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kisses4reid · 29 days

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big change | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - cutting spencer’s hair results in more than just a ‘big change’ appearance wise.

genre - fluff!!!!! cutesy yearning

warnings - idk u scared of haircuts?? scissors??? kissing?? (barely edited btw)

a/n - sometimes i black out and write a fanfic and then find it later on and then i’m like shit this kinda fire and then i edit it and then i post it and then-

You roll your chair over to Spencer’s desk after much staring, and rest an elbow on a low stack of manila folders. Your sneakers squeak as you slow yourself, causing a visible flinch from the long haired boy.

His brunet hair was flicked up at the ends which touched his shoulders, the front pieces tucked behind his ears. As he lifted his gaze, hard expression softening immediately, you whispered, “I know your secret.”

His smile jolted, heart beat quickening. You had a cheeky smile on, hair twirling between your fingers, talking so low. You couldn’t possibly know his secret.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” He asked, placing his pen down and turning to give you his full attention.

“You don’t know how to cut your hair.” His long hair suited him, you thought he looked as handsome as he did on your first day of work how many years ago. The day Spencer fell in love.

Dumbfounded, Spencer replied with a pout, “I know how to cut my hair.”

You raised an eyebrow, and suddenly he was aware of the jagged lines and length of his hair, and how he was now bringing hair ties with him everywhere. Which was actually convenient for all female members of the team. He had to admit, it was inconvenient at times, and it wasn’t his favourite to deal with or to look at. He looked back into your sparkling expecting eyes, smiled softly, and continued, “You should cut it for me.”

You lifted your head from your palm and raised your eyebrows, a pink flush ghosting your cheeks. The offer was innocent, it was a favour, but something about it felt so domestic in your head that you couldn’t help but smile hard, cheeks pressing, “Yeah, of course.”

You pushed off his desk and returned to yours, though his gaze never left your sunny appearance.

The next day, you were knocking on a familiar apartment door, rocking on your sneaker heels, eyes wandering anywhere but where you thought Spencer would be when he opened the door. But even when he did open his door, after a thud and small ‘ow’, you couldn’t help but look at him and savour the last moments with his long hair.

He had a navy blue sweater over a white t-shirt, some sweatpants that looked more formal from afar, and mis-match socks on. You gulped and stepped into his apartment, taking everything in as if you hadn’t been there before.

You took off your light purple scarf and placed it on the kitchen counter, along side the small hair cutting kit you had gotten a few years ago (you couldn’t afford a hair cut before your first day at the BAU, it was a diy emergency).

The apartment was dark and cosy, cabinets a rich wood tone, countertops squeaky clean, couches plush and thrifted. You two often talked about the best thrift stores to visit, you had even planned to go to one together one day. As Spencer pulled a wooden bar stool into the kitchen to sit on, you tied your own hair up, reminding yourself of why you were here.

He smelt amazing, like a new book and burnt marshmallow, and as he gazed into your eyes waiting for you to speak, a cat caught your tongue. You were alone in this warm apartment, only the soft music of Spencer’s old playlist in the background, and a heart beating that you weren’t sure was yours or his.

“Um- Okay. Do you have a reference photo or?”

“Yeah,” he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and showed you a reference photo. It was like he wanted to be a boy band member, and as you imagined him with it, you couldn’t be happier.

He got nervous watching your reaction, it was a very drastic change. You placed his phone on the counter top next to your hair kit, his eyes following your every move like if he blinked you would dissipate. And when a small smile ghosted your face, he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"I like it."

"Good."

You leaned close to Spencer, your heat radiating onto him, to pull a lever on his chair to lower him to your eye level. A spray bottle appeared in your hand while the other covered Spencer's brown eyes. Suddenly, cold sprits of water caused Spencer to flinch every time he heard the trigger fire, causing you to giggle lightly. "It's just water." "I didn't get any warning though." He replied sheepishly. He couldn't hear much over his heartbeat, or see much other than you.

The next 15 minutes was spent in radio music and being surrounded by your sweet perfume, trying not to grab you or touch you as much as he wanted to. You were stood in front of him now, eyes focused on his bangs and the hair around his ears, scissors and comb in hand, and he couldn't stop gazing into your eyes like a little boy looking at the stars.

You were utterly gorgeous, beautiful, unreal. Spencer often wondered, especially at the start of your relationship, how nobody else had tried to date you in the team, or in general. But as the two of you grew closer, he realised you were telling everyone no. You were waiting for someone, and it made his heart break everytime he remembered your words.

If only he knew. Your hands jittered slightly, feeling insecure at his hard gaze that you simply couldn't ignore. You hoped in the dim lighting he couldn't see your red cheeks or steep breaths, or that he could. You hoped you never finished cutting his hair, and you thought of other ways you could stay this close. He was tall, warm, comfortable. He was smart, caring, clean. He was Spencer, who wouldn't want to stay with him? A gulp escaped you, and he ripped his eyes off of yours, looking down to avoid your eyes and to see the damage.

There was piles of hair beneath your feet now, and he smiled at the sight.

"Spencer, stop moving your head. I couldv'e cut off your eyebrows." Your laugh filled the apartment, and he looked back up at you.

He hadn't realised how far you had gotten, your eyes scanning his hair for any improvements before a small smile of approval appeared on your cheeks. A breath escaped him. You turned to close your kit. He stood up and placed a hand on the front of your neck, turning your head, and planting his lips on yours.

You squeaked in surprise, quickly kissing back as his hands traveled to your cheeks, holding onto you like you were the only girl in the world. Your fingertips splayed on his chest, you pulled away only to be followed for another kiss, only broken up by a millisecond of a breath.

You opened your eyes and pushed him softly away, noticing the lipstick now stained on his lips and around them. The dim kitchen was spinning, your chest was heaving, and your heart was racing a million beats per minute. You even got a little light-headed before Spencer took his hands from your face and rest them on your waist.

He was much taller now that he wasn't sat, and he looked even more handsome with the haircut you had given him. For a second you thought you were hallucinating. Spencers eyes played between your lips and your eyes, before meeting you in the middle once again. He lifted you slightly, kissing you with movements full of yearning and passion, slowly with multiple breaths in the middle to give you time to reject him (which he expected), but you never did.

You put one hand on his cheek as he pulled away. He smiled widely at you, taking the enthusiasm back as a good sign. He didn't totally fuck up. You whispered, "You kiss your barbers often?" He replied with a cheeky smile, "Only you."

taglist: @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader

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brainrotfm · 8 months

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the sideshow spectacular: week one

☞ pairing: nurse!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

☞ word count: ~4.6k

☞ short description: yandere fertility nurse sukuna who thinks he's pulling a fast one on you except you're yan4yan and have masterminded this exact situation from the start

☞ content warnings: dark content, modern au, no curse au, yan4yan, yandere behavior, medical play kink, breeding kink, light bondage, inappropriate power dynamic, baby trapping, afab!reader, feminine descriptors + pronouns, blink and you miss it daddy kink, probably a lot more honestly i'm sorry for being a pervert

☞ notes: credit shhhhh don't look at what time this was posted i *definitely* made the cut off for week 1 also this came to me in a vision and then i feverishly wrote between today and yesterday also this is my first posted smut ever pls be nice also also also not beta'd not edited we die like men have fun xoxoxo

You have turned him into a monster.

You, with your kind smile, the way you offer it so carelessly to every person you meet. You, with your adorable gestures, fidgeting and fiddling with pens, magazines, the edges of your skirts as you sit in the waiting room. You, with those trusting eyes, lashes fluttering at every passing sensitivity. He could read your emotions clear as day, and spent too much of his time doing so, pretending to work behind an antiquated desktop as he side eyed you.

The other nurses had caught on, of course - ever watchful hens, they were quick to pinpoint his interest in you, tutting at him in the break room only for a moment about it being inappropriate to desire patients. Their admonishments turned teasing without him interfering, settling into their usual lust for office gossip without another acknowledgement. In truth, his coworkers were delighted, in fact, by the pink haired man "softening" over you.

This would have drawn his ire, even his retaliation in most instances. Until Sukuna realized he was purposely being slid your chart whenever your monthly appointment rolled around, an unexpected convenience in Sukuna's intricate plan to claim you as his own.

He had only heard of your husband in passing, the man only present at your introductory interview with the fertility team and the first few appointments before his obligation to you waned. Sukuna despised him for it on principle, but in practice, no other presence in the exam room meant having his bubble of heaven. A single half hour appointment, once a month, where he reviewed your chart, asked invasive questions about your health, took blood, gave the occasional ultrasound, offered advice on the repetitious nature of fertility treatments, and flirted his ass off as he watched you giggle and squirm under his attention. The prospect of cucking this faceless man only added to Sukuna's dark desires.

Today was finally the day. It was even circled on his desk calendar, red ink.

"You look handsome," you offered him the compliment easily, your voice obscuring the click of the door locking behind you both, back to him as you set your jacket on the extra chair. Sukuna preened for a second, smiling to himself.

Sukuna was wearing a tight, long sleeve black shirt beneath his favorite maroon red scrubs, the smallest hint of a chain beneath his collar, and comfortable black sneakers - none of his piercings, sadly, and since his interview, he had worn make up to cover his face and neck tattoos at work as well.

He knew you meant it too, as he diligently wore the exact same outfit to every one of your appointments since the first time you had complimented him all those months ago.

"Already buttering me up, you better not be trying to get out of your blood work," Sukuna teased as he opened one of the nearby cabinet drawers, retrieving his special black gloves that only he was allowed to use, quietly noting that none were missing with a smirk.

"You always remind me of a tattoo artist with those," you deflected, tossing him one of your oh-so pretty smiles.

"Y'know, I buy these with my own money, and I'm gonna let you in on a lil' secret... That's why, that's what I want you to think," Sukuna bantered back, so at ease around you that he rolled his sleeves up thoughtlessly before making a show out of snapping the nitrile against his wrists. He had never done that before.

You had caught wisps in the past, only question marks until today. Thick black bands of tattooed ink sat around his wrists, hidden now beneath his gloves that blended so well against them, it made sense why he liked them so much.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, licking your lips as you choked out to him, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

The tone of your voice had him raising a brow, lopsided smirk already in place, "Is that a deal breaker, baby?" If only you knew.

"Those can't be the only ones," you replied, and if Sukuna wasn't mistaken, there was a lilt of hope sitting between your words, causing his smirk to soften to a smile, his heart wrenching for a moment at you. You. He was going to ruin you.

That when he noticed that you were still standing awkwardly, your things deposited in the nearby chairs as you rocked on the balls of your feet, something about you seemingly overwhelming tense despite being in such good company. You were being different today too; Sukuna hoped you didn't sense something was amiss.

"Everything okay with you today, doll?"

"I, um... I was wondering if we could wait, actually, to do the ultra sound today," you started shyly, and he could tell you were fighting the urge to wring your hands as your fingertips jittered against your wrists. Despite your words, he continued to dig materials out of the cabinets, glancing at you over his shoulder as he spoke.

"You want to do blood first? Feeling bold today, sweet girl?" Sukuna hoped so, he had big plans for you. He turned from the cabinet to approach you to do the prep work. He didn't want to waste anymore time, but maybe having you light-headed from lack of blood wasn't such a bad idea - he stopped when he saw the look on your face.

"Is there any way I can have a physical exam today, actually? Y'know, like my annual one, but instead... now," your question was rushed as you looked toward him but not at him, and Sukuna knew this because he was staring you down, a predator honing in on his prey. He felt like he could hear your pulse from where he stood, and it made his mouth water.

"You mean your pelvic exam?" he repeated, almost dumbfounded at his luck - were you stupid or naive? Nurses didn't give pelvic exams, that was the doctor's job. Your chart only had an appointment for your usual round of bullshit, blood and ultrasound, Sukuna trying to upsell you hormones your insurance wouldn't cover, blah blah blah.

God, you were so pretty and dumb, was this on purpose? Were you trying to manipulate him? You'd been here enough times to know better, right ? When was the universe ever so giving? Sukuna figured there was really no way you'd fall for what he was about to try, sure this was your attempt at catching him red handed in his obsession over you, but he didn't care. He'd take the bait, even if it was a shot in the dark for you.

His head had cocked with his thoughts, a lopsided grin unfurling across his cheeks as he regarded you with darkening eyes, coughing to clear the husk of his arousal from his voice. "You know, the doctor has been in and out all morning. Something with her kids. I'd hate for you to get stuck waiting around for her. I could always administer the exam, if you'd like."

He very much could not, but he kept his wicked smirk in place, silently praying you wouldn't call his bluff. To Sukuna's delight, your gaze twitched between him and the exam table, knees rubbing together briefly before your hesitation subsided and you made a half step in its direction, wavering as you looked down at yourself. He understood in an instant, clicking his tongue in recognition as he went back to the drawers to dig out an exam gown for you, both your hands lingering on the package when he passed it forward.

"I'll step ou-"

"No, you can just... stay," you sounded much more confident now, cutting him off with a defiant look in your eye, the smallest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, "You're going to see everything anyway, right? J-just turn around, maybe?"

You were so cute, he wished he could kiss you right then. Using every ounce of his control to suppress his smirk, Sukuna turned on his heel and faced the opposing wall dutifully, the urge to peek over his shoulder at you easy to resist when he knew exactly where all this was leading. As if the wheels hadn't been in motion since before you had even arrived today.

It was sort of erotic, though, to hear the jostle of your clothes hitting the floor, knowing you were naked and so close to him, and being unable to touch or see. Not yet. A little more patience and he knew he would reap the best of rewards. You cleared your throat when you were ready and Sukuna turned, unable to hid his smirk now that he saw you in the silly canary yellow exam gown they gave people here. You were still adorable, though.

Stepping to the side, Sukuna pulled out the lowest shelf of the table to act as a foot stool and help you up, before moving to each side to unfurl the arms of the stirrups he'd be putting your feet into. He couldn't think about it too much or his cock might hear, already on thin ice until you were properly restrained. The room had grown painfully quiet, Sukuna unable to continue joking with you when he was barely keeping his hands off you.

It was taking every ounce of his self control to not start panting and drooling like a dog at the way you quietly obeyed him, without question. So trusting... So easy, it took nothing to lead you down his path of corruption. His skin was starting to get hot, but Sukuna ignored the prickling beneath his shirt, knowing he needed to retain focus now more than ever. Oh, you were speaking. Fuck.

"I read online that during ovulation, there can be blockages that, like, can contribute to the problems I'm... having, you know," you were rambling, words rushed, and Sukuna realized you were embarrassed by the information you were offering. Cute, so fucking cute. You probably should be, it sounded like snake oil garbage, but Sukuna thanked whatever AI algorithm spat that nonsense into your brain as he nodded along.

"Hmmmm, well, that's only sort of true," he hummed through the lie easily, trying not to let his fingertips linger too long against the soft skin of your calf, your ankle as Sukuna strapped your left foot into place. He was even quicker with the right one, worried you may change your mind if he idled too long.

He used his foot to kick the rolling stool closer and sat down in a smooth motion. He couldn't give you a moment to think, because if he did, you may realize your mistake. Sukuna's hands were already beneath your gown as he rubbed both palms eagerly at your inner thighs, cooing from beneath you when you jolted at the sensation, "Hey, it's okay, it's just me. You trust me, yeah? I'm not going to hurt you."

Only some of it was a lie, but you eased regardless, somehow relaxing when you shouldn't be. Sukuna would've clicked his tongue, admonished you, if he wasn't the villain in this story.

"I'm going to look at you now," it was a command more than a question, not waiting for your consent before his hands are moving to your outer thighs, pushing the gown up easily, the fabric already wanting to give from the angle of your legs in the stirrups. It just needed some encouragement.

Glancing up at you, Sukuna noted your fluttering eyelashes and shallow breaths, and realized you probably needed some encouragement too.

"So beautiful," he couldn't stop his silky whisper, barely even trying to keep up the ruse that had put you here, careless as he finally gazed at your perfect pussy, splayed out wide for him. He wanted to touch. He needed to taste.

"Y-yeah?" the quiver in your tone perfect, and Sukuna fought the urge to moan at the entire situation, wondering how someone as bad as him could have such a perfect moment unfolding like this.

"My prognosis is that you have pretty pussy syndrome," Sukuna couldn't even stop himself now, having gone mad as soon as he could smell your arousal, spit pooling on his tongue as his fingers twitched on your thighs. He wanted to touch you everywhere. He wanted to have everything. He leaned closer, his breath beginning to fan over your folds, using two fingers to spread you even further, really expose every inch of you to him. He had dreamed of it for so long, Sukuna couldn't help but linger here, just a moment.

"I d-don't think you're supposed to talk to me like t-that," you wriggled beneath him despite your words, probably beginning to realize this may have been a bad idea, but it was too late for you. You'd have to scream, and to be frank, Sukuna would shut you up before anyone could intervene. He was too close to what he wanted to be stopped now - not that you would. The wetness leaking out of your pulsing little entrance reassured him.

"Yeah? That was unprofessional of me, wasn't it?" Sukuna feigned agreement before he was licked a flat stripe from your perineum to your clit, making sure to linger and kiss at the hooded bud once, twice before giving an experimental suck, earning him a pitched keen that had him grinning.

"But then why are you so wet for me, doll?" the pet name dripped venomously off his tongue as two deft fingers pinched and rolled at your clit, crimson gaze peering up your body at your reaction. The look on your face was almost enough to make him cum right there; your tongue was poking out between your lips as you panted, eyes hazy and hooded, unable to tear your gaze from where Sukuna sat between your legs and continued his ministrations. You already looked fucked out, and he was just getting started.

He laved his tongue gently against your rapidly engorging clit, another whimper falling from your lips when a fingertip started to tease at your fluttering entrance. Already so sopping wet with the prettiest slick he'd ever tasted, he was so entranced by you that he was hardly listening.

"T-this isn't... This is different than what-" You sounded so cute like this, all high pitched and whining. Needy for something you couldn't ask for, not yet, not that you'd have to - Sukuna knew he'd give it to you, give it all to you, give you everything he had.

"We're doing a different kind of exam, doll. I'm not your gynecologist," Sukuna chided back with a sharp laugh, his words full of a condescending mirth as he sunk two fingers deep into your cunt, fighting his own moan at how easily your pulsing hole gave way to him. A moment longer of watching your cunt gobble up his fingers to the knuckle and Sukuna was going to finger bang you to death, truly.

The nitrile gloves were definitely the culprit, the addition of all your slick eradicating any friction. To be fair, your pussy was tight enough that when your walls fluttered around the sudden intrusion, Sukuna had a momentary worry that making you cum might break his hand. It'd be worth it though, so the thought passed him by.

He curled his fingers deeper, prodding and scissoring against the gummy slick of your walls, searching for the spot that would make you sing. He knew as soon as he did, a sharp inhale followed by a whimper leaving your mouth, and the man fought against his urge to grin at all the pretty sounds you were making just for him. Because of him.

He shushed you, easing the pressure against your G-spot, just swirling the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he purred your name before admonishing you softly, "I really do need you to quiet down, we can't disturb the other patients in the waiting room. Can you be good?"

Your bottom lip was firmly beneath your teeth but wobbling precariously, the sight of you adorable but albeit, not very reassuring. Sighing, Sukuna slipped his fingers out of you, which left you whimpering and squirming, much to his pleasure. Standing between your legs, he regarded you with a cold scowl for a moment before reaching down both hands to shove your exam gown higher from your hips , up up up, not stopping until he'd bunched it beneath your arm pits and freed the jiggling fat of your breasts to the chill in the air. You didn't even wear a bra, whore. His characteristic smirk was back in place at the newfound sight of you.

He couldn't help but stare for a moment. He didn't think he could get away with taking a picture, and he needed to commit this to memory.

After a moment, he reached for the hem of your gown again, this time bunching a fistful together before pressing it against your lips, his smirk going crooked with arousal when you took it with a tentative bite, the pretty doe eyes gazing up at him starting to water.

"Shhh, don't worry, I'm prescribing the perfect fertility treatment for you today, it's even covered by your insurance," Sukuna shushed, the comfort and sympathy offered obviously fake as his fingers tips caught on your entrance again, unceremoniously shoving three forward. Maybe Sukuna was the one who needed the gag - he all but groaned when half his hand sunk into your pussy without resistance, your messy hole squelching loudly for him.

Your eyes immediately rolled as he began an unforgiving pace, hammering his knuckles against your thinly stretched entrance, his other hand having shoved into his pants to fist his cock for even the smallest ounce of relief. Despite your muffled whines to the contrary, your hands began to smack helplessly against his shoulders, the only defense you had to the onslaught of pleasure as you were otherwise pinned and tied to the exam table, by your own wishes. You had, quite literally in Sukuna's opinion, asked for this.

Sukuna squeezed the base of his cock when your flimsy pushing against his chest finally registered, because you weren't even really trying to get him away, because you were still moaning like a little bitch. He almost came at the thought.

His thumb found your clit with ease, the poor thing swollen and begging for attention as he swiped against it, and he had been right in his earlier observation; the added sensation had your pussy clenching down around him so hard, one of his fingers folded over another, practically crushing his knuckles from pressing into you any deeper. You were about to cum for him. That wicked smile of his began to curl across Sukuna's features as his other hand left his cock to take over at your clit, flicking back and forth in a quick motion while the hand buried in your cunt gave several practiced tilts forward.

"Pretty little doll," he groaned hoarsely, pressing in hard against the spongy tissue of your G-spot until your back arched from the table, tits wobbling in the air. Sukuna knew what you needed, grunting a commanding, "Now, cum for me now," before surging forward to bite one of your perfect nipples, the sudden change in angle and added sensation your ultimate undoing.

Like a bow pulled taut, you snapped at your peak, a surprised shout barely escaping your throat before your cunt flexed hard, before splitting itself open with a gush of clear liquid around Sukuna's eagerly awaiting palms, the hand inside you stilled to let you ride on while he continued to lazily flick your clit, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

You were going to feel heavenly around his cock.

Sukuna felt his eyes roll back as he mercilessly pummeled his hips forward, unable to slow himself down, your cunt filled to the brim with his girth. His hand was grasped so firmly over your mouth, you could only helplessly cry out against his palm, laving your tongue and teeth over the skin for some amount of grounding sensation as the man ruthlessly fucked into you.

The stirrups had kept you spread wide for him, unable to wriggle away from pleasure and pain alike, and a puddle was forming on the floor as your needy cunt drooled around his abusive thickness. So perfectly fucked out, just for him. Your walls fluttering indistinctly from the spasms of your orgasms, your euphoria evident from your slick sodden pussy, your heavily lidded gaze, your labored gasps for air beneath his hand. Grinning, he pinched two fingers together and closed your nose, and your entire cunt clenched, and Sukuna barely stifled his own groan as he ricocheted into you with renewed vigor. He let go when your eyes began to roll, and it seemed that the flood of oxygen back into your brain combined with the frenzied thrust of his hips had you shattering around him once again.

"Oh my god, look at you," Sukuna choked out lowly, "you're just sucking me in, it's like-"

He was gazing down to where your bodies connected, wonder twinkling behind heavily lidded maroon eyes as he watched your cunt take him still, after already cumming twice and probably so sensitive, still. His heart hammered in his chest, the pressure at the base of his cock getting dizzying, making his mouth run as his brow furrowed, unable to take his eyes away from your drooling slit as he chased his high.

The exam room stank with sex, filled with the wet slaps of his hips and low grunts, your cum drunk mewls broken and pitchy and barely muffled by your spit-soaked gown. It was a wonder you both hadn't been caught yet, but at this point, it just seemed to be Sukuna's lucky day.

"You want me to cum in you, don't you?" Sukuna asked breathlessly, not actually caring for the answer, because this had been the point all along. The entire plan hinged on filling you to the brim with his seed.

"You want my fucking cum, you want to be bred by me and not your stupid fucking husband. You want me to fuck a baby into you, you dirty fucking whore, so shameless," as he spoke, his thrusts began to speed up, his control finally dwindling as he hammered recklessly into your perfect sopping cunt. He was unable to stop himself from reaching down to grind his palm against your clit, adoring the way your walls gripped his shaft, milking his thickness for all he was worth.

"It doesn't matter what you want, m'gonna do it anyway," he hissed, crimson eyes wide and wild and boring down at the pussy he planned to fill with his seed, absolutely deranged with his singularly focused obsession, and the sight had you shuddering around him again, your third orgasm unexpected for the both of you.

Sukuna had no chance against your spasming walls this time, his hand finding your throat and dragging you up for a ruthless, harsh first kiss. More of a mashing tongues before Sukuna cried out with a growl, dropping his head to muffle himself with a bite to your shoulder. Instinct shoved his hips forward, burying his cock as close to your womb as physically possible as he came, flooding you with warmth. His cock jumped inside of you, twitching and sensitive against your fluttering walls, both of you hissing and moaning softly as your hips continued to rock slowly, riding out the overstimulation.

Your chests were pressed skin to skin, Sukuna's head was still tucked in the space between your neck and your shoulder as you both came down from your highs, silent except for the shared panting. Sukuna was the first to speak, chuckling as he lulled his tongue against the mark he had left, kissing the already blossoming redness in a surprising act of tenderness.

"I marked you up pretty bad, doll, between that and my baby, I don't think you're getting away with any of this. What're you gonna tell your man?" Sukuna didn't know if it was pride or jealously twinging his words, but whatever it was, it tasted bitter on his tongue, despite all the blessings he'd received today.

A beat passed before you tried to sit up on your elbows, the angle of the exam table not exactly helping, once hazy eyes now trained on his, absolutely twinkling as you murmured, "Probably nothing, I guess... considering I'm not married." You wriggled beneath him, still pinned beneath his chest as you danced your hips back and forth around his softening length, making cum leak out and down your puffy slit in a proud display.

"What?" His cock hadn't even come out of you yet. You were gonna make him hard again if you kept that up.

You giggled, the sound sparkling with delight as you repeated, "I'm not married. That man isn't my husband."

"He's been here... It's part of our screening process."

"He's just some actor guy I hired. I don't even know him." You didn't even have the nerve to sound embarrassed.

"What does that mean? He gives samples-"

"I give samples on my 'husband's' behalf. Why do you think our treatments haven't worked?" your smile had grown wicked, a twin lopsided grin to the one he usually wore, pupils dilated as you admitted your sins, your pussy even giving a little spasm on his now rapidly hardening cock. You were getting off on this, you little she-devil.

"Then what's even the point in coming to a fucking fertility clinic if you're not-"

"All for this. All for you," your confession both the sweetest and most deranged thing he had ever heard of in his life, and that was saying something, considering... him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Sukuna was pretty sure he was in love with you.

You thought you had finally stunned him. You had, for a moment, like a flash bang. But Sukuna recovered quickly enough, reaching an expert hand down to drag the middle shelf out from the front of the exam table. He stepped his right foot forward before hoisting a knee to plant his left foot firmly on the stool, using the advantage of his palms already under your knees to unceremoniously shove you into deep mating press, no longer constrained by stirrups.

His fat cock could bully against your cervix easily now, and considering he never skipped leg day, his stamina in this position was nothing to be trifled with. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, sinking tip to hilt without any resistance, the movement causing you to shout hoarsely at how quickly his balls pressed against your asshole.

"Oh you fucking slut," Sukuna purred in delight, his condescension sticky sweet, "Since you want my baby so bad, we'll make extra sure it sticks this time, but you gotta be quiet and we gotta be quick." You opened wide as he grabbed a handful of his special black gloves from their box and balling them into your gleefully awaiting mouth. Leaning forward so you were caged against his chest, Sukuna rolled his cock deeply into you again, content with your muffled whine of ecstasy, before setting a brutal pace into your already cum sodden cunt.

"And call me Daddy this time."

#the sideshow spectacular #sukuna x reader #kinktober 2023 #jjk kinktober #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #tss: week one #and with that! i put myself to bed!#writesfm

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thecapricunt1616 · 20 days

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Maca Root - (c.b. one-shot)

♡ Chapter Inspo: Maca Root is considered a sacred feminine master plant in Peru and is involved in spiritual ceremonies for those wanting to unlock, release, heal, and bring harmony back to the body.

♡ Summary: You cook for Carmy for a change so he has a real dinner for once, & he thanks you with his mouth. Oh! And he tells you he wants to make things official.

♡ W/C: 3,330

♡ Posted Date: 05/10/2024

♡ A/N: Hello! I am literally SO dead I watched the eras tour live stream from Tess on TikTok- SHE PUT IN TTPD!! AAA! Anyway HAHA I had to talk abt. it because i'm literally dead, the whole set is FABULOSO!!! Anywhore - I am so happy with the love Vervain is getting omg! Thank you so much again @carmenberzattosgf for the lovely inspiring ask ILY forever! This one-shot is based on this ask ♡ here ♡ thank you so much oh lovely anon! I hope you like this, please send me an ask any time! As always requests are open everyone! Please enjoy :) *Smooches*

♡ Warnings for BTC: !UNEDITED! (We die like men!), NO Use of Y/N, Fem!Reader (Described AFAB), NO use of physical descriptors (Fem!Black!Reader friendly!), Use of pet names, Smut!, F&M oral giving & receiving, fingering.

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦��𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞! ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You quietly unlocked up Carmys apartment door, seeing as it was 11:00 and he still wasn’t home. You sighed deeply to yourself, slightly annoyed but slightly having expected this. So you go ahead and clean up the empty water bottles and redbull cans, vacuuming and putting his dirty jeans and tshirts in his washing machine for him and starting a load.

You even found some spaghetti and sauce in the cabinet, starting a pot on the stove knowing he was never later then 12:15, and he always ate when he got home since family service was at 3:00 and 9 hours on his feet rushing around a kitchen absolutely built up quite the appetite.

You stripped his bed and put on fresh sheets for the two of you just in time to strain the pasta, and queue up one of his favorite YouTube cooking channels newest videos. You weren’t sure how he understood anything going on given as they were speaking Russian- but he likes what he likes.

By the time you heard keys in the door, you were already in your pajamas. He came in, clearly uncomfortable. “Shit you made dinner f’r us?! God you’re amazing baby” he wraps you in a hug. He smelt lightly like grease and sweat, but it was a smell you’d never dislike. It was distinctly Bear. Your Bear.

“I did, you deserve somethin’ hot hm? How was your day?” You asked softly and kissed his jaw, and down his neck, before rubbing over his chest lightly and getting on your knees to unlace his sneakers to which he sighed gratefully, as his back was killing him after scrubbing the floors for over an hour.

“Y’re a fuckin angel- I don’t deserve that baby” he tells you this every night, but every night you continue to do it, because he does.

“Come sit bear” you drag him to the couch, gently tugging off his sneakers when he sits and he groans, resting his sore feet on the coffee table

“Oh shit- this is new?” He asked as he saw the tv, grabbing the controller and hitting play on the video of some Russian woman making soup.

“Mmhmm- here baby” you made up his plate and brought it to him with a fork and napkin to see he was already slumping down on the couch with his arms crossed and eyes hooded half asleep, he was exhausted. “Bear-“ you said gently and he woke up quickly, sitting up.

“Wow- thank you sweetheart, fuck this is so nice. I’m so hungry thank you honey” he took the plate and kissed you tenderly. “Wait- fuckin hell princess did you clean? Don’ be doin’ that I told you honey thas’ my job” he told you, twirling a good amount of pasta on his fork and taking a bite

“I did clean because there were empty redbull cans everywhere. And you deserve a clean place to hang out when you aren’t working mm?” You kiss the top of his head before heading back to the kitchen and putting away the rest of the pasta, then washing the dishes.

“Baaaaaabe!” He groans in annoyance when he heard the sink cut on and you washing the dishes you used to make dinner “stop! I can do those ‘fore work” he mumbled through a mouth of spaghetti and you giggle

“Ah yes at 2:00? In 3 hours? When I can just do them now?” You teased “id rather have the extra 5 minutes in bed with you” you told him and he blushed, finishing his food as you finished up the dishes and going to sit back on the couch

“Aht!” You tut “bathroom stinky garlic breath then bed.” You told him and he huffed, having been caught.

“C’mon m’tired babygirl come sit w’me” he said and gave you a pout, tugging your hips. You caught yourself on the back of the couch, hovering over him and refusing to give in and straddle his hips, knowing if you did he’d just roll over, lay down, and fall asleep immediately.

“Carmen” you said softly and he scrunched his nose at the use of his full name.

“Don’ call me that” he mumbled, hugging your torso and nuzzling his face in your belly, sighing tiredly.

“Carmen Anthony” you said in response and you laughed at the dramatic groan that came out of him, like a toddler being scolded. “It’s that time my dear, for you to go brush your teeth. Then you can come to bed and I’ll rub your back” you said and his head shot up

“Really?” He questioned hopefully and you giggle.

“Really truly. Get in that bathroom” you ruffle his hair and shut off the tv before heading to the bedroom. He came in a few minutes later, stripping down to his boxers and laying stomach down.

“Been thinkin’ “ he mumbled as you warm up the lotion in your hands.

“Yeah? What about sweetheart?” You gently rub his tight shoulders and he moaned softly at the contact, letting out one of his tired bear sighs as you called them. Just a long, breathy sigh that ended with a little grumble like an old man how bears did in nature documentaries when settling in for the night.

“ ‘bout us” he said and you smiled a bit, continuing to massage his shoulders and back.

“About us huh? What about us love” you counter. You and Carmy had been seeing eachother for about 4 months now, you’d only really been to the restaurant after closing when everyone has already went home but you had gone once for your sisters birthday - of course you told her you knew a great spot when she asked for recommendations. When he saw your name on the reservation list that night, he thought he was surely hallucinating.

When it was finally your reservation time, he went over to the window and looked over his restaurant. Sure enough, you were sitting there. It took everything in him to not go out there - you looked stunning. He wanted to tell you that, he wanted to get a closer look at what you were wearing. He always loved your outfits because you were into vintage fashion just like he was, one of your favorite dates was to get coffee together and then go thrifting.

But he didn’t, because he wasn’t sure you wanted anyone to know you were dating, but he did make sure to let Richie know to comp the table. He was confused as all hell, even more so when he asked ‘why’ and Carmen snapped at him -

‘I dunno cause it says it’s a fuckin birthday table on the reservation and I’m fuckin’ feelin’ nice? So just comp the table and get off my back, cousin.’

Because he hadn’t ever known another time where Carmy was ‘feeling nice’ before, but nonetheless he did as he was told per usual. Your sister was over the moon excited, gushing about what a great review she would leave and how nice it is they gave a random patron a birthday meal.

You weren’t sure if Carmy was okay with you telling people you were dating - so you agreed and just said it was awesome, pretending that same night the man who had made the meal wasn’t fucking you against his shower wall the night prior.

When he saw you that night, and asked why you never said anything - you told him you didn’t wanna be a bother or make him feel you were owed ‘special treatment’, he told you firmly you were never a bother, and that any time you want to come in to let him know because he’d make sure to get you the best spot in the house and of course you’d never pay him to eat there.

When you asked why he looked at you like you had 3 heads before telling you “cus’ you’re you, it’s my restaurant, and in my restaurant, you don’t pay- got it?” that was the end of the conversation.

“About…I dunno- y’my girl…but I’ve never really told anyone other then you before.” He said and your heart flutters.

His girl.

He’d never said that before - put a claim on you. You’re his girl, now. Not just a girl he’s seeing, not just a ‘friend’ which had been the running name you’d both used to describe your relationship, even though there was always a beat of awkward silence after the word came out of either of your mouths.

“I’m your girl” you repeat and he sits up on his forearm and looks at you

“You seein other people?” He asked seriously.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No Carmy. You have been the only person for…” you stopped, not wanting to embarrass yourself. You had known you wanted something serious with him from the start but were too embarrassed to admit it. “Some time now. So - yes. What about this do you want people to know?” You asked

“I wanna tell people about you…about us - that we’re- y’know..goin’ steady..is that alright?”

You nodded, a big smile forming on your lips. “Yes. Yes- tell anyone you want to. Can I too?” You asked

In response he turned on his side, pulling you to him and kissing you deeply. His tongue swiped along your lower lip, nose nudging the side of yours gently. You opened your mouth for him, tasting toothpaste and mouthwash on his tongue, you hum softly as you felt his hot breath fan your upper lip in a satisfied huff when your hand found his curls, gently massaging the back of his neck.

His calloused hand finds your lower back, pushing up his white shirt that you’d stolen from his hamper that smelt so distinctly of him you couldn’t help but wear it so when he left you too early in the morning it still felt as if he was with you. He loved seeing you wear his clothes, it drove him insane thinking about you, in his apartment, sleeping in his bed, wearing his shirt. It took up a lot more mental space in the mornings then he’d care to admit.

He rolled the lace hem of your faded patterned strawberry panties that Carmy adored. Even though you were getting warm from all the excitement, goosebumps still appeared on your skin from his gentle caress over your stomach before dipping his fingers in the fabric. You, without even needing to think about it, lifted your thigh for him and he cupped your heat for a moment with his hand, squeezing you with a light pressure.

You whined into his mouth, slack jawed from the contact, and you were no longer kissing eachother but more like breathing into eachothers mouths with the sucking of tongue and lips from Carmy. He spread you out with his forefinger as well as his ring finger, a wet click sound following the action. He dipped his middle finger over your dripping hole and you shiver, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

He kissed down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck as he teased your entrance with the pad of his finger. You were a pathetic whimpering mess beneath him already, his hands always made you this way. “Please” you whimper and he kissed your jaw as his finger trailed over your exposed clit from having you spread so well with his fingers, even the gentle movement causing your hips to jerk and a cry to leave your throat

“Mmm always so sensitive f’me” he said, gathering more of the wetness from your pussy that was beginning to drip down the curve of your ass and gush with his movements. You gasp as he slathers that wetness over your bud, before easily rubbing his finger back and forth over it as he sucked a bruise into your collarbone.

Your hips rut into his hand, strings of curses mixed between saying his name until he sticks that middle finger inside with no resistance due to how wet you were, upon entrance his finger made a schlick noise as you were essentially sucking him in, like your pussy itself was begging how you were. “Christ” he muttered into your skin, pumping his finger in and out slowly, curling it every so often in search of that spot.

“Please please- another one” you begged and he adds his ring finger, curling them up together and you nearly sob your knees coming together subconsciously

“Open ‘em baby, c’mon lemme make you cum yeah?” He used his other hand to ease your legs apart to realize your thighs were quivering. “Y’bein such a good girl right now lettin me play w’you.” He said hotly in your ear, rubbing over your shaking thigh sweetly as he curled his fingers into the same spot, pressing with increasing pressure and with his palm, massaging your clit.

Your back arched off the bed, grabbing his forearm with one hand and the sheets with the other, gripping them both tightly and your walls flutter around him. “That’s it. Go ahead pretty girl. My pretty girl” he kissed your forehead gently, and the tender gesture mixed with being called his was enough to throw you into an orgasm that had you seeing stars behind your lids as you cry out his name.

Seeing you this way was his favorite part of the day, and it was so good that he sacrificed at least half an hour of his 5 dedicated to sleeping for it. So good, in fact, that seeing you squirm and writhe, mixed with you sobbing out his name and rambling about how only he has ever made you feel so good, and that you wished you could have him all the time - and his now sticky fingers he was able to palm his cock a few times, before sucking the slick off his fingers - the combination of all of that made him cum in his boxers like a teenager.

You hear him whimper at the tail end of your orgasm and you open your eyes to see him gripping his cock with creamy wet boxers, sucking on his fingers so much there was drool dripping down his chin. You couldn’t help but drop your jaw at how hot the sight was, the way his abs clench and unclench, the way his stomach tightens and releases as the waves of his climax crash over him. He was beautiful.

It wasn’t like you could help yourself. You sat up a bit and got on your knees, he didn’t notice because he was still in the thick of it - and straddled his calf. Now he noticed. “What are you-“ he’s interrupted by your nose in the crook of his thigh and his cock, breathing in the salty heady scent of his cum before taking the fabric in your mouth and sucking, looking up at him with big doe eyes through your lashes.

“Oh my god” his eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head, his jaw dropping at the sight before him. “You are gonna fuckin’ kill me” he said and you smiled a bit as you suck down the sweet salty flavor. His cock jumped at the action and you pulled the fabric up between your teeth, tugging down and his cock flopped out onto his stomach, half hard from your antics.

“Can I help you clean up?” You asked sweetly and he bit back a whimper at such an innocent voice being used to ask such a filthy question.

“Uh-“ he swallowed thickly, looking at your chin that was glistening with the sticky cum from his boxers “If- if I can clean you up after” he countered and you nod.

“Sounds like a deal” you said and gently took him in your dominant hand, licking a stripe from base to tip enjoying the way he twitched under your tongue. He bit his lip, sucking a breath through his teeth at the sensitivity so you eased up on the pressure of your tongue when you got to his tip, humming softly when it spurts out a little glob of pre, almost in thanks.

“Wow- you can go again? Already?” You asked amazedly and he shook his head quickly

“Fuck no - hell fuckin’ no, this’ as hard as ‘m’gettin’ it would hurt t’go like this“ he said and you pout a bit.

“Darn, would’ve been fun” you said and resumed rubbing your tongue over his length that was jumping and twitching at your stimulation. “Feels good though right?” You ask and he hums, in a way that almost sounded like a whimper but he clears his throat to cover it

“Mmhmm- feels- feels really good” he said and you smile, rubbing your lips over his vein that ran on the side, dipping your tongue between your lips to feel the girth of it. After a few more minutes of sucking and licking, and a few flicks of your tongue - he gently pats your head “think ‘m clean” he said a bit breathlessly and you looked up at him.

“You sure? I don’t wanna miss any spots” you joked and he chuckled

“I’m sure. And I want my turn now” he said and you wipe your drooly mouth on his hip and giggle before laying down and peeling off your soaked panties, thankful they were coming off because they were becoming uncomfortable - and chucking them who knows where.

“Ah, thanks f’usin me as a napkin very kind” he jokes and fixed his boxers before laying on his stomach in front of you, putting a thigh on each shoulder and essentially hugging your hips, supporting himself with his elbows and going to work right away.

He kissed over your thighs, up your wet sensitive lips to your mound, placing a gentle kiss there as well and gently nibbling on the pad of fat there. “I fuckin love this” he said, sucking on the mound of flesh. You giggled a bit, crossing your ankles together and watching him as he gazes up at you intently.

“You’re nibbling on me like a dog” you gently rub over his hair and scratch his scalp to which he hums in appreciation and licks you over, swirling his tongue over your clit and flicking it. You shivered at the action, thighs cupping his face and he pulled away a bit

“Please don’t make my ears pop” he chuckled, his hot breath ghosting over your heat in a way that made your toes curl.

“Sorry - sorry baby” you loosened your grip and pet his hair gently as he continued to devour your folds, slurping and sucking and lapping up all the wetness you had to offer. You moaned and whimpered, watching him as he dragged his tongue back and forth over your clit, resting his palm face up on your belly. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together over your abdomen.

“You’re so pretty Carmy” you praise, your other hand playing with his now sweaty curls from everything going on “such pretty eyes” you said softly and he hums gently, nuzzling your clit with his nose as he fucks you with his tongue, lapping up your walls from the inside as well. Your belly tightens, hips arching slightly off the bed “fuck baby I’m close” you told him and his eyes flutter shut in bliss, kissing your clit gently before sucking on it.

Your orgasm washed over you like a gentle, warm wave washing you out to sea. You hummed happily as your thighs shook, core clenching and fluttering around his tongue as he worked you through it, stroking your thigh gently. “So good- always so good bear” you said tiredly and kiss his hand. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he licked a stripe up your core to finish you off, before kissing your thigh sweetly.

You then felt him wipe his soaking wet chin and mouth on the inside of your thigh, and your eyes flicker back open to see him smirking teasingly. “What? S’just payback!”

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alwaysmicado · 3 months

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Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass.

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe.

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings.

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood?

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry.

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you?

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask?

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural.

What a little sunshine you are.

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident.

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance.

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel.

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened.

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face.

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile.

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic.

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up.

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile.

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere.

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t.

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look.

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.”

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair.

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes.

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around.

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence.

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you.

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?”

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him?

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray.

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking.

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?”

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now.

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips.

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed.

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully, a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her.

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable.

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress.

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity.

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

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chaseadrian · 1 year

Text

fragile concessions

you don't mind leaving Eddie to his devices in your bedroom as you shower, you don't mind even more when you catch him taking advantage of the opportunity. [masterlist]

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, voyeurism, pillow humping, invasion of privacy, friends to lovers, handjobs, blowjobs, facesitting, mutual masturbation, light backstory aka porn w some plot, fluffy ending word count: 4.2k+ a/n: yeah yeah i know i've been gone a long time. hope y'all like this <3

Rifling through your dresser, you’re startled by a knock at the window. You bring the sweater in your hands to your chest instinctively, and step backward as you look through the glass.

Black leather and ring clad hands wiggling a ‘hello’ from outside are more than enough to calm your nerves.

“Morning, Eddie. You’re way early.” You push the curtain out of the way, muscling the old pane open, “Why didn’t you use the front door?”

“I knocked!” He grunts as he climbs over the ledge, clamoring for your forearm when he loses balance.

Your nails sink into the leather sleeve of his jacket, and you cock your head, “You did?”

He looks up at you with a smile, brushing his wrinkled shirt, “No. Just wanted to see your bedroom. You never let me in here I—wow.” He reaches out for the chiffon fabric of your canopy bed, pointing at the cushion of pillows at the head, “Feel like I’m in a palace. Silk pillowcases? Classy.”

The sweater knots into your arms as you cross them, “Weirdo.”

Leaving him to wander, you pull a fresh towel from the hall closet, yelling back, “Well, get comfortable. I still have to shower.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You linger by the adjacent bathroom door, looking halfway over your shoulder to watch him explore.

Eddie runs his knuckles over your belongings like they’re the most delicate objects in the world. Grazing over the rim of dust on your dresser’s edge, he scrapes it off on his jacket with a touch closer to his typical gentility.

He threads the loose corner of your pillow through his fingers, and hops backward onto the comforter, settling into the mattress with a familiarity you aren’t sure he’d earned.

You yell again from the bathroom, door half cracked, “I just washed those.”

He adjusts his legs to hang off the bed, kicking his old sneakers onto the shag rug, “My apologies.” Grabbing a spare pillow to hold over his stomach, he’s half sat up against your headboard, tapping his fingers on the silk.

You can hear him humming from your room as you shower. The softness in his voice when he thinks you can’t hear him always makes you smile. His kindness had a bite to it; if you asked for the shirt off his back, he’d throw it at you.

Sometimes you like to watch him when he thinks he’s safe to shuck off his harsh, protective cloak and just be Eddie. The Eddie that leaves out a can of tuna by the trash for the trailer park cats, or carries the neighbor’s wandering toddler home on his shoulders. These little concessions towards fragility—like the soft hums with your silk pillow in his lap—remind you why he’s in your life.

The bathroom clouds with steam while you settle into the hot water, humming along to his voice, reaching blindly for the shampoo. You shake the bottle over your head and squeeze, only to be hit with a puff of air and a few pathetic pearls of lather. It isn’t even worth it to scrub the remnants in, and you pop out of the shower with a groan, tossing the empty bottle into the sink.

If Eddie were to try and sneak a peek right now, the thick, fluorescent steam would ruin his show. Still, you pull on the robe hanging behind the door. You’re sure you bought new shampoo, sure it must be under the sink, but you freeze before you can even take a look in the cabinet, half kneeling with your fingertips wedged against the wood.

It’s silent in your bedroom.

Eddie’s no longer humming, and when you turn on your toes to peek beyond the door you can just see his silhouette behind the thin canopy.

He’s on your bed as before, pillow over his lap, but now his hips rock up, knuckles white in the silk case.

The cabinet door slips from your fingers, clapping shut, stopping Eddie in his tracks.

He looks to the bathroom, and you dart behind the door.

“You okay?” He yells, obvious strain cut with even more obvious panic.

“Fine! Almost dropped the shampoo!” You shout back, sitting down on the edge of the tub, wringing the string of your robe between your fingers.

You don’t know if you want to look again.

Eddie was always over familiar. Always controlling the situation, the ringleader who branded his group with every rough touch. Fingers hard on your neck, a peanut flicked your way at the bar, judgment in his smile.

All this to keep you—and everyone else—at arm’s length. The clothes, the hair, the rings, they did enough to keep most people away. But the ones who looked past that, they got the neurosis and informality. You know him more than he thinks, more than he allows, and you aren’t against taking that initiative.

Of course you want to look.

This is far deeper than you ever thought you’d get.

Slipping off the edge of the tub, you crawl over to the door, inhaling a big breath of steam, robe damp and sticking to your body.

You feel safe enough sitting on your knees to watch him, enough layers of steam and fabric and poor vision between you and him to keep this mutual intrusion a secret. If you were to argue it, Eddie using your pillow to get off is probably a bigger invasion than you watching him do it, but the shame was the same.

One hand presses the pillow into his pelvis, the other pets along the grain of the smooth fabric, fingers touching down one after the other.

Sometimes Eddie taps you on the head with a ringed knuckle when you’re being smart. This feels like the gentle variant of that.

Though his lips are parted, you can’t hear anything outside the hammer of the shower. A playback of all his dramatic grunts and scoffs loops in your head instead, and you see the way his Adam's apple thrums in his throat with every note of pleasure.

It’s easy to piece together the way he could look behind that hazy chiffon, his chest rising and falling, slow to combat the noise he wants to make. The knee hanging off the bed just peeks out of the canopy, and he pushes up against your pillow using a firmly planted foot. You know the way his tendons move in his hand as he grabs tighter, presses harder.

You make up the sound of his zipper sleeves against the pillow, a soft kind of scratching that could catch at any moment. If you hadn’t seen him now, you would’ve blamed him for being so careless with your stuff later. His name would’ve been the first in your head when you noticed the imperfection.

But everything about right now is perfect.

You can’t say there’s an established attraction, exactly. A curiosity, sure, little question marks in your head every time he calls you pretty with that surface grin. Maybe a dream or two in the years you’ve known him, dreams where he pulled you in from arm’s length. Not romantic, never that, but close and real and earnest.

If this is the closest you get—a voyeur to your own invasion—then you’ll take it for all it’s worth. At least you know he really thinks you’re pretty.

You sit in stunned silence for a minute more before new movement startles you back behind the door, and when you peek again, Eddie has both feet on the bed, his knees pulled toward him, thrusting up harder against the pillow. It’s still slow, but he’s sunken into the deep plush of your comforter, hair blanketing his head. His features are distinct enough, the curve of his open mouth, the valley of his throat, you can carve expressions from familiar topography.

It’s from this position that a weak moan cuts through the pattering water, and—for what you think is the first time—you feel something more than curiosity.

Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and he presses two harsh fingers between his eyebrows, smudging his fingertips across his forehead in what you’re sure is frustration.

You’ve gone past filling the gaps of what you know, the pulpit of your stomach swirling with thoughts of more moans, how it must feel under the rough hew of his jeans, what he’d do if it were you on his lap, and whether he’d accept you there at all.

For all his drama and fire, Eddie couldn’t sit in discomfort. He loved being the discomfort, but if it turned on him he was like a cornered dog.

As you continue to watch him, the swirling in your stomach slips down, and for now a hand between your legs is enough to calm this bud of interest.

The floor is slick under you, steam quick to fill the space of your parted thighs, heat on heat crushed under the just pruning skin of your fingerprint. You sigh, chest stuttering against relief. Slow, concentrated breaths quell any noise you’d want to make as you swirl your middle finger over your clit, Eddie’s moan looping in your brain.

You focus on the line of his figure, the indent he’ll leave in your bed when he gets up and tries to pretend he’d been peacefully laying there the whole time.

Without trying, your brain fills in gaps of space in your time with Eddie. Every time he left a party before you, a quick ‘I’ll wait for you in the van. No rush.’ and a tap on the shoulder. Trips to the 7/11, insistent that he must surprise you with snacks for the session, or each time you lost him in the bar, distracted by drifters who thought a beer or two would get you back home with them.

The memories are tinged now with the sight of his arching back, his parted lips, and that singular moan.

The thoughts carry you as far as they can, and the sight of him behind the curtain even more, but the rhythm of your fingers isn't what you want. It grows as stale as you hope that pillow must be for him, and with a sharp swallow you stand up to turn the shower off.

It takes a minute to gather yourself, roughing your hair with the towel to shake off what nerves you can. You face yourself in the mirror, dewy glass blurring your body into something amorphous. You can contend with this fuzzy figure, gazing over your shoulder to watch it slip past the bathroom door. In your mind’s eye, it’s not you taking this risk, but the reflection. It’s enough to get you into the bedroom.

Eddie has his ankles crossed and an arm behind his head, and he taps his fingers over his stomach as you approach, still roughing your hair as you enter.

“All cleaned up?” He asks, his eyes following you until he’s looking up through his lashes, a quick flick to the space next to him before he meets your eyes again.

You sit where he’d looked, tossing the towel into a laundry basket opposite the bed, “Mhm.”

There’s a long moment of your eyes on his, and he snaps out with a shake of his head, and that stupid grin, “Shit, sorry, you probably want to get dressed, huh?”

As he pushes to sit up, you close the space between you, your mouth just pressing against his. He pulls back with wide eyes that dart around your face, and he keeps a hand on your shoulder to hold you away.

His lips form and abandon several words, but before he can get a noise out, you cut the space, “I saw you.”

He jerks his head back, swallowing hard and looking past you now. More sentences starting and stopping without a thought fully formed.

You feel the hand on you loosen, see him shift in front of you, but there’s no easy way for Eddie to escape the situation.

“It’s okay.” You start reaching over for the hand on your shoulder, and he flinches.

“It’s okay.” You repeat, voice quieter and firmer, and he lets you take his hand, lets you guide it from your shoulder to the pit of your throat, over the drying beads of water between your breasts, and under the plush cotton collar of your robe.

His hand cups around you, rings warm and sticking to your skin, your fingers loosely wrap around his wrist for a moment before he accepts where you’ve left him.

You both let out a slow breath. Eddie’s starts with a hitch, but settles into something calm and certain. He doesn’t meet your eyes yet, they’re trained on the concealed hand, resting dead over your breast.

Placing two fingers under his chin, you coax him to look at you, your thumb brushing under his bottom lip, a few out of place dots of stubble pricking at your skin. You don’t think he could grow a beard if he tried, but random hair sprouts around his jaw from week to week, pimples following if he plucks them too late.

You bring your nose close to his, and he tilts up almost imperceptibly, tongue darting between his lips.

That first kiss was so brief you already can’t remember what he felt like, but the calm heat of his breath on you is steady, warm and inviting, and his eyes glisten as he looks at you.

His palm is heavy under your robe, thumb running back and forth ever so slightly, catching on the natural pull of your skin.

You let your eyelids slip closed, and finally he kisses you.

It isn’t harsh or fast and it doesn’t light your insides up the way your imagination did, but you’re sure you’ll remember it for the rest of your life. His bottom lip trembles for the first second, slick and soft, and you feel the scratch of those loose facial hairs against your chin. The hand beneath your robe squeezes shut, the warm metal of his rings sticking and unsticking with a little sting as he builds confidence in the moment.

The hand he’d kept on the bed comes up to curl over the slope of your neck, and as you lean into him he slides the collar of the robe down past your shoulder. It sits against your bicep, not revealing anything he’s not sure you’d want, but enough to let him kiss down your jaw, spattering over the bare landscape you’ve allowed him.

You slip a hand under the hem of his old t-shirt, pinching at the rolled skin of his abdomen, body curved uncomfortably as he’s half sat up on the bed.

He backs away from kissing when you push him down onto the comforter, both hands grabbing your arms to bring you with. You stay sat on the edge of the bed, torso twisted to follow him as he wants.

“Take off the jacket.” You whisper against his mouth, dragging your lips under his jaw and down his throat. You pull his shirt up and fix your hands on his hips, marking the skin down his chest with nips and long kisses. He struggles to tug the jacket off and can only manage the sleeves, leather crinkling under him as he wriggles under you.

You drag the tip of your tongue over his happy trail, and he watches with quiet interest, fingers gliding over your bare shoulder.

Eddie isn’t wearing anything under his jeans, you can feel the length of his erection stuffed uncomfortably beneath the denim.

“Ohh, please.” He whispers, more breath than anything else.

You hum with a smile, watching him as you unbutton and unzip and tug the bottoms down his thighs.

His hand hovers over the back of your head, nails just touching down along your hair, and he settles for resting it on your back.

He isn’t over or under-endowed, you can comfortably wrap a hand around his base and hold the rest of him in your mouth without strain, but you start with the hand. Dribbling a mouthful of spit over his tip, you slip your fisted hand down the shaft, thumb pressing into the rim of his head. He holds back expletives, syllables drawn out and dying behind his teeth. You’re slow, gliding your hand over his length and watching the wrinkles as he screws his eyes shut and pushes his hand over his forehead, bangs fraying out of place.

His cock thrums under your hand, and you squeeze his thigh as it jerks, quick spasms of enjoyment relieving tension.

You wait until there’s obvious pressure in his chest, until his Adam’s apple is taut against his throat, and he can barely eke out breaths.

Without knowing, he gives you what you want as you swirl your tongue around his tip for the first time. He can’t hold back the languid, whimpering moan that escapes his open mouth, all the air in his lungs expelled with it.

Watery, salty precum slides over your tongue, and you close your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you work down his shaft. Spit pools into your mouth and over your bottom lip, and as your chin brushes the hair at Eddie’s base, you feel sweat and spit drying on the skin.

Eddie’s hesitance falls away as he starts to lose himself, the hand on your back coming up to gently push down your head, not forceful, exactly, but wanting. He whimpers with increased impatience the harder you work him, the hum of your mouth around him an added jolt of pleasure.

You break for a moment to suck marks into the sharp angle of his hip bone, your hand a warm substitute that still pulls beautiful noises from him. He hisses against the kiss, the curve of his belly heaving with full breaths. He has faint marks of muscle definition when he flexes against your touch, but his abdomen rounds with every intake of air, and you press your lips along his pelvic line to feel the way he’s working through your touch.

Kissing the bush of hair around his shaft, you run your thumb over his head, your tongue flat against his base, dragging up to lick away the new dribbles of precum.

He lets your name fall from his lips, and a mewling, strained, “Please…keep going…” with his nails combing over the back of your head.

You take him entirely in your mouth once again, and he ruts up, hitting the back of your throat. You swallow the near-gag, and Eddie’s laughter—tied into an apology— hits your ear, the first instance of that rough-hewn boy you’re used to.

In response you curl your free hand around his balls and give them a light squeeze, clutching them against the base of his shaft to compress the tension he must be feeling. You imagine it’s a tight, coiled pain in his stomach, and it’s your greed more than anything that keeps him from relief.

Eddie wriggles underneath you, his body twitching outside his control, incomplete requests for release dying on his tongue.

What he finally chokes out is an ill timed warning, his orgasm already spilling into your mouth by the time he tells you he’s going to come. It’s warm and salty down your throat, and if it came from anyone else it would be an off-putting sensation that you’d be quick to spit out, but with Eddie paralyzed under you as he finishes, no taste could be sweeter or more satisfying.

You don’t even have time to swipe the sleeve of your robe over your lips before he’s tugging you up to his mouth.

This kiss is harsh and deep and the hand on your head presses you hard into him. His tongue twists over yours, warm and slimy, loud smacks between you with every kiss.

You’ve no choice now but to climb on him, straddling his stomach, his hand coming down to slide the robe entirely off. Your knees nick on the sharp parts of his jacket, but it’s a pale feeling compared to the heat of your bodies and his hands burning into your skin, branding your hip as you grind on him.

“Hey, hey.” He pulls you back with a hand on your cheek, thumb tugging at the bulb of your cheekbone. You’re both flustered and disheveled when your eyes meet, and you feel you could fall forever into the pit of that dark brown. “Sit on my face.” He breathes, kneading at the skin of your ass, gaze trained on your reaction.

“Yeah?” You ask, the throbbing between your thighs ever present as you’ve stilled on him.

He nods, his hand slipping from your cheek to coast down your body and rest on your other hip. They coil underneath your thighs to hold you as you re-situate yourself over him, hovering just above his mouth, a little hesitant to drop your weight on him. This felt somehow more intimate than a blowjob, smothering him with your body, the full potential of your spasms direct and right there on his tongue.

Eddie didn’t care, he forced you down with his arms, and you lurched forward against the headboard, one hand wrapping over the edge, the other a buffer between your forehead and the hardwood.

The pleasure was instant and overwhelming, Eddie’s tongue indistinct in its movement, lips and spit and the tickle of his nose worming their way through your body.

His grip was tight on you, arms wrapped around your thighs, and the soft curl of his hair rustled under your skin. He doesn’t move you over his tongue, but rather keeps you still, tries to stop you wriggling and doing the work yourself. You oblige best you can, holding the headboard tighter, biting down into the skin of your forearm, wanting even now to give him what he wants, to let him help you in whatever way he sees fit. He’s giving you more of himself than you ever imagined he could, and more than anything you just want to languish in this moment for as long as you can.

He hums underneath you, satisfied little hums that rise and fall with his focus.

It’s when you go silent—your breath caught in your chest, moans stuck in your throat—that Eddie starts rocking you over his mouth. The heat in your stomach is unbearable, and you gasp as he guides you back and forth over his tongue, everything below his nose a wet, slobbering mess, just as much from you as it is him. You slip against him with ease, grinding harder and faster, any worry you had about smothering him long gone with the ever-winding spiral of ecstasy that sits in your belly.

Tighter and tighter it curls, the rocking of your hips uneven and desperate now.

Eddie slides his hands as far as he can up your back, combing lines down your skin with his nails, and you wriggle closer to the headboard, so close to the end that every touch is torturous.

You haven’t spent half as long with his head between your thighs as he did with your lips around his cock, but any shame you could possibly feel will come later. You just want the relief, to unfurl and collapse and let him feel you shaking over the knack of his tongue.

You drop entirely onto him, his tongue swirling over the pulsing nub of your clit, and he grabs you as hard as he can, just as needy and wanting.

He groans underneath you, and your vision explodes behind your eyes.

Spasming and shaking, he holds you as you come undone, tilting his head up as the orgasm sends you backward to lay on his chest. He doesn’t stop running his tongue over your clit even as it becomes overwhelming, wanting to capture every last dredge of your climax. He laps up the arousal that wells from you, sucking kisses between your lips.

The euphoria layers in your body like waves of radar, one after the other until you’re begging him to let you go. You can’t quite catch your breath, wheezing as you try to pull air into your lungs, evening out as the radiation of pleasure cools to satisfaction.

You roll off him onto your stomach, resting your head in your arms to look back at with a smile.

He pushes his bangs up and shakes his head with a laugh, “Nuts.” He squeezes your calf.

You both sit in the moment, a comfortable silence between you with his hand resting on your leg.

Silence wasn’t golden in your experience with Eddie thus far. If there wasn’t conversation, there was music; if there wasn’t music, there was his humming. Any quiet with Eddie around was borne out of tension, but now you feel a deep tranquility even as the cool air of the still-open window hits your bare skin.

He runs his fingers gently back and forth, and the both of you let out a content sigh at the same time.

“J—”

“—inx! Ha!” Eddie is a hair faster, and he jiggles your calf in accomplishment before shifting to mirror you on your stomach. He hovers in front of your lips, muscling you over a bit with his shoulder, “Owe me a…kiss?”

You let your head fall into your arms, a kick of giddiness in your stomach, but you come back to meet his lips.

There’s a smile in this kiss, you think maybe there could be more. Kisses, smiles, whatever you can get.

Whatever Eddie can give.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #my writing #mine

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 month

Note

Can you write where Ethan as Ghostface kidnaps reader to keep her from the reveal because he loves her and doesn’t want her to get hurt but she falls in love with his masked self so he ends up revealing himself anyway

kinda had to change this a tiny bit, but still got that stockholm syndrome vibe. also I've never done this trope so this might not be great, i tried.

masterlist

“shit. it’s a trap!” chad yelled as he paced around the floor. the lights in the theater cut off cloaking the space in an ominous darkness.

arms stretching in front of you, trying to keep yourself from running into cabinets or people. your heart was hammering against your ribs, quick uneven breaths leaving your mouth. “guys? guys!” not hearing anything back from your friends.

“anyone-“ a gloved hand covered your mouth and it muffled your horrified scream. ghostface got you, you’re already dead. you tried jerking away from them as they dragged you away and further in the abandoned theater. the scratchy material of their robe rubbed at your throat and tickled your stomach.

you could feel the muscle of the stranger beneath their costume, physically telling to you that you were out matched. your harsh breathing from your nostrils filled the hallway along with two steps of footsteps. their hold was tight but not restricted, if you could just kick or swing maybe-

“i wouldn’t try anything, sweetheart.” a low voice whispered in your right ear. they didn’t have the standard ghostface tone, but it sounded like they were trying to disguise it. an involuntary shiver racked your spine and hitched your breath.

continuing in their rush to drag you away they brought both of you to a cluttered closet, sneakers bumping into fallen bottles and soft rolls of towels. practically being shoved into a metal shelf and causing a wooden broom handle to clatter noisily to the linoleum flooring.

"help! help-"

"shut up! i'm trying to save you!" your captor growled and their clunky boots carried themself into your limited space. their towering stature staring down at you through those empty black eyeholes.

"save- save me?" you stuttered, "you've been trying to kill us for a week! sam! chad! help me-" scratchy fabric covered your mouth and part of your nose causing your breathing to be short and panicked.

ghostface leaned in closer, "well you seem like the only good one so I'm being generous and deciding to spare your life. now, i have to go after your friends, but you're gonna stay here until i come back and everything will be okay." waiting for a beat before rushing out back into the light and leaving you to sub come to the dark.

did it make you a bad person, or a bad friend if you were relieved that a serial killer decided you were worth keeping alive? you'd be willing to play their little game for however long until you were ready to run free and disappear, they seemed to have a sort of liking to you. maybe an obsession, they would've been stalking you if they knew your every move and location.

it kinda made you feel a certain way. a romantic, unhinged sort of way. you've heard of people saying how their partner is obsessed with them, but having a stranger being so obsessed with you they're willing to kill everyone else to keep you...

maybe your ex's were right. you were a bit sick in the head.

you weren't sure how long you were locked in the closet. could've been ten minutes could've been an hour, but when you heard rushed footsteps outside the door and the lock turn you rushed forward and threw your arms around your kidnapper.

"let's go before the cops arrive." was all they said after a minute of your hug. your dropped your arms, but they reached for your left hand and dragged you behind. you followed like a lost puppy.

when an exit sign came into view they halted to a stop causing you to bump into their back, confused by their decision. "what's wrong?" rounding to stand in front of them, hands still locked.

"i- i have to stash the costume. don't- don't want you to see my face." they almost seemed worried, concerned about your reaction to their identity.

"hey," you stepped closer, hand reaching to caress the mask, "it's okay. i'm not gonna run. i- i want to stay with you, you saved me." voice dripping in seduction and honey. eyes doeing to further convince them of your alliance to them only.

with their free hand they gripped the chin of the mask and slowly lifted it away until to came free and you were greeted by the shocking sight of- "ethan?" his sweaty curls shading his eyes.

he didn't say anything, just bit into his bottom lip while watching you closely waiting for that inevitable switch that always happens when the killer is revealed in movies. but all he got was a creeping smile changing your face and you saying, "when we're safe i'm gonna make out with you so hard, killer." before he rushed to stripe the black robe off and you both rushed out the deserted building.

hand in hand. grinning like the psychos you are.

#erin's blurb request #ethan landry scream 6 #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry angst #ethan landry scream #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x gn!reader #ethan landry fic #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry blurb #jack champion image #jack champion scream 6

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st0nedghostygorl · 4 months

Text

This is my first smutty story in the longest time so please be kind. I ended up having a dream after waking up and discovering I missed Hans Valentine’s live. I woke up and had to write it out, so this is what I came up with.

⚠️18+ this contains material not suitable for minors. ⚠️ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

Summary- D&D turned naughty.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genres smut, friends to lovers

Triggers- Sex while stoned, choking, rough sex, a hint of cnc

Here we go you guys, I hope you like it.

It was a gloomy rainy day but that meant it was perfect. Today was D&D day. With your favorite people that you haven’t seen in a while because of their busy schedules.

You get your favorite dice together and pack your bag. You make sure you have your famous pokemon tin ready and make sure you grab a new lighter. You are sporting a black zip up raincoat with just a shirt on under with nice jeans that accentuate your curves and some cool sneakers. Your hair down and curled.

You arrive and the house is already alive. Happiness and light are pouring out of the windows. It makes your heart swell. Oh how badly you missed being here. Han opens the door “Y/N! You finally made it!!” moving to the side of the door so you can make your way through. But you are frozen, he’s wearing your favorite yellow shirt, the one that makes your stomach flip, with a flannel tied around his waist with black jeans. You shyly blush and head in. You can’t look at him for long or you aren’t responsible for your actions.

You set your stuff down and take your tin out. Yelling to Seungmin to get his butt over here and don’t make you smoke alone. He bounces over in a purple hoodie, his hair a little disheveled, a big grin on his face. You take out your famous Pokémon card tin to reveal several blunts. “Jesus these are so skinny I swear I didn’t roll these.” And it’s true, you didn’t. Your friend rolled them since they can do it better. Han pipes in “with the hybrid you get you don’t need a lot so it’s a good thing” you laugh and nod because you know it’s true. With the strain you get for dnd you’d be bouncing off the walls in no time. You hand one to Seungmin and head outside into the rain. You have to pass Han and you gently motion him to come with. You guys smoke outside huddled under the little awning outside the back door. It felt so good to be there with them again. Seungmin is talking about what could happen in the session today, wondering if today is the day that we slay the big dragon. Or if it is more story building which would be fine because it's been a while since we played in this world, or maybe a dungeon crawl. He goes on with possibilities and you just smile, leaning against the wall, taking in the sight. The smell of the two boys, the smell of the rain, the smell of the familiar house. You were never happier than being here with them.

When the three of you were done, you followed Han into the maze of their apartment and got turned around. You try to yell out for help but it’s a hoarse voice and only one could hear. He pokes his head out offering a silly smile to you that makes your panic erase instantly. You follow him out of the maze and you figure out your misstep. Even though you’ve been here multiple times, the layout is crap and they all have stuff EVERYWHERE. “OOOHHHH it’s a left. Got it.” You hear Han chuckle as he leads you to the table and sits across from you.

Bang Chan is the Dm, of course. They roped Hyunjin into playing along with Felix. Sometimes I.N, Lee Know and Changbin make appearances but they have characters that can come in and out of the story easy. You play for the next few hours laughing and smiling and enjoying yourself. Happy to see the boys relax after so long.

After the session you’re about to head to the bathroom to freshen up when you’re pulled into a room. The bedrooms are like mini studio apartments. A little kitchenette with two cabinets on the bottom and two on top, a bed with a window and a nice bathroom with a claw foot tub and a separate standing shower.

You are pushed into the counters and you see Hans face pop into your field of vision. “Han, what’s going on?” asking confused because its even darker in the room then out in the hallway. “Sorry Y/N I could stop thinking about you during that session. You came here looking so nice and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you” you giggle thinking you were the only one. His face is only a short distance away from yours.

You kiss him. He’s stunned. You peck his lips for a couple of seconds until he kisses you back. He kisses you so deep a rumble of a growl comes up his throat making you weak to your knees. He boosts you up so you’re sitting on the counter now. Never disconnecting your lips. His hands run down your sides and he pulls you closer so there’s no room between you both. You whimper into his mouth while he sports a cocky grin.

It’s dark in the room but the sparks between you are flying. He sucks little spots into your neck while you softly grind into him. Sometimes he breaks contact to drop his head for a second and lets out a moan himself from the friction you are creating. You pull his face into yours and kiss him. While he is distracted you reach for his zipper. He moans into your mouth. “Ji, is this okay?” pulling away slightly, asking him because you never thought that this would happen. He has been your friend for so long, but you always wanted him to be more. He breaks your train of thought with a breathy exhale “fuck, yes Y/N, if you’re okay with it” moving to kissing your neck “fuck yes please I can’t stand it another second” shaking your head a little trying to concentrate atleast for a second.

With that his zipper is forgotten and he has tunnel vision only for you. He yanks down your pants, helping lift you off the counter just for a second. His fingers find your panties and they push them to the side. Finding your bundle of nerves your head hits the upper cabinets softly. Eyes rolling back into your skull. “Jisung plleeaaseee” you draw out while he’s teasing your clit.

He sinks one finger into your wetness without warning and the noise that came out of your mouth has him almost cumming in his pants. “Fuck” he has to kiss you. He pins you down on the counter with his hand on your hip. His fingers digging into your soft flesh, while with his other hand his finger hits your g spot. You gasp into his mouth and your hands find his hair. You grip into his hair lightly and deepen the kiss. While you grip his hair he slips in another finger “fuck! More…. please more….” you beg. He bends down so he is eye level to your wetness and uses his free hand to spread your legs further so he could have better access. But you don’t want his hand there. You grab his hand off your thigh and make him reach, placing it around your throat. He looks at you for any doubts and you silently beg him with your eyes. You pout your lip and he is overcome, pushing your head into the upper cabinets he’s choking you like your life depends on it, adding a third finger you cum immediately covering your mouth with your own hand. Your chest is heaving while you’re coming down from your own high. The weed high long forgotten. He comes to kiss you and you wrap your arms around his strong shoulders. Him fully clothed still while you are winnie the poo-ing.

He picks you up and carries you to the bed. He is so tempted to hit record on his recording equipment so he could memorize your moans but that’ll be for another day. “I need you jisung, fuck me…. fuck me please” through the haze of your first orgasm. You spread your legs open on the edge of the bed while taking off your shirt. Han clumsily takes off his pants and the flannel that was tied to his waist. But smoothly rips off his shirt in one motion. You groan and lean back when you see his muscles.

You always felt safe in his arms. You always had anxiety but somehow he was able to quiet your mind. Like right now, with any other person you’d be uncomfortable and freaking out but him? He doesn’t make you doubt a single goddamn thing. You know this is right. You know you want this. You want him. You just want to be close to him.You would give him anything for his pleasure.

He lays you both down so you are on your sides facing each other and kisses you on the lips. Hand trailing down your side down your leg he hooks your leg over his hip. He leaves a trail of goosebumps wherever he touches. And you let the feeling take over you and you completely relax into his bed. It’s fluffy and warm and smells undeniably like him. You are intoxicated just on his scent. You realized you got distracted when his hard length runs against your wetness. A gasp escapes your mouth and he looks at you. You make eye contact and you smile softly at him blushing that this is finally happening. You have Han in your arms and his sole focus is on you. You run your hand over his bangs and tuck his hair behind his ear and he slowly pushes into you. His eyes never leave yours, your mouth drops open in a silent scream. He pushes in deeper and your head is thrown back into the comforter while he plays with your clit. You feel like you are levitating. He slowly bottoms out and kisses you so deeply. He speaks for the first time in a while “Y/N, you are so beautiful. So so so beautiful. You should see yourself. Stunning. I can’t, I can’t think of any other word” shaking his head a little trying to clear the fog. His voice is coming from down deep and is gruff, like his morning voice but somehow deeper. And with your fronts pressed together you can feel the reverb in his chest and your hand absentmindedly goes straight to it. Covering a bit of his heart with the tips of your fingertips, your palm covers his middle. He speaks again “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” Seeing your eyes close and you softly smile when you feel his voice in his chest he continues “I want to keep you, never let you leave this bed. Even when I’m not here I want to know that you are safe and warm inside my bed. Come back to you and have it smell like you” he kisses the side of your face all over, while your nodding in agreement. You never want to leave this bed. Please don’t take me away. Don’t make me leave, you think. Tears escape your eyes because you missed him so much. He was gone for longer then he usually is which might be why you both are jumping each other. Don’t they say distance makes the heart grow fonder?

Han starts pulling out and going back in a bit faster. “Don’t…..stop…… don’t stop talking please, keep….. fuck….. keep talking to me please” you’re practically begging by the time you get your message across. He growls “fuck Y/N” it’s like a switch flipped in him. He pins you to the bed, your back flat against it. “Keep talking to you? Do you get off to the sound of my voice?” Your legs wrapped around his itty bitty waist and follows your lead from before. His hand wraps around your throat “I should have guessed, a quiet girl like yourself would love rough kinky sex” licking his lips eyes focused on how well your core takes his circumference disappearing deeper and deeper.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, him being hypnotized. You can see his veins popping out in his forearm out of the corner of your eye. His never leaving you, yours roll back in your head. “Oh do you like this? Me being rough and mean?” His free hand lands loudly on your asscheek and he squeezes your neck to make sure you remember it’s there, your head feeling light and floaty. “Using my voice to help you get closer?” He squeezes your throat a little bit harder “doing exactly what you wanted?” He uses his other hand to play with your clit again. You can feel his length drag in and out harder than before, making the friction all the sweeter. Using your position to help him, you are pinned with your ass in the air him fucking into you holding you down by your throat.

“Fuck… don’t stop” you can only muster three words because he is making your brain melt. You take your breasts into your own hands because his are busy with other things. Messaging your nipples, pulling them and twisting, your head goes further back into the bed and his grip on your neck goes a little harder. You can barely breathe and his pounding is relentless. You need just one more thing to push you over the edge that you are teetering. He leans over, never letting up his pace, whispering into your ear “be my good girl and come all over my cock. With my hand wrapped around your throat, do you wanna be my good girl?” By the time he’s done with his sentence only “yessssssyessssssyessss” could only come out of your mouth. You are practically slurring the s into the next yes just begging to finish. “Please please please make me cum fuck please Han please” a jumbled sentence just tumbles your mouth begging for that band to snap. He chokes you harder into the bed and starts slapping your clit. The roughness of the slap melts into the pleasure of his relentless pounding and you finally break. Screaming into the darkness you feel a wetness spread on your lower back and you can hear it leaking out of you. He is overcome with your surprise that he loses control and cums instantly. He pulls out at the last second and cums on your thigh.

He lets go of your throat and looks down “holy shit Y/N you just squirted” “ I did???” You brace yourself into your elbows. That’s as much movement you could muster. You could never do that with a dick, only with fingers. You giggle lightly when you realize. “Han, you just made me squirt all over your cock.” He chuckles. “Haha, yeah I did fuck yeah” he comes to your side and you both relax into the wet bed for a while.

You slowly slip into unconsciousness but hear the tub filling in the background. You feel arms around you and suddenly you are floating. You smell your favorite scent and feel the heat around you, nuzzling into his chest.

Han places you into the filling tub “Do not move”. You giggle not like you were going to anyways.

You perk up when you hear a familiar sound of a tin opening. You open your eyes finally when you smell one of your favorite scents. You see Han getting into the tub behind you and he is exhaling. Smoke fills around you. Both from the hot water of the filling tub and the smoke he just let out of his lungs. He passes you the blunt while you cuddle into his chest watching the water rise around you both. Neither of you speak. You don’t need to. There’s no awkwardness or uncomfortableness. He’s humming to himself lightly and you close your eyes. Handing the blunt back and forth, feeling his deep hum in the middle of your back.

Suddenly he’s enraptured with your breasts. Playing with them with both hands watching the water run off. You feel something poking into your lower back, you giggle. He grumbles as he realizes you’re chuckling at him. “Ready for another round so soon?” You ask coyly he answers in a deep voice right next to your ear “you have no idea what you do to me”

You take an inhale off the blunt and place it to the side. You turn around and straddle him making the water splash a bit, not that either of you minded. You lift his head up to meet yours and squish his cheeks a bit so you could open his mouth. You hover your mouth over his and exhale your smoke into his open mouth. You hear him inhale as his eyes roll back.

As much as you love him on top of you, you think you like being on top of him even more. You grind down as he exhales, making his breath hitch.

You grind feeling him get harder and harder by the second. His eyes never leave you. They trace from your eyes to the blush on your chest running up to your cheeks to your breasts squishing against his toned chest. He nearly faints when he sees your softness melt into his muscles.

You lift up a bit and shove your chest into his face, smothering him. The grunt he lets out is otherworldly and you entwine your fingers in his hair for better control over his face. Controlling his breath with your breasts.

He lets out a gasp and looks up at you with the most pleading eyes, silently begging you to take control over him. Make him yours. Make him the whiny little sub he so desperately wants to be.

You chuckle “oh Hannie, loves to fuck but loves to be fucked even more hm?” He lets out a hot breath blush covering his round cheekies “yeah maybe” he drops his eyes to your chest because he’s embarrassed?

You lift his head with a finger under your chin giving him the softest smile you could “good thing we can do both, any time you want”

This makes him perk up “Really? You’re okay with that?”

“For you I would. That’s what this is, something for BOTH of us.” Emphasizing that you also care about his needs rather than just your own. You don’t know what this is or where the night is going to take you. Even if it’s still night? You have no idea what time it is. All you know is that you need him in you again and you don’t care if you have to take the reins for a little while. Seeing him soft and powerless is equally as sexy as him trying to fuck his frustrations out on you.

“I’d like to try. I’d try everything with you” he admits and kisses your cheeks. Wrapping his arms around your waist and drags you against his fully hardened length. Making you both gasp.

You smile and push your cheek into his kissing embrace. “Then we will. All of it. Together.” You wrap your arms around his neck and move to kiss him on his mouth. Lightly for a minute but you both get distracted and he deepens the kiss first.

You both are hot from the water and stoned as hell. Entangled in the bathtub with a burnt out blunt next to you. You had no idea that this evening would take this turn but you are so happy to have been pulled into his room.

Your hand finds it way back into his hair while you start grinding again. You maneuver in the cramped space to slip him inside of you while you push his face into your breasts. You feel the groan inside of his chest more than hear it. You slowly move down his length keeping his face buried. When you bottom out you finally pull his face away.

“Oh my god oh my god Jesus fuck fuck me” comes out his mouth as soon as he’s pulled away. His eyes closed, lost in the feeling. You pull his hair lightly so his jaw is angled up and you kiss and lick all over his neck. You are slowly moving up and down his hard cock.

You move to whisper in his ear. “You like it when I use you? Just like you use me? How does it feel? How does it feel to suffocate on my tits while I ride you for my own pleasure? Hm? You like being the toy?” Using his own words against him he shudders, blush deepening in his round cheeks. “You keep talking like that, Y/N, I’m going to cum so fast” you can see his eyes roll back in his skull and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your other hand wraps around his throat and his eyes spring open, his eyes pure black overcome with lust. You pull your other hand free from his hair and you move it down to his nipples. You start riding harder making water splash over the tub’s edge but neither of you care. You swear you can feel your wetness leak down your legs even though you are submerged in water. So much for a bath, it was supposed to make you clean but you ended up defiling it and making it filthy. He knew what he was doing climbing behind you but he never knew it would lead to this.

You twist his nipple while riding him to the tip and dropping down hard to the bottom. Choking him harder against the tub you make him stare into your eyes. “Do you like it when I take control? When you are putty under my hands? Hm? I don’t think anyone else would know what to do to you. I think I’m the only one who knows how to make you feel good. Just like you knew with me. Did you know I never squirted on a cock before? Only with fingers? How does that make you feel? Confident? But look at you now. A melted mess under my hands. I could let you suffocate for real and I think you’d come to haunt me as a ghost just to thank me.” and with those words you move forward to push your breasts back over his face. Keeping your hand choking him, you ride as hard as you can. And you feel his hot liquid coat your insides.

You let him go completely, letting his head gently rest on the back of the tub. Him a whimpering mess “I can’t take it anymore it’s too much” he whines while you are still riding him. “ I’m going to cum on your cock whether you like it or not” and with those last words you cum over his cock but to his surprise he comes again just from the pulsing of your pussy on his dick. He has to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. While he fondles the first breast he could reach.

You both are frozen coming down from both your highs. You are panting on top of him,softening cock still in your pussy. He can feel both of your liquids running down him.

You say something first

“Are you okay?” Quickly ready to apologize, looking him over to make sure you didn’t harm him in any way. Ready to start crying.

“It’s okay it’s okay sssshhh Y/N, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” Quickly grabbing your face between his hands to make you look at him. “Y/N that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Please I beg you to do that again at some point. We can go over everything later but trust me. Everything is good and we should be happy.” Talking quickly, trying to keep you from going into dom drop.

Tears escaping your eyes. You nod in agreement and can’t believe what you just did. He brushes the tears away with his thumbs never letting your face go. He kisses the tip of your nose, and helps you climb down off of him. He drains the tub but only to fill it again, lighting the forgotten blunt to the side and handing it to you. He helps wash your hair, your back, any place he can reach. When he’s done washing you, you help wash him. Passing the blunt back and forth until it’s just a butt.

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung

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kimmingyuswifee · 2 months

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Destiny? Pt.2 - Kim Mingyu fic

A/n: Heyy guys! I'm back with the part 2 after so long!! It took me a while to get the motivation and write this lol >_< I hope you enjoy it!!<3 also I love y/n povs sm hehe :D

Word count: 1.08k

Pt. 1

After having dinner, you felt tired and decided to go to bed and sleep, as it was a long, exhausting day from the travel. A few hours later, you woke up in the middle of the night because you were thirsty. You went downstairs in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. While picking up a glass from the wooden cabinet, you heard someone faking a cough. You got startled and turned to look back.

You saw a tall figure in the dark who was in his pyjamas. He cleared his throat and asked, "Got thirsty?" You replied back, "Yeah, it's really humid in here, but what are you doing here?" You asked while drinking a glass of water. Mingyu said, "Well, I'm just bored; I slept the whole time during the bus journey, so I'm not sleepy anymore." He said it in an amusing tone. You just didn't know what to say and decided to go back to the bedroom. Before you could leave the kitchen, you felt a grip on your wrist. Mingyu spoke, "Where are you going? I want to talk to you. You were about to say something, right? but then Hao called us for dinner."

You said, "Well, umm, nothing. I didn't want to say anything. I guess I just forgot what I wanted to say, hehe." You were awkward towards him because he still didn't leave your hand.

"Yeah sure! as if I didn't notice you staring at me at the dinner table the whole time?" Mingyu said it in a mocking tone, teasing you. You were flustered, so you just fumbled with your words, trying to make a stupid reason. "Uhh, well, I wasn't staring at you! but Yunjin was beside you, so I was talking to her, you know?!" You knew you fucked up because you were a bit loud while justifying yourself, and you were embarrassed that your crush caught you staring at him like a hungry wolf.

Mingyu knew what you were doing but just played along. "Okay, baby, as you say!" He said this while laughing a bit, looking at your tomato-red face. You were blushing because he just straight away called you "baby," even though you have no idea if he's in a relationship or not. Maybe not? Most probably yes, because he's way too attractive to not have a girlfriend. But then again, he's flirty with everyone.

You just let go of your hand from his grip and left him there; he stood dumbfounded by your action. Mingyu was confused; he thought that if he said something wrong, you just left him alone without an answer, but he just let go of that thought and went back to the room where you and his best friends were sleeping.

*The next day*

It was a sunny afternoon, and the guys planned to go taste the wines of the Italian family who continued the winery journey from their ancestors. Everyone was split up into groups by Na PD. Seungkwan, Vernon, Jun, and Mingyu were your group.

Y/n pov

We were going around in different wine stalls, the place where, people from all over the world, including the native Italians, tasted and enjoyed their authentic wines. We started tasting the wines and they were really delightful. One of the stalls, had two young women, who pleasantly greeted us and poured the wine in our glasses. One of them, was flirting with Mingyu cuz duh he wore a plain white shirt, paired with white trousers and sneakers. Man dressed up in all white with a final touch of his black sunglasses. Mingyu looked like a whole damn meal that every women would love to devour including me.

"Excuse me, Mr. handsome, would you like to get some more wine for free? I could give you more than just wine, you know," a woman from that stall said while pouring the wine into Mingyu's glass, bending slightly on purpose to flash her cleavage at him. He was taken aback by that seduction of her, but replied in an amusing tone. "N-no, it's fine. Thank you for the wine, mia signora!". (my lady in Italian)

You scoffed, "Huh, what? Mia signora? Oh wow, it looks like he got really into her just because she showed her tits to him," you said while rolling your eyes. Seungkwan heard you mumbling and replied, "Looks like someone is jealous, hun~". "I'm clearly not! It's so ironic that men become themselves when they see a woman trying to seduce them. Wow, like that's so easy, right?" You said it sarcastically while sipping your wine.

"Says the one who is practically drooling over the guy in front of her," Vernon said in the same sarcastic tone as yours. Seungkwan and Jun just laughed at his sassy reply. "It looks like you are getting along with Minghao a lot lately," Jun said to Vernon while laughing and looking at your "so done" expression. "You know what? Imma, just smack your face right now, Moon Junhui-" Just then, a familiar voice interrupted you.

"Hey guys, let's go and have some food! I'm hungry right now," Mingyu said while pouting. "Yeah, come on! We can't just fill our belly with a few glasses of wine!?" Seungkwan replied while chuckling.

2 hours later...

You were having your evening dinner with the guys. You were a bit too hungry from all the walking, so you were eating like a hog. The food got stuck in between your oesophagus, causing you to choke. Joshua quickly handed you a glass of water while patting your back, helping you release the tension in your throat. 2 minutes later, you were a bit normal after that small accident that you caused yourself. "Thank you so much, Shua!" You said this while smiling, relieved. "No problem, y/niee, just my pleasure to help you~". Joshua replied while winking back at you in a flirtatious way, which got you blushing.

Someone at the table definitely got his eyes rolling at that interaction, and that was Mingyu. "Pfft, only if you didn't eat like an animal who starved for days, you wouldn't have choked pabo!" He said this to you while glaring at Joshua. "Yeah, so what? I got hungry as fuck because of you! Who was talking to those ladies for about a good 30 minutes?". You replied while glaring back at Mingyu. Everyone in the dining room laughed at your guy's bickering, knowing that this was never ending.

[Pt.3 soon!]

Taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @clownprincehoeshi @f4iryjjosh @joshuawifey @wonwooz1 @heesgf @angiesmagicspace

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eksvaized · 5 months

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 6

For days after his night out at the club, Simon struggled to sleep. His mind continuously replayed his interaction with the stranger. Every time he closed his eyes, vivid images of him violently attacking the man, breaking his ribs and nose, would flash before him. Whenever Simon looked at his hands, a wave of dread would wash over him as he saw his bruised knuckles and the stranger’s blood staining his skin. But then he would shake his head, blink twice, and realise that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Simon was on the verge of losing his mind. He had been confined to the house, never venturing beyond its four walls, constantly berating himself and regretting what he did. But when being on his own became unbearable, and he started feeling like he was being suffocated, he decided it was time to go outside, hoping that the fresh air would offer some respite from his thoughts.

The night slowly faded away as he strolled through the empty streets.

Eventually, his feet carried him to you.

The early morning sky was devoid of sunlight, draping the outside in a sombre, muddy palette. Simon stood across the street from your house. His brown eyes searched for any signs of life in your home, but the darkness behind each window revealed nothing. You were most likely not awake yet.

He still wasn’t sure whether you lived alone, with parents, or had roommates. However, the longer he lingered in front of your house, the more he wanted to go inside and find out. Yet, he knew he couldn’t even think of breaking inside until you left, and it was safe to do so.

Simon had mapped out your daily schedule. At the very least, a sizeable portion of it. From what he could tell, you worked from Monday to Thursday. Friday was usually free and reserved for your friends. He still needed to figure out what you did on weekends, but that was going to be a task for another time.

You left home. Since it was Monday, he assumed you were going to work.

You were wearing a cosy, warm jumper, black jeans, and white sneakers. He enjoyed seeing you dressed like this. Your appearance at the club left quite an impression on him — he thought you looked stunning. Your dress clung to your curves in all the right places, and your black heels accentuated your legs and ass. However, it was your casual outfit that truly bewitched him, making him believe you were the most beautiful woman on this planet.

Simon stealthily crept into your backyard after deducing that there was no way to get in from the front of the house. He meticulously surveyed the surroundings and noticed a cracked window on the first floor. The fact that you would leave a window open was beyond his comprehension. If he were your boyfriend, he would scold you for such reckless behaviour because you shouldn’t be so careless and make it easy for intruders, like him, to break in.

Although the gap to get in was narrow, he was determined and managed to push the window up and widen it enough to squeeze his body through. A tall fence wrapped around your backyard, and he was certain that no one saw him climb inside.

Your place was devoid of furnishings. The kitchen was crammed with run-down appliances and the cabinets were painted a hideous shade of yellow. The living room had a ripped leather couch, an enormous rug underneath it, and next to it stood a shelf that was overflowing with books. He scanned a few titles. Did you enjoy reading or were you simply collecting these? But the covers weren’t dusty, so you must open these books, and at least flip through the pages now and again.

Overall, the home appeared clean, well-kept and cared for. Despite the lack of cohesive furniture, it was evident that you made an effort to keep it tidy.

Simon found only one bed when he made his way upstairs and looked through the other rooms — you lived here alone. Relief and concern warred within him, leaving him unsure of how to feel. On one hand, he felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that if he ever wanted to come back and sneak in again, all he had to do was to make sure you weren’t at home. However, it also meant you were vulnerable. This was a shady neighbourhood. He had done his homework and knew that in the last few weeks, at least eleven people had been attacked and robbed on their way home, while walking down these streets, not too far from your house.

Simon finally stepped into your bedroom, which was the room with the most furniture in it. The familiar scent of your perfume enveloped the air, permeating every inch of the space. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as his fingers slowly dragged across the blanket that adorned your bed. He imagined the two of you sleeping here together. Your bodies intertwined amidst the soft sheets. If you would roll away from him during the night, his arms would sneak around your waist and draw you back into his embrace.

He approached the wardrobe. Curiously, he proceeded to look through it. The first shelf contained neatly folded and organised clothes. As he moved his gaze down, he noticed your socks casually strewn about. Lowering himself to his knees, his eyes scanned the bottom shelf. When he realised what he was looking at, his pupils dilated and his eyes grew wide. He picked up a pair of your panties. Then another one. His fingers tightly curled around the fabric as he raised his hand to his face, bringing it close to his nose. Simon inhaled deeply.

As his desire intensified, a powerful wave of heat coursed through his entire body, making his trousers feel increasingly constricting. Consumed by an overwhelming lust, he acted on his impulse without any hesitation, not even bothering to consider the possibility that you may notice things were missing if he took them. He stuffed your panties into his pocket.

Simon continued to look around, driven by his unwavering interest. He was eager to learn more about you, and your room provided the perfect opportunity to do so. As he perused the various items scattered about, his eyes were drawn to a stack of notebooks resting on your desk. He reached for one and began flipping through. His fingertips were tracing the edges of pages while his eyes scanned your handwriting when he heard the front door open.

Fuck. You weren’t supposed to come home so early. Only an hour has passed since you left. His eyes examined the room as he put your things back, making sure to leave everything as it was. Someone else in this situation might have been terrified because they were about to be caught, but not Simon. He maintained calm, fully aware he had to keep his head above water and quickly find a way out of there.

He was on the second floor. The thought of simply jumping out of the window crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to risk dislocating his shoulder or breaking his spine. His mind was running at a thousand miles per hour. He could hear the distinct sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs. You were pacing from room to room, talking with someone on the phone.

In your tiny bedroom, there was nowhere to hide. Simon weighed his options. For a moment, he considered trying to crawl under the bed, but he quickly realised that he wouldn’t fit and it would only waste precious time. Ultimately, he concluded that his only choice was to conceal himself in the bathroom, located across the room. Once you come to your bedroom, he will quietly pass by the room while you are in it, rush downstairs, and exit through the window, just as he had entered.

Despite his stature, he moved quickly and silently, like a ghost, his footsteps making no sound. His plan worked out, and he left the house without you knowing that he had been in there with you just a few moments ago.

As quickly as possible, and without being seen by anyone, he crossed the street and positioned himself under the tree’s shade. Simon’s heart raced, and his back was soaked in sweat. However, he maintained a composed and emotionless exterior.

His hands were in his pockets, fumbling with the panties he had stolen.

It had only been a few days since you last saw him, but Simon, after today’s little adventure, couldn’t wait any longer and wanted to ask you out on a date. He quickly retrieved his phone, scrolled through his address book, and found your number. All the while, his fingers continued to play with the fabric inside his pocket.

‘It’s Simon, the guy to whom you owe a cup of coffee... Are you free on Wednesday?’

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod #writing #ghost x reader #call of duty #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #cod ghost #cod x reader #ghost cod #PO2

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harrys-yellow-snow · 1 year

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perfect - an h.s one shot °•. ✿ .•°

PART ONE

word count: 2.5k

themes/triggers/tropes: fluff, angst, lime (do people even say that anymore), arguing, fake dating, relationship...fixing?

It’s been months. Months since that last call, and even longer since that last text. She couldn’t stop thinking of the way she ran her hands through his soft hair. Or the way his fingers traced her jawline when he rested his head in her lap. She hated to admit it, but she missed it.

Nova looked out her window, admiring the view of New York City from ten stories above ground. The Empire State Building could be seen in the distance. Manhattan was beautiful from the air, but looking down made her nauseous sometimes.

Most of the time, she kept glancing down at her phone, waiting for a notification. Not just from him, but from anyone. Her friends, her family, or even people she hadn’t spoken to in years that somehow still had her phone number. Yet, it stayed silent. No sign of life had come from her friends. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple days. Some days, she liked it that way. But other days, like today, she missed them dearly.

She slid off the windowsill and made her way into her kitchen. Nova’s apartment had two rooms, so it was just across the way. Her bed and the bathroom connected from the living room and dining area. She didn’t spend as much time there as she should. The white marble cabinets glistened in the natural sunlight coming from the window. She opened the one above her and took down a box of cereal and a bowl. She liked her cereal dry. She knew she shouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. She sat down at the dining table and began to eat.

It was hard to swallow. Yes, she enjoys dry cereal, but her throat was tight. So were her eyes and her fingers. Nova hadn’t even realized how hard she was gripping the table. She knew she should be over him. It had been months. But she couldn’t stop staring at the empty chair across from her, imagining the perfect way his eyes lit up and the creases that formed near his cheeks when he smiled. She loved his dimples, getting deeper every time she tickled him. As all those memories came flooding back, she slammed her bowl every time she took a spoonful of cereal, She carefully reviewed each and every word she wanted to say to him as he was leaving, as well as the curses she screamed when the door shut for good. All that was left was the smell of his cologne on her sheets. It was impossible for her to sleep in them without thinking of the pain it brought her. All the mistakes she made that night, all of the horrible things she said without realizing. She wanted him back. That’s really all she needed to say.

Nova finished her breakfast and cleaned her dishes. The clouds slowly drifted away from the sun, revealing a beautiful blue sky and a perfect horizon. She looked down from her window to see groups of people cluttered together, walking down the sidewalks. She remembered the countless bags in her hands and the long credit card bills she received. It seemed to be a coping mechanism to get him off of her mind, but it didn’t work all the time. It brought back memories of all the money he spent on the clothes she didn’t deserve. They were deep in her closet, never to be worn again.

Speaking of clothing, she slipped on a light orange t-shirt and a pair of white pants. Her black and white sneakers were a bit tight around the toe, but comfortable overall. She locked up her apartment and made her way down to the street.

When Nova made her way out of her apartment building, she was instantly hit in the face with blaring heat. She felt a bead of sweat drip down her forehead as she started walking. This level of heat always gave her headaches if she wasn’t prepared. The light of the sun reflected off of the cars parked on the side of the road. Puddles were still on the curbs from the rainstorm a couple of nights before. Patches of grass poked out from the cracks in the sidewalk near the drains. All of these disfigurements made her realize not everything was perfect.

Nova headed down at least ten blocks before she got to Times Square. She made her way through the bustling crowds to get a clear view of the New Year’s Ball. However, a pit in her stomach grew as she remembered their New Year’s kiss. On the balcony of his apartment, the ball drop could be seen half a mile away. The spotlights were flashing, but so were cameras below them. The flashes reproduced, which caught their attention. He shrugged, gave the paparazzi the finger, and they headed back inside. They wouldn’t leave him alone.

For the longest time, she thought he would never leave her alone, but that wasn’t the case. She shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it. She had to get over him sooner or later.

The aura was beautiful. She craned her head to look at all the vibrant billboards giving off appealing flares of color. Pictures moved in unison, all across the Square. Then, she saw it. Him.

Harry Styles Love On Tour: New York City. September 21-23. Nova froze in her tracks, letting everyone walk around her. She didn’t care about the dirty looks she received, or the people brushing her shoulders to squeeze through. As quickly as the billboard came, it went. She hadn’t seen him in so long. She refused to look at pictures, watch interviews, read articles, or do anything that had to do with him.

Nova put her head down and kept walking, keeping an eye on her shoes. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw beat-down sneakers, luxurious Gucci boots, and blue flip-flops, but she glanced at her again. She bought these with her own money, not his.

As much as she didn’t want to think about the billboard, she couldn’t stop. His hair was slicked back with the perfect amount of gel. His casual mustache was gone, but his green eyes were sparkling. She thought of all the times he endearingly looked at her from across the room, waiting for a hug or a simple kiss on the forehead. When he wrapped his arms around her, pure bliss and red flush filled her cheeks. His chest was warm like a cushion. She would crane her neck up and rest her chin on his chest, getting a close look at his facial features. Some days, he decided not to shave, leaving small patches of extra hair on his jawline for her to trace her finger over. He moved his head around, squirming underneath her when his face was tickled. He’d pull her in for a kiss and she’d come closer to her. And that was only the beginning.

She had to keep going. Ahead of her was a long street connecting to Times Square, but only a few cars were parked next to the curb. She already needed time away from the bustling crowds, which usually didn’t happen.

No one recognized her. When the first dating rumors came out, her face could barely be seen, even though they were all after her. From the ground, the angle was strange. He was dressed in all black with his hands wrapped around her face, pulling her as close as possible. She was in a gray hoodie as small flakes of snow started piling in her hair. He pulled her hood up and smiled into the kiss, but then they spotted the cameras. After that, she didn’t remember much of what happened. Stories were released, which tore them apart. He was afraid they’d be after her, but they weren’t. She didn’t see many negative responses to the situation, but she knew there definitely were some. That’s what Harry didn’t want her to get caught up on. Then, they started falling apart, not just because of the rumors. They claimed they didn’t love each other as much as before. It broke her. Not just her heart, which she always thought was corny, but her physical health seemed to deteriorate. Sleep deprivation stabbed her like a knife, leaving her in terrible pain. That led to mental misconfigurations, cognition issues, and an overall pissy mood.

After a couple weeks, Nova could barely function. She refused to go out, claiming she was too tired. The city was too bright for her. Too many people to get in her way. Maybe someone would recognize her, pull her to the side, ask her about her ex-boyfriend, possibly even threaten her for “breaking his heart,” when in actuality, he broke hers. She still wasn’t sure what she did, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

She came to the end of the street, both mentally and literally. Her thoughts came to a stop and so did the rough pavement. It went back to being a smooth, cement road, like they decided that this street wouldn’t be paved. In this state, her thoughts of the breakup weren’t paved. They were bumpy and hard to make out. She didn’t have a clear idea of what happened, what caused it, or what she did wrong. What was so wrong with dating him? Other than the fact that they were constantly being followed, she didn’t see anything wrong. New Years was the only night they were ever seen together, then the news somehow suddenly broke out that they had split up.

Mentally, Nova slapped herself, telling her to stop thinking about it. It had been hours since she left the apartment and no other thoughts came to mind except her own mistakes. That stupid billboard didn’t help.

Her stomach grumbled, telling her it was ready to be fed again. Right down the road, there was a bagel shop. New York City famous bagels were something she craved for months at a time, even if she had them every day. As she neared the shop, she took a deep breath, taking in the crisp, burnt smell of the iconic bakery. She stepped inside and was taken aback by the beauty of her favorite shop. It wasn’t as crowded as it usually was on a Tuesday afternoon. She was just in time for brunch, possibly early lunch. She waved to the familiar man at the counter, who shot her a smile.

“Hey, Nova! What can I get for you? You want your regular?” This was the ideal time for his thick Brooklyn accent to shine.

“Yes, please,” Nova said. As her friend went in the back to place the order with the bakers, she looked around the shop, imagining the food was about to be receive. An everything bagel with ham, cheese, and pickles. She had a strange taste in food (no pun intended), but she didn’t mind. It was mostly unique combinations of healthy foods, but there were a lot of popular foods she didn’t like. She hadn’t eaten meat in a while because she went pescatarian a couple months ago…

Nova sat down at the table closest to the window and looked out at the street. People on both sides passed by quickly. She loved people watching. In airports, on subways or the bus, or at small shops like these. Her eyes scanned across the window, watching some people enter the bagel shop, watching some leave, or just watching some walk by. Her friend tapped her shoulder, making her direct her attention towards him and the basket of food he put down in front of her. She thanked him and began to eat.

This was a flavor she hadn’t had in a while. Smoked ham on a mildly spicy bagel, with a hint of sweetness from the cheese. It was perfect.

Another ring from the opening door filled the shop. Most people turned their heads like little kids in class whenever an unexpected visitor arrived. Nova was one of those children, poking her head up from her basket after saving a droplet of cheese from getting on her shirt. His hair was short and dark. He wore a blue and gray flannel and light blue jeans. His feet were protected by black and white Adidas sneakers. When he turned around after placing his order, she saw his face.

Niall.

She hadn’t seen him in so long. Did no one recognize him? They made eye contact and his blue eyes lit up. A smile spread across his face as he made his way over to her table.

“Nova?” She stood up and they joined together in a quick embrace. He sat down and leaned his arms up against the table. “It’s great to see you again. I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“I know,” she grinned, focusing on her food to make sure she’s eating slower and neater than before he walked in.

“How have you been?” He reached across and grabbed a lone piece of ham that fell from her sandwich and popped it into his mouth. She looked up at him and smiled, or at least tried to after hearing the question.

“I’ve been alright, thanks for asking,” her smile quickly faded and she took another bite of her sandwich. It was an irritated bite, knowing he’d ask more. He sighed and strung his fingers together.

“You’re not still thinking about him, are you?” he asked with a slight whisper. Nova swiftly looked up from her food again, getting a bit of a head rush. Her eyelids drooped, trying to regain her balance in her seat. She didn’t know how to respond. She knew he’d be upset if she told him, but if she lied, he’d know. With a slow shake of her head, she lied.

“No.”

Niall sighed again, “don’t lie to me, Nova. This is serious.”

She refused to answer.

“Nova,” he started, rubbing his temple with his calloused fingertips, “you still think about him, right?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot, actually,” she finished the last of her bagel and pushed the basket aside. She looked out the window again. She knew Niall wasn’t there to bother her, but it certainly was working. He was one of her best friends, but hadn’t spoken to him since breaking up with him.

“Why?” he simply asked. A mixed look of confusion spread across Nova’s face. Why? She didn’t know why. If she did, she’d probably tell him.

“I don’t know why. I just… do. I don’t know.”

“It’s been months–”

“I know it has. I don’t think I’m getting over him any time soon. I just,” she stopped her sentence abruptly to scratch her forehead and sigh, “I keep thinking about him. Everything reminds me of him. I can’t sleep because my bed is empty every night. I should be over him, I know, but I physically cannot.”

“Maybe you should get out of here, then. Live somewhere else for a while,” Niall suggested.

“Where? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m having a party next week. Maybe you can come and stay at my place in L.A. for a bit,” his Irish accent was more prominent near the end of that sentence. Sometimes, his accent is hard to figure out, either what he’s saying or what accent it is.

“Seriously? You’d let me live with you?”

“Of course. You seem pressured to live here,” he said.

“I appreciate that,” Nova replied.

“Call me when you’re ready to go.”

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psithurista · 1 year

Text

approach shift pt. eight

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.6k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depiction of anxiety responses.

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Saturday morning rises blue and cold, and you with it.

You sit blearily upright in bed for too long, wrapped in the covers against the chill as you flick through pictures from last night.

It’s all blurred teeth and disembodied limbs draped in pearl-beaded candy bracelets. There are a lot of people you don’t recognise, but Chris looks deliriously happy, which you figure is the main thing. You feel a fresh pang of guilt for making Bear miss it.

You get to the end of the new posts and start from the beginning again, your eyes glazing past ads for vitamin subscription services and monogrammed phone cases.

You’ll message him today, you tell yourself, yawning, shivering. You just need to work up to it. You don’t want to get the words wrong. Or the tone. Or the timing.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle around the apartment wrapped in your comforter, padded like a glass ornament against the world.

You make coffee for yourself and Bear, pouring hers into a vacuum flask to keep hot for when she wakes up. You clean out the grinder—properly, with the little brush it came with, not just shaking it out over the trash, then decide to rearrange the filters into a neat stack so they aren’t all crumpled in the corner.

You’re wiping inside the now-empty drawer when Bear’s door flies open. You catch a glimpse of her as she passes, pillow-creased and frazzled. “I’m so late,” she moans, stumbling into her shoes.

“We didn’t even go out last night; how do you always manage to do this?”

She shrugs, throwing her phone in her bag. “It’s a talent.” You hand her the vacuum flask, and she gasps. “You’re an angel. See you tonight.”

“See you,” you say, watching her go.

Now you’ve taken everything out of the drawers, you figure it’s probably worth doing the same for the rest of the cabinets. You can reorganise everything and actually get a system in place for all the utensils.

It’ll feel good; an easy accomplishment, one you can use to bolster your confidence and sense of capability while trying to decide what to say to Peter.

You put on some music and settle into the rhythm of the task, creating ordered stacks on every surface in the apartment. You unearth the embarrassing ‘STEMing hot stuff!’ mug you’d forgotten about; a joke birthday present from Bear last year.

The morning drips away into afternoon as you hum and sway your way around the apartment. The constant, easy activity keeps you feeling warm and purposeful; it feels so clear, so unconfusing and undemanding on your heart to lift, dust, stack, straighten. You pull all your clothes out of your closet and sort them, finding a jacket you’d forgotten you had and a pair of sneakers with holes in the sides you’d been meaning to throw away.

Once the apartment is vacuumed yet again, couch and all, you light a candle and sit down on the floor to sort the mess of papers and books under the coffee table you’d been meaning to get to. You’d been saving the candle—for what, you aren’t sure anymore—and now the scent of it fills the apartment; sweet and rich. Your stomach growls loudly and you pause, looking at your phone for the first time.

You blink. That can’t be the right time. But it is. Because then Bear’s keys are jingling in the door, and you realise it’s gotten cold again, and you can’t see out the windows anymore because they’ve become black rectangles mirroring the spotless apartment and your own startled face back at you.

“Holy shit,” she says. “It smells like Pine-Sol in here.”

You look up at her vaguely sheepishly as though she’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. “Yeah. I, um, did a little cleaning.”

“A little?” She side-eyes you. “This reminds me of that time you procrastinated for like two weeks contesting that bullshit score you got, when you were too nervous to ask about it.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” you say, affronted.

She stares at you.

“I’m not,” you say.

It’s not like you’ve been intentionally avoiding the message you need to send. You just needed to clear your head first. And the apartment really was overdue for a good clean.

“All our dish rags have been colour-coded,” she observes, her head inside a cupboard.

You keep busy for the rest of the night, taking the world’s longest shower, and then using every single skincare product you can find in the back of the bathroom drawers, including the sample sachets Bear had shoved back there.

Bathed and moisturised and dressed in your softest pajamas, you sit on the edge of your bed and glare at your phone.

Should you be casual about it? Apologetic? Blunt?

You’re overthinking it. Just keep it simple.

hey parker hope you’re doing okay. can i come by? i miss

hey peter. i was thinking and i just really want to apologise for losing my shit at you that night after may’s birthday. but i just think it’s kind of shitty how you

peter, i’m so, so sorry. why didn’t you tell me about

You groan and toss your phone into the pillows piled at the head of your bed. You’re tired. Too tired to think about any of this. You hadn’t realised until now how much the day had taken out of you, but now you’re feeling all that scrubbing in your forearms.

Tomorrow, you think, burrowing down into the warmth of your bed. Tomorrow. —————

Bear drags you out of the apartment the moment you wake up. First to walk laps around the greenmarket, then to what feels like every used bookstore in the city.

You trail her through stacks of shabby Penguins turned spine-out in varying shades of faded orange while she tells you about the girl she’s only just started messaging who may or may not be hinting for her to move in with her already, and try not to look too devastated at the prospect.

“It probably won’t happen though,” she says, frowning at the back of a hardcover Magritte print book. “It’s just something she’s been dropping into conversation and, like, I can’t tell if it’s still a joke or not. Hey, we should go get a matcha.”

By the time you make it home that afternoon, you’re full and happy and barely miserable at all. You curl lazily into the couch while Bear starts on a stir-fry, scrolling through your phone. You’d set up a news alert months ago for Oscorp, back when the dream of working there was still just that, and now you skim through the day’s notifications.

There’s a quarterly financial profile, and a glowing article about one of the company’s recent charitable endeavours; providing water filtration systems to flood-ravaged parts of Papua New Guinea.

You only read the first few lines of it, wondering a little grimly how much PR paid for it to be published. You should probably delete the alert; you’re sick of thinking about work on the weekends. But then, just as you’re about to scroll away, something catches your eye.

'SIX YEARS ON: Has anything changed? Advocates for workplace reform have raised concerns Oscorp hasn’t done enough to meet its court-mandated commitment to transform management of company operations following the release of details from its most recent external review. The damning report comes only weeks after the anniversary of the death of Oscorp intern Gwen Stacy, who has been remembered by a company spokesperson as a “brilliant scientific mind sadly taken far too soon.”

The incident garnered a storm of public interest after allegations Oscorp had attempted to conceal details surrounding then-chairman Harry Osborn’s involvement in the events leading up to Stacy’s death. Unnamed Oscorp sources claimed Osborn was working under the influence of an unreleased drug which had not yet been approved for trials.

While the coroner’s report ruled the death as accidental, Stacy’s family have previously spoken to news outlets asserting the view that Oscorp’s failure to control access to untested pharmaceutical samples led to the tragic event. They did not respond to requests for comment.'

There’s a picture of a girl underneath the article; blonde and freckled and grinning toothily from behind a beakerful of clear liquid. She has the hugest, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You read it three times before you put your phone down and stare at your feet for a few seconds, listening to the sound of your heart pushing blood around inside your head. Then, you pick your phone back up, open a new browser window, and start typing. —————

It’s colder inside than it was outside.

You unclasp your hands from between your knees, shivery and restless, and lean back from the desk to hug yourself, wrapping your arms tight around your body.

Gary’s cheeks are even redder than usual, bright with windburn; redder than his hair and the raw-looking skin around his eyes. He has a half-eaten almond croissant in his hand and there are crumbs all over the front of his coat.

Your leg bounces under your desk while he absently unwinds his scarf from around his neck, first in one direction, then, realising he’s just winding it tighter, in the other direction. He sets his satchel down and unclips it, ponderously slow.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody in less of a rush in your entire life.

When he finally sits, you only manage to wait a few more seconds before you’re wheeling yourself in his direction.

“Hi Gary.”

He swivels his chair to face you, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Hello,” he says.

You scoot your chair a little closer. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You look at each other for a minute. “I like your plant. Is that one of the ones they were giving out from the Wellness Lounge?”

“It’s fake.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “at least they’re trying to branch out.” You continue looking at each other.

He nods solemnly. “That’s funny.”

You give up. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Oscorp. You’ve been here a long time, right?”

“I guess. Would you consider seventeen years a long time?” He doesn’t ask it with any apparent sarcasm. You don’t answer, just in case it’s rhetorical.

“I wondered if you know much about what happened with Harry Osborn.”

He looks at you with what might pass for mild suspicion. “It’s classified. You’re not going to put this on the internet, are you?“

You shake your head, giving him a little smile. “Just curious. I happened to get here kinda early this morning and stumbled across a few files while I was working. There are entire pages redacted and it just seemed really weird, so I just wondered what it was all about.”

He shoots a quick glance behind you, then lowers his voice. “Yeah, they really didn’t want any of it getting out. He was messing around with unapproved samples, even testing them on himself. And it did something to him, he went completely nuts. Took one of the interns hostage, then he killed her.”

Your heart rattles jagged and loose in your chest. “Gwen Stacy.”

He nods. There’s powdered sugar in his moustache. “Yep. They ruled it an accident, and that was the official story, but all of us who were working here then heard whispers trickle down about what really happened.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? Like I said, he went completely crazy. I doubt he even knew what he was doing. The facility he’s in? It’s not really a hospital. Or, it’s a maximum security hospital, if you get my drift. That’s why we don’t have the intern program anymore. Only graduate positions. You’re the replacement.”

It feels a little bit like how you imagine swallowing drain cleaner must feel. “The replacement,” you echo weakly. “That’s me.”

He seems to realise then how much he’s said, and he snaps his mouth closed. A beat passes, then he squints. “They made you sign an NDA when you started, right?”

You force a little smile. “Sure did.”

He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but then, it’s hard to tell when his face is about as animated as the plastic succulent on his desk. “Well. Good. I better get to work.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You awkwardly scoot yourself back to your desk and stare at your reflection in the black monitor for a while. So May had left out a pretty important detail. Losing Harry and Gwen simultaneously hadn’t just been a case of unfortunate timing.

Gary’s confirmed everything you read, but it’s only made you more frustrated. There’s still something huge and obvious missing here that you can’t find in any of the files or reports or news articles, and it’s the thing you’re most confused about, more than whatever Harry Osborn was doing, performing reckless testing on himself.

Namely: what in the fuck was Peter doing there when it happened?

You’re still facing off with yourself when Doctor Brant walks in and you nearly knock all the shit off your desk in your scramble to look busy.

The day can’t pass fast enough.

Nothing seems to go right. The bottle slips out of your hand while you’re trying to refill the autoclave and you end up pouring distilled water all over your shoes. You forget your swipe card when you go downstairs to pick up a box of equipment and have to call security to let you back into your office.

And to top it all off, you’re still having issues with your starting cultures. You’re standing at the bench in the lab, frowning at yet another failed batch, when there’s a strange wheezing hiss from the vents overhead.

You look up.

Of course it’d just be the cherry on top if the air gave out and you ended up passing out from preservative fumes.

You’re the only one in here at the moment; everyone else is back in the main office, so you carefully replace the lid on your samples and head for the airflow controls.

Which is when the lab plunges into complete darkness.

“Oh, great,” you breathe. You stretch your arms out in front of yourself, groping for walls. “Hello?” you call. “Is anyone else here?”

There’s no answer. You spin around and bump into the cold steel edge of a workbench. Fear trickles into your stomach as you realise you don’t know which way to go. Something smells off, like melting plastic.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and emergency lights flick on in little strips along the floor. Some of the panic leaves your body, and you make it to the doors, slapping your palm hard over the manual release so you can get out.

Everyone in the darkened office is standing around confused and talking loudly at once. A few people have the flashlights on their cells turned on, and you hold your hands out to block the light from your eyes, sidling toward the walls to get away as they all turn to blind you at once.

Doctor Brant‘s face looms out from the shadows of his office doorway looking tense. You make a beeline for him. “What’s going on?” you say, awkwardly falling into step beside him. “Power outage?”

He barely glances at you, striding forward. “So it seems. But the backup should have come on by now.”

You realise then where he’s headed and your mouth drops open. “Oh fuck. The freezers.”

A wry look barely breaks through the worry on his face. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

Some of the samples in those freezers are originals, more than twenty years old. If they warm past a certain temperature…

That’s years of work, gone.

The plastic smell has grown stronger, and there’s the distant sound of an alarm ringing, long and unbroken. A couple of people exchange tense looks as you trail Doctor Brant past them. “Should we be getting out of here?” someone says.

“It’s probably another drill,” someone replies, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, but. With the power cut?”

Doctor Brant pauses to look back around the office, his hand on the glass doors leading toward the freezers. “Everybody, please make your way outside. Meet at the assembly point. I’ll be down behind you.”

There’s some half-hearted grumbling about this; it’s a long way down using the evacuation stairs instead of the elevators, but then a low, distant rumble sounds from somewhere underfoot and everybody shuts up. There’s a brief bottleneck at the door as everyone tries to squeeze through it at once.

Your desk is on the other side of the office. You can practically hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head: stay calm, forget about your personal belongings, keep up with the group.

But your phone is sitting right in the centre of your desk. It’ll only take you an extra second to grab it.

You shuffle forward gingerly, just to make sure you aren’t about to blind yourself walking into the edge of a shelf in the gloom. Without the extra light from everyone’s phones, it’s even darker than before. Dust motes fall shivering off the lifeless light fixtures overhead as the building vibrates again, harder this time.

You slide your phone off the desk and flip it over so you can stick it into your back pocket, barely glancing at the notification on the screen. Then, the words belatedly registering, you stop. You don’t mean to. You need to get to the stairwell. But you can’t force your body to move.

1 Unread Message from: p.p.

Read it later, you think furiously at yourself. Later, later, later.

But your feet are still rooted to the floor. You need to see what he’s sent. You’ll be quick. Just a glance.

You stand stupid with panic and indecision, neither opening the message nor unrooting your feet. You’re frozen for what feels like a long time, but must only be a couple of seconds.

And then the decision is made for you.

The wall closest to the foyer rushes outward in a tsunami of smoke and insulation, and you hit the edge of your desk hard.

Everything goes black for a couple of seconds. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the grit of dust, and your ears hurt; ringing with burst-out silence. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth from where your teeth snapped shut against the inside of your lip and it feels like you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

When you manage to blink your eyes open again, you’re slumped half-under the desk. Probably a good thing, your shocked brain manages to think; it probably sheltered you from the ceiling panels crashing down. You scramble onto your knees, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel, and peer out.

You can’t see beyond the next row of desks. The smoke is too thick; and it’s too dark to make out much more than the twist of wires hanging from the ceiling where the lights have fallen loose.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You lean back against the desk and try to think. The smoke is coming from the direction of the stairs to the main foyer, which means you can’t get out that way anymore. If the stairs are even still there.

Is there another way down from this level? Surely there must be. You probe your fingers delicately at the back of your head and wince. You have no idea what happened to your phone, so you’ve got no flashlight.

The lab, you think. There’s another emergency exit through to the other side of the lab. The stairs are behind a firewall.

You manage to get your feet underneath your body and shakily stand. It’s quickly becoming unbearably hot in here without the air working. You tuck your mouth and nose into the crook of your elbow as you pick your way forward. Your hearing is starting to come back a little; just a dull roaring sound and that alarm in the distance, still blaring.

You make it all the way to the lab door before it hits you. Doctor Brant.

You wheel around, squinting through the smoke. Fuck. Could he have made it out with the others? Maybe he’s already gone downstairs and is safe, waiting outside somewhere. You only need to think about it for a second before you know you can’t possibly leave without making sure.

You lurch toward the first of the control doors. “Doctor Brant?” The air burns your throat on the way in, and you cough so hard it feels more like a heave.

The heat is worse over here. You touch your hand to the release and hiss, pulling it back. The metal feels like touching the element on a stovetop.

Maybe you can wrap something around your skin to protect it. You hear what sounds like your name, yelled hoarse, and pause. You can’t tell which direction it came from. “I’m here! Oh, God. Doctor Brant? I’m right here. I’m gonna try to find another way to get you out. Hang on.”

You turn to search for something; a discarded jacket, or scarf from the back of somebody’s chair, and there’s a flicker of movement at the other side of the office. The sight unleashes a fresh screech of alarm in your brain. You duck behind one of the still-standing desks and peer out just in time to catch a shock of bright red swimming out from the haze.

You lean around the side, blinking, trying to make it out. The shape turns, and you see it right as it comes toward you: the panels of blue disturbing the red, the printed black over the chest; the long, sharp legs jointed out from the body. Him. Again.

Your stomach drops out. You seize the pen cup from the top of the desk and throw it as hard as you can, stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” you warn, pointing, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, stop, fuck—” he splutters, hands outstretched, ducking to dodge as you launch a wireless keyboard at him. You dash behind a pillar and run bent-over toward the maintenance hallway. You don’t know if he saw you, or if he’s following.

You know you should probably stop and consider why you’re actually running away from him when he’s probably only trying to help you. But your heart is going too fast for intelligent thought right now. Like a rabbit, without reason or rationale, fuelled by terror and adrenaline.

You hit a dead end and stop. Can you get to the other exit from here? What about Doctor Brant? Your eyes are burning and you scrub the back of your arm across them to try to clear the smoke. You turn to go back the way you came. But he’s there. And he’s already coming toward you. You let out a strange, retching sob-sound. “No. No, no, please, no, get away.”

He steps forward, angular grey eyes looming up out of the smoke and you wheel away. “Hey, stop, don’t go that way—”

Your lungs are on fire, and your eyes are streaming so badly you can’t tell which way to turn to run. He closes the distance between your bodies and then his hands are on your shoulders.

“Listen. Hey, hey, stop, we don’t have time for this, listen, listen to me.” You’re panicking, blind and overwhelmed and terrified, your heart clawing its way up your throat, trying to shove his hands away.

There’s something wrong with all of this. His voice doesn’t sound like you remember—but it does sound the way you know it’s supposed to, and that makes no sense, and your brain is screaming the explanation at you like a cageful of trapped birds screeching and beating against the inside of your skull, but you’re fighting it too hard to listen.

The floor has started vibrating under your feet again, and everything rumbles and groans; a loud pop of breaking glass audible far too close for comfort, but you don’t stop shoving at him as hard as you can, still twisting, trying to get away.

Then one of his hands is around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can’t twist away, and another is on your face, pushing back your hair. His voice is back, loud and firm and right in your ear, cutting through the rush of noise, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Listen to me. Jersey.”

It falls absolutely silent inside your head. You can still feel the smoke in your eyes, in your mouth, but you’re no longer coughing.

You’re no longer breathing.

He’s still talking, the shape of his lips moving alien through the thin red stretch of his mask. “Just breathe. I’m gonna get you outta here. But you gotta tell me if there’s anyone else in the lab who needs help. Hey. Hey, hey, breathe.”

Your mouth moves on its own. “Doctor Brant. He was in the sample freezer. He was…he…”

“Breathe,” he says again, quiet, and you do. The hands that had been shoving at his chest now press shakily to the shape of his body underneath, and, dazedly, you trace the outline of his collarbones. Your throat burns.

“You. You idiot,” you gasp hoarsely, new tears springing to your eyes. “Peter, you—you, you fucking, you idiot—”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your waist, and then the ground disappears from beneath your feet.

You sag your weight against him as he pulls you forward through the smoke. Something shears bright against your face and you tuck down into his chest, both of his arms keeping you tucked away from a sudden blaze of light and heat. There’s a crash from behind you, then another in front, and suddenly beautiful, clean, cold air is rushing at your skin, pulling your hair free.

Broken glass crunches under your feet as they finally meet the ground. The arm around your waist releases you, and he’s gone.

You blink in the bright sun. You’re outside. Then all the noise rushes back in, and there are new arms around you.

“Hey! We got another one, get her out of here…”

“Are you okay?” someone is saying, their safety hat-shadowed face close to yours.

“Careful of the bleeding. Here, take her,” comes another voice. You can barely hear them under the wail of sirens.

“She’s in shock,” the first person says, and there’s a hand on your arm, pulling you forward, toward the ambulances and fire engines lined up across the street. You look back over your shoulder. They’ve cordoned off the entire block. There’s ash in your mouth, and you nearly stumble.

The person holding you pauses, turning back toward you. “What? Did you say something?” They’re half-shouting to be heard. They’re just a blur, like a stranger in a dream.

You stare at them. It feels like your face is doing something incredibly interesting. Did you say something? The ash is gritty like sand against your teeth, on your tongue.

“I need to get back inside,” you hear yourself saying now, quiet and clear, your voice disconnected from your mouth. You need to get back into the building. You need to.

“What?”

Then you’re shoving at the hand on your arm, twisting out of their grip. Someone shouts out with alarm behind you, and you’re running, clumsily, tripping over rubble as you throw yourself back toward the police barricade blocking the entrance to the building.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!”

You don’t care. You’re not leaving him.

Which is when there’s a shriek of metal overhead. You and everybody else on the street look up just in time to watch every remaining window on the top half of the building explode outward in shards of skin-melting heat.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #the amazing spider-man fanfiction #the amazing spider-man fanfic #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fanfic #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 6 months

Text

Wasn’t sure I was going to get this done so I didn’t say anything, but voila! Part 9! There’s a lot that’s happened so far; start at part 1 here.

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x fem OC, Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner *slash- it’s all I want for Christmas ok

Warnings and tags: 18+ ONLY!, sexual themes, brief mentions of fingering, jealousy, unrequited love, love triangles, brief talk of sexuality, slight infidelity, angst, third person POV Jake, Danny, Sam, Kim, and Savanna, restaurant AU

Word count: 6.5k

“You going to sign up for the secret Santa this year?” Kim asked Jake when they got a brief moment alone in the office. She knew he hadn’t participated in any of the last years, but she had convinced Danny to sign up already so she tried her cards again with Jake.

He gave her a sideways glance, “that’s not really my thing” he replied as he checked the schedule for the next week to make sure they had plenty of preps staffed to start getting ready for the busy week before the holidays.

“Do you not like receiving gifts?” She questioned with a playful smirk, her leg that was crossed over the other tapping against his calf to keep his attention. “You certainly like giving”.

Jake smirked, finally tearing his eyes away from the binder in his hand, down to Kim’s little black sneakers then back up her legs. It had been a week since he and Kim had their first date and things had been moving fast.

Not because either of them had meant for it to, but because they both were enjoying each other's company over the threat of being alone.

Enjoying each other they were. Actually, indulging in each other was more like it.

“I do like gift giving” he replied, not even watching the way his eyes continued to trail over her clothed body, imagining the way she looked underneath them now that he’d grown so familiar with the sight. “I’m just very picky about who I give to. Don’t want to be wasting my time on some rando”.

“Oh you’re picky?” She giggled, knowing all too well how it felt to be someone on the outside looking into Jake’s seemingly tight circle. “How did I make the club then?”

Jake set the binder down and braved a touch, running his hand along her knee to about mid thigh and squeezing. He had made it known after it was clear this was going somewhere that they should keep it PG while at work. He had obvious reasons she was unaware of, but she went along with it simply because she knew him to be a private person.

“It’s honestly pretty easy” he replied, squeezing again, his thumb pressing into the plushness of her thigh that was coated in the slick fabric of her tight black slacks. “You just have to lay back, close your eyes”.

Kim inhaled a shaky breath, listening intently to the words Jake was practically singing with the way his voice sounded like music to her. She followed his instruction and closed her eyes, imagining for a moment that they were back in Jake’s bedroom again.

Jake slid his hand up just about a half of an inch but it felt like he was already there with the way her core burned for his touch. “And just give yourself over to me”.

“Fuuuck Jake” Kim cried when Jake’s fingers hit that spot deep inside her that made her heels dig into the burgundy sheets and her hips rock against his knuckles.

“That’s it beautiful, you can cum for me again” he cooed, his lips brushing against the ticklish skin of her lower stomach where he kissed and sucked like he didn’t even have to think about the relentless motions his hands made.

A knock at the door snapped Kim from her trance and Jake’s hand instantly retreated.

“Come in” Jake cleared his throat and Kim straightened up in the chair, trying to look as non-incriminating as possible.

“Jake, there you are. We need you to sign off on the supply order” Julian glanced around the room, still having the feeling that he was interrupting something with the way it was just the two of them. Kim sitting in a chair at the desk and Jake leaned against the filing cabinet across the office with his arms folded over his chest. “I can come back later if-”

“No no, let’s go” Jake moved to follow Julian, giving Kim one last eyebrow raise to let her know they would continue their talk later.

“So you will be signing up then?” She called after them, Julian stopping and giving Jake a questioning look. “Deadline is today so”.

Jake sighed and ran his fingers across the fine hairs still growing on his upper lip as he thought, “alright, I’ll do it”.

She flashed him a bright grin and he shook his head, not believing he’d let her somehow convince him to participate in something he believed to be so ridiculous.

“So the Christmas party this year will be on the 22nd. The restaurant is going to open and close early that Friday and be closed the rest of the weekend for the holiday. Party will start once the last customer is out and go until there’s no liquor left” Savanna explained after everyone who had signed up to participate stuck around to hear her announcement after a meeting.

Jake sat in the back of the group, staring out the window and hardly listening.

“Each of you will be getting an email here shortly with the name of your randomly chosen person for the secret Santa gift exchange. In the employee break room there has been a mailbox system set up. It is encouraged for you to write a small wish list of no more than twelve items at $10 or less each to leave in your box so your secret Santa can discreetly collect your list and start getting ideas. The gift exchange will start on the 10th, twelve days before the Christmas party, and at midnight during the Christmas party everyone will reveal themselves”.

“Kim got you roped into this thing too?” Danny leaned over and whispered to Jake who hadn’t even noticed that he had made his way to the back of the crowd to see him.

“Whole thing seems like a big pain in the ass huh?” Jake sighed, watching as it looked like it was starting to drizzle outside. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn into a real rain, or snow, otherwise they might close the market down early and Sam had agreed to go with him as soon as this extra long meeting finally wrapped up.

“Don’t know, guess it kind of depends on who you get” Danny replied, looking around the room at all the people who had signed up. Most people he recognized, some he didn’t either because they were seasonal employees or they happened to always work on different shifts. “What are you going to put on your wish list? I need ideas”.

“I’m not making a stupid list. Whoever gets me is on their own”.

“No way! What if I get you?” Danny fake groaned which trailed into a quiet laughter at the look of slight alarm Jake shot him.

“How are you doing by the way? Sam told me you invited him out today” he continued his conversation with Jake after a few glaring faces turned back around.

Jake was momentarily unsure how to answer Danny. What did he want to hear when he asked him that loaded question? That he was having the time of his life with Kim? That they had kicked it off? Or that he was just filling a void?

“Everything’s great”. He resumed his disassociation out the window, just barely seeing in his peripheral the way Danny shifted his weight awkwardly as Sam approached them.

“You ready?” Sam asked, slapping the sides of his thighs like he was trying to hide that he was nervous or something about spending the afternoon alone with his older brother.

“Yeah, let’s go out the back door, it’s closer to the employee lot and it’s wet outside”.

Sam craned his neck to look over Jake who was propped against the window sill and scrunched his nose. “Oh, well do you think we could give Daniel a ride home first then?”

“I’ll be alright” Danny instinctively reached over and grabbed one of Sam’s hands in his own. “Don’t worry about me”.

“You always say that” Sam whined, but letting Danny continue to squeeze his hand, “don’t worry, I’m alright”.

“What if I want to worry about you?”

Jake clicked his tongue and pushed off the windowsill, moving past the few bodies that lingered in the otherwise empty dining room.

“You two, hurry your asses up or I’m going home and leaving both of you here” he called back, never checking to see if they actually followed, but hearing their footsteps speed to catch up behind him.

After dropping Danny off Sam’s phone buzzed in his lap. He took one look at the notification and groaned. “I just got my secret Santa email. I think this thing was rigged”.

“What makes you say that?” Jake asked, checking both sides of the street before he continued past a stop sign.

“I got Savanna”.

Oh. That is kind of awkward. Jake pulled into the nearby parking lot that was only a quick walk over to the market street. Once the car was in park he switched it off and checked his phone. He’d gotten his email as well, but he wasn’t as upset about the name as Sam was.

“If you trade with me now no one will know. I’ll owe you one” Sam pleaded when they made their way across the street.

“Absolutely not. What makes you think I would want Savanna?”

“Well who did you get? Do you even know the person?” He continued to pout, shoving his phone back into his pocket and pulling out an elastic to tie his hair back with.

“Guess you will have to find out at the party like the rest of us” Jake replied, smiling to himself. This was honestly the best possible outcome, and he already had an idea of what he wanted to do.

“Having some lovers spats already Sammy?” Jake tried to start up a conversation with a light hearted tease while he picked up some fresh avocado and examined it in his hands for ripeness. Thankfully the clouds had cleared and the sun had actually come out making it the perfect day to meander down the street full of his favorite vendors. Some of the old dogs recognized Sam and were excited to see him again, so Sam had already accumulated a paper bag full of freebies.

“What makes you think that?” Sam replied, his back turned as he shifted through a small pile of kale tied together in little bundles with twine.

“Like super greens do you?” The enderly woman came over to ask Sam after she finished up with another customer.

“My favorite” Sam smiled “right after zucchini”.

“Afraid that’s not in season dear, but if you get two bundles I’ll throw a third in for free”.

“Deal!” Sam gleamed and picked out his three before handing the lady some cash.

“Come back in the summer when it’s nice and warm and I’ll have some zucchini just for you!”

“What are you going to cook with that much kale Sam? Don’t let it go to waste”.

“I won’t! You’re not the only cook in the family. I do all the cooking at home” Sam defended himself as they headed off to the next booth.

“I see, no wonder Danny has been coming into the kitchen to steal some food more often recently”.

Sam looked shocked and slightly betrayed which only made the smirk on Jake’s face grow wider. “Relax, I think he’s just stressed. He said he nearly failed his last pre-exam or something so he’s been staying up really late studying. Figured you would have noticed”. He shrugged and stopped at this friend's stand, picking up a few things he’d requested after his last visit.

Sam stood back this time, lost in thought as he tried to remember the last few nights back at home. Danny did seem a little distant and distracted now that he mentioned it, but how had he not picked up on anything sooner? Maybe he had been a little too concerned with himself and his own selfish desires to see that Danny was struggling in silence.

“I didn’t realize you guys still talked like that” he resumed the conversation after Jake was done.

“We do” Jake watched Sam’s reaction to his answer this time. He knew Sam was the possessive type, but sort of guessed that once the two who were fated to be were finally together, that nothing would come between them. “At work at least. Why wouldn’t we? We are friends”.

Sam was quiet, uncharacteristically quiet, clearly thinking too much about this.

“The wait staff get around a lot more than we do” he tried to speak again, keeping the conversation light. Although, his choice of words might have been a little fast-spoken considering he was talking about his boyfriend getting around, and also his own girlfriend too.

“Speaking of the waitstaff” Sam brushed past the unfortunate wording. Somehow that he could get past, but not the idea of Danny and Jake still talking. “You and Kim huh? Can’t say I saw that one coming” he shook his eyebrows suggesting he actually had anything to do with it. “You two do look good together though”.

Jake let it go, just like Sam did, and they wrapped up their outing as they reached the end of the street. “She makes me happy” Jake said as they rounded the corner and made their way back towards the car.

“Good, you deserve to be happy Jake”.

“You do too Sam, we all do”.

Jake and Sam got settled back into the front seats of the car, their haul stashed safely in the back. “Actually, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about”.

Sam looked over but Jake kept his eyes fixed on the road, there was no easy way to bring this up especially since he had a suspicion Sam wasn’t so easily over his ex like he pretended to be.

“First of all, I’m sorry I disappeared when everything… happened”.

Sam’s facial expression dropped and he shifted in his seat to look out the window instead. He’d been wondering when Jake was going to want to talk about this.

“I just want you to know, neither of us ever intended to hurt anybody” he began. Now that Sam was buttered up with the trip, and trapped in the car, it was time to hash this out.

“Yeah, that’s what Daniel said” Sam replied, his hands gripping each other tightly in his lap as he recalled how blindsided he’d felt that night by them both.

Okay, so we’re sticking to the same story. That was good Jake thought to himself, the more seamless they sounded the more he was able to hide the fact that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

“Well, I was just wondering, what exactly did you tell Savanna when you broke up with her? Did you tell her about you and Danny… or Danny and I?”

Sam scoffed, of course Jake was concerned if he’d told anyone.

“No, I didn’t tell her anything” Sam replied, hoping that would be enough for Jake to drop it. He knew better though, they shared the same blood anyway, so of course they would share the same stubbornness.

“So, what did you tell her then?”

Sam knew he could lie, he’d come up with a dozen different excuses over the weeks since he and Danny started dating, but lying to his brother felt even worse than lying to Savanna.

“I told her the truth, well a version of the truth anyways”. Sam’s eyes flickered back over to Jake who’s hands tightened on the steering wheel in anticipation. “I told her that I’m leaving for LA after graduation”.

Jake nearly pulled the car over right there. What in the hell did he mean moving to LA? He kept himself composed enough to manage driving the last few blocks back to Sam’s apartment.

“When did you decide this?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“When I got accepted into an internship. It’s a really good opportunity, kinda too good to pass up. I mean yeah going to LA is going to suck at first, but who knows? I might like it over there. Sunny all the time, palm trees, beaches closer than seven hours away”.

“Not to mention you will be on the complete opposite side of the country as all of your family. What does Danny think about this?”

Sam didn’t answer, just exhaled sharply through his nose and hung his head.

“You haven’t told him have you?” Jake didn’t think Sam could get any stupider. What was he scared of? Danny had already followed him once.

“Please don’t say anything to him” Sam begged, something he didn’t do often. “I promise I’m going to tell him. I just want to make sure we get through this before I spring something else on him”.

“Get through what?” Jake was starting to slow his driving as they were nearing Sam’s place which would ultimately be the end of their conversation.

“You know, the beginning”. Did he know though? Sam seemed like he didn't even really know what he was talking about himself. There were times when he felt like nothing had really changed between him and Danny. Besides the addition of kissing, holding hands, and the occasional sexual favor. Then there were other times, like now, when he felt like he was going through the motions of a relationship. They were sharing all the good stuff, which was nice superficially, but the real depth of a relationship lied in sharing everything, the good and the bad. Sam didn’t know that they had been honest with each other about it all.

“What’s there to know other than he loves you?” Jake questioned. Sam had it easy in his eyes. He didn’t have to worry about one sided feelings, all he had to do was love and be loved. “You do know he loves you right?”

“Yeah” Sam sighed, picking at a hangnail now to keep himself occupied until he could get out. He felt caged, like he was being looked at from all angles just waiting for him to do something.

“I know”.

Jake had never bought so many little girly things in all his life, but he stuck to his Christmas wish list nearly to the t. Chocolates, hair pins, colorful fingernail polish, all things he never thought he’d find himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the aisles debating on which to get.

“Look what I got today!” Kim flashed a couple of fancy new pens.

“What is it with girls and pens?” Julian laughed from where he stood over the stove, whisking his pot effortlessly.

“What is it with men and pocket tools? Yeah, us girls have been talking, we know you guys all got together to make your lists”. She replied, leaning over the counter flirtatiously.

It wasn’t uncommon for her, or any of the waitresses really, to come back and chat with the kitchen guys. They loved seeing the girls all done up pretty for tips, and the girls loved the attention they got knowing it was all just a tease.

“Oh Kim,” Julian set his pot aside and wiped his hands on his towel that hung from his apron before moving to lean across the same counter. Getting a little too close for Jake’s comfort, who was standing nearby watching the entire interaction with a placid face. “When are you gonna stop stringing me along and let me take you out of here?”

“Hmm,” Kim pretended to think about it, standing up straight but keeping her hands pressed flat against the counter. “If I was still available I’d say maybe for Christmas”.

“What you got a boyfriend now or something?” Julien was still smiling slyly, not at all bothered by her reply or letting that get in the way of his game. “Or, a girlfriend? You girls been doing more than talking about us boys?”

A few of the guys who had also been close enough to listen in snickered. Jake thought about jumping in, but he kind of wanted to hear her response. They’d never breached the subject of sexuality. It wasn’t as heavy on the mind between a man and a woman than other dynamics, and if he were deeply honest he was afraid of what she would think about him having slept with other men before.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out” Kim also continued to jest unphased. She flashed her eyes over to Jake for just a moment, before turning to leave giving them all a show with the way her ponytail swung in sync with her hips.

“I checked your box before we left, still nothing” Kim told Jake after they were the last two to close up. “I can ask Savanna to find out who your secret Santa is so we can tell them something”.

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t really want to sign up in the first place anyways” he replied, and it was true, he didn’t care that he hadn’t gotten a single gift since the twelve day secret Santa exchange had started.

“Why did you agree to sign up then?” She asked, feeling a little guilty for making him do something he clearly wasn’t thrilled about like she was.

“Because you asked me to” he replied simply, setting his hand in her lap while he drove back to his apartment. She had been spending a lot of time there, but it didn’t bother him, in fact he’d asked her to stay on multiple occasions so if there was anyone to blame it was probably him.

She reached down to grab his hand and weaved her fingers between his, a small content smile glowing on her face with the light from the street lamps flashing by.

“I heard you and Julian talking today. He doesn’t talk like that with any of the other waitstaff, I think he actually likes you”.

She rolled her eyes but her smile didn’t fade nor did she move to let Jake's hand go. “Not every guy a girl flirts with has to be secretly in love with her. He’s funny, and it’s even more fun to pick on him now”.

“I know” he squeezed her hand, his nerves starting to creep into his throat. “How did you feel about him asking if you had a girlfriend?”

She turned to look at him. It had been a joke between her and Julian, but she could tell Jake was serious right now. “Well, I think most girls have harmless crushes on other girls all the time, but I’ve never actually had feelings for another girl”. Jake didn’t look relieved or upset, so she went a little deeper. “But I mean if a really special someone ever came around I don’t think I’d limit myself just because of something arbitrary like gender”.

“I see” Jake didn’t question any further. He’d expected and was prepared to answer any questions she had for him in return, but she just lifted his hand to press a kiss to the back of it and carried on.

“Having a good time?” Jake asked Kim after he finally got his chance to talk with her. She had been floating around like the little social butterfly she was, chatting and laughing (and drinking) with everyone at the party who caught her attention since it had started nearly two hours ago. Needless to say she was sufficiently tipsy at this point, and he had quite a few drinks of his own with his small clique of kitchen guys who had stuck around for the free booze.

“I am!” She giggled, resting her hand on his arm then pulling it back quickly as she looked around at all the people who could see them right now. Jake remembered she got a little touchy feely when she was drunk and smirked. He reached over and brushed her dark wavy curls she’d done up just for this party over her shoulder and let his fingers brush against her clavicle, hopefully sending her the signal that it was okay. Soon enough it would be okay for them to do as they pleased all the time. As long as no one went around drunkenly kissing Danny tonight then all would be well.

That looked like it would prove to be a hard feat though, as Danny stood across the dining room that he had helped clear of the tables. Once the last guest was gone, even earlier than expected, they converted the dining room into one huge dance floor decked out with strings of tassels and Christmas lights and the walls bumping with popular music blaring through the speakers.

After everything was set up he’d gone to change his shirt, keeping his black pants on but topping them with a sparkly purple piece that clung to his figure a lot tighter than the black button up uniform.

A few tables were left for the drinks, one specifically was sitting in the corner of the room covered with gifts for the final secret Santa exchange. Jake checked the time, it was nearing midnight soon and he was glad he’d had plenty of time to drink away his nerves before then.

“You guys ready to start opening presents?” Savanna hollered after she’d called a big group over to her. Everyone started to mumble to each other in giddy anticipation as she started to pass around colorfully wrapped boxes and bags with copious amounts of ribbons and tissue paper.

Kim had slipped away, pushing through the crowd to help pass out when a small rectangle wrapped simply in matte crimson red was shoved into Jake’s hand.

He blinked down at it in shock. After not having received any gifts so far he’d expected to have been forgotten about, but it looked like he did indeed have a secret Santa. Setting his drink down, he pulled the wrapping off, noticing quickly that it was a book, but he didn’t know exactly what book until he turned it over taking in the familiar name of the author on the cover.

It was the next book in a series he’d been reading. He looked up searching through the faces of happy smiling people as they opened their gifts to look for Kim, but when he couldn’t see her he returned to examining the book.

He pulled the cover back, it indeed was the newest one. Jake planned on purchasing it for himself when it came out, but with the busy schedule and extra hours he’d been working he hadn’t had the time.

The thing was, only people who had been extremely close to Jake would have known about him reading this series. People who had been in his room often and seen the other two books, worn from being read over again on the shelf above his bed. Kim had seen him read in bed at night a few times since she’d been over, but he couldn’t remember specifically telling her about them.

“If you already ordered it I can email you the receipt” a deep and quiet voice snuck up on him while he was lost in thought.

Jake turned to see Danny at his side, a new sweater thrown over his shoulder and a couple of drinks in his hand. He offered Jake one of the cups even though he still had his own to finish. “Merry Christmas I guess” Danny spoke again when Jake still hadn’t gotten it. Danny was his secret Santa the whole time.

“Wait, you got me this book?” Then it hit him. He had looked into when the book was being released, and the only way he’d have gotten it by Christmas is if it was pre ordered, which was months ago. He and Kim hadn’t even been seeing each other for that long. It was Danny, he had seen the books in Jake’s room and pre ordered it for him.

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t get you anything else, but you didn’t make a damn list” he chuckled as he took a sip of his drink, knowing Jake really didn’t mind.

“No, this is great. Thank you”. He didn’t mention that he knew how long ago Danny must have gotten it, and how it probably meant something different than just a work gift exchange when he had the idea for it. Regardless, Jake was overjoyed.

“So, who did you get?” Danny asked, looking around the room to see if anyone else was trying to find Jake.

“Oh!” Jake exclaimed and shoved the book and his drink into Danny’s confused hands leaving him to hurriedly to find Kim.

Once the last gift was handed out Savanna slipped away in search of the recipient of her gift. Sam was standing in the back of the room. He looked cool and put together, but she could tell from the flush in his face that he’d had enough to drink, and she had too. Everyone had at this point.

“Hey, did you like your present?” Sam asked when she walked straight up to him. He’d gotten her a new set of paint brushes, the brand she liked, and a gift card to her favorite art supply store for anything else she needed.

“Loved it” she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear, fully taking in the sight of him for the first time in weeks. He was wearing red for the occasion. Her favorite thing to see him in besides nothing at all.

“I left yours at the bar” she waved for him to follow her away from the party and into the dark and deserted bar that they were accustomed to spending so much time together behind.

“So we got each other? This thing really was rigged then” he chuckled, but followed her anyways.

Once they were alone, she reached underneath the counter and pulled out a small bag, handing it to him with a mischievous grin.

Sam took the bag, setting it on the counter and opening it to see a dark green camera with a matching strap to wear it with. “I don’t think this was in the budget” he commented as he took it out and slipped the strap around his neck, seeing how it felt. It was perfect, exactly the thing he’d been looking for and she remembered.

“I think I can make an exception for you”. Her voice was hushed, not wanting anyone to know they were in there. She watched him fiddle with the lense and buttons on the camera, smiling his big goofy smile that she’d fallen in love with and she couldn’t take it anymore. Savanna grabbed onto the strap and pulled him down into a kiss, their lips crashing together but easily feeling their way back into their old rhythm.

Just as she started to let her hand trail down his chest, Sam put both his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. Not hard enough to be rough with her, but enough to get his point across. “Savanna, I can’t”.

“It’s okay Sam, I know you’re leaving, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be together until then…” She was sure that after tonight he would give in again and they could try to make the best of the time they had left. Sam’s expression was sending a different signal though.

“No you don’t get it. Danny and I-” he sighed, letting go of her shoulders and stepping away.

“Danny?” She echoed, not sure how he was involved. Then it clicked. He and Sam were always close, really close, and Danny had always had it out for her for some reason. Now it made sense.

“Danny and I are together now”.

Savanna fell back against the counter of the bar, knocking over the now empty bag that Sam had left.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, but some things happened and I just had to-”

“Save it Sam”. She scoffed and pushed off the counter, walking away from him but not back towards the party, further into the dark.

Jake checked, and while everyone was distracted with passing out and opening presents, one of his guys who he’d asked for help had successfully pinned a huge piece of mistletoe in the threshold from the dining room over to the kitchen.

“Hey! There you are” he wrapped his arm around Kim’s waist who was starting to get a little bit concerned about why everyone around her had a present and she didn’t. “Come with me”.

“Did you get a gift Jake?” She asked, hoping she wasn’t the only one as he pulled her closer to her surprise.

“I’ll tell you about it later, but right now I’ve got your gift right over here”. He stood her underneath the threshold but she still hadn’t taken in her surroundings and realized.

“You got me something? Are you my secret Santa?” She started to grow excited, looking around but finding his hands empty.

He lifted her chin with two fingers so that her head would tilt back and she could see the meaningful foliage hanging above them just as others started to gather around and check out what was happening.

Jake leaned in and whispered into her ear “Merry Christmas Kimberly”. His lips trailed across her cheek until they found hers and he pulled her tight against his body as he kissed her in front of everyone.

“Yay Kim! Merry Christmas you love birds!” People started to cheer, drawing even more attention to them.

Jake pulled back and let her take it all in, but she didn’t look around at all the smiling faces watching them. She just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back into another one, her heart feeling like it could overflow.

“Do you want to go dance now?” Jake asked after the commotion died down. She nodded her head and he took her hand to walk her back into the middle of the dining room just as the music was being turned up again.

“Mind if I cut in?” Danny tapped Jake on the shoulder asking if he could dance with Kim for a moment.

Jake nodded and leaned over to place a swift kiss on her cheek before backing away and leaving them be.

“So, you guys are public now then?” He raised his brows as he danced along with her, keeping his distance.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” She questioned back, but he shook his head.

“I’m happy for you guys”. His words were encouraging, but something in his face gave her the impression he was holding something back.

“Thanks, looks like Sam and Savanna might be getting back together too”.

“What makes you say that?” He started to slow his movements, concern becoming evident.

“Well, I saw them kissing behind the bar earlier” she shrugged not thinking anything of it.

“Oh, I see”. There was definitely something up with Danny now, but Jake was making his way back over to them with more drinks.

“Excuse me” Danny peeped out then placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder as he squeezed past him.

“Everything alright?” Jake asked, having caught a glimpse of Danny’s stunned expression just before he practically ran away.

“I think so?” Kim took one of the drinks, telling herself that this would have to be her last if she didn’t want to feel like death tomorrow.

Jake didn’t read into Danny’s mood any further, he had a few ideas what it could be about, but nothing he needed to get in the middle of. That was between him and Sam at this point. “So, have any more plans for Christmas after this?”

A hint of sadness broke though when Kim revealed that she didn’t have any plans this year. “Courtney, Paul, and the rest of the family are taking a trip to Florida, and Savanna is going home to see her family for a few days. Guess I’ll just be stuck by myself”.

“You should come with us!” Jake didn’t even think it through before inviting Kim to go back home with him, to meet his family, for Christmas. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to be alone, and he didn’t want to be the third wheel with Sam and Danny for nine hours there and back. “In the morning we’re driving to Michigan for the weekend. There’s room for you if you want to come”.

“Really?” Her eyes lit up and she reached over to grab onto his shoulder again.

“Yes really, I want you to come” he replied, also placing a hand back on her hip and stepping closer until she leaned her forehead against his. “No one should have to be alone for Christmas, especially not you”.

“Hey! Who was your secret Santa?” Kim asked Savanna when she suddenly reappeared by her side after a while. Kim had a permanent smile on her face for the rest of the night as she watched Jake starting to loosen up and chat with others who congratulated him on their relationship.

“Doesn’t matter anymore” Savanna mumbled, finding herself wishing now that the party would be over soon.

“I can’t believe I got Jake” she dreamily continued off in her own world, meaning both for secret Santa and in general. It seemed just a little while ago she was crushing on the guy she thought was completely out of her reach, and now tonight he’d shown everyone just how far they’d come. She was falling in love and it felt really good.

“Can you imagine” she turned to Savanna again, her own excitement preventing her from seeing the pain in her friend's eyes. “Maybe one day we will be like real sisters!”

“Why would you say that?” Savanna replied, having missed the whole show Jake put on earlier while she was hiding trying to put herself back together after being rejected.

“Well because we’re dating brothers”.

“Sam broke up with me Kim” she reminded her friend with a huff, still fighting back the tears. “Actually, he told me tonight that he and Danny are dating now”.

Kim’s heart started pounding even harder in her chest. Sam and Danny? But she just saw him and Savanna? “Did you just say Sam and Danny are together?”

“Yep” she sighed and crossed her arms, both of them finding the two in question walking over to talk to Jake. “Wonder how long that was going on behind my back”.

Kim watched nervously as Jake said something to Sam who didn’t seem super thrilled about whatever it was. Danny stood back, his hands clasped behind his back as he let the two brothers hash it out. He made eye contact with Kim for a moment then he looked over at Savanna standing next to her and she swore she could see his eyes sharpen.

Now Danny’s reaction to her telling him she had seen Savanna and Sam, his boyfriend, kissing made sense. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut?

Even if she had though, Danny was her friend, could she really keep something like that a secret from him? Now, as she thought about the weekend ahead, she wondered what secrets the three of them shared that she wasn’t sure she was ever meant to be a part of.

@alwaysonthemend @twistedmelodies @heckingfrick @psychedelicsprinkles

#Greta van fic #Greta fan angst #greta van smut #greta van fleet #Jake Kiszka #Sam Kiszka #Danny Wagner #Sanny gvf #Janny gvf #gvf

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