway.

With the ease of practice, Ulixes inspects his arms. Nothing, not even a cigarette burn. But it's not time to be relieved yet. "Legs next."

"I'm not in the habit," Steban pouts but does pull the blanket off himself.

"I caught you before," Ulixes mutters, adjusts his glasses and kneels between Steban's splayed legs. How remarkable, he thinks. Before Steban entered his life, he'd never been close to anybody - not his family, not his peers at school. He drifted through the world in isolation, disconnected to it all, as if surrounded by a portable pale at all times. Steban encouraged him to research communism along with him, and made Ulixes discover that he could be part of something - and Steban also became a friend to care about and, on occasion, care for. Ulixes had never been in a position to help someone through a rough patch before Steban, and never even considered that he could be the kind of person who would know how to do that. But he has learned by now. He has routines now. How... strange.

"Come to think of it, this is a bit intimate," Steban says and chuckles as Ulixes squints near-sightedly down at him.

"What," Uli replies and hopes he isn't blushing. Another weird statement out of Steban, who has never before acknowledged that... thing between them, that thing-in-potentia, which Uli's always half convinced he's imagining...

He scrutinizes his friend's face. His eyes, beneath their doe-like lashes, do appear slightly filmy. And that faint scent... Ulixes sniffs. "Are you drunk?"

All of a sudden, Steban's expression grows shifty. "Nnnno. What gave you that idea?" He emits an unconvincing little laugh.

Ulixes sighs and reaches under the bed. He soon unearths a bottle of wine, the horrible cheap stuff they sell at the Frittte that turns your teeth red. He shakes it. It sounds about three quarters empty. Well, the stuff's not strong, but still...

"This is new," he says. Steban makes a slightly ill-coordinated grab for the bottle, and Ulixes leans back out of reach.

"It's just the once," Steban mutters.

Ulixes cocks his head, all kinds of concerned. He's probably overreacting, most people drink sometimes, but... "Don't you remember Mazov's remarks on the subject of drinking to excess?"

"Does this look like grain spirits to you?"

"Semantics, Steban." Uli doesn't want to sound preachy, or like he's arguing for argument's sake; he just doesn't really know any other way to be.

"Well, I guess I can't follow Mazov's teachings to perfection." Steban groans. "I can't do anything right. I couldn't even get through to the crab man."

Uli's not sure how to offer comfort here. He tries, "Maybe that one was just too far gone to recruit..."

"I'm not talking about making him a communist. Just to... just to convince him that there's anything at all worth living for." He sighs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I don't believe it myself, half the time. I'm not sure why you stick with me. I'm a fraud."

For a moment, Ulixes' mouth moves silently, helplessly, attempting to come up with an answer. While he's distracted, Steban plucks the bottle of wine out of his hand and takes a sip.

"Stop that. Enough." They grapple for it for a moment. A few drops of wine slosh out and fall onto the white sheets. Steban winces.

"Great. That's never coming out." He lets Ulixes take the bottle back and put it on the floor. This concluded, Ulixes shifts so that they're lying next to each other.

"I'm staying over tonight," he decides. "You need watching."

If Steban has any objections to Uli just inviting himself in like that, he doesn't voice them. What he does eventually say, in a low voice, is, "You're... too good to me."

"I'm here because I want to be here." Ulixes shakes his head and puts a hand on Steban's arm. "And you're not a fraud. It's hard sometimes, not to resign. Anyone would struggle."

"He... it was like he was trying to sell me on the pale. Having to be some kind of representative of the entire world... it's daunting. And I think I failed." Steban is growing tired. Ulixes can see he blinks slower now, and his voice is losing that over-enunciated diction of somebody pretending to be more sober than they are.

"You can try again. Maybe he just needs time." Thinking briefly, Uli adds, "And even if you lost him... it doesn't mean you always will. There will be other fights, ones I know you can win."

Steban hums, his eyes half-closed, and lets his head loll to one side. Sleepiness and alcohol blur his voice and thicken his speech when he replies, again, "You're so good to me."

Suddenly, he turns onto his side and shifts closer to Ulixes. Their bodies are almost touching now. He puts a hand on Uli's chest and says, "Ulixes, you know you're my best friend, right?"

Uli kind of figured. But it's nice to hear it said. "You're my best friend too, Steban."

Steban is somehow very close now. Most of his weight rests on Ulixes' torso. "Do you ever think...?" he murmurs, "Have you ever considered...?"

Uli's mouth is very dry. He licks his lips, inexplicably anxious. "Considered what?"

"I know one thing that makes the world worthwhile." He leans in even more, and Uli is still wondering why, when Steban tries to kiss him.

Their lips almost brush. Uli can almost feel it, that ghost of a touch. He feels Steban's warmth, his breath for just a split-second, before he grabs Steban's shoulders and holds him in place. "No."

Steban blinks at him: not crestfallen, not disappointed, just baffled. "Don't tell me you never wanted..."

And oh, he's put his finger right in the wound there, because of course Ulixes has wanted. But he has wanted it with both of them clear-eyed and clear of purpose, not with Steban having trouble enunciating and holding his head up by himself. (The temptation is there, to just take this anyway, if that's the only thing Steban will give him. But he can't. He cannot take advantage. It would lead to their friendship in ruins come morning, and besides is simply the wrong thing to do.)

"I... you... we can't, not like this."

Steban huffs. Ulixes smells the wine on his breath. "Not like what?"

"You know what I mean. You're not in your right mind."

"Nonsense." Steban whines and squirms in Uli's grip, deprived and frustrated and petulant about it. "Does anyone really still say... still use that old cliché?" He squints as if gazing through fog, and shakes his head like thinking is hard for him right now. "I'm perfectly... completely in possession of my... perfectly capable."

"I can't trust your word on that at the moment," Ulixes says and feels wretched. "I can't read your mind quite yet."

Again, Steban chances a foray, leaning forward and trying to nuzzle Ulixes' shoulder. "You have to know I love you," he slurs.

Ulixes isn't predisposed to crying. Hasn't done it in years - he's simply not quick to shed tears, for some reason or another. But right now he feels he might. Everything he has yearned for is tantalizingly close... and yet he must deny himself it. He's being told everything he wanted to hear... but he can't believe any of it. A part of him will, from this moment on, forever wonder and question and hope that Steban was telling the truth. Another part of him will resent the hope. His longing tormented him already; this is like pouring oil onto its banked fire. He will never know equilibrium again anymore.

"Stop it." His voice sounds choked and strange to his ears. "Please."

Steban makes a dismayed noise - but he stops, retreating to his side of the bed. Now, with half his face smushed into the pillow, he's just looking at Ulixes out of one mournful brown eye. "'M sorry..."

"No, no, it's okay. We can..." Cuddle. The word refuses to squeeze past his lips. It's what they will be doing, and have done before, in a comradely way, but that doesn't mean Ulixes can say it. "...stay close like this. But nothing... else, okay? Not... not tonight."

He doesn't dare say anything more. Steban is nowhere near memory loss levels of drunk, chances are he will remember all of this tomorrow. Which means Uli will have to play it safe. He can't admit to too much. In the morning, when Steban is sober, he might want to recant everything he said tonight, and it will tear Ulixes apart inside, but at least he will have kept his own cards close to his chest.

It's such a dreary business. Ulixes wants to be honest with his best friend, as he always is. But this... he can't. He simply can't. Too much depends on their staying together (he doesn't quite know what, exactly, depends on it, but he feels this viscerally). He can't rock this particular boat. Better to go on pining in silence than to ruin what they have with hasty confessions. Maybe if he tries very hard, he'll be able to forget tonight ever happened.

"Mmkay," Steban hums, oblivious to Uli's inner turmoil, and throws an arm over his chest, making full use of his permission to cuddle within the boundaries he's given. He falls asleep like that, squished against Ulixes' side, his arm a dead weight that Ulixes wouldn't dare shake off for the world.

Uli stays wide awake and stares at the ceiling for what seems to him like hours, his mind, against his better judgement, endlessly replaying the fleeting, ephemeral feeling of Steban's breath upon his lips.

In this moment, he's convinced that this is as close as he's ever going to get.

#answer'd #writings by me #<- new tag where all my fics go now

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ghouljams · 4 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ghouljams/737258478675116032/hey-ghoul-i-hope-your-doing-well-i-just-wanted

I’m not sure if you’ve done this already, if you have you can just ignore this one, but I’d be fascinated if you could tell us about the darlings homes

I haven't talked much about the darlings homes but I can! I've talked a lot about Witch's house but I can talk about the others. Let's go on a little home tour!

Love lives in a second or third floor apartment in an apartment building. It's a got a nice white door with a shiny gold number on it, and a little hallway outside the door. When you go in you walk straight into the living room, there's a little walkway between the back of the couch separating the TV area from the window that houses the plants. Walk a little further down the little makeshift hallway and into the kitchen. There's a little bar counter that faces the living room, a sort of L shape to the whole kitchen. The whole place is bohemian and warm, strewn with knickknacks and books. It's messy, but the way that living somewhere makes it messy. There's a basket of laundry in front of the couch waiting to be folded. Pink and yellow are the predominant colors in here, you'd think a man had never stepped foot in this flat but there's a pair of men's boots by the door. The aesthetic is very maximalist and colorful, I think the couch is pink. Ghost works some spatial magic on the place to add an extra bedroom and bathroom when they have the baby.

Liebling lives in flat near the shop, walking distance. A nice brick building that she has the first floor of. She makes good money owning a shop and spends it on a comfortable house. It's a nice oak door, with a brass knocker on the front. There's a tiny entryway, where her shoes and mail pile up. Off the entry all is the archway into the kitchen, it's galley style with a pass-through looking into the living room. There's a large couch, a TV, a overstuffed bookshelf, it's comfortable and earthy. There's plants in every corner and every window, browns and greens. There's a big basket in one corner full of woven blankets, and there are pillows strewn about. The whole place feels very soft and lived in, but also dark and almost cave-like with all the curtains drawn. The overhead light is never turned on, only the lamps strewn about in various handy spots. There's a garden out back and a door leading out to it from the bedroom. The bedroom itself is earthy and warm, no wonder König feels so at home here, all the soft blankets and darkness... it's just like his cave.

Crybaby lives in a similar flat to Liebling. Its an old building near the university, not quite the heart if the city but there are days when it feels like it. You walk into the living room, the kitchen is off to the side. There's a hallway leading back to where you assume the bedroom is. The TV sits in the middle of the room, there's a couch pushed against the back wall. It's messy, sparsely decorated and unkempt. Threat's suitcase is open and strewn about, there are dishes in the sink, the pantry is disorganized. You find a little workshop across from the bathroom that's also a mess. Materials strewn about and pouring from the shelves on the walls, tools left out, projects half finished on the table, magnifiers and lights all over the place. There's no real style to the furniture of the place, the workshop is the most lived in part of the flat, it feels like a holdover. An apartment that only exists to provide a shelter while it's occupant works.

Threat's ownership of the living room slowly turns it into their space. Posters start creeping onto the walls, the couch replaced with a day bed, the empty space by the door filled with a clothing rack and a mess of laundry. The threadbare rug is replaced so the old wood floors aren't as cold, blacks and reds are their main palette. Their influence doesn't extend up the hall, but it certainly makes the front of the apartment feel more lived in. Ignore the cobwebs in the corners of the room.

Angel has a house, it's a little thing near Witch's house in the less densely packed part of the city. Very open and airy, modern with big windows and lots of light. Gives the impression of being a white couch sort of mom, but the whole place is strewn with colorful toys. There's crayon drawings taped on every wall and all over the fridge, sippy cups sit in the dish rack, colorful plates and board books on the counter. The aesthetic is white minimalist with a rainbow explosion of child-like joy. There's puffy plastic kiddo furniture next to the nice adult stuff, somehow it all works to feel like a comfortable family home. You sit on a toy when you try to sit on the couch and you both have a good laugh about it. No sad beige moms here.

Sunny feels like another apartment dweller. Maybe closer to the heart of the city. Somewhere up high that gets a lot of light. Their decor is very 70s revival, a lot of oranges and bubbly patterns. Very neat. Everything has a place and they're good at keeping things tidy. Colorful glasses and appliances in the kitchen. Lots of "happy things" to keep the place feeling light when they have a bad day. Probably has a cat slinking around somewhere, a big stupid orange baby that compliments the furniture.

Witch's house has been talked about but I'll give the highlights. Tudor cottage sandwiched like a little haven in between city buildings, like it just popped up out of the ground, or like the city grew around it. Wood beams cross her ceiling, scattered persian rugs and antique furniture. Well loved and warm. There's a sitting area right when you open the door, and a big fireplace with a cauldron nestled in the corner of it. The kitchen is overflowing with cabinets of things, dried plants hang from the ceiling, and sunlight filters through the back window no matter the time of day or the season. There's a narrow staircase by the door that leads up to a little attic room. Under the stairs there's a tiny hall that has a bedroom on one side and a bathroom on the other. If you look closely there are runes in the nails that hold down the wood floorboards.

#ghoul speaks #oc talk #1fae1 #there are the darlings homes #done and dusted

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be11atrixthestrange · 2 months

Text

The Loft 8

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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In a crazy turn of events, I updated The Loft after 2 years... :)

Chapter 8

A watched egg never cooks. Is that the saying? Ron doesn’t know — he’s terrible at idioms and shit. If it’s not a saying, it’s definitely accurate.

He stands in front of the stove, waiting for his egg to fry. It’s taking forever, and he’s tempted to just leave it there, but maybe then he’d burn the whole loft down. That, or Vicky would eat it.

Vicky’s here this morning, just like he was here yesterday morning. And the morning before that. It almost feels like they have another roommate, one that doesn’t pay rent and that Ron didn’t choose. Well, he didn’t choose Hermione either, but that worked out. Sort of.

Ever since Hermione and Victor became ‘official’, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together. Ron comes home after work, Krum is here. He wakes up in the morning, Krum is still here. The only time Krum seems to spend outside of the apartment is between the hours of 9-5, and one hour at night, 8-9 pm, on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Whenever Ron has asked where he goes, he gets all weird and quiet. Whenever he asks Hermione, she doesn’t seem to know or care.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s important for couples to spend time apart.”

“But Hermione, do you know where he goes?”

“No, because I respect his privacy.”

Why is Vicky the only one in this loft entitled to privacy? He often wonders when someone empties the laundry machine and leaves a trail of socks and underwear across the living room floor, or late at night when he can hear his roommates’ beds creaking, knowing they brought home a companion, a poor soul who has no idea how thin the walls are.

It begs the question, what kind of dark shit is Krum getting up to between the hours of 8 and 9pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays if he can’t even tell his girlfriend about it?

Maybe he has an embarrassing hobby. Or a gambling addiction. Or a second girlfriend.

Ron tries to ignore his heart’s fluttering in response to the last thought. What sort of friend would hope for that kind of thing?

“You might want to turn the stove on,” comes a gruff voice, interrupting Ron’s thoughts. “Or your egg will never cook.”

With a groan, Ron flicks on the burner.

“Are you okay?” asks Krum as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “You seem distracted.”

Ron glances back at his unwelcome roommate. His thick robe hangs loosely around his waist, forming a deep v neck that exposes Krum’s chiseled pecs and chest hair. Why can’t the dude just cover himself up a bit?

“M’fine.”

“Okay then. Look, I’m going to be out of town for the weekend—”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” interrupts Ron.

“Sorry?”

“You don’t even live here, so you don’t have to tell us when you’ll be out.”

Ron keeps his back to Krum as he lets the awkward pause wash over. Sure, maybe he should be nicer to the guy, but someone should gently tell him he’s overstaying his welcome. Hermione won’t.

“I was just going to ask if I could keep my car out front. Sometimes I get towed if I leave it out at my apartment—”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Great,” says Krum as he rises to his feet and turns back toward Hermione’s room. “Thanks.”

“Where are you going this weekend?”

“Nowhere.” The sound of Hermione’s door closing punctuates Krum’s response.

Hmm. Very odd.

Moments later, Harry appears from his bedroom door, still disheveled in his pajamas. “What’s got you down?”

“Vicky.”

“What about Viktor?”

“I’m telling you, he’s giving me the creeps.”

Harry chuckles. “Since when?”

“The cabin trip we all went on.”

Harry lets a full laugh escape, as he responds. “You’re ridiculous. He never bothered you before.”

“I think he’s cheating on Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and glances toward Hermione’s bedroom. “She doesn’t deserve that, but how do you know?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Ron—”

“I think if I went to his place, I’d find proof.” Ron raises an eyebrow at his friend, who violently shakes his head.

“No.”

“Please come with me? I’ll give you free beer.”

“No. Plus you always give me free beer.”

Ron shrugs. “I’m going alone then. He’ll be out of town this weekend, and it’s the perfect opportunity to just check in.”

Harry groans. “You’re going to force my hand aren’t you?”

“Just come with me and make sure I don’t do anything unreasonable?”

“Going in the first place is unreasonable.”

“Still gonna do it.”

Ron knows that Harry can’t resist a little bit of mischief, so all he has to do is wait him out. Ninety percent of the unreasonable things Ron has done in his life have involved his best friend.

Like clockwork, Harry raises an eyebrow. “Okay. When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning, after Krum leaves town.”

Harry groans. “You know this is a terrible idea?”

“Yes. But I don’t care.”

“We’re not going to do anything illegal, right?”

Ron imagines what exactly they’ll do tomorrow — show up at Krum’s apartment and just open the door? If Vicky’s dumb enough to leave his door unlocked while he’s out of town, then sure. But he’s definitely not dumb. If he was, Hermione would be staying far far away from him, and yet, here they are. It won’t be the first time Ron has snuck into a window. He was a horny teenager with a girlfriend and strict parents before, and crowbars are quite effective.

“No, of course we won’t do anything illegal.”

Harry nods. “Then fine,” he says, the reluctance in his voice rather light.

“Knew I could count on you.”

It doesn’t take long for Ron and Harry to locate Viktor’s address — the internet is a wonderful invention. They pull up to his street and emerge from the car. On Ron’s back is a bag equipped with a crowbar, a rope, and a clipboard. Ron’s found that holding a clipboard is the best way to look like you’re supposed to be there.

“None of this makes sense, mate.”

“Sure it does.”

As Ron shuffles along the pavement of an unfamiliar neighborhood, Harry trots behind him in an effort to keep up.

“You have no evidence that he’s cheating.”

“That’s why we’re doing this. To find some.”

“Ugh.”

Harry and Ron eventually stumble to the front porch of Viktor Krum’s duplex. It is larger than expected, but slightly run-down. The grass in the front lawn needs to be mowed, and on the front porch sit two pots that once housed plants, maybe. By the looks of it, no one has watered them in years. The paint is peeling off of the siding, and one of the stairs on the front stoop has rotted through. Even though their loft is still rather dumpy, Viktor’s makes it look like a castle.

“No wonder he’s always staying at our apartment.”

Ron peers around to the side of the house. A cracked window reveals an unmade bed inside. From his research, Ron knows that Krum lives in the first apartment on the left.

“We’re going in through the window.”

“Breaking and entering, cool,” grumbles Harry.

“Just entering. No need to break.”

Harry and Ron tiptoe across the overgrown grass and when they reach the window, it takes both of them to wedge it up high enough for them to fit through. Harry props Ron up and he slithers head-first into Viktor Krum’s bedroom. Harry follows, and both boys land in a thud on the carpet of the darkened room.

“You’d think he’d be able to afford a nicer place,” says Ron.

“Maybe he’s saving for an engagement ring or something,” sniggers Harry.

“Fuck mate, why would you say that?”

“To watch you squirm.”

Harry and Ron get to searching Krum’s apartment, flipping over couch cushions and rummaging through bookshelves looking for something — anything — that might belong to a girl who isn’t Hermione. Jewelry, clothing, makeup, perfume. One sniff and Ron would surely be able to tell if the perfume is hers.

“What’s this?” Harry’s voice travels from a smaller room attached to the living area. Ron peers inside to find a cluttered desk next to a bookshelf. Lining the shelf is a collection of Agatha Christie and Stephen King novels, and writing utensils galore. Harry is standing at the desk with a thick binder in his hands. “I think it’s a story.”

“Let me read it.” Ron yanks the binder from Harry’s hands and turns to a random page.

“She was dead. So very dead. The way her bushy brown hair splayed across the ground and nearly blended in with the fallen leaves made her look so natural in that state, like she was finally at peace. But her eyes were open, revealing the look of shock in her face. But there was something else there. Recognition. Betrayal.

Her hand still clutched the stab wound in her stomach, and Special Agent Reid knew that her stomach lining wasn’t the only thing that had recently been broken. So had her heart.

Clearly, she knew her killer. And most likely, if statistics proved to be true — and Spencer Reid always trusted statistics — it was her lover.”

“What the fuck is this?” splutters Ron.

Harry laughs. “I don’t know, but I’d be embarrassed if someone found that at my desk. I think he’s just writing. Special Agent Reid is a character on Criminal Minds.”

“Yeah, and the dead girl with bushy brown hair is clearly Hermione.”

“It appears to be fanfiction.”

Who the fuck writes fanfiction? “Oddly specific fanfiction.”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about,” shrugs Harry. “It’s probably just a creative outlet.”

“She was killed by her lover, Harry.”

“We should probably go,” says Harry. “I’m nervous someone saw us sneaking in here, and we can’t find what we’re looking for.”

Can’t find what we’re looking for? What the fuck is he talking about? “Harry, we’ve found something much worse than what we’re looking for.”

“Fanfiction?”

“No, evidence that he thinks about killing Hermione.”

“He doesn’t think about that, Ron. He’s just writing.”

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”

“Honestly?” Harry shrugs. “Because he’s not a bad guy. He treats Hermione well. He’s kind. And we just discovered an embarrassing secret of his and should probably keep it to ourselves.”

“Don’t you think we should tell her and let her decide if it’s concerning?”

“Hermione’s a grown woman who can take care of herself.”

Ron sighs. He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the open page of Krum’s story. “Well I’m going to tell her.”

“How are you going to explain why we were in his apartment?”

“Dunno.”

“Want my opinion, Ron?”

No. Not really. Ron decides not to answer, but Harry continues anyway.

“Leave her alone. It really feels like you want him to be cheating on her. Or to, I dunno, be plotting to murder her.” He gestures to the binder when he emphasizes the word. “See how ridiculous it sounds when I say it?”

Ron has to admit that Harry has a point.

“I know you care about her, so stop sabotaging your friendship by meddling in her relationship.”

Ron grunts. “When did you become so good at relationships?”

Harry gets a strange look in his eye. “Well, if you must know—”

“No, I don’t need to know,” grumbles Ron, as the memory of Harry and Ginny holding hands flashes across his mind.

“Fair enough,” says Harry with a smile. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught?”

“Yeah,” agrees Ron . Probably a good idea.

Hours later, Ron is cleaning glasses at the Burrow while Harry sits across from him at the bar, picking at a pile of french fries in front of him. “I still can’t believe we snuck into his house.”

“I can,” says Ron with a shrug. Honestly, it felt a lot like storming Cormac for Hermione’s belongings when she first moved in. Some people make Ron want to throw logic out the window.

“You’re an awful influence, Ron.”

No, Hermione’s the awful influence. Ron turns to stack newly washed glasses on the shelf at the back of the bar. He is definitely being unreasonable. Hermione, in no way shape or form, caused him to break into Krum’s apartment. It was his concern for her that did. Because he cares. Plus, even if Harry doesn’t agree, if you ask Ron, they found what they were looking for.

“Hello, roommates.” Hermione’s voice echoes from the front door. It’s only three o’clock, and the bar doesn’t pick up until later, and the lack of people in the room makes Hermione’s presence seem all that much stronger.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” says Ron.

“Hey, Hermione. Good to see ya,” says Harry. “Also, I’m going to be late to meet Gin, so see you back at the loft later—”

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Ginny today.”

Harry pushes his half-eaten french fries out of the way and rises to his feet. “Bye!”

Hermione takes his empty chair, and both of them watch Harry scuffle out the front door with an extra pep in his step.

“That was weird,” says Hermione with a shrug.

“Yeah.”

She pulls Harry’s plate of french fries closer to her, and plucks at one. “So what did you two do today?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Really? I just didn’t see either of you at the loft.”

Ron avoids her eye contact and shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“Right,” she says, while she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “So are you working till close?”

“Yep.” Ron feels a pang of guilt at how terse his answers are. Ever since the cabin, he’s been quite short with her. He tells himself he’s just giving her space, but deep down, he knows it goes beyond that.

Hermione persists. “Mind if I hang out here for a while? Obviously Ginny’s busy with Harry and Viktor’s gone for the weekend.”

“Sure,” he says. Then, willing himself to keep the conversation flowing, he adds “You still don’t know where Viktor is this weekend?”

Hermione hesitates before answering. “Just on a trip.”

So she does know where he is? Or maybe she doesn’t and it worries her.

Overwhelmed with a desire to come clean, Ron turns back to her. “Can I tell you something, and you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

Hermione seems to brighten at the fact that his answer is longer than one word. “No, I can’t promise that, Ron. But please tell me.”

Ron groans. He shouldn’t say anything. But he does. “He gives me a weird vibe. Something’s off.”

“Of course he does,” says Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“What does that mean?” asks Ron, his defenses rising.

“Seriously, Ron?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Tell me, Ron, see that guy in the booth?”

Ron follows her gesture to one of the only other patrons currently in the bar — a middle aged man reading a book and sipping an IPA. “Yes.” “Does he give you a weird vibe?”

“No, not really.”

“If I were to walk over to him and snog him, would he then give you a weird vibe?”

What kind of question is that? “Yes, but because he’s willing to snog a stranger in a bar—”

“You’re not willing to snog strangers at bars?” Ron’s mind darts back to Lavender. Sure, he was willing to snog strangers at bars, but they all know how that turned out.

“Okay, what are you saying?”

“I know we’re dancing around it Ron. It’s the elephant in the room.”

The hair on Ron’s arm tingles as it stands on edge. The last thing he expects is for Hermione to actually name the elephant in the room. Does this mean she’s about to shut him down once and for all? Tell him she’s happy with Krum? And that he should fuck off? Well, Fuck.

“Okay, but—”

“I love being your friend and your roommate, I’m in a stable relationship, and not willing to change that right now.”

Shit.

Hermione continues. “Will Viktor and I marry each other? Probably not. But at this point in my life, this is what I need.”

So, Hermione thinks Ron is pining uncontrollably for her? Is that how it is? “I didn’t break up with Lavender because of you, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Does she know, though?

“And that is not why Krum gives me a vibe.”

She laughs. “Okay, why then?”

Ron groans. He really shouldn’t show her. Even if she thinks he found it at the loft, she’d probably just get angry at him for going through his things. But, for some reason, he can’t resist. “I found this today.”

Ron pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks through his photos. When the photo of Krum’s little story surfaces, he slides his phone to her across the bar.

Hermione picks it up and her eyebrows narrow to the text. “Where did you find this, Ron?”

What can he say? On his desk. In his apartment. The one I broke into earlier. “He left it out,” says Ron. It’s technically not a lie.

“That’s an invasion of his privacy,” says Hermione, coldly.

“Does it not concern you?”

Hermione shrugs. “Honestly, no, it doesn’t. He’s already shown me.”

“What?”

Hermione contemplates before giving up more details. “He’s taking a creative writing class, and this was one of his assignments,” she says, gesturing to Ron’s phone. “To write a fanfiction story from his favorite show. And he loves Criminal Minds.”

“Are you serious?” Harry was fucking right.

“Yes, it’s what he does every Tuesday and Thursday night. And that’s where he is now, actually, at a writing retreat.”

“So he’s like… serious about writing?”

Hermione shrugs.

“It doesn’t bother you that you’re the dead girl in that story?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that you were killed by your lover?”

Hermione laughs but shakes her head.

“It’s not very good.” He’s definitely grasping at straws now.

“I know that,” says Hermione. Ron’s pleasantly surprised that she agrees with him.

“Why does he do it?”

“He enjoys it. Isn’t that enough?” Finishing off Harry’s old fries, Hermione wipes her hand on a napkin. “Can I have a cream ale?”

“Sure,” says Ron as he reaches for a pint glass. “So you’re confident that he doesn’t want to kill you?”

Hermione laughs. “No, he doesn’t, thank god.”

“He’s not going to break your stomach lining and then your heart?”

“Okay,” groans Hermione. “Don’t be mean.”

Ron hands her the dripping cream ale. She smiles and takes it from him, her cheeks tinging pink with what Ron presumes is secondhand embarrassment. Honestly, it’s quite nice that she supports him, even though his hobby is a bit weird. It’s what Ron would call a green flag. Krum is a lucky bastard.

“My heart isn’t breakable right now, anyway,” she adds, before taking a sip of the foam layer at the top of her beer.

Ron cocks an eyebrow.

“Still have too many walls up, you know.”

“Oh I know, you’re a total ice queen.”

Hermione laughs, and Ron feels himself relax. It was a tough few days of not speaking freely with her.

“Thank you for talking to me. I missed having you as my friend,” she says.

The way she emphasizes friend sits strangely with Ron. As though she’s dictating the specific role she wants him to play right now. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite like being friendzoned, and he can’t figure out why. There’s something temporary about the way she says friend.

Or is he reading way too much into that? He doesn’t want to be her friend. And yet, he loves being her friend. How does that even make sense?

“Right,” says Ron, cautiously. “So if I wanted to write bad fanfiction, would you support me? As a friend?”

“Of course!” says Hermione cheerfully. “I’d beta read for you.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll take up the habit. Show you I have other talents besides giving you free beer and being your attractive roommate.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, yet a smile graces her lips. “I bet you’d be a good writer,” she says as she gulps down the last of her beer.

“Maybe you’ll find out. Want another beer?”

“Sure!”

Ron pulls her glass away and refills it under the tap. This is definitely the weirdest friendship he has. But he’ll play along.

For now.

It is far too late when Ron finally makes it home from the bar, and as much as he wants to sleep, he’s too wired from his conversation before. He strips down to his boxers and collapses into the bed. Although he would love to continue talking with Hermione, there are no signs of life in any of the bedrooms, so it’s a safe bet that everyone in the loft is asleep.

Ron turns to his side and reaches his phone on his bedside table. Without a second thought, he starts typing away. Hopefully Hermione has her text notifications on silent. There is no reason she can’t have two story tellers in her life.

“She was about 5’6, had brown eyes, and wore a Hamilton t-shirt. She loved to watch romantic comedies and was a total coffee snob, even though she couldn’t tell the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. Her sultry gaze and bushy brown hair splayed wildly out at all angles, making her appear like a sexy medusa. In fact she could turn you rock hard in an instant. She had her whole life ahead of her. Or so she thought…”

Before he can overthink it, Ron presses send.

His heart rate quickens as he stares at his message. She’s asleep, so there is no way she’ll see it until tomorrow morning—

Then, three little dots appear at the bottom of his screen, and his palms begin to sweat. Oh shit.

“Oh my god, Ron, what is this?”

Well, he’s committed now.

“Little did she know, her life as she knew it was about to end. In walked a man, about 6’5, bright red hair, and a pale, yet chiseled adonis-like body. Nothing like her current boyfriend, but everything she wished her current boyfriend could be. He didn’t waste time writing fanfiction and playing sports, and instead crafted beautiful cocktails from the basement dive bar, was quite broke, and regularly forgot to do his laundry. Like a REAL MAN.”

Hermione is quicker to respond this time. “You’re ridiculous. But keep going please.”

Yes, ma’am. “And he wasn’t just a sex god. He was also a… dun dun dun… MURDERER.”

“LMAO. This is so mean. But I’m laughing so hard.”

Ron continues typing away. “She knew all of this. And yet, she still wanted him. She didn’t care if it was her last night on earth, because she knew it would be her best night on earth. And that was all she needed.”

“OMG now you’re getting carried away.”

She’s not wrong, yet something urges him to keep going. “She entered his apartment, so he could enter HER.”

Yeah, maybe he is getting carried away, but it’s fun, so what’s the harm? Plus, she promised to support his creative writing journey.

While waiting for Hermione’s response, Ron’s bedroom door bursts open, and Hermione stomps across the room. Her face is flushed and Ron can tell she is trying to hide a smile. “Phone, please?” she asks, her arm extended.

“No, I’m writing a story!”

Hermione stands her ground. “You’ve lost your phone privileges.”

“But I’m going to be the next Stephen King.”

Hermione lets out a laugh and dives onto the bed, wrestling his hand for his phone. She braces her knees on either side of him, pinning him between her legs. Ron makes a show of struggling, but as much as he wants to keep her there forever, he eventually lets her win.

“Fine,” he says, handing over his phone.

It only takes a moment for them to pause, limbs entangled, for Ron’s mind to run wild. How easy would it be for him to turn the moment serious? He could wrap an arm around her waist and pin her to him. He doubts she’d resist. She has a boyfriend, but she also seems surprisingly comfortable with her arms draped around Ron’s body. She knows he’s only wearing boxers under the covers, right?

They linger there for a moment that solidifies Ron’s inkling from before. She bites her lip, her eyes dart down toward the covers. The way she doesn’t immediately jump off of the bed when she notices that he’s in his underwear suggests that the friendzone is an arbitrary construct.

Ron steadies his voice in an effort to hide his rising heart beat. “Careful, Hermione. I’m a sex god with a habit for murder.”

Yeah, took one second for him to fuck that up.

“I fucking hate you,” she says, as she wrangles herself back up, his phone in her hand. “You are most definitely not a killer.”

Yeah, it took one second for him to fuck that up. However, Ron’s stomach flutters at the sound of her swearing. She hardly ever cusses, only when she’s with him. “Right, but am I a sex god?”

Hermione laughs. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Ron raises an eyebrow. “Care to find out?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that whiskey shot at the end of his shift. He’s acting a bit too bold.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Her answer echoes in Ron’s mind. He doesn’t miss the way Hermione averts her gaze, and her cheeks flush red.

“I know. We’ve established that.” Then, with a inhale to gain courage, he adds, “But if you didn’t?”

Maybe Ron imagines it, but a look flashes across her eyes, and the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. She shakes her head as if to halt the beginning of a fantasy before it runs wild. “I really should sleep. Goodnight, Ron.”

“Night, Hermione.”

Ron grins as she turns and leaves the room, fully aware that she never answered his question.

#be11a loft #romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #hpromione #ron weasley #angst #ronweasley #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #muggle au #slow build #slow burn

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miracles-and-butterflies · 2 months

Text

For @dandylion94, based on the prompt: “Camilo and Mirabel are trapped together somewhere and have a heart to heart while waiting for rescue.”

Post rebuild, Camilo tries to prank Mirabel but it ends up backfiring on himself as he accidentally locks them both in the laundry room. While waiting to be found by the family, the two get to talking and learning stuff about each other.

Change Your Mind

Mirabel yelped as the door suddenly slammed shut behind her. The action and noise almost loud enough that it made it the walls tremble. Her knuckles gripping white against the basket, she turned around. Only to find a snickering Camilo, waiting beside the wall by the recently closed door.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered.

“Uh, no, you’re the idiot, primita. You’re the one who just freaked out over a door.” He remarked. “My sister’s gonna be mad.”

“Your sister is also going to know exactly whose fault it is and is going to inform the adults of such.”

Camilo groaned a little. “You’re so boring. It’s just a dumb joke you don’t have to take everything so seriously. Would it kill you to find the fun for once?”

“I can have fun,” she countered, setting down the basket and beginning to sort through the laundry. “And I can manage to do so without insulting or humiliating someone in the process. Not that you would know anything about that. Would it be so difficult for you to take something seriously?”

“I took the rebuild seriously.”

“Your first comment was quite literally about us no longer having a house.”

“That wasn’t my first comment, actually. You weren’t there for it because you ran off.”

“Well, I was present for the rebuild and I can confidently say you weren’t much help.”

“You weren’t either, thread-head. All you did was sew something for the kitchen. I carried a few bricks, babysat several kids and, as horrifying as it is to you, actually got my hands dirty!” He insisted, lifting his hands and waving his fingers, dramatically.

“And there you go again, acting like a child,” Mirabel clicked her tongue.

“Uh, newsflash, I am a child,” Camilo commented. “We are both children. I can be silly and messy and loud and annoying and vulgar and reckless and whatever else you complain about it if I want. You’re the odd one out, prima. Not me.”

Mirabel glanced up from the clothes she was sorting through. “This is all very concerning as it’s coming from someone who is meant to be a role model and guardian to young children. I dread to think what kind of awful impression you are leaving on the children you babysit and the messed up futures they’ll have,” she said, as though she was merely talking about the weather.

That struck a nerve in Camilo.

And he wasn’t going to leave without getting the last word in.

His hands fell to his sides in tight fists as he stepped away from the door, wanting to fully stand down his cousin. “Yeah, but I’m clearly a better person than you are, seeing as you’re the one here who wasn’t good enough to get a gift!”

Mirabel slowly dropped the blouse she had been holding. She turned back to him, eyes narrowed up at him, pushing herself away from the counter.

He’d grown a lot recently - and though he already has a vision from Bruno has guaranteed he’d end up taller than his sister - he has clearly never stood so close to Mirabel in a while. Because she was really, really short and maybe that ruined some of the conviction in her words.

“You don’t know when to quit it, do you?”

“Clearly not if I’m such a kid.”

Apparently done with this argument, Mirabel turned away sharply and returned to her work, ignoring him entirely. Camilo gave one final scoff before stalking back to the door. He reached for the doorknob and tried to twist it, but nothing happened.

Getting more frustrated, he jiggled the doorknob harder. Twisting one way and then the other. Pulling and pushing with all his weight. Kicking at the door and then bashing his shoulder into it. Trying anything to get it loose. Nothing worked. Even Casita tried helping with the floor tiles and a wooden beam, but nobody was strong enough to free the door. He slowly came to the realisation that during his earlier prank, he must have slammed the door too hard and gotten it jammed.

“What is it?” Asked Mirabel from behind. She didn’t sound as upset as she had a moment ago.

“The door’s jammed,” Camilo admitted in defeat. “We’re stuck in here.”

Mirabel shook her head. “Only temporarily. Lunch can’t be that far away and my absence will be noted by—”

He couldn’t help himself from bursting into laughter at that. And he was mildly surprised that Mirabel didn’t immediately chastise him for it. “People don’t notice when you don’t show up at meals, just guess you’re off sewing or that you are there. You’re quiet. It’s the same with Dolores. It’s why I use you two if I want seconds.”

“Then surely someone will notice your absence…” she trailed off from her question, realising. She sighed heavily. “Or no, they won’t. They’ll assume that you have shapeshifted into somebody else or have gone out to town to see your friends without informing anyone.”

“Dolores is having a day off in her room,” Camilo said, after a beat. “And there’s no windows in here.”

“…Looks like we really are stuck here then.”

“I guess so.”

The first hour or so passed with no drama. They remained on opposite sides of the small room and said nothing to each other. Mirabel continued with the chores she was meant to actually be here for without compliant (cleaning clothes, darning holes, etc), while Camilo was slowly losing his mind. There was nothing to do in here.

The second hour came and went. And then the third. And then… well, Camilo stopped counting by then. His stomach was really starting to growl and though he kept checking through the gap at the bottom of the door, he couldn’t see any sign that the family had come back. Though surely they had eaten lunch by now? Wouldn’t Dolores have to leave her room at some point and would hear them? The small source of light outside of the room, slowly faded.

He thinks he must have fallen asleep because, when he next opens his eyes, the entire room was pretty much pitch black. Mirabel had to stop what she was doing as she could no longer see much beyond the slight glimmer of her needle. He could just make out his cousin’s figure in the same place - has she even moved at all? - her knees huddled up against her chest, the same way Antonio does after a nightmare. It’s too dark that he doesn’t even notice Mirabel is looking over at him until she breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. You are wonderful with the village children and Antonio.”

Camilo shrugged a little. “Eh, I probably deserved it. I went out of my way to prank you, even when I know you don’t like ‘em and scare easy. I mean, that’s not setting a great example to kids.”

There was a pause. “Well, neither is what I’m doing,” Mirabel continued. “I can be cold, stubborn and very closed off about my feelings, which can’t be the best impression for Antonio. I never thought being so levelheaded and responsible would be a bad thing, but… I just spent the last eight hours, trapped in a room, working.”

“Why? Why would you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

“If I were to guess a lot of anxiety, trauma from Casita’s collapse and a crippling need to over-compensate for not getting a gift. Aside from the literal answer, it feels wrong to be not doing something productive.”

“Yeah, you're the weirdest sixteen-year-old I’ve ever met. And I’m me.”

“Apparently, I’m also a hypocrite to Luisa.”

“Yeah that as well— wait, it’s been eight hours!?”

“Eight hours and twenty minutes, I think; I could be wrong. That is what I counted. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

Camilo stared at her in shock.

“You aren’t human.”

“It’s just counting. It’s not impressive—”

“You kept count of time for like almost half a day in the middle of doing that sewing and shit, how the hell is that not impressive?” He exclaimed, gesturing to the clothes. Or where he assumed they were.

“The counting was the more challenging bit, but only because mathematics isn’t something I care about. Stitching is all second nature to me at this point, as simple as mere breathing,” Mirabel explained.

He slowly picked his jaw up off the floor. He had always thought Dolores wasn’t completely human - as a child, he was convinced she was some higher being because of her smarts. He’d never really paid much notice to the fact that Mirabel easily caught up as her equal. Sure, he knew his prima was smart; his teachers use to complain about his grades being appalling in comparison to his “baby, female, giftless cousin”. But like… what the actual hell?

“What else do you know?” He asked.

Mirabel blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like, off the top of your head, what else is in there? Wait, that’s a dumb question… um, you know how my sister claims she can play any instruments she touches, could you do that?”

“First of all, Dolores can actually do that. I have seen it with my own eyes and that is something to be regarded as impressive. Could I do that? No. Having only tried the piano, accordion and a few woodwind instruments, I don’t have enough knowledge on the other families of instruments to even know where to begin. Anyone could try, but not many instantly gain understanding of a new instrument.”

“You can play the piano? What? Since when?”

“Since about three? Pa taught me the basics and, with the aid of Dolores’ music books taught myself the rest.”

“How did I not know about this? I’ve never heard you play!”

“You never asked. I only play when the rest of you are at work.”

He nodded in understanding. “I guess now I should share some facts about me that you don’t know. Just to make it equal.”

“Is there something I don’t know?” Mirabel questioned, unconvinced.

“Probably not, I’m very loud and open about myself.” He chuckled. “Uh… yeah, no, I got nothing. What is there to say? I babysit, I act, I play football, pull pranks, have a boyfriend, am the weird kid in my class. Oh no, actually, wait! I got something! When my parents first moved me into the nursery with you, I wanted to be your friend.”

Nobody said anything for a long time.

“You what?”

“Yeah! You were the only other child in the house who wasn’t going to school at the time and we’d be roommates.” Camilo went on to say. “I remember being excited for our play dates, I remember Mamí telling me about a new friend and thinking it was the best present ever. I couldn’t wait. And then… you clearly weren’t as interested, maybe scared of me and my energy, and we had two very different ideas of what ‘play’ meant. And rather than help, our mothers just kept trying to force us together which made it all worse. No wonder you eventually burst before I started school, begging Luisa to put an end to it. That really hurt, by the way. I started school thinking nobody would want to be my friend.”

There was another quiet moment as Mirabel shifted. “Well, now I feel bad,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just couldn’t understand why the adults were doing this; I was convinced I was being punished for something.”

“Don’t be. We were kids,” he waved off. “We weren’t the second Isabela and Dolores, no matter how hard they tried to force it. We probably would have turned out completely hating each other if things didn’t happen the way they did. And I made a ton of friends within ten minutes of getting dragged into school.”

“I know… I’m still sorry I disappointed you. But, I suppose that is very consistent for me.”

He was going to ask her what she meant by that because she’s one of the last people who disappoint someone. Always polite, always helpful, flawless behaviour and grades, and— oh. That. That makes a lot of sense.

“You’re not as bad as you seem to think you are,” he ventured. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were. Still an abuela trapped in a school girl’s body, but you… I don’t know. I don’t want to see you get punched in the face anymore. It’s just nice getting to talk about all this shit, you know?”

“I concur. You aren’t the court fool I thought you were.” Mirabel hummed, softly.

“…I’m just gonna pretend I know what you said.”

“I said that I agree with you.”

He cackled for a moment. “That’s a first.”

He thinks she might have chuckled a little too. “Savour the moment, for I doubt it will happen again.”

“We’re not gonna go back to… all that arguing, are we? When— if we get out of here?”

“Of course, we will get out of here. Dolores will hear us and get Luisa any minute now.” Mirabel answered. He could almost hear her roll her eyes. “But, to answer the first question, I wouldn’t mind it if we stopped with the arguing. Perhaps we could try being civil?”

“Great! I don’t know what you mean, but same!”

As if on cue, the room was suddenly flooded with light as the door was smashed clean off its hinges. Camilo scrambled back into the wall, only narrowly avoiding being hit by the thing. Mirabel slowly crept towards the light from the other side of the room, smiling in relief at the two figures - of their older sisters - stood in the doorway.

“I told you so,” she remarked.

“But how did you know?” Camilo whispered in horror, then gasped. “Witch!”

Dolores just held a hand out to the room. “See, Luisa? I told you they weren’t dead.”

She was immediately shoved aside as Luisa shoulder-barged her way through the doorway, running into the open room and drawing Mirabel into a tight hug.

“I was so worried about you!” The strongest was saying, maybe she was crying. “My poor hermanita! I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t realise you got locked in here! I had— well, I thought I was having a conversation with you for a full ten minutes until Bela asked me ‘what the fuck I was doing talking to myself’! And Dolores wanted to leave you in here until the morning because she was busy writing poetry, so I dragged her here to make sure you didn’t die. I’m never letting go of you again!”

“That’s wonderful, Luisa, and I have missed you very much too, but I can’t breathe,” Mirabel winced.

Camilo scampered out, heading straight for the kitchen, as Dolores followed after him, dusting down her dress.

“I can’t believe that food is the first thing on your mind,” she complained. “Not even a thank you.”

“Hey! I’ve not eaten since breakfast! I’m actually starving for once!” Camilo yelled back. He gratefully sank his teeth into some of the leftovers. Shovelling spoon after spoon into his mouth. “Thanks for coming to get us, hermana. You couldn’t have done it sooner?”

Dolores scoffed, “Nobody told you to lock yourself and your cousin in the laundry room, hermanito. I fetched Luisa as soon I realised what had happened! Though… it sounds like something good has come out of this and it means I will get to hear less of you arguing with people, so I don’t really have any regrets. In all honesty though, I am glad that you and Mirabel have made up. If you can get along with me, you can do it with her. Besides,” she added, smirking, “I was going to need you two to work together to plan my wedding.”

“But Mirabel wouldn’t know romance if it smacked her across the head?”

“You will bring the romance and dramatic elements, she will bring everything else. It is a flawless plan—”

“You couldn’t use Isabela and Luisa because they would embarrass the shit out of you?”

“Precisely.”

He had a light bulb moment, dropping his spoon into the bowl. “Maybe I should the jam the laundry door on you three and get you lot to make it up to each other!”

“Camilo Valentino Estrada Madrigal—”

“What? I’m only kidding!”

#encanto #my writing #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #dolores madrigal #luisa madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #isabela madrigal

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tf2-oneshots · 11 months

Note

Can you write heavy and medic coming back to base from a long day of having fun murdering people and to celebrate/relax they have a nice cuddle session,

+ medic using heavy as a nice human pillow

Couple goals

Warning: alcohol (?)

Rating: General

Medic slips off his boots and sets them next to Heavy’s by the door. He then peels off his sweaty gloves with a groan. The messy pair are tossed into a sink of soapy water to be sterilized. Medic throws his bloody clothes into the laundry hamper before taking a nice, long shower.

It was a wonderful day on the battlefield. Their team swept the match, decimating their counters easily each round. Medic followed Heavy through the landscape, ubering him endlessly until everything was destroyed. Together, they were an unstoppable couple! Just like every match.

Finally clean after a long day, Medic finds his dear Heavy laying in their bed with two beers. The doctor gives a warm smile, crawling under the sheets and into Heavy’s arm. The couple snuggle close, brown glasses clinking before Medic takes a sip.

“You smell good, Misha. Is that a new soap?” The German leans in, taking a whiff of the man’s neck. He smelled like fresh mint and a forest. Mixing that with Heavy’s natural scent, it’s something Medic can’t ignore. His head lays on the man’s bare chest, allowing him to take in as much as he desires.

“Da. Thought Doktor would like.” Heavy chuckles as Medic curls further onto his chest. His graying hair still wet from the shower and curling while it dries. His round glasses slightly crooked as they press against Heavy’s warm skin.

“Well, you were right.” They kiss one another, each pulling back to sip their drinks. The blanket is dragged further onto them, encasing the couple in its warmth. A hand moves to Medic’s waist, holding the man firmly. Heavy moves to turn their TV to a random documentary to occupy the silence in the room.

“You were magnificent, Misha. I love it when you kill people.” Medic draws a heart on Heavy’s chest, right atop where his beats. He presses an ear to the organ. If only people considered the heart to be an instrument, then it would be Medic’s favorite. He could lay for hours just listening to the steady thumps.

“Doktor did good with healing and hurting.” Heavy finishes his beer, setting the bottle on the nightstand to be recycled. Medic nurses his for a bit longer, focused on listening to his lover’s heart beat. The documentary is ignored in favor of small talk. Plans for tomorrow’s match, and how to spend their next day off.

When Medic takes the final swig, the bottle is set next to Heavy’s. Glasses are also set on the nightstand with a soft clatter. A massive arm wraps around Medic who now completely lays atop his lover. TV off and lights out, they share one last brief kiss. Today was a good day.

I want what they have -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #cw alcohol #red oktoberfest #heavymedic

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bbybearcubbs · 8 months

Text

New Neighbor - Nice To Meet You

〖Warning/s〗⪼ Lots of focus on Han's beauty (BEWARE - he's gorgeous), that's all tbh.

〖Genre〗⥤ Fluff ☑ Angst ☐ Suggestive ☐

〖Stray Kids〗⥤ Neighbor!Jisung x Reader

〖Status〗⥤ Ongoing {Word Count: 2K }

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Description: You recently moved into a new neighborhood. A wonderful house with rent so cheap it was too good to be true. You were really questioning whether life was playing with you because meeting Han Jisung also seemed to good to be true.

Network/s: @kflixnet

╰──────────⊰ ˚⋆˙✩˚⋆˙ ⊱──────────╯

Your new house was a two bedroom home with a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. Granted it was a two story house with another home right above you. A simple example would be saying it was just 1 one story house placed on top of another.

You knew you'd have upstairs neighbors, which was completely fine with you. You just had to hope they would be respectful enough to acknowledge you lived downstairs and not to be too noisy. And it would seem your luck hadn't run out.

Your first month of living there and you didn't hear a peep from them. You had taken a small container of chocolate chip cookies upstairs to introduce yourself but they didn't seem to be home.

You tried again the next day but they weren't there either. Assuming they were just very busy and always out, you stopped going and eventually forgot about introducing yourself.

It'd been almost two months since you've been living there. By now you had completely remodeled the second room into a small studio for your streams and you'd actually forgotten you were supposed to have neighbors. They just never seemed to be home. Until today that is.

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I was in my backyard removing my dried laundry from the clothes line. My headphones were blasting Tomorrow by Together's most recent song "Do It Like That" which was a collaboration between them and The Jonas Brothers.

I was humming the song, completely ignoring the rest of the world around me. Once I was finished I picked up my basket of clothes, the song coming to an end. The familiar sound of the automated low power warning rang through my ears and I groaned looking up at the sky. Why did it need to charge now? I stood there for a moment taking in the beautiful view above me.

I slowly turned, wanting to get a full 360 view of the sky. It was beautiful today. Halfway around my eyes landed on the balcony above my backdoor. The one belonging to my upstairs neighbors. I stared for a moment, blinking away the initial shock of what I was seeing. There was someone up there. A man leaned against the balcony railings. He was very pretty, kinda beautiful actually and he was looking at me and waving.

I take off my headphones, dropping them around my neck. The man immediately spoke. "Can you hear me now?" He asked with a chuckle. His voice was soft but also deep. His voice is really nice.

"Oh I'm sorry! Were you calling me?" I asked, walking closer to the balcony. "Yes I was, only for a little while though" the man replied. I set my basket down at my feet and looked back up at him.

"You're my new neighbor right?" He asked, looking down at me. His curly brown hair falling over his eyes. Who's messy curls ever look that good? "I wouldn't say I'm new" I say sarcastically. "There's a slight chance I've been living here for almost two months" I add, sticking my thumbs in my jeans pockets. The man laughed, pushing his curls back with his hands. That was attractive. Why was that attractive? "Right, right" he says.

"So were you deliberately ignoring me when I came to your door or?...." I ask rocking back and forth on my heels. "What? No no- I wasn't at home" he exclaimed standing up straight. "I was on vacation the last 3 months'' he says and I let out a silent 'O' "So you weren't just super quiet" I said and the man laughed again. "I've been told I'm not the quietest person ever" he begins. "But I'm not horrible to live with'' he finishes with a smile. His eyes are smiling too, pretty...

I closed the door behind me when I got inside. My bedroom leads to the laundry room and the laundry room leads to my back yard. I open the door to my room and place the basket of clothes at the foot of my bed. I quickly plug my headphones in and place them on my desk.

I returned his smile without even realizing it. "I'll be the judge of that neighbor" I say, bending down and picking up my basket. "It's Han" I heard as I straightened up again. I look up and tilt my head slightly. "I'm Han Jisung," he smiles. "Y/n" I say smiling. "Nice to meet you Han Jisung" I grin before walking inside.

Just then the doorbell rings. I wasn't expecting anyone so I had who was at my door but I went to answer it anyway. "Coming!" I yell and open the door. "O-oh Hi" I was a little surprised to see Jisung standing at my door. "Howdy" he grins and I had to grip the doorknob tighter to stop from fainting. His smile is so much prettier up close.

"Can I come in?" He asks after an unnecessarily long moment of silence passes. "Yes- yeah come in" I stammer stepping to the side. Why am I so embarrassing? Jisung comes in and it's then I realize how much taller he is than me. I close the door and then turn towards Jisung.

"Woah…I love what you did with the place" he says turning to face me, staring down at me after doing a 360 scan of my home. "Thanks" I say, nervously scratching my neck, unsure what to do. "Can I?..." He asks and I follow his arm that's gesturing towards my couch. "Oh sure! Go ahead" I say. "Thanks!" Jisung says before dropping himself onto my couch.

"Woah…" he mumbles, sinking into the cushions. "Your couch is so soft" he says, sighing softly. "Yeah I know, this set is a gift from my granny" I say with a chuckle. Cute. "Your grandma has great taste" he says, turning his head to look at me with a laugh. I cover my mouth, laughing as well. He wasn't wrong.

Just then a bark was heard from my bedroom and my dog came running into the living room. He ran and jumped into Han's lap and started licking his face. "DINO!" I yelled, stumbling forward and scooping the dog off Jisung's lap. "I'm so sorry! He's usually friendly but never this friendly with strangers" I apologize to Jisung who only laughed in response.

"It's okay really, I love dogs!" He says and holds his arms out towards Dino. Dino had been whining and wiggling in my arms the whole time trying to get back to Jisung. Reluctantly, I placed Dino into Jisung's arms. Dino immediately started showering Jisung in puppy kisses, pawing at his chest gently, his tail wagging swiftly back and forth.

"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? Is it you Dino? Yes it's you!" He cooed at Dino, petting him and ruffling his soft blond fur. Jisung would laugh whenever Dino barked in response. I couldn't help but laugh at the two's cute interaction. Dino never acted this way meeting strangers, he's friendly but usually still on guard sometimes.

"Do you have any other pets?" Jisung asks softly petting a now calm Dino. "I do actually, give me a second" I say leaving the living room and go to the door to the right of my bedroom. I open it and step into my studio. "Kit! Kit come here girl" I call out and shortly after my cat Kit, crawls out from under my desk.

She walks over to me allowing me to scoop her up into my arms. I go back to the living room and sit on my three seater couch opposite to Jisung who was still sat on my two seater with Dino now laying down at his feet. "This is Kit" I introduced him to her. "Kit this is Jisung, our upstairs neighbor" I say gently turning her towards Jisung.

Kit hates strangers, she doesn't even go to any of my family members unless I'm near. "Can I hold her?" Jisung asks and I shake my head. "Sorry, she really doesn't like strangers, people in general actually" I say not wanting to risk her hurting Jisung. "Oh alright, I understand. Hopefully she'll let me hold her one day?" Jisung asks looking at Kit who only curls up in my lap and turns her back to him.

Jisung and I share a small laugh before looking at eachother. Jisung is the first one to break eye contact by turning his head around and pointing towards my studio room. "Is it okay if I go look at that room? It looks different from how my old neighbors had it, if you don't mind" he asks. "Yeah no problem" I say. I guess he's just really curious.

I gently place Kit onto the couch and stand up, Jisung stands as well and follows me to the door. I go in and allow Jisung to step in as well. "This is my studio room!" I grin, happy to show off my stuff. Jisung's eyes and mouth widen. "Woah, this looks so cool, what do you do?" He asks, looking at my set up with curiosity and excitement.

"I'm a streamer!" I say striking a pose proudly. "Seriously?! That's so cool! One of my friends is a streamer too!" He says and I can't hide my excitement. "Really? What's his name?" I asked eagerly, hoping I would recognize his friend's name. "He goes by the handle CB97" Jisung says and I gasp. Wait. The CB97?

"Did you just say CB97?" I ask in disbelief. "Yeah, but he lets everyone call him Chris" Jisung says and I cover my mouth to hide my widening smile. "You're friends with THE CB97?! I love his streams and music so much!" I exclaim excitedly. "You know him?" Jisung asks seemingly intrigued. "Of course I do! He's literally one of my idols!" I explain proudly.

"Look I even have one of his character plushies!" I say going to the shelf to my left and taking the Wolfchan Plushie Chris recently released in his merch store. Without realizing it I begin to ramble about Chris and my love for his streams. In the middle of my rant I locked eyes with Jisung who stood just starring at me with a smile. "Oh my gosh- I'm so sorry! I started rambling- I'm so so sorry-" I apologized.

"No it's okay, you seem excited to talk about it so I don't mind listening" he says and I feel my heart stop for a second. Did he just say he doesn't mind my rambling? What the actual heck? "O-oh…T-thanks" I say avoiding eye contact with him. "It's cute seeing how excited you got over my buddy's music" he adds and I choke on air. Cute? Did he just call me cute?

Just then Jisung's phone started ringing. He looks at the screen before looking back at me. "Can I take this?" He asks and I nod. Still too shocked by what he said before to properly process anything else. "Thanks!" He says and steps out of my studio. After a little while Kit comes into my room and rubs herself on my feet. "Kit he called me cute" I say softly, smiling down at her.

Kit meows, rubbing her cheeks onto my legs more. I squat down and pet her, smiling to myself without realizing. She's so cute. "Hey Y/n" Jisung calls coming back to my studio door. I look up at him, still on the ground petting Kit. "I'm sorry but I gotta go meet a few friends somewhere" he says and I nod. I pick up Kit and stand up, looking at Jisung.

"Well take care, tell them your new neighbor says hi" I chuckled. Jisung smiled, chuckling lightly. A few seconds of silence pass with Jisung looking as if he wanted to say something. I was about to say something when he spoke "Can I…Have your number?" He asks sheepishly. I swallowed the squeal in my throat and nodded. "Sure" I say taking his phone that he had stretched out for me to take.

I punched in my number and gave it back. "You can choose the contact name" I say and Jisung looks as if he's pondering over what name to give me before his face lights up and he quickly types in a name. Curiosity got the best of me and I leaned forward to see what name he'd given me. But before I could see Han pulled his phone away and locked it.

I looked at him confused and a little shocked. He smiled cheekily before speaking, "Nope! It's a secret" He smirks and I stood there still stunned with Kit in my arms. Just then Dino came into the room, standing beside Jisung. "Oh come on" I whine playfully and Han laughs making me laugh too.

"I gotta get going" Jisung says once his laughter calmed down. "Alright" I say smiling and walk him to the door. "It was nice meeting you Y/n" He says as he leaves. "Same to you Jisung" I replied and closing the door behind him. Before it closes completely Han turned around and winked at me with a grin before turning back towards his car.

Once the door was closed I turn around and lean against it holding my heated face. Did he just wink at me? What the heck Han....I shook my head, trying to get the image out my mind. I finally decided to head back to finish sorting through my laundry.

I couldn't stop smiling and chuckled softly to myself while in my room. Dino hopped onto my sat beside the pile of clothes I'd folded. "I mean he is pretty cute" I giggle petting Dino and he barks happily. I giggle at the action before finishing folding my clothes, smiling softly.

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New Neighbor Masterlist°

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Taglist: @jinhyun @afelia-123 @myboyfriendjake @wonillaa

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#♡cubbs♡#kflixnet #k labels #✩Wips✩#wip #stray kids #skz #stray kids han jisung #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #skz han jisung #skz han #skz jisung #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung #han x reader #jisung x reader

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bellysoupset · 8 months

Text

Alas! Finally the kitty fic:

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

It wasn't raining, it was pouring. Jonah winced as he looked out of the window, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater and walking across the room, so he could turn up the thermostat a little bit.

It was quite the uneventful Friday. Leo had court today, so he was late and hadn't texted, but Jon wasn't worried, since that was par for the course. He had done his clinic hours in the morning and then gone home, spending the rest of the evening fixing up the place.

Vince wasn't a super messy guy, but he wasn't extra neat either and he had been unable to move for a while. Now he was back in the dorms, despite Leo complaining it was silly not to stay another week, at least so he could remove the sling, but Vin was nothing if not a very proud guy.

So now he was gone and Jonah couldn't help but relax a little bit. He had liked having the guy around and liked helping his friend, feeling like his care actually was being translated into understandable, tangible acts, but he was also very relieved to have him gone. It was good to have home just to the two of them again.

Jonah huffed as he fished out a pair of Vin's socks from the washing machine and rolled his eyes, throwing it in the dryer alongside the rest of their clothes.

This was something else that was new. Doing laundry.

He used to simply send his clothes down, his fancy building had a laundry service and they sent up the clothes ironed and smelling amazing. Leo, though, was against them using it. In his own words "you're a fucking adult, just use your washing machine."

So they did laundry now, or at least everything except for Leo's suits and Jon's fussy shirts, because neither of them were about to iron those.

Jon was sorting the frozen meals - finally they could have lactose again - when the landline rang. No one ever phoned him home, ever, so he frowned and reached for it immediately.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Banks, hello. It's Matthew from the front desk," the older man said and Jonah raised his eyebrows as he wondered why the call. Certainly they hadn't received any packages past six o'clock when it was raining hell outside.

"Hi, Matthew," Jon frowned, "what's the matter?"

"I might be overstepping, sir," Matthew sounded a little fearful, "but Mr. Wagner's been sitting in his car in the garage for at least thirty minutes now and I'm a little concerned."

"How did-"

"The cameras, sir," Matthew explained and Jon nodded, realizing a minute later the man couldn't see him.

"You're not overstepping at all, Matthew, thank you for calling. I'm gonna go check on him, thanks."

"You're welcome, sir. Have a nice evening."

Jonah hung up and immediately went to retrieve his phone. There was no new text from Leo. Uh. Very weird.

He put his shoes back on and left the apartment, deciding to investigate.

True to what Matthew had said, Leo was sitting in his own car - a much older car, that Jonah generally despised with his whole being. The driver's door was open, one of Leo's legs hanging outside and the engine was off.

"Leo?" Jon asked, stepping closer and beyond confused, "baby, what are you doing sitting here?"

"Hey..." Leo sounded exhausted, but most importantly, his voice had a super soft characteristic that sent alarm bells through Jon. He moved closer to get a good look of his boyfriend and then frowned.

Leo was soaked wet. His suit, his tie, his hair, everything was a shade darker, as if he had jumped on the deep end of a pool instead of just catching some rain before getting in the car. His face was really pale.

"What the hell happ- What's that?" Jonah interrupted himself as he realized Leo was holding something to his chest.

"It's a kitty," Leo said softly, then sniffled grossly and Jon started to get the full situation. He ignored the cat and reached in, planting his hand to Leo's forehead. It was burning up.

"You have a fever, Leo," Jonah said flatly, "a high one, I'm guessing. Where did you get that thing?"

"Don't call him that," Leo scoffed, gently playing with one of the kitten's triangular ears, "he's so sweet-"

"Don't kiss that!" Jonah scolded as he watched, with a grimace, as his boyfriend planted a kiss on top of the animal's little head, "it's probably full of diseases!"

"Don't be mean," Leo scoffed, smoothing the cat's fur, "he was crying behind the courthouse, behind some boxes."

"I'm guessing you got yourself soaked trying to capture it?" Jonah rolled his eyes, "okay, baby, get out of the car. You need to get out of these wet clothes, they're probably freezing."

"He had no one," Leo whined, not moving as he continued to pet the cat, "he was all alone, there was no mom..."

"Okay, Leo," Jonah rolled his eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him out, "we're gonna get that thing to a shelter, but first you need a hot shower-"

"Shelter?" Leo's blue eyes were sparkling with the fever, big on his face. He squeezed the cat closer to his chest, causing the little animal to meow and paw at his tie, "no shelter," he blinked quickly, "please, Jon, not a shelter..."

Jonah frowned. He knew this voice well enough now to know this was something deeper, a trigger just waiting for him to be dumb enough and pull it. Instead he shook his head, "Okay, no shelter. I'm sure someone at the hospital will love it-"

"I'm not giving him away" Leo scoffed, once again kissing the cat and causing Jonah to cringe in disgust, "look. at. him, Jon," he held the pet to Jon's face, "he's the cutest thing! And- And he was all alone! And he needed someone... He needs a family!"

"Okay..." Jonah cringed, ignoring the cat's pitiful face right under his chin, instead looking at his boyfriend, "baby, let's just go upstairs, alright?"

Leo nodded, hiccupping and causing Jon to frown as he slammed the door shut, "is your belly upset?"

"No, I'm just cold," he said, teeth chattering, "you like him, don't you?" he continued to pet the cat, "he's so cute."

Jonah rolled his eyes, "yeah, adorable," he pushed Leo towards the elevator, "when did this fever hit you?"

"I have a fever?" Leo asked, completely enthralled by the kitten in his arms, "I think he's not a stray, his spots look fancy."

"It's a cat, Leo," Jonah huffed, cupping his boyfriend's cheeks, "baby, when did you start feeling sick?"

"I'm not sick," Leo pushed his hand away, grabbing his wrist and forcing Jonah to pet the cat, "what should we name him?"

Jonah stared at it, unimpressed. He had never been a pet person, ever. Not even back when he was a kid, his mom used to keep fancy birds and his father had one hunting dog, but Jonah had kept his distance from both pets.

The kitten meowed, still busy playing with Leo's tie. It was a really small thing, with big blue eyes and white fur, with some dark beige spots all over it. It's nose was a dark brown triangle and yeah, it was alright.

"Leo, can you answer me, please?"

"What about?" Leo sniffled again, resting his head on Jon's shoulder and smiling at the kitten, "hi, babyyy..."

"When did you start feeling sick?" Jonah repeated the question, pressing his lips to the blonde's forehead. He was burning up.

"Uhm, I was feeling pretty crappy during court..." Leo's voice broke and he grimaced, pressing a fist to his mouth as he started to cough, "I guess-" he coughed again, startling the animal, that started to climb his suit jacket, "after lunch...? Hey, where are you going..."

Jonah glared as the cat tried to hook it's claws on his sweater, "get it off of me."

"He's not gonna hurt you, he's just exploring," Leo said, his voice a lot more scratchier, "c'mere, sweetheart..."

"Stop kissing this thing, Leo, you're gonna get mono or fucking toxoplasmosis from it."

"Toxo-what?" Leo chuckled, "the pregnant women thing?" he clearly found it amusing, as he snuggled closer to Jon, trying to steal his warmth, "he's not gonna make me sick, don't be silly."

"Sure," Jonah let out a sigh of relief as the elevator came to a stop, "okay... Give me the thing."

"You mean the kitty?" Leo pouted, holding it defensively.

"Yeah, you need to get in the shower, baby. You're freezing to death," Jonah made a face as he attempted to grab the cat so Leo could shower. The blonde jumped back, his shoes squishing water.

"You're not gonna get rid of him, are you?" he pouted, holding the kitten close to his heart, "I love him."

Jon scoffed, "took you months to say I love you to me, you prick," he said, trying once again to grab the kitten. The animal hissed at him and Leo immediately cooed.

"See, he knows you're trying to get rid of him," Leo glared at him, "I'm not gonna give you the kitty."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Leo!" Jonah exclaimed, moving faster and snatching the pet, only to be scratched. He dropped it, by accident and the kitten immediately ran from him, hiding under the couch, "ah, bloody hell-"

"Why would you do that!" Leo cried out, rushing to the couch, "he didn't do anything to you, stop being such a fucking grinch!" he dropped to all fours near the couch and reached out with a hand, saying softly "here pspspsp, c'mere sweetheart..."

Jonah stared at him, then back at his hand. Baby claws or not, the kitten had managed to break skin and left a little bloody cut on the back of his hand. He pinched his nose bridge, "Leo-"

"He's got no one!" Leo shouted at him, not even bothering to look his way, "and he needs us!"

"You're sick," Jonah sighed, rubbing his temple, "the fever is making you emotional. A pet is a big responsibility-"

"I'm not emotional," Leo scoffed, falling on his ass and glaring at him, "I've always wanted a pet. This is my home. He needs a family. We're keeping him."

Jonah's mouth dropped and he tried to come up with an argument - one that wasn't absolutely not - but instead he snapped it shut, "can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"No," Leo shook his head, then coughed in the crook of his elbow. Deep, chesty coughs that made Jonah want to step closer and rub his back, an instinct he fought valiantly and stood his ground. Leo rasped for breath and glared at him again, "no. I'm not budging on this, Jon. I want it."

"And I don't want it," Jonah frowned, but he could feel his own will quickly melting away. It was rare Leo was ever this adamant about something. Clearly this was important.

"I'm not gonna beg for it," Leo's voice was steel, rasp be damned.

Jon shook his head, "I don't want you to beg. I want us to talk..." he trailed off, then rolled his eyes as the cat slipped from under the couch and climbed between Leo's legs, sitting on his lap like a pocket sized leopard. It was a little bit cute, he conceded, "is this a deal breaker for you?"

"Yes," Leo's said strongly, although his shoulders dropped as he realized the battle won.

Jonah nodded, then glared at the cat, "we're not naming it something stupid like Snowball."

"Okay," Leo grinned.

"And it stays off the bedroom."

"Okay," Leo's smile only grew.

"And stop kissing that thing until we get it checked by a vet."

"Fine, done," Leo said happily, "can we go to a vet in the morning?"

"Sure," Jon rolled his eyes, "now give me the cat, you need a shower still."

"Be gentle with him," Leo said softly, picking up the cat and the quickly kissing it one last time, causing Jon to scowl at him, "couldn't help it."

"You're not kissing me," Jon scoffed, pointing the hallway and taking the kitten, "go wash up, I'll- I'll find a box for- For him."

"Look at it, Jon," Leo smiled, using the couch to pull himself up, "he's adorable."

"If you say so," Jonah looked down at the cat and yeah, it was a little fucking adorable, trying to climb his sweater and meowing pitifully, "shower, Leo."

"I'm going," Leo said, still with a huge smile on his face and a dreamy look on his glazed eyes, "I'm just... Just give me a second."

Jonah let out a huff and smiled, "you huge sap," he said, then petted the kitten behind it's ears, smiling when the animal snapped it's head, trying to nibble at his finger, "he's like a little leopard."

"Yeah," Leo's voice was dripping with sweetness, "a little Leo."

"Ugh," Jonah groaned at the joke, "you're so sick, you're delusional. Get out of here, Leo."

--------

When Leo woke up again, it was late. Really, slept-past-lunch type of late. He never woke up this late, years of waking up early for school and then even more early for football practice were ingrained in him.

He blamed it on the cold, that he definitely had. There was a dull ache in his head, no doubt toned down by the meds sitting on the bedside table that he did not remember taking. A box of tissues, already opened and half used. His throat burned when he swallowed.

"Fuck," he groaned, sitting up on the bed and then glancing to his side, in search of his boyfriend. Jon's side of the bed was made, sheets fitted and blankets smoothed up.

Leo pouted, getting out of the bed and swaying on his feet. He put on a pullover that was lumpy and ugly to stop the shivering and then walked into the bathroom to wash his face... He was halfway brushing his teeth when last night hit him, just as he his old clothes in the laundry basket under the sink.

The cat!

He spat in the sink and washed his mouth as quickly as he could, then ran out of the bathroom, "Jon? Where's the cat?" Leo called, getting out of the room and power walking to the kitchen, "Jonah?"

Nothing but silence answered him. Jonah wasn't home and clearly neither was the cat.

"Nononono," Leo chanted, refusing to believe Jon would simply get rid of the little kitten while he slept. He checked the laundry room, then under the couch and inside the guest room, a series of coughs wrecking through him and causing his eyes to burn. There was a tight knot in his throat.

Jonah wouldn't get rid of the cat, right?

Leo let out a shuddering breath and fell on his ass next to the guest room's bed, leaning on his knees. He blamed the sudden wetness in his eyes on the low grade fever and sniffled pitifully, this simply wasn't right.

The front door opened and he heard a rustle, then Jon's voice "Leo? You awake?"

Rubbing angrily at his eyes, Leo swallowed against the choked up knot in his throat and walked out of the room, "where were you?"

"Lots of places, Sleeping Beauty," Jonah grinned, dropping his car keys on the table next to the door and a bag filled with medicine, "stopped by the pharmacy, got you some decent meds... Leo?"

"Where's the cat?" he frowned, crossing his arms. He still expected Jon to smile and say Surprise!, "Jon, where did you take him?"

"Her," Jon rolled his eyes, "it wasn't a boy," he shook his head, "she's a little drowsy, lots of adventures."

He stepped out of the door and into the hallway again and Leo could've cried with how happy he was as his boyfriend returned with a beige carrier.

"Meet JD Wagner Banks," Jonah smiled, fishing the cat out of the carrier and handing her to him. True to what he said, she was all sleepy and boneless, "they gave her a drug cocktail, so she's a bit out of it."

"J... JD?" Leo said in the smallest voice, eyes burning again as he took the kitten and held her to his chest, "what does it stand for...?"

"Jasmine Dean," Jonah looked very proud of himself, "JD for short... Oh you hate it," he grimaced as Leo let out a whimper.

"No, I don't, I- You gave her your family's J...?" Leo was doing a piss poor job of hiding how moved he was, "I thought you had gotten rid of her."

Jon pouted, stepping closer, "I wouldn't. Not while you slept, Leo, c'mon," he groaned, leaning in to kiss him, "give me some credit."

"I know," Leo sniffled, "I'm just- It was stupid, I'm sorry. I love you... I love her name too."

"Yeah?" Jonah smiled into the kiss, "good, because we can't change it now."

#sickfic #cold #mywriting #leo wagner #leo x jonah

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