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tachimichishrine · 6 months

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"sap"

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tachihara machizou x fem! hirotsu's daughter! reader

warnings: nsfw ; shower sex ; oral (receiving); masturbation (m); cursing ; bondage; fluff to smut ; idk how to write warnings; unedited ill do that later

being a part of the black lizard had its fun, but some days were boring, like today; tachihara slumped his body against the wall as he stole glances at hirotsu, who seemed just as disinterested.

"cigarette?" the old man offered, placing one in his mouth and lighting it while gunshots rang out in the background. some small rival organization - even rival was a generous word - had "forgotten" to pay back the port mafia. one warning was given and they were told to go fuck themselves, so the black lizard battalion was called. apparently, this organization had some kind of powerful ability users as executives, but whoever they were, they didn't show up for the slaughter.

grunts, low level thugs and anyone else got caught in the crossfire. both mafia members watched the wall of suits fire off enough gunshots to fill up the night sky if bullets were stars.

"i still don't get why we gotta be here for this," tachihara grumbled, taking the offer and placing the plume of smoke to his lips. "seems like they just talk a whole lot of shit."

"it's never wrong to be cautious," the senior member retorted. he puckered his lips and made a ring of grey that floated listlessly in the atmosphere alongside the smell of blood. "the boss specifically warned me about a dangerous woman who could wipe out our troops in one shot."

lips curled around the cigarette, sucked on the nicotine and exhaled pure sarcasm. "yeah, well looks like she's a real pain in our asses."

a few moments passed in silence - or rather, with only white noise echoing in the abandoned warehouse, white noise being a steady stream of gunshots. it was music to both their ears - and surely enough, no one showed up. every thug had enough bullet holes in them to make the notion that a single one survived laughable. tachihara pressed his forearm to the wall and pushed himself off, stretching dramatically with a sigh.

before he could complain again about how lame this mission was, the wall exploded.

not so much an "explosion" as a deformation. it was pushed back, and tachihara barely had the time to react before a giant hole was pierced and a woman came out.

"well, fuck," she glanced at the sea of corpses on the ground, then back at tachihara with a playful smirk. "I guess you're the mafia shithead who I was just told I gotta put down. sucks that I got here late though; if you hadn't killed all my subordinates, I might've let you live, pretty boy."

she looked young, too young to be an executive. despite this, she walked with the kind of confidence that got his skin crawling in anticipation. finally, this night gets more interesting.

he pulled his guns out of their holsters and pointed them straight at her face, mimicking her expression. "you're shit out of luck, lady, 'cause I'm gonna-"

"[_____]?"

hirotsu, who had been briefly blown out of the way, came walking back in with a look of shock on his face. the redhead rolled his eyes; he didn't care whether or not the old man knew this lady, he was going to blow her brains out.

only, as his gaze reverted back onto her, she had the same expression as hirotsu did.

in fact, she was blushing, embarrassed like a schoolgirl who'd gotten caught.

"...dad?!"

what the fuck?

tachihara felt his hands lower a little as he took in the situation, and his eyes just kept darting to his superior, then to his enemy. shellshocked isn't the right word, they were looking at each other like neither had a clue what to say.

"shouldn't you be in school?!"

"dad, since when are you in the fucking mafia?!"

"language!"

the woman dropped her gun, groaning with her face in her hands, muttering to herself. "great, this is great. what the hell?! I knew you did shady business, but I didn't think-"

"is this where your university fund money has gone?" the mafioso's face was red too, from what could only be guessed to be anger mixed in with shame and shock.

"no, I'm still in class, I just... hey, don't distract me, old man. why didn't you tell me you were in the port mafia?"

"why didn't you tell me you were a gangster?!"

"because it's none of your business!"

tachihara's presence grew smaller and smaller as he watched the whole debate happen. it was awkward in a manner he couldn't describe, as he felt not only that he was intruding, but that this was definitely not something he should be listening to. he tucked his guns away, mostly out of respect for hirotsu and the fact that he wasn't about to shoot what appeared to be his daughter.

a few moments later they were hugging.

"sorry dad," she muttered as she pulled away from the embrace. "if I had known, I would've told you..."

"it's alright, but you shouldn't keep things like these from me, [_____]."

sighing, the woman chuckled nervously then promised she wouldn't. she crossed her arms and leaned her back against the deformed wall, then took a look around. she seemed to suddenly notice that tachihara was still there.

"well..." she looked at him then giggled a little, likely embarrassed about the whole situation. "I guess I'm not gonna kill you after all, huh?"

he didn't know what to say, because what is there to say? obviously, this conflict couldn't go anywhere further. thankfully, hirotsu intervened. "what will you tell your superiors?"

"no idea. they just called me to ask me to return to base to protect all of these hopeless fuckers-"

"language."

her eyes rolled. "dad, I'm not 5, I can swear. pretty boy here agrees, don't you, red?"

it took tachihara a moment to realize she was talking about him. once again, his mouth opened but his boss was quicker to respond.

"do you throw yourself at all men like this, [_____]? I thought I raised you better than that."

ignoring his comment with a wave of her hand in the air as though swatting away a fly, she continued. "as I was saying, they just called me. I could technically tell them that I got here too late and the culprits were gone, but I don't think that would bode well with the news that they just lost 90% of their entry-level grunts."

slightly annoyed, the tuffs of grey hair nodded. "you're right, they won't. what's your plan, then?"

a shrug and a pursing of lips. "no clue. you sure I can't just kill red and bring his body to-"

"why don't you just join the port mafia?"

the suggestion came from the one who had barely spoken all night. of course, he didn't think hirotsu would actually let him be used as a scapegoat, but all this banter felt useless. "since your organization is dead in the water anyways. if you just leave, they'll kill you as their final act, but if you join the mafia, you'll have protection."

another shrug. "he's not wrong," she said, "plus, I could just work with you."

hirotsu wanted to protest, but logically, they were both right. despite not wanting his daughter to get involved, he had faith in the mafia like no other member, and was loyal to no ends.

and that's how hirotsu [_____] found herself a member of the black lizard.

her father hated it, of course. the only people who knew they were related was tachihara and gin, the latter picking up on it after a while of noticing them bickering like they had a past.

over time, tachihara got snippets of the story. it seems like at some point, the old man had some sort of relationship with a woman who didn't know he was in the port mafia. time progressed, and they drifted apart. 5 years later, he saw her again with a child's hand in her own.

it was the only time hirotsu had ever requested time off from the mafia.

it was awkward, his former lover telling him that she didn't think he needed to know about it because she wanted to raise the child herself. however, that's not the kind of man he was, let alone the kind of man he'd ever been. it started by asking her name, then he wanted to be properly introduced to her. after a few years, he would have coffee with his partially estranged daughter every other month. he often sent money, which was never used out of pride. when [_____] decided to pursue her studies, she found the stash of cash her mother had been hiding and decided she didn't care for pride. apparently, she was jumped when getting home after a long day of lectures, and her use of her ability got people talking. before she knew it, she was being recruited to the underground for enough money to set her for life.

it took several years for her relationship with hirotsu to improve, but there seemed to be some kind of mutual respect between father and daughter.

not in the mafia.

"dad, I'm not going to do something just because you-"

"I'm your superior, [_____], you can't give me attitude like a teenager. and don't call me dad in these settings."

tachihara thought it was funny. she seemed to like innocently getting on her dad's nerves, and she often used him to do it. she'd get bold some nights and flirt with him right in front of the old man's face. tachihara would feel guilty if he didn't think it was fucking hilarious.

on this particular evening, she didn't seem to have anything better to do than pester him and do her absolute best to get on his nerves.

"so you're saying you've never seen him drunk? not even once?" she giggled, sitting on the table as he tried to write his report for their last mission. her feet were swinging and the table would shake with every swing of her legs, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.

"no, look, can you just shut the fuck up for a second so I can write this?" he nearly snapped the pencil in half. her smirk only grew at the sight of him being frustrated. "do you really have nothing better to do with your time?"

"nahh." her chest vibrated with a playful chuckle. she tilted her head at him, then slammed her hand onto the pile of papers he was trying to fill in. "this is lame, paperwork isn't for our kind. c'mon, don't tell me this isn't boring you out of your mind, red. let's go do something else."

one fleeting thought of 'fuck it', and suddenly they were at a bar, downing shots like they were on a mission.

"I bet... you couldn't handle 3 more," she slurred, liquid swirling around dangerously close to the rim of the glass, threatening to spill over. somehow, her shit eating grin was unaffected by the liquor; if anything, she'd gotten worse. her fingers would settle on his thighs grip too tight and too far up, the tips of her shoes would play footsie with him, and she straight-up tried to kiss him a few times. she couldn't handle her drinks very well, and he had only now realized what a stupid decision it was to take her up on her offer.

"that's enough for the whole month, [_____]," he rolled his eyes with his signature scoff, and grabbed her wrist to push it away from where she was teasing at. "you need to go home."

"are you finally gonna take me home, pretty boy?" she tried to lean in again, and he scooted backwards. flirting with his boss' daughter for fun was one thing, but something about her demeanor tonight seemed serious. he just hoped she was too drunk to remember the blush dusting his cheekbones.

"I am going to call you a cab." he enunciated every word clearly so she understood it, but as soon as his hand reached into his pocket, she placed hers on top to stop him.

the look in her eyes looked completely sober.

"I'm serious," she whispered, and he could practically feel her gaze on his lips. her eyes darted back up to his own, but before she could say something else that would confuse him further, she seemed to realize her words and her entire face flushed a deeper colour.

she stammered something incomprehensible, threw way too much cash onto the table and walked (if you can call it that) outside. tachihara didn't know what to do, so he just watched her go. she'll probably be fine. probably.

he didn't know why his face felt so hot and his cheeks hurt from a subtle smile.

weeks later, and they'd made a tradition of skipping out on reports to go do something, anything except what they were supposed to do. walking along abandoned streets at night in hopes of picking up a fight, or going to a bar and picking someone for the other to take in a fistfight. a lot of it involved fighting. all of it, really. they'd show up to work the next day littered in matching bruises, and hirotsu's face would glow red and he'd have to excuse himself. giggling like children who knew exactly what they were doing.

tonight, tachihara got knocked out by a man twice his size, and it took her using her ability to get him to back off her partner in crime. she dragged him to her apartment to put some ice on it.

"that was really funny," she teased, tossing him a bag of assorted frozen items to place on his temple, which took the brunt of it. "I though you were really a goner for a second, there."

"ha, ha." the sarcasm was dry, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the thrill of seeing his life flash before his eyes. "I would've liked to see you try."

"an ambulance had to pick up the guy after I was done with him," she retorted, sitting on the sofa next to him with her feet up on the armrest. "actually, I've been meaning to ask you something."

a sigh in response. he took off the frozen bag from his skin and set it on the table, then looked at her. she winced.

"that's gonna need stitches, tachi," she remarked, then thought for a little bit. "I have glue somewhere, we can use that for now then have the port mafia medic fix it tomorrow, yeah?"

she didn't wait for a response, disappeared and reappeared after a string of curses thrown at herself for not being organized enough to know where she puts things. she had what was possibly medical glue but also possibly craft glue in her hands, and she glared at him. "lay down, dr. [_____] is here to save the day."

he quirked up a brow, then quickly relaxed his face after realizing the pain that was brought on by doing that. "weren't you drunk earlier tonight?"

"greatness knows not the bounds of liquor."

"what the fuck does that mean?"

she only giggled, then sat next to his head as she pinched together the skin and tried to apply the glue. her hands were shaking and it was clear she had no idea what she was doing, but tachihara prayed she was doing more good than harm. although, who knows.

"ow, ow, take it fucking easy," he grit his teeth together as she manhandled his injury. he could've sworn he saw her grinning at his pain.

"calm down princess, I'm done," she raised her hands in a sign of innocence, then took a closer look at her work.

tachihara watched in slow motion as her gaze moved further and further up his face.

"is... is your hair dyed?"

the room went dead silent. he had no idea what to respond, and for the first time since he joined the mafia, he felt stupid for letting his guard down. how did he forget to retouch his roots and then let someone get so close? how-

"you'd look really cute with black hair."

...what?

"that's your natural hair colour, right?" she kept going, raking her fingertips through his hair. "man, I feel lied to, I called you red for so long. why'd you dye it?"

"because I fuckin' felt like it," he grumbled out, having no other response. he felt such relief when she just giggled to his answer.

"fair enough. red was definitely the right colour, though. you'd look like shit if you went blonde."

he was so glad she let it go. he tried to sit upright, his head still throbbing from the pain, but she just looked at him curiously.

"I'll get you another mystery frozen item from the freezer," she laughed, getting up and rummaging through her kitchen. even with her face in the door of the fridge, she spoke, "I still haven't asked you my question from before, by the way. I just wanted to know how you got into the mafia."

out of one tight situation and into another.

he considered it; he considered it long and hard, way before she'd ever even asked the question. most of the time, if anyone asks, he'd just say it was none of their business. but he couldn't get away with that kind of response with her.

so, he told the truth.

"my... my brother joined the army during the great war. I just... I hated being compared to him by my family, so I wanted to get as far away as possible from his path, and ended up at the mafia. nothing much to it."

at least, part of the truth.

she pulled her face out of the fridge, looking at his expression for a moment. she tossed him another frozen bag and quickly sat back at his side.

"that sucks. was dying your hair also part of your rebellious phase?"

his nostrils flared at her teasing and he rolled his eyes, barely holding back a grin. "shut up."

laughing, she moved her body closer to his and put a hand on his delicately. "seriously, though, sorry to hear that your family didn't treat you right. I mean... I don't have that with my parents, but I know that it's tough being compared with someone else. but I don't know how that would apply to you. you're literally who I wanted to grow up to be."

he put down the ice pack because clearly it was affecting his hearing.

"like... I dunno. you're a badass who doesn't take shit from anybody. I mean, sure, you get your ass handed to you in bar fights and you don't have an ability, but so what? dad respects you, and so do I. not really sure how your brother compares to that."

this time, there wasn't anything to hide the stupid expression on his face. he just looked at her blankly like he'd never received a compliment in his life, which made her laugh even more.

"man, you really do have self-esteem issues, dontcha? if I had known you couldn't handle compliments, I would've said this ages ago. anyways," she got up, again, and stretched out her back, "don't worry about it, let's pretend that conversation ended there. so, are we dying your hair at your place or mine? because I don't have any dye and the store closes soon if we're gonna go buy some."

his mind could barely keep up with the way she was jumping from topic to topic. in the end, he just pushed his confession and her response to the back of his mind, and got up as well with a shrug. "my place, then. but you don't need to-"

"nonsense! I've been wanting to try to dye someone else's hair forever. plus, you're my partner in crime, I can't let anyone see that you're a big fat liar of a redhead."

her laugh felt so comforting to him. he felt like he was floating out of her apartment, out onto the street and all the way back to his own. his mind was just a blur (maybe it was from a concussion from the blow?) and in no time, he found himself sitting down with his head in between her thighs, gloved fingers massaging his scalp.

"okay, so the instructions say to rinse off and you're good!" she beamed, looking at her work proudly. "no need to thank me, by the way. despite my professional work, this one's on the house."

he chuckled, getting up and being careful not to get anything to touch the stained hair. "fine, then I won't thank you. I could've done this myself too, but you insisted, so if anything I should be charging you money."

shaking her head aggressively, she placed a finger on his lips while attempting to look solemn. "in that case, let us never speak of this again."

a few more minutes, and he was in the shower, the excess red streaming down from the water and making a puddle at his feet. she kept talking to him, loudly, from the other side of the door.

"how's it going so far?"

"it's almost all out, just be patient, damn," he laughed back, the final bits of red coming out of his hair until all the water that went through his hair came out clear. he turned off the faucet, and the stream stopped. he had barely dried his hair and wrapped a towel around his hips before he saw the door open.

"[_____], what the fuck-"

"sh, I want to see how it came out," she strolled right up to him and grabbed his face with one hand, tilting it in different directions to see all angles of his wet hair. as if he wasn't nearly naked right now. as if this was perfectly normal. "it looks good, but it's still wet so the colour doesn't show fully yet, right?"

he grabbed her hand and pulled it off of his face, looking at her seriously. "[_____], don't play dumb, you-"

"... saw an opportunity to see you shirtless, and I took it," she shot him a grin. then she suddenly seemed to get a little sad as she shook her head. "sorry, that isn't funny. um... I'll wait outside."

he watched her walk out just as quickly as she walked in. he slipped on his clothes quickly, then walked out to go find her standing at the entrance, putting on her shoes. ready to leave.

"hey, what are you..."

she cut him off, not even maintaining eye contact as she slipped her heel downwards and tied up the shoelaces. "look, tachi, I'm sorry. I just get excited sometimes and forget you don't feel the same way."

"what the fuck do you mean, don't feel the same way?"

now, her gaze met his. she looked confused. "I told you, weeks ago, that I was serious about the flirting. I even tried to kiss you, and kept dodging, so I got the message. it's fine, I get it. boss' daughter, or maybe I'm just not your type or whatever, but it's okay. I don't mind, I'm getting over it."

"holy fuck, [_____], you were drunk when you said that and I thought you were..."

he couldn't finish his thought. it was hard not to notice the hope in her eyes as she seemed to realize that he hadn't actually said no yet.

so, he said yes.

she kicked off her shoes hastily as his hands went to her waist and he pushed her back against the wall, lips eagerly devouring hers. her head slammed backwards, but her hips were pushed forwards to meet his own. her hands on his chest; one of his on her waist while the other secured itself at the base of her neck, pulling her in closer.

it was hot sweaty and fast, and they ended up back in the shower. he didn't expect her hands to roam the way they did, but she'd managed to have his entire chest coated in her touch before they even made it inside.

she murmured his name into his lips, and he responded by biting her lower lip harder. her fingertips were now on his back, his tight frame feeling warm and so right as it grinded on hers. her thigh went up to his side, and tachihara realized just how much she wanted him. fuck. he couldn't believe he waited so long for this for no reason.

he dropped down to his knees. as soon as she saw him look up, her thighs clenched together and he could feel them shaking in anticipation. he threw one leg over his shoulder and his breath barely hit her pussy before he was eating her out like a man starved.

and she was so damn loud. every flick of his tongue on her clit, every time he sucked on her lips, every thrust of his fingers inside of her, she seemed to get more vocal. at first, it was just curses, mumbling fuck like it was the only word left in her vocabulary. then his name. he'd never heard her say it like that before; she'd called him tachi sometimes, but never michizou. just the sound had him dragging his free hand from her ass down to his erection, palming himself as she kept moaning out for him. it was worse when she'd roll out the praises. fuck you feel so good... michizou, hngg... fuck keep doing it like that, you're so perfect... and she'd gasp as he sucked on her needy pussy and tell him how perfect he felt inside of her all over again.

he couldn't even handle getting her to climax before he lost control. his face was still buried between her legs, but he couldn't concentrate on the way her hips would grind on his face anymore. he needed relief and he needed it fast. she glanced down to find him pounding himself, and her hand at the back of his head gripped down on his hair and yanked him upwards. back on his feet, she brought his lips back to her own before briefly pulling away, spitting in her hand and taking his cock in it.

his forehead was pressed up against hers, but he was having trouble maintaining the kiss through broken moans and grunts. he'd try to bite his lower lip to muffle a whimper, but every time he did, she would just pump him harder until it was impossible to muffle the sounds he was making. every scream from his lips drove her pace to the next gear until he was coming undone under the soft drizzle of hot water droplets, washing down his cum from her stomach.

she took it slower, gentler as he felt so fucking raw from falling apart so fast under her touch. she let go of him and placed his cock between her thighs and pressed them together, letting him rock his hips and fuck them as she kisses him again. her lips get rougher, as she goes from peppering his jawline with love to nibbling on his earlobe to piercing his skin and leaving marks on his neck that won't go away anytime soon. he arcs his neck backwards, tilting his chin upwards to give her better access as she gets greedier and greedier, taste of his flesh intoxicating her.

"michizou..." she sighed into his skin, then brought his face back up to her level, one hand in his hair and the other positioned on his abdomen as her thighs are glistening from the hot water vapor of the shower, her arousal trickling down and the pre-cum already leaking out his tip. "fuck, michizou, your body... you're so gorgeous, I just want to wreck you until you forget your own fucking name." her words weren't particularly sultry or pretty, but the way she was murmuring it into another kiss got him hard all over again.

"baby, can we... bedroom..." the ask barely left her lips before his hands went onto her hips, lifting her up a little bit as they stumbled out of the shower, barely wiped themselves dry with the towels and connected their mouths again as he pulled her to his room. she backed him inside then pushed his shoulders, his back bouncing on the mattress as he realized this was the first time he was seeing her, fully bare in front of him, in his bedroom. just the sight of her perky tits and curves got saliva pooling under his tongue and eyes scanning her hungrily.

she turned her head around, looking in his room for a few moments before opening drawers and boxes like she was in a hurry to locate something. he shot her a look.

"[_____], what are you..."

she pulled out two belts from a drawer with a grin on her lips.

fuck.

she murmured something about not needing to do this if he didn't want to as she climbed on top of him and kissed him gently, but he just rutted his hips upwards in a desperate motion to show her just how much he wanted her.

in one motion, his wrists were tied together with the first belt and pinned above his head. in another, he was biting down on worn leather and a makeshift gag was soaking up all the drool he couldn't control. that was the point: he couldn't control anything. and it felt so fucking amazing.

she kept stealing glances at him as she checked to make sure he was still on board, and when he gave her a slow nod, she flipped him onto his stomach and secured his hips under her own, legs spread out over his ass.

with only her hips, she pushed him downwards so that his dick pushed up against the sheets and the mattress. she knew it wasn't enough to do anything but edge him until he went mad, and no matter how much the bed was shaking and the frame was creaking, it wouldn't be as good as what he felt fucking her thighs. but the view was so damn pretty: his face drowning messily in the sheets, mouth gagged and wrists tied together. she grabbed a handful of his wet hair and yanked him back as she grinded slowly on his ass, dripping lustfully onto him.

it was fun edging him, but the muffled whimpers signaled he was desperate. giving into his desires, she plunged her hand between his parted legs and gripped onto his cock which was humping the mattress. she just held him with a hard grip, and he did all the work for himself, thrusting his hips as well as he could while pinned down by her weight and restrained. tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes. he wanted to tell her how badly he needed her, but the damn gag was turning his pleas into muffled whimpers and moans.

she finally let him out from under her body and flipped him onto his back, but not before stealing in a smack on his ass, which was now coated in her pussy's tears.

"want me to fuck you, baby?" she murmured with a smirk, leaning down to let her lips brush up against the shell of his ear. "is that what you wanna say?"

he nodded hastily, no more shame as now the only thing he could feel was the need for her tight pussy around him. she loosened the gag, then slid it off of his mouth in order to kiss him again. "I wanna hear you. I wanna hear your pretty voice telling me how good I'm fucking your cock, yeah? can you do that for me, michi?"

he couldn't even respond as she lowered herself onto him and dragged a long moan from deep within his lungs, which were on fire. he could barely breathe, he could barely think. all he could do was what she told him and jut his hips upwards to hit her as deep as possible. all the control she had and she couldn't help but curl her toes and dig her fingernails into his shoulders as he screamed out her name and groaned with every thrust. his eyes squeezed shut as he let the feeling wash over him, but they didn't stay that way for long as they locked onto her tits, which were bouncing up and down with her on him, not to mention her face was hot and her hair was still wet from the shower.

it was too much, too fast, despite the slow build up she forced him to endure, suddenly he found himself choking as he tried to tell her that he was close. she was first; walls collapsed around him and she exhaled a thready verse of his name. she finally let him pull out at the last minute, and he came all over himself, stomach coated in the warm sticky liquid. her chest rose and fell with every heavy breath as she watched him, then unfastened the restraints around his wrists.

he wiped his stomach clean with one of the sheets and tossed it somewhere in the corner, a problem for tomorrow, then slipped under the rest of them.

she shot him a hesitant look. "do you want... can I stay?"

he grabbed her wrist and pulled her body onto his, then pressed a lazy kiss on her forehead. "always."

"sap," she teased, snuggling into his warmth and wrapping her arms around his waist. "my dad is gonna go fucking feral when he hears about this."

a gentle chuckle. "isn't that what you've been tryin' to do ever since day 1?"

"shut up, sap," she grumbled into his chest, eyes fluttering shut as she remembers his hair then fluffs it. she craned her neck upwards to get a better look, and smiled softly. "the dye turned out well."

"next time, I'll let the colour grow out," he whispered, dreamy amber eyes looking at her through low eyelids, "since you said it would look cute."

"sap!" she cried out again dramatically, then kissed him slowly again before looking at his face again. "I really did mean it, by the way. when I said that you're perfect to me."

he blushed; somehow, that was what brought the most colour to his face all night. still, he was without a response. he just slid his fingers up her back and pulled her closer. he buried his nose in the top of her head before he thought of a response. "sap."

"shut up."

they giggled and fell asleep in a world where everything was right.

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harringroveera · 8 months

Text

“We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington!”

“Yeah, eat it, Harrington.”

Steve pushed his sunglasses over his head, staring at the guy in front of him, with golden curls under the dim light of the room, beers dripping down his bare chest and stomach, making his skin glisten.

Billy Hargrove was his name, and he only knew it because he’d overheard it from Tina and Vickie when they were talking about his ass.

Blue eyes looked back at him, and Steve swallowed, tipping his chin up to exert confidence.

“Is that so?”

“Unless you wanna go against him,” Tommy quipped, egging him on further.

“So this is the King Steve everyone’s been talking so much about,” Hargrove said, taking a step forward. “I expected someone better looking at least.”

He widened his eyes, his lips parting in pure shock as Hargrove smirked at him, like the cocky asshole he was.

“And who is this?” His eyes darted away to Steve’s right side, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. “Why the long face?”

Before Steve could register what was going on—he could barely even react—Hargrove crossed the little space in the room, grabbing Nancy by the face, and he kissed her.

Steve’s stomach dropped at the sight, of Nancy clutching at Hargrove’s jacket, her nails digging into the leather. She didn’t push back, and Hargrove didn’t pull away.

And there Steve was, standing frozen on the spot like a stupid statue, watching some new guy kiss his girlfriend. Like an idiot.

The moment they broke away from each other, Steve finally found his voice to speak up about whatever had just happened.

“That’s my fucking girlfriend,” he murmured. “What the fuck, Hargrove?”

“Oh, shit,” Hargrove said, turning to him with the corner of his lips turning up. “Sorry, man, guess I gotta make it even now.”

He flattened his hand on Steve’s chest, shoving him against the wooden surface, before he kissed him.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement, and to say he didn’t enjoy it would be a complete lie.

Hargrove’s lips were soft against his, and wet, tasting of beer and smoke. Their mouths slotted together, and Steve found himself moving on his own, returning the kiss with the same passion Hargrove put into it.

No wonder Nancy didn’t push him away, because Hargrove kissed like a god, like he wanted to drink down the sound Steve made and consume him whole. It felt almost too forbidden for him to want more of it.

He splayed his hands on Hargrove’s sternum, feeling his damp and warm skin underneath his fingers, gliding them up to the curls of his hair and tugging at them, dragging out a low groan from the other guy.

The music was still blasting in the house, and he could hear the faint sound of surprise from some people around him, but he truly could care less. All he wanted was to kiss Hargrove.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispered against his lips when Hargrove pulled away, attempting to break off the kiss.

“Just taking a breath, Harrington. Don’t intend on stopping any time now.”

The smirk was sly, almost predatory, and Steve claimed his lips in another kiss. Deeper this time, with tongue, and he could taste Hargrove more clearly, feel his body flushing against him more warmly.

Hargrove’s hands were sliding down his sides, pulling at the belt of his jeans to haul him closer. The kiss was fervent and hot, stirring something in the pit of his stomach, and Steve did nothing but keep Hargrove close to him.

He didn’t want to let him go, or to end what was going on, which surprised him, to put it mildly.

Well, until something shattered loudly, and Steve finally yanked himself away from Hargrove’s incredibly tempting lips.

It was just some guy, apparently, who broke a precious vase in Tina’s kitchen, now listening to her scolding while he wiped his hands on the white cloth he was wearing, burping out a drunken sound instead of apologizing.

He looked back at Hargrove, at the pair of blue eyes that were fixed on him, at his swollen lips, and he was very aware of how Hargrove’s hands were still on his waist.

Of course, once he reeled back into reality, he remembered what had happened, and who was here.

He turned to look at Nancy, who was staring directly at them with her mouth slack and her eyes widening. The look of betrayal painted her face.

“Nance,” he uttered. “Nancy, wait, I can explain. I didn’t—”

“You know what?” Nancy held her hands up in the air, shutting him up instantly. “Have him, Hargrove.”

“What?”

“Yeah, take him, whatever. I don’t care. You look better together anyway.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Hargrove said. “You’re giving me your boyfriend?”

“Why not? Seems like you two get along well, especially with that kiss,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “And I will go get drunk. Have fun.”

When she turned on her heels and walked away, Steve looked back at Hargrove with a scoff.

“Did she just break up with me?”

“You did kiss me, Harrington.”

“You kissed her first! And she liked it!”

“What? Are you saying you didn’t?”

His words faltered in his mind, and he gulped. “I…did not say that.”

“Good, I was hoping for that answer,” Hargrove said, cocking his head to the side. “Wanna go to the bathroom and finish what we were doing?”

“What? Now?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

Hargrove withdrew his hands from his waist, and Steve frowned. He looked around the room, and no one was paying attention to them at all. Even Nancy was standing in the kitchen, chugging down the alcohol while Byers talked to her.

His heart drummed in his chest, and Hargrove was still waiting for him, patiently, with that damned smirk on his face, like he already knew what Steve was going to do.

He groaned, grabbing Hargrove by the wrist. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

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totallynotlx · 7 months

Text

Benefactor

A/N: In honor of my precious, beloved boys. You both deserved the world but they did you so wrong. Also yes, I hurt myself writing this thankssssss

Tags: Dad!Gojo Agenda, a bit of fluff I guess?, Hurt / No Comfort coz I am hurting rn

Word Count: 745

Benefactor

It's the word that Megumi would always associate Gojo with. He wasn't particularly fond of the man, but he doesn't despise him either... not always anyway. He owes him that much, at least. The man had no business adopting two kids when he was just sixteen. But he did it. Sure, he wasn't the perfect role model, but he remembers how much he cared for them.

He made the effort to celebrate his and Tsumiki's birthdays the first year he took them in. Christmas was extravagant, too. That's where Megumi discovered his disgusting addiction to sweets. The table was full of it. Some of which he and Tsumiki haven't tried before. Tsumiki was ecstatic, with bits of icing on her cheek as she ate, while Megumi was more content with the peppermint candy canes. He also made sure they had presents.

When school came around, Gojo took care of everything. He was still too young to enter Jujutsu High, so he ensured they had a proper education. He made sure they had everything, from their needs to their wants.

"He's weird. But he's not a bad adult." He remembers Tsumiki's words all those years ago after Gojo took them in. Megumi would argue that she shouldn't be too trusting since it may still be a political ploy, but it never happened.

Gojo genuinely did care for them. He made Tsumiki laugh. When he found out they comforted him, he gave Megumi stuffed animals that resembled his curse techniques. He vaguely remembers him tucking them both to bed when they fell asleep on the couch. He made sure they had a roof over their heads. He ensured Megumi pursued his other interests that didn't revolve around jujutsu sorcery. And even though Megumi was mature for his age, he tried his best to give him a sense of a normal childhood. Even when he became such a rebellious teen, Gojo was there, always patient with the same stupid grin. He didn't reprimand him as Tsumiki did, but he tried to guide him in his own way. The training sessions would be longer, harder even, but he never shouted at him, was never mad at him, or was never frustrated with him.

"You have the potential to be on par with me, Megumi." Gojo's words echoed in his mind, crystal clear. "So you gotta keep a level head."

Thoughts began to swirl endlessly in his clouded mind as the memory faded. It was like almost seeing a ghost, always flitting through, never materializing. Images came and went like his own shallow breathing. It was getting harder to breathe. His chest felt like it was getting constricted by some unknown force, and he felt hot all over.

He recognizes the sensation. Pain.

Subconsciously, Megumi grits his teeth, his nails digging into the inside of his palm. The dull sensation becomes more and more apparent with each second. His head was throbbing, and his vision blurred for a moment.

Take a good look, brat.

The voice that invaded his mind was unwelcome and brash. Slowly, the darkness morphs into a blurry scenery, like his eyes are camera lenses trying to focus on a subject. And that subject is at his feet.

He can make out the gray concrete now, rough and cracked as someone laid down on it.

Why is someone lying on the concrete?

Megumi hears a sharp intake of breath, eyes trying their best to focus on the source of the sound. Red liquid pooled on the ground. Blood. That's when he notices a familiar white tousled hair. Albeit he doesn't see it often, he grew up seeing him casually wearing his hair down around both of them siblings. His senses were sharper now. His vision finally focuses on the figure on the ground.

Benefactor.

It's that one word that Megumi would always use to describe Gojo to everyone if asked about their relationship. But right now, he can barely remember the word.

"Gojo-sensei..?" His words were a mere whisper. Gojo only blinks away the tears in his eyes in response, eyes slowly losing their luminescent blue luster. Warm streaks drip down from Megumi's eyes. Tears.

"Dad?"

A faint smile appears on Gojo's lips, and with one final blink, he loses the life behind those signature blue eyes of his, and silence descends upon them both. It was a grief so great that Megumi could only stand there in silence, mourning the only father he ever knew.

Inspired by this tweet that shared this very hurtful tiktok :')

#gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #fushigojo family #fushigojo #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #my prompts #﹒◌﹒benefactor﹒✧﹒#i cried while writing this #gege when i catch you gege #my beloved boys deserved so much more #jjk angst #jjk drabbles #jjk spoilers

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caffeinatedrogue · 1 year

Text

it all started with my headcanon of Vincent being good at pool and teaching Kerry, hence having to eject it from my brain in some form,

...then I got sentimental about lore BIG TIME so I did something unthinkable and I ....wrote :tm: !!! 100% forgetting that I am no native speaker and I can't write for shit so venture forth at your own risk (fluff, it's fluff, andthere's a funny pic at the end)

Curved over the green woolen surface, his brow furrowed in concentration, V. held his breath - then arm and cue moved in a smooth stroke. The white ball hit its target with a sharp ‘knock’, sending the 8-ball rolling straight into the pocket. Nice. He didn’t have the time to smile however, as a frustrated exclamation came from somewhere behind him.

“Ugh…goddamnit!” Perched upon his stool, Kerry smacked his thighs in a show of disappointment. “Looks like I’m gonna have to pay for yet another round. Fuckin’ awesome, really.”

Vincent, still hunched over the table, quickly turned in worry - only to see that the man was actually amused, a cheeky grin upon his face. Relieved but still trying his best not to look too chuffed about having landed the winning shot he straightened up and did a little stretch before fetching the glass he’d left on the table rail.

“Whev, you almost had me. For a second I thought I had really hurt your pride”. He gave Kerry a little wink and took a sip of whiskey. “Gotta say, you put up a fight this round”.

“Well, I’ve got a very good teacher…and he’s quite the looker, too.” Kerry hopped off his seat and walked up to him. “But seriously, how come you’re this fuckin’ good at it?’’

Vincent gestured at the other tables. “See for yourself. Take a look around and watch who else is playing.’’

Kerry craned his neck. He had not given the other customers much thought until that moment, but now he could see it - little groups of youngsters in dusty leathers and bomber jackets were gathered all around, chattering and having a pint - some of them bearing Aldecaldos patches.

“Riiiight. Nomads. Heh, makes sense. Guess you had many a night like this.”

Leaning against the wooden edge of the table, V slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it.

“Yep”, he said between puffs of smoke. “This is pretty much the best you can find in terms of nightlife, if you’re not from the big cities. Booze is decent, people are nice save from the occasional fight, and you get to wind down away from camp after a hard day of work”.

He looked down into the glass as he spoke, swirling his whiskey. Kerry could see something - nostalgia, or something else? - suddenly cloud his eyes, lost in distances only V.’s mind could see. It only lasted a moment before he snapped out of it, quickly turning his gaze back on Ker.

“Anyway that’s the secret: hundreds of matches - half of those, I played drunk as a skunk.” he quipped with a little smile, wrapping his arms around Kerry’s waist. Then his voice turned soft. “Though for city folks this kind of thing must grow old very quickly, I guess. I hope you’re not…well, bored?” It was there that it truly hit Kerry - those nights were not only about leaving the City and all its weight behind for a few hours, looking for something different - letting their hair down at some roadside bar where nobody gave them a second look or cared about who was who. Him - he could simply drive around NC and have a tale to tell for every corner of it: crashing the car with Johnny, playing this or that gig, hell, even where his favorite record store in the 30s used to be. Meanwhile, severed from it, all Vincent had to show for his past were an old car and a bunch of sun-faded pictures on the wall near his bed. A night on a highway across the Badlands was as close as V. could get to showing him something of it, a semblance of his world and the places he’d loved, or what his life had been like: in short, who he was. And hoping Kerry would like it - would like him as he truly was, with his lack of frills and sophistication, one who found joy in the little things. A bittersweet act of vulnerability: those nights together - he’d be cherishing them even more now, Ker thought, pressing himself against V. He nuzzled his neck, kissing one of the roses inked on his skin. “Not a chance. ‘Sides, even an empty room could be my favorite place, if it had you in it. But now…” he looked up at V mischievously, playing with the bullet pendant on his neck. “...I was thinking you could give me a few more pointers, y’know. Not quite sure my grip is quite right yet… and my uh… posture…”. Kerry stepped backwards, tugging flirtatiously at the neck of V's shirt while he did so. “Gotta get good, so you can stop missing easy shots to make me feel better.”.

Vincent’s eyes widened. “I don’t –” “Yes, you do. And it’s goddamn sweet, you gonk.”

His gaze never leaving Vincent’s, he retrieved the cue stick he’d abandoned against the stool, then slowly made his way back to the table and curved over it right next to V, playful eyes looking up to him from over his shoulder, his smirk an invitation.

“So, whatcha waiting for?”

The merc put down his glass. A moment later he was behind him, and Kerry welcomed the feeling of V’s chest pressed against his back, of his hand on his waist pulling him back. Nothing in Night City, hell nothing in the world could ever come close to the way he made him feel just standing next to him: transformed, new, fearless, alive with feelings he had no names or words for yet. He shivered: V’s breath caressed his neck as he whispered in his ear.

“Farther from the table. Find your footing, you gotta distribute your weight. And… bend down lower, sunshine.”

if you made it to here ty T_T and have a bonus pic that shows another reason why Kerry enjoys pool so much (sorry but the inherent homoeroticism of it compelled me ok)

#kerry eurodyne #kerry x v #kerry x masc v #cyberpunk 2077 #art tag #cringe but free my psychologist is gonna be so proud of me for doing stuff I can't do and just yeeting it out #oc: v for vincent

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Nightlife 17

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, touching, coercion, manipulation, violence. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Part of The Club AU

You sit on your knees before the open drawer. Lee was nice enough to clear out half the dresser for you. It plucks at your guilt. He’s been so nice and supportive and all you’ve done is mope. It’s been a long day; moving out, your father…

You can’t wait to get everything away so you can just lay down with Hickory. That’s all you have left. Those little moment where you can’t forget about how you’ve fucked everything up.

Lee startles you as he enters, another bag in hand.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he winks at you, “got your toothbrush and all that away. Nice little place next to mine.”

“Oh, thanks,” you say as you fold a pair of corduroys and tuck them into the drawer.

“Found some more of your stuff,” he drops the tote, it’s the one he packed. Mostly panties and your extra bra. “Here, let me help.”

He grabs the top of the dresser and grunts as he lowers himself down next to you. He slaps his belly with a laugh as he settles in and drags the bag closer. You hear several cracks from his joints.

“My old bones,” he kids and nudges you with his arm, plucking out a pair of your panties, “ain’t these cute?”

“Lee,” you chide and try to grab the underwear. He is obsessed. “Stop.”

“What? I can’t help it. I just think of you in them and I get… excited.”

You hum and say nothing, folding a cardigan neatly.

“What’s wrong? We gon’ be married soon. And we already done enough,” he says, “you don’t gotta be shy like a nun.”

“I know, it’s just… new to me.”

“I know, darlin’, and I ain’t rushed you, have I? We’ll wait till you’re in white to… do all that,” he stacks your panties flat on top of each other and lays them in the top drawer, reaching up above his head and sliding it shut. “Don’t mean we can’t have fun before that.”

“I’m sorry,” you continue to put clothes into the drawer, “I’m tired… sad.”

“Why you sad?” He slings his arm around you as he gets close.

“My dad…”

“Ah, little thing, “don’t be sad about him. He doesn’t deserve that. He didn’t care one bit about you being happy. No real man would treat you like that.”

You nod, sucking in your lip. You’re overwhelmed by everything. The disbelief of your life’s disassembly and the scalding of your father’s dejection. You hang your head and shove one bag in the other, all your clothes away.

You shut the drawer and sit back on your heel. Lee leans into you and kisses the side of your head.

“Darlin’,” he reaches to touch your chin, turning your head towards him, “you know I love ya, right?”

You wince. You take a breath and swallow.

“Love?”

He smiles and it falls in an instant, “you love me too, don’t ya?”

You chew your lip. You didn’t think about it. He’s nice and he’s done so much for you but it’s only been a few months. Just over two.

“I’ve never been in love before,” you say, a truth that isn’t a denial, “I guess it’s all just new to me.”

“Aw,” he cups your chin and kisses your lips. You let him.

He pulls you to him as he angles his body towards yours. He squeezes you tight as he pokes his tongue into your mouth. You let him control you. He brings you down onto him as he lays back and you rest on the mound of his stomach. He parts, looking up at you, breathless.

“You’re perfect, blossom, and I just can’t get enough,” he growls as his hand trails down to grope your ass. “I’m gonna be so good to you, and you’re gonna be my perfect little wife, ain’t ya?”

Your heart aches. You can’t let another person down. You just want one person to be proud of you.

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“Ah,” he twitches and caresses your cheek, “I got you something…”

“You did?” You bat your lashes.

“Go on, get up,” he squeezes your shoulder, “let me go get it.”

You climb off of him and he hauls himself up with effort. You get to your feet as he goes to the closet and you snatch up the empty bags to hide them in the chair in the corner. He turns back to you and holds a small gift bag.

“What’s that for?” You ask.

“A housewarming. Welcome home,” he nears and hands you the bag, “will you put it on for me?”

You peek inside. White satin. You flick your eyes back up and nod with a sheepish smile, “thank you.”

You let the bag hang from your hand and leave him. You go into the bathroom and close the door. You dig in the bag and take out the silky white camisole nightgown. It has lace around the neckline and hem. It’s very short.

You hesitate to take your own clothes off. It’s too nice for you. But he went and got it and you’d hate to disappoint him. The one person you haven’t let down yet.

You strip and pull on the satin nightie. It’s shorter than you expect. If you lean forward, your panties peek out. And the front, you can see your nipples poking against the sleek fabric. Eek.

“Honey?” Lee calls from outside.

“Coming,” you reply without thinking, shaken by his timbre.

You leave the empty bag and your clothes on the counter. You slowly open the door and peer down the short hallway. You see his shadow cast in the yellow light of the lamp.

You tiptoe down to the door and poke your head inside. You give a shy smile.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, I wanna see,” he sits on the bed, legs wide as he rests his hands on his thighs.

“Alright,” you give in without much resistance.

You step into the room and close your eyes, too shy to face his judgment. Silence. You squirm and peek out beneath your lashes. His mouth his open as he stares at you. He whistles.

“You’re gorgeous, blossom, absolutely… breathtakin’,” he snarls as he squeezes his thighs, “come on and give me a kiss.”

You feel bubbly. No one’s ever looked at you like that. You go to him and put your hands on his shoulders. You lean in and give him a kiss. He purrs and his fingertips tickle your bare thighs. He lets them wander up and presses against your panties. He hooks his fingers into them and tugs them as he pulls his mouth away and tuts.

“None of that,” he shoves them until they fall to your feet.

You gasp and steady yourself, hands still on his shoulders.

“Mmm, come on, give me a twirl,” he drags his hands up, lifting the fabric slightly before glossing over it to your hips, putting you back an inch.

You jitter and spin, catching the hem before it gets too high. He growls and the bed creaks. He stands as he lets out a long breath. He rubs his round stomach and drags his hand over his chest.

“Come ‘ere,” he offers a hand.

You take it, unsure. He turns and guides you towards the bed. You gulp, “you said we’d wait…”

“Now, darlin’, I told the truth,” he reproaches with an arched look in your direction, “you trust me, don’t ya?”

You nod. He points you onto the bed. You get up, sitting on your knees. He tells you to stay as he frames your hips again. He trails his hands along your thighs and suddenly pulls your legs out from under you. You fall forward as he drapes your bottom half over the edge.

He groans and you hear his knees on the floor as he kneels behind you. You look back as he kneads your naked ass, the satin too short to hide you. You’re completely exposed. You reach back and he waves your hands away before clapping your ass between his hands.

“I’m just admirin’ you, darlin’,” he girds as he pulls your cheeks apart, “let me appreciate ya.”

You can’t react before he leans in. The coolness of his tongue makes your ring pucker as he flicks it with the tip. He buries his face in your ass and laps with a long hum. You squeal, writhing and squirming, surprised by the coiling sensation.

He pulls back and purrs, “now you just stay still,” he orders, “you let me get a good taste.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #nightlife #the club #au #drabble #series #the devil all the time

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harunovella · 2 years

Text

could i be more obvious? ; e.y.

synopsis: It felt as if Eren spent his life chasing after you, but with bad luck came bad results... that is until a near fatal incident finally brings the two of you together. Of course, that was all thanks to his alter ego, Spider-Man... and who would've guessed that the man behind the mask was the man you had been crushing on, too? | spider-man!eren x fem!reader

cw: modern setting (high school/senior year), mutual pining + first dates (if that's even a warning?), loss of virginity/first times, oral (m → f), fingering, hand jobs... idk if i'm missing any! (MDNI!)

wc: 13k+

an: crossposting this on tumblr as I've been solely writing on ao3 only but thought I'd start putting my work on here too! this honestly was insp by a dream i had so don't mind me, i love the idea of spidey eren; title inspo ♥

Having a brain for a best friend was always a bonus when they helped advanced your super suit—at least, that was the case for Eren Yeager. Armin insisted in many necessary additions to (what once was) Eren's cheesy version of his spidey suit. Or, as he liked to call it, Mark I. A vibration was felt against his hip as he was in the midst of disarming one of the five thieves surrounding him. "Do you all mind if I get that?" He asked as he lifted a finger, his other now outstretched as a web had shot out and blocked one of the criminals from pulling the trigger.

The men all exchanged looks in confusion as the masked vigilante—hero—reached to his side and pulled out his sleek, smartphone. "What the hell—"

Pulling back and flicking his wrist as a web silence of the thug who spoke, Eren tapped the answer button after reading the name. "Armin, now is not the time, I'm in the middle of handling a robbery."

"Right now? You're about to miss prom!"

Growing wide eyed—as the white eyes of his mask grew, too—Eren cursed, "shit, I lost track of time!"

The sound of a gun shot and multiple whoa's on Armin's end caused him to gasp, "Eren, be careful!"

"Eren, you better not be endangering yourself!" Mikasa exclaimed.

"I— I'm okay!" Eren panted, dodging bullets before swiping his leg and knocking the man firing off his feet. Slinging some webs, yanking away the weapons, Eren kept his phone against his head, "I'll be there soon! I promise!" He shouted, hung up and webbed up the five men together. Hanging them upside down from the bank's ceiling, the crowd that was hidden cheered.

Letting out a sigh as he heard the police sirens, he took a few steps back to eye his work—he loved hanging up criminals from his webs. It made them look like they were about to be feasted on.

Turning away and eyeing the civilians that now stood from their hiding spaces, he saluted them, "your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man saved the day, yet again!" Waving, he looked out the window to see a collection of police cars lining up. Turning his attention down to his phone, he gasped at the time. "Shit— Gotta go!" He waved at the civilians before rushing out through a hole in the wall caused by the robbers.

"Spider-Man saved us!" A kid shouted as Eren rushed into the nearby alley, smiling to himself before he stopped at a dumpster. Reaching behind it and pulling out his duffle bag, he quickly removed his mask and pulled on his prom suit. Tucking his mask into the inner pocket of his jacket, Eren haphazardly tied back his hair before fleeing the area.

"Sometimes I wish we didn't know our best friend was a superhero," Armin said as he rubbed his face while Mikasa stood beside him on the balcony. "It's like living every day unsure of whether or not we will see him again."

"He'll be fine," the grey eyed young woman nodded. "I know he will." Hearing a grunt come from behind them, the two instantly turned, eyes now wide. "Did you really fly around in that?" Mikasa pointed at the suit the man before her was wearing.

Eyeing himself, Eren nodded with a smirk, "not a single scratch. Quite impressive."

Sighing, Mikasa walked over and fixed his hair, pushing aside the loose strands that were scattered all over his forehead. "What if someone saw you?" She asked, concerned.

Shaking his head, Eren buttoned up his jacket as Mikasa handed him his favorite rings. Slipping them on while Armin patted down his suit, he rolled his eyes, "not when I'm stories high. You can barely tell what the hell I'm even wearing."

"Yeah, well, with the cameras today, anyone can spot you," Armin shook his head before rounding his best friend, making sure nothing seemed out of place. Then, he handed him an emerald green tie, "I knew you'd forget it."

"Thanks, 'Min," Eren smiled as he tied up his tie around his shirt's collar, "what would I do without the two of you?"

"Perish," Mikasa casually said as Armin chuckled. "Let's get going, we only have our senior prom once." Turning and walking ahead as Armin took her side, Eren followed shortly after.

Mikasa was in a deep burgundy gown with a slit that her leg peeked through. The straps of her dress were thin and crossed at the back as she held a small matching clutch. Her lipstick—to no surprise just like her hair and nails—all black. It was her. Armin, on the other hand, wore a dark blue tuxedo and had a grey bow tie to adorn it. Eren? He stuck to a simple black suit, not needing anything fancy when he wasn't sure if and when he'd have to rip it right off. Of course he kept his super-suit on underneath, it was like second skin at this point.

"Wow..." the three said in awe, eyeing the ballroom with its large chandeliers and a flashing disco ball above the dance floor. The lights were dim and the decorations of stars and constellations made it feel like they were in a planetarium. Under the Night Sky was the theme their class voted on. So, as expected, many were wearing silvers, blacks, and any other matching shades.

"You guys!" A voice called out as the trio looked over, spotting a familiar face wave their hand. "I got us all a table!"

"Hey Sasha!" Armin waved as the three walked over, noticing that her boyfriend—Niccolo—and Jean were already seated. "Where's Connie?"

"On the dance floor with the ladies already," Jean pointed with his thumb as the trio looked over to see that Connie was—in fact—dancing with a group of girls who cheered him on. "For a man who attracts that kind of attention, it amazes me how he never gets laid."

"Does it really surprise you?" Sasha asked as she had taken her seat and began stuffing her face with appetizers. "I mean, he's an idiot."

"You're one to talk," Jean teased.

"I have a boyfriend!" She exclaimed, mouth full as Niccolo patted her shoulder, mumbling for her to calm down so she wouldn't choke. The couple matched, Sasha in a canary yellow, backless gown as Niccolo's bow tie was the same color.

Jean, on the other hand, wore a simple black tuxedo—one Connie apparently got the same of—as both wore ties in matching colors. Jean was pissed, to say the least, when he saw Connie had the same look, claiming he just got inspiration from him. It also didn't help that Jean had a burgundy tie to coincidentally match Mikasa, but now it looked like he was there with Connie as his date. "Don't even say it," the young man with the mullet spoke as Eren's eyes bounced between him and a wild Connie dancing afar.

Lifting up his hands in defense, Eren walked over and took the open seat beside him, knowing very well Jean was saving it for Mikasa. "Thanks for saving me a seat, Jean boy."

"You bastard, you know it's for Mikasa," Jean mumbled through tight teeth, earning a pat on the shoulder from the green eyed man next to him.

Taking a seat next to Eren, Mikasa looked up at Armin to see he was in a trance. Following his eyes and spotting Annie in the distance speaking to Hitch, Mikasa smiled, "go say hi to her."

Blinking with a blush, Armin nodded, "right... I'll— I'll be right back."

Turning his head to see what Mikasa and Armin were talking about, Eren's eyes landed on the small group in the distance. Annie standing with Hitch as they spoke beside another table. Said table had Bertolt, Porco, Colt, Pieck, and... "Where's Reiner?" Eren asked, eyes searching the crowd.

"Looks like he just got here with your girlfriend," Jean smirked, punching Eren's arm as the brunet hissed and flicked Jean's forehead.

"Asshole," turning in his seat and eyeing the entrance, Eren's eyes landed on the broad man walking in with a smirk on his lips. Reiner easily towered everyone around him, including the woman on his arm... you. Eren's heart skipped a beat. Your gown was insanely gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you looked. The tied up spaghetti straps, the sheer green fabric of the skirt that had shimmering designs beneath, a matching shawl... oh, how you looked like a princess. It didn't help that you were wearing a green much like the tie he had been wearing. Definitely a coincidence... it wasn't like you knew, anyway.

"Don't stare," Mikasa patted Eren's arm as he blinked, unable to peel his eyes from you, your soft makeup and that updo of yours that had strands of hair framing your face. An arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in as Reiner held you close. That should have been him by your side. "Eren, you're being obvious..."

"She looks so beautiful..." he whispered, watching as you and Reiner greeted people, walking by his table and saying quick hello's before moving along. "Oh, god, she smells amazing—"

"How the hell did you get that?" Jean asked with a look of disgust on his face, Eren turning and glaring at him.

"Dumbass, she walked right by! It hit me!" He hissed.

"Damn, Eren, that could've been you if you didn't have such bad luck," Sasha pointed out, finishing her second plate as Eren sighed.

"Thanks for the reminder..." He groaned, slouching in his seat as his eyes shifted back to the direction you went in... watching you enjoy the night.

It seemed that was all he was destined to do at prom: watch you have fun with everyone but him.

Mikasa had insisted he get up and enjoy the evening, dance and be entertained, but Eren found himself sulking. Sinking deeper and deeper into his seat the more he eyed you. It was embarrassing at how long he had, occasionally looking away when you turned in his direction. He knew he should've joined his friends—hell, even Armin was having the time of his life on the dance floor with everyone else—but he had pictured this night so differently.

If it wasn't for the fact that he always had bad timing with you, maybe then he would've already had you long ago.

Eren wasn't much of an outcast or someone to look past, he made a name for himself all those years ago in junior high, back when he was chaotic. Always getting himself into some new mishap, always the center of attention with his eccentric personality. Of course, now as a young adult at the lovely age of 18, he liked to believe he was much more mature than he was then. Though, still a bit of an odd ball, he was well rounded. Mikasa and Armin would always be his best friends, but there was no denying that he had friends all over the school. Ranging from different ages and groups, he was quite the social butterfly. He knew so many people, he caught the hearts of so many girls... yet, he could never have yours.

Turning down various girls who asked him to dance as he stubbornly moped in his seat, Eren watched as his friends danced together to the upbeat music. Smiles plastered on their faces as they jumped and laughed altogether. Mikasa broke out of her shell alongside Armin as Sasha and Connie circled them with foolish movements that had the group in tears. Just as the upbeat tempo had everyone bouncing around, it soon slowed and turned into a smooth number. Jean took Mikasa to a side as Niccolo brought Sasha with him. Armin shyly approached Annie while other couples paired up. Eren's eyes (once again) landed on you as you stood to the side and watched happily.

How come you weren't joining in with Reiner?

Looking around for your supposed date for the evening, Eren sucked on his teeth before rolling his eyes at the sight of Reiner talking up a storm to Historia. Now's my chance, he thought as he stood from his seat and approached you. You stood with your hands held together before you, a gentle smile on your lips before your head turned at the sound of Eren clearing his throat. "May I have this dance?"

Eyeing the brunet before you, your eyes trailed over to the blond who was meant to be the one asking. Your shoulders dropped as you sighed at the sight of him so close and personal with Historia, though knowing fairly well he almost stood no chance. It wasn't like you had a raging crush on Reiner, he was a nice guy, but he was nothing more than your prom date. He had asked you. Why couldn't he act like the prom date he was supposed to be?

Noticing the way a small frown took on your lips, Eren bit on his own. This wouldn't have happened if he had asked you. This wouldn't have happened if he wasn't always being interfered whenever it came to you.

It all started back then in junior high; when he was the class trouble maker and you were the star student. He knew he was out of your league, being the chaotic boy he was, but that didn't stop him from falling head over heels for you: the teacher's pet. Eren always found himself in the messiest situations, and when he had, you always so happened to be there. Watching, eyeing him with such disappointment. His smiles always faded at that. Somehow, you always caught him at his worst but was nowhere to be seen at his best.

If it wasn't Eren being scolded outside of classrooms or in the principle's office, it was him getting his ass beaten—alongside Armin, Jean, and Connie—in a stupid Fight Club made for a bunch of 13 year old boys. And, like aways, you walked by at the perfect moment with your little group of friends to see him getting his ass handed to him.

Instead of making a good impression, to get you enamored in him, it always ended up being Eren embarrassing himself in front of you. He knew it was karma for how immature he was, why else wouldn't you give him the time of day? He was reckless, a ball of fire... and no matter how many times he tried to get you to be his, something always got in the way. Another mess to be dragged into, another look of shame from you.

Snapping out of his thoughts as he gazed down at you, Eren noticed the way your lips parted, how you were just about to speak before a tall blond interfered. "Let's dance," Reiner grinned as he took your hand and pulled you to the dance floor, leaving Eren there with tight fists and barred teeth. You gave him a sympathetic look before you were lost in the crowd. Reiner did it on purpose, he must've.

"Hey, let's get some punch!" Armin said as he popped out of nowhere, Mikasa appearing as well as she gently pulled Eren away.

"Always a loser, huh? Can never get the girl, can you, Eren?" Jean laughed, earning a threatening scowl from Eren.

"I'm going to get some air for a bit, you guys enjoy the night, don't worry about me," the brunet said, eyes low as he gently peeled off Mikasa's hand before walking away.

Wanting to follow, Armin gently tugged her back, "let him be... he's been struggling all night."

"But..." stopping herself, Mikasa nodded. "Fine..."

It didn't take long for Eren to slip past the crowd of students spread throughout the entrance of the ballroom. He took the first elevator that opened, slid in, and leaned his back against the glass wall. Rubbing his face with a sigh, Eren thought about you. Thought about how pointless it was to have a stupid crush on you for so long. Thought about how everyone was about to graduate and move on with their lives and he'd still be pinning over you. Maybe he shouldn't have come to prom. Maybe he should've just kept on being the good superhero he was and find another person in distress. It wasn't like fighting crime was uncommon, hell, he could do it right now. All he had to do was swing around and find someone in need within seconds.

Hearing the elevator ding as he snapped out of his thoughts, Eren made his way into the lobby and out the front doors. A gust of wind greeted him as he made his way down the long steps, stopping at the last few before sitting down. He just needed a breather, a moment to collect himself, to stop being such a pathetic man. Slow dances would end, everything would go back to normal. Maybe then he could distract himself with his friends, take photos in the photo booth, entertain their we have to do everything at prom since it only happens once! desires. He'd be a good friend and stop sulking around. Yeah, he just needed to breathe in some fresh (city) air, star gaze the few stars the light pollution allowed him to see, and force you out of his head.

Yet, not thinking about you was near impossible. You were on his mind 24/7. You were all he thought about when his thoughts weren't filled with his future and his alter ego. Why couldn't he just let you go? After trying for so long, after all the missed opportunities, all the signs that told him you were never meant to be... why couldn't he just give up? Why did he have to be so persistent and want you and only you so badly?

This is why you'll die a virgin. She will move on with her life and you will just be the man behind the mask who never got laid.

His internal monologue went on and on and he found himself sinking into his spot until, suddenly, he sprung up. His senses were going off, tingling around his head as he eyed his surroundings. His skin went cold, hair standing as goosebumps formed. He went rigid, his heart skipping a beat as his gut turned. He knew what this meant. He hated this feeling. Something bad—

His ears started to ring. It happened too fast, even for him. Debris was all over the place, he ducked forward and held his head out of instinct before turning around and eyeing the building he sat before. Jumping to his feet as hordes of people rushed out, a scorching fire blazed through the building, glass shattering and crashing below.

Pushing past the people as he looked around, much too many of them getting in his way, his eyes landed on his friends. Armin, Mikasa... Sasha, Niccolo, Jean and Connie... He spotted Annie and Reiner and— Where were you?

"Eren!" Mikasa and Armin exclaimed in unison as they rushed to him, both looking startled but luckily in tact.

"Where— Where is she?" He asked, his tall frame giving him the advantage he needed to search the crowd frantically. Lowering his focus to his best friends as they exchanged looks, the three of them then looked over at Reiner, who stood beside Annie, trying to catch their breaths. "Reiner!" Eren called out, forcing his way to him. "Where is she?!" He asked, grabbing the man's suit jacket. "Why isn't she with you?!"

Knowing who he meant, Reiner shook his head, "I— I lost her in the mess—"

"Lost her?!" Eren panicked. "How the fu—" biting his tongue, he shook his head before his body began to move. He didn't have to think it through. He had to do this. If you weren't down there with them, then you must've been still up there, trapped.

"Eren!" Mikasa called out.

"Don't go in there!" Armin exclaimed, the two trying to reach him, only to be pushed further away from the building as the crowd continued to gush out and way from the hotel.

Ignoring them and rushing inside, seeing how the lobby was full of smoke and debris, how the power flickered and the glass scattered across the floor, he made a beeline to the staircase.

The building had been cleared out, Eren saw no one rushing down the staircase as he pulled apart his suit and made his way to the fifth floor with speed. He rushed through the halls before tossing his clothes along the way, slipping his mask out from his jacket and onto his head as it helped filter out the thick smoke.

His voice boomed as he called your name, searching through the halls and bathrooms, opening and closing accessible doors. He tried not to make matters worse, focusing on his breathing and finding you. He learned this long ago after he decided he would become a hero to his people. He couldn't have a full blown panic attack now.

He continued to call your name, hearing the crackling of flames and the crunching of glass and other materials beneath his feet. Eren ran as fast as he could to the ballroom door's seeing them wide open as he slid right in, continuously calling your name. The round tables were destroyed, some engulfed in flames as others were shoved and tossed to a side. Chairs scattered, the decorations hung low and were cinched. His eyes landed on the expanding fire towards the kitchen at the back.

It must've originated there. Turning his attention away, calling out for you, Eren clenched and unclenched his fists. He was focused but he was uneasy. How many lives has he saved? How many has he lost? He hated thinking about the latter and he refused to add you to the existing list.

He had done anything and everything in his power to protect you when you were and weren't aware. You lived in a bustling city, danger was everywhere. Car crashes, kidnappings, violence and crime... anything that ever came your way, he was always there to prevent you from being a casualty. But now? Now he couldn't even find you and the anxiety was starting to rise up in his throat like bile.

Eren refused to believe you had perished within the flames, refused to believe that he couldn't save you. He cried out your name, almost begging for you to respond back. He screamed and screamed, and when he tried to scream once more, distant coughs were heard.

Snapping his head in its direction, towards the far left corner of the ballroom, near the glass windows, Eren rushed over. A pillar had collapsed and all he could see was a piece of cloth—a shawl. Your shawl. He called your name once again and you coughed in response. Quick on his feet, he yanked back the column with all the strength he could muster as his webs latched onto the concrete. Grinding his teeth and pulling back before it could collapse any further, Eren rushed to your curled body and pulled you into his arms.

In a matter of seconds he got the two of you out and over to the next building's roof top before another burst of fames exploded within the ballroom.

Lying you down carefully, head rested on his hand, Eren leaned in to listen to your barely there breathing. His heart raced faster than it already had. Thunder filled the night sky matching it's beat as rain began to scatter, drop by drop before showering you both. Removing his mask as he eyed your face, he brushed your hair away at the sight of the few cuts and bruises that scattered across your skin. Feeling your pulse, Eren cursed under his breath before he brought his mouth to yours, pinching your nose and performing CPR.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Please. Please. Please.

Hearing your cough again as he quickly sat up and eyed you, a pained groan left you as your eyes fluttered open. Eren gazed at you with relief as his shoulders slumped. Tears formed in his eyes at the sight, vision being blurred now not only by the downpour. He brought his hand to his face, rubbing it before he snapped his head up and looked at you. Your hooded eyes blinked a few times, blurred vision focusing. "E— ren...?"

The mask! My mask! Where is it?! Frantically searching around, a hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist. Slowly looking down at you, Eren bit his tongue. You weren't supposed to see him. You weren't supposed to know. You weren't—

Your hand reached up to his cheek, resting there as you took in deep breaths. "Eren..." you said again, this time more audible.

"Please... Please don't tell anyone," he shook his head as he shut his eyes. "No one knows... I made sure you would never find out but—"

"Eren," you slowly sat up as the man's eyes widened, hands reaching out to help you. "What do you... What do you mean?"

"I just can't have anyone finding out about who I am—"

"No," you shook your head, hand falling to his shoulder. "About... making sure I would... never find out?"

Gulping as he looked you in the eyes, now more worried about you knowing the truth than the building burning beside him, Eren took in a sharp breath. "I mean... You know who I am now... I save people... And I've... saved you a ton without you realizing."

A bit out of it as your mind was fuzzy and your breathing was still rather ragged, you eyed Eren curiously. His words slowly processed in your foggy brain before you spoke with a subtle blush, "you have?"

Awkwardly looking down at the mask he now held in his hands, fiddling with it, Eren took in a deep breath and nodded. "I kind of... watch over you... I shouldn't, there's plenty of other people out there to protect but, I— Nothing, never mind, just," looking up at you, he begged, "please don't tell anyone."

Nodding, you smiled softly, "I won't... Though I am sure Armin and Mikasa know."

Growing wide eyed as his lips parted, Eren only slumped in his spot, "you're too smart for you're own good..."

Smiling, your hand moved from his shoulder, now onto his as it clutched his mask, "thank you... You saved my life."

Looking deeply into your eyes as his heart fluttered, although in the darkness of the night, the faint city lights were enough to illuminate you. The subtle neon signs reflecting off of the two of you giving you both a soft glow amongst the rain that drenched your bodies. If he could stare there like that, gazing at you forever, he would. He really would. How did it take him saving your life to finally have a moment alone? He was amazed he wasn't completely tongue tied or choking. Maybe it was the adrenaline. It must've been that.

He felt a small shift, your bodies were leaning in to one another—or maybe he was imagining it—but he was sure your eyes were now on his lips as his were on yours. That is until distant yelling snapped both of you out of it.

"I should— You know I should leave you down there so no one thinks you're dead," he nodded as you did, too.

"What about you?" You asked as he held his hands out for you to take as you both stood up.

"Well, I left my suit in the burning building... and... Let's hope everyone was evacuated because if not, I really should go back in there—"

"Oh my gosh, Eren?" You shook your head as your eyes widened.

"I'm sure there wasn't anyone left! I know it for a fact!" He eagerly nodded, reassuring you... and himself. "I'll... do a double check?"

"Oh, god..." you sighed but Eren was quick to grab you and rush across the rooftop without a warning. You clung onto him for dear life, eyes squeezing shut as you felt the sudden force of wind against you and the pelting of the rain.

Settling in the alley in between the two buildings, Eren placed you down on your feet before he brought his mask over his face. "You should go back to everyone."

Nodding, you took a small step back as he flicked his wrist to shoot out a web. Just before he could leave your side, you caught his free hand. "I owe you my life, Eren. What could I do to repay you? Really, I mean, I was— I thought I was done for up there."

Grinning from within his mask, Eren straightened his back and puffed his chest, "go on a date with me."

Blinking a few times with round eyes, your cheeks flourished with heat before you nodded, "okay..."

Feeling his heart skip a beat as he bit back a scream of glee, Eren bowed his head before he took a step back, ready to make his way up the building. However, you stopped him again. You reached over and lifted his mask just enough to reveal his lips, placing a sweet kiss before lowering it again and stepping away. Stunned, Eren blinked a few times before he forced himself away from your side as you waved goodbye.

A yawn left your lips as you pulled back the sheets of your bed and slid underneath. After your encounter with Eren—Spider-Man—you were nearly trampled by all your worried friends. Eventually, you were taken to the paramedics to get your wounds cleaned up and to make sure you were okay and safe to go home. To your luck, Eren had saved you in time. Minus the small wounds and the slight struggle to breathe properly—which was temporarily, thankfully—you were able to go home.

It was late, your parents were worried sick but were thankful to see you were now safe and away from the catastrophe. No one knew what happened, everyone claiming a gas leak or a really bad accident in the kitchen... but you tried not to ponder over it. It was much too large of an explosion to be an accident.

About to lie down, a sudden knock on your window made you jolt in your spot. Furrowing your eyebrows and reaching over for the curtains, you tugged them open and gasped. Quickly moving over to the edge of your bed to unlock your window and slide it open, Eren greeted you with his boyish smile as he slipped inside.

No longer in his Spider-Man attire, he was in nothing but sweats, a sweatshirt, socks and slides. His hair was loose, reaching his collar bones, and his eyes looked tired. "It's super late..." you smiled as the brunet closed the window behind him before he sat on your bed with you.

"It's super early," he corrected, eyes wandering around your bedroom. Though the lights were off, he used the moonlight to help him eye your decorated walls and shelves, your dresser and vanity, as well as your desk. Soft colors all around, modern furniture, so organized and put together. Unlike the chaos of his teenage boy bedroom with a bed too small for his now long body and bedsheets that should be fore a five year old.

Watching him as you could tell he was deep in thought, you leaned against your bed's headboard. "Why'd you come?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," looking back down at you, he smiled again, this time, a softer one. "Armin and Mikasa told me you were, but I needed to see it with my own eyes. I hope you gave Reiner an earful for what he did."

Nodding you chuckled, "I did, he apologized like crazy afterwards." Lowering your eyes from his own, you then realized the text written across his chest. "Paradis? Is that where you're going?"

Keeping his focus on you, grinning at the thought of you telling off Reiner for leaving you behind to die—though that really wasn't the case—Eren snapped out of it as he then nodded at your question. "Yeah, Paradis University."

"Me too!" You gasped, lifting your eyes with a grin.

Blushing, Eren awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I kind of knew that... That's why I applied." Hearing you gasp, Eren lifted his hands up in defense, "it was one of my choices anyway! But I heard you were going and after being accepted there... I decided to choose Paradis University, too."

"Eren... You were going to keep watching over me, huh?" Gently nudging his chest, you wore a small smile as the two of you looked down bashfully, only to look up in a gaze.

"Yeah..." Eren scooted closer, reaching a hand out and gently held your chin, thumb brushing your cheek as he eyed the small cuts that were now cleaned. A small bandage was plastered on the side of your forehead where a small gash had been, the sight making his stomach turn, but he was beyond happy to know you were okay. "I can't let anything happen to the woman of my dreams, especially now when I've finally got her. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too," you softly whispered, watching as Eren leaned in and gently pressed his lips against your own. It was a small gesture at first, the two of you testing the waters. However, he lowered his hand to the back of your neck as he scooted even closer, leaning into you and tilting his head as his lips moved against your own. Although this wasn't his first kiss—as he had his fair share at parties while playing games or while tipsy—nothing compared to kissing the woman he wanted for so long.

Pulling back to let either of you breathe, Eren chuckled, "you don't know how long I've wanted to do that. I never thought this day would come."

Chuckling, your hand reached up for his wrist, pulling it down before you interlaced your fingers with his. "Oh, I know. I'm sure everyone knew about your feelings towards me," you nodded as Eren sighed, not denying it. "Although you were quite over the top in junior high with all the chaos you created, I always admired you."

Growing wide eyed, Eren sat up, "really?"

"Yeah..." nodding as you looked down at your connected hands, you smiled, "you stood up for your friends. You cared for them deeply. You still do. I admire that. You have a big heart, Eren. And now you're a hero... You've matured so much. With great power... I'm sure came great responsibility."

"Oh, you don't know," he breathed, but he smiled. "It's worth it... I get to protect people. I get to protect the prettiest girl in the universe, too."

Giggling at his words as he smiled at you, you shook your head, lifting your eyes to meet his again, "I wish you took me to prom instead... Reiner's a nice guy, but he's a bit of a himbo."

Laughing at your words, Eren let out a small breath, "I wanted to but he beat me to it. Don't you know that I always lose when it comes to you? Every advancement I've ever made failed."

"You have me now, don't you?" You asked.

"I do..." he breathed. "So many years of lost opportunities due to outside forces were killer... but I finally got my moment. Though it was a terrible one that almost took your life, I would go through great lengths just to have you."

Reaching your free hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb grazed his cheekbone, "it amazes me how you never gave up."

"It's embarrassing—"

"It's endearing," you corrected as Eren looked through his lashes at you.

"I really like you..." he mumbled.

"I like you, too," you grinned. "Is this our first date?"

Softly laughing, Eren shook his head, "no... more like a pre date. I want to take you somewhere nice."

"What do you have in mind?" You curiously asked, only to see Eren go rigid as his eyes grew wide. "What is it?"

"I— Hah— I haven't thought about it..." he awkwardly admitted. "After so many years, you would've thought I would've had this planned out."

"It's okay," you nodded. "You can surprise me. After all, you can take us almost anywhere, Spider-Man."

Seeing you lean in as you winked, Eren bit his inner cheek, "I didn't think of that... but, you're right..."

Chuckling, you gently tugged him down to lie with you, rolling on your sides and studying every aspect of each other's faces. Hours passed you by without you realizing it as you shared small talk, voices low and fingers lingering on one another. Gentle touches and caresses as the sun eventually began to raise above the horrizon. You spoke about anything and everything, from things you loved to things you hated. Your passions, your favorite pastimes, greatest memories... even about Eren's many failed attempts to woo you, up until the both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

The sound of knocking on your bedroom door caused you to jolt awake. Eren's eyes shot open as he quickly sat up, his instincts yelling at him. You hopped off of your bed as you grabbed him and pulled him with you, nearly shoving him into your walk in closet before closing the door. Without a word, and a bit disoriented, you rushed to your bedroom door and opened it.

Eren pressed his ear against the wooden door, hearing you speak to your mother. Sighing, he turned and reached for his phone that he had slept with in his sweats' pocket. Turning on the flashlight, Eren curiously peered through your closet. Your organized shelves of shoes; clothing sectioned by dresses, pants, and tops. Being the young man he was in a woman's closet, he couldn't help but snoop around. Lots of plush toys stuffed away—possibly from your childhood. Purses, backpacks, and wallets galore. Scattered awards and old text books and journals from previous school years stacked.

Then, a small, black box caught his attention. It was hidden underneath the hem of your hanging dresses. Pulling it out as he squatted before it, he stood again and settled it on one of your shelves before pulling it open. Reaching in, his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach as his cheeks burned. A little number—a lace thong—hung from his index. With wide eyes, he brought the little thing into his palm before looking into the box again and pulling out a matching bra. Nothing but lace and wire. Lingerie.

Yelping at the realization and the many thoughts that flooded his mind, he quickly covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What was that?" Your mother asked.

"Huh? Oh! I left a YouTube video playing, must've been an ad," you lied with a wave of your hand. "I'll come down soon," you nodded as your mother said okay before turning and leaving you be. Closing your door, you then rushed to your closet and opened the door. Eren spun in his spot and quickly hid his hand behind him, caught red handed. A small giggle left your lips. You recognized the box, you knew what it was. "It was a stupid birthday gift from my friends."

"Wha— Huh?"

Shaking your head, you walked over and pulled his hand from behind him, "my best friends got it for me as a joke. Said I should use it on someone."

"On who?" He asked rather quickly.

Biting your bottom lip, you grinned, heat burning your cheeks, "you."

"Me?" His eyebrows furrowed. "You're lying. Why me?"

"Like I said, everyone knows how much you like me," you shrugged. "And they swore I liked you, too..."

"Well, they weren't wrong," he teased as you rolled your eyes playfully. "Can I see you in it?"

Lightly swatting his arm, you crossed your arms, "not now..."

"Maybe some day?" He tilted his head, earning a subtle laugh from you.

"Maybe," you considered. "You should get going before anyone finds you."

"Right," he nodded, turning to take the box with him, but you stopped him with hands extended out. "What?" Eren whined.

"You're not taking those," you shook your head as he frowned, settling the box and lingerie in your hold. Closing it and hiding it once again as Eren watched you with a pout, you shook your head and pushed him out of your closet and towards your bedroom window. Opening it up for him, you stepped to the side, "I'll see you later."

"Fine," he sighed. Before he climbed out, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a swift kiss. Leaving you buzzed and blushing, Eren slid out and made his way back home.

Later that day your phone had vibrated with a message from Eren telling you to be ready before sunset. You weren't sure when that was so you prepared yourself around mid afternoon, wondering what it was that Eren was up to. If this was your first date, he must've had thought of something quick to already have plans set. Since it was summer, you dressed in a mini dress; with a sweetheart neckline and daisy print, you paired it with white sneakers and a crossbody. Well aware that Eren was going to be having you stories high, swinging you in the air like Tarzan, you made sure purse was secure enough for you not to lose anything. As exciting as it, it was also terrifying. You weren't sure how he did it, but then again, he more than likely had been face to face with dozens of weapons that could easily take his life.

The thought made your heart skip a beat.

How did he do it? And how were you now going to live a life not knowing whether or not he was going to make it back okay?

Taking in a deep breath and forcing yourself to think about the present and only the present, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time—makeup perfect and hair styled nicely (though you made sure to carry around a hair tie for when things got messy)—you smiled. Tonight was going to be perfect. Nothing was going to get in the way. At least, you hoped.

Hearing a knock on your window, you turned from your vanity and grabbed your purse before rushing over, sliding the window open and smiling. "Hi."

Eyeing you from head to toe, Eren's heart fluttered within his chest as his lips parted, "you look gorgeous—" Clearing his throat, Eren smiled, "I mean, hey."

Letting out a soft laugh, you leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips as he was squatted before you on your window sill, "thank you." Eyeing his attire—a blue, short sleeve button up and black jeans, vans and his hair pulled back in his signature low bun—you smiled, "you look good yourself."

"I do, huh?" He asked, eyeing his attire before lifting his head, "my cologne kinda got swept away."

"By swinging here?" You asked as he nodded.

"Yeah... You know, I wanted to look my best for you and—" seeing you lean in as your face went towards his neck, Eren grew stiff.

"I can still smell it," you nodded as you stood up straight, now seeing the flushed look on his face. "What?" You chuckled.

"N— Nothing! Just... I don't typically have girls sniffing my... neck," he shyly spoke, causing you to grin. "Does it smell good?"

Laughing, you nodded again, "yeah, I like it."

Sighing in relief, Eren nodded his head, "thank god..." Realizing he said that out loud, he cleared his throat, "are you ready?"

"Mhm," you bit your inner cheek, pulling your purse over your shoulders. "Though, I'm kind of scared of the whole swinging around thing."

"It's okay," he smiled in reassurance, "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," you breathed, a sweet smile on your lips. "I trust you."

"Then we're going to have a perfect night."

And true to his word, you two did. Though you clung onto him—again—for dear life, it actually was quiet... calming to see the city so high up above. The breeze that tickled your skin, being closer to the stars, hearing muffled cars... You wondered how often Eren swung around just for the hell of it. Maybe when he was bored or stressed. Maybe when he needed time away.

Eren had taken you to his favorite spot first: atop the tallest building in the city. You two watched the sun set from there, your shoulders pressed together as your hands held onto one another. You shared a few glances and kisses, taking a few photos of the sight before resting your head on him. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things you had ever experienced, and you were jealous Eren was able to see it almost daily—as he disclosed with you.

After that, he took you to dinner nearby, an exquisite restaurant he managed to get the two of you in. You had asked how and Eren mentioned how Spider-Man may or may not have made an appearance there and asked for a certain Eren Yeager to have access without questioning. It made you laugh without a doubt. It also made you laugh when he admitted to stealing some of his father's money in order to afford the dinner for you two.

(Eren was a pizza delivery boy, but the money he made was nothing compared to what was in his dad's wallet. He solely had the job to understand the morals and importance of the working class and making your own money. Even if your parents were bathing in bills. Grisha and Carla did not raise their son to be a snobbish brat... Though, Eren Yeager had tendencies of being a brat every now and then. However, not as bad as he used to be after gaining his abilities.)

You knew about the Yeager's, Grisha being a well known doctor in the city—and possibly the country—while his mother, Carla, owned a local restaurant and eventually opened up multiple locations across the country. After asking him why he didn't take you there, you should've expected the answer because my mom wouldn't let me hear the end of it afterwards. That also made you laugh.

"You know, pizza delivery boy, I have a job, too," you said.

"Oh, I know. You work at the local library," Eren said nonchalantly as the two of you had shared a dessert—beignets topped with ice cream.

"You are such a stalker!" You laughed as Eren shrugged. "I should be worried, is this okay to be dating you?" You teased as the two of you shared soft laughter. You were so engrossed in the moment that you didn't realize how quick Eren's reflexes and senses were.

From one second to the next, you went from sitting and giggling to being held tightly against Eren's chest, off to the side as a sedan had crashed through the window. Right into the table you two were once sitting at. Glass, concrete, the wooden fragments from the tables all scattered before you as panicked yells and rushing civillians snapped you out if it.

"Oh my god..." you breathed, shaking in Eren's arms. "You— You saw that coming?" You asked, peeking your eyes from the silver car, up to an upset Eren whose eyebrows were narrowed.

"My senses went off, just like when the fire erupted," he said, eyeing the damage before looking down at you, expression softening. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, you took in as deep breath, "yeah... thank you."

"Let's get you home..." He said, keeping an arm around you as he guided you away from the scene.

You couldn't seem to stop shaking, even the moment you made it back into your bedroom. Eren felt terrible, though none of it was his fault, he didn't like seeing you this scared. It also didn't help that this was your second near death experience, and if it weren't for him... He didn't want to think about it

You had quietly asked him to stay the night in which he didn't hesitate to agree with. After changing into your pajamas while Eren stayed in his own clothes—though you insisted it was okay for him to get comfortable—the two of you slept that night holding tightly onto one another.

Days began to pass and each night was much like the first; Eren visiting by sneaking in and staying over. Eventually, the days melted into weeks, weeks of the two of you secretly seeing one another without anyone knowing. You weren't sure how either of you didn't get caught, seeing as Eren was in your bedroom every night, and the two of you snuck around and exchanged glances in class and in the hallways more often than not. Maybe it was because the latter was already common as it was, seeing as Eren was never discreet when he would gaze at you.

On one night, however, you hung out with your closest friends for a movie night. Eren had been working that evening and you so happened to order from the pizzeria he had worked at. Though you had never ordered from there before, and weren't sure if the pizza was good or not—seeing as your secret dates with Eren always consisted of anything but pizza—you were curious. You also just wanted to see him in his cute uniform.

And you weren't disappointed.

The moment you opened the door to the delivery boy—your boyfriend—you grinned. Eren's hair was tied back in its usual low bun, a cap on top, a black polo with the logo etched on his chest, black pants, and black vans. "Oh, thank you so much..." leaning in and reading his name tag, you fought a laugh, "Eren."

Playfully rolling his eyes as he handed you the pizza box, you pulled out your cash and were about to hand him the money you owed, only for him to shake his head, "it's on me."

"Eren," you sighed, but he shook his head again, pushing the money away from him. "Can I at least give you a tip? Y'know, for looking so good in your uniform?" You teased, earning another roll of his eyes—and a blush, too.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not taking your money." Seeing you pout, a small grin etched itself on his lips. "Though... maybe something like a kiss would suffice..."

Settling the pizza box to a side, you reached over and tiptoed, tugging Eren down for your lips to meet. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck as his now bare hands held onto your waist. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before you welcomed him to deepen the kiss. Your tongues intertwined as you breathed each other in, only to separate, leaving small pecks before completely pulling apart. "Thank you for the pizza," you breathed as Eren looked down at you with hooded eyes, his left hand reaching up to rest on your right cheek as his thumb brushed over your soft lips.

"I'll see you later tonight," he whispered, leaving a kiss on your nose before turning to walk away.

Of course, it didn't go unseen by your friends the way you looked so happy when you returned to them with the pizza. One of them pointed out how your cheeks were red, another mentioned how your lipgloss needed retouching as another acknowledged how your chin shined. It was safe to say you didn't hear the end of it that night, you were just glad they didn't know who the pizza delivery boy was... or the fact that you never confirmed nor denied their accusations of you making out with said delivery boy.

More days had passed, your graduation was nearing and you couldn't help but countdown the days until you were finally free. In the midst of working your part time job at the library, restocking the shelves with rented and new items, you softly spoke to your dear coworker and friend—Annie—about the approaching milestone.

"Just a few days to go," she huffed. "I can't wait to finally get out of there."

"You and me both," you sighed, thinking about the things you and Eren had planned. Of course, you also had your own friends to be around, but this newfound relationship you had with Eren—a man who could carry you around town like nothing—was beyond exciting.

Noticing Annie went silent, you looked over to see her reading something on her phone before she settled the few books in her hands away. "They need me up front," she sighed as you nodded, watching her go.

Turning to what you were doing, your eyes widened. Through the spaces open between the shelves, you spotted an oh too familiar brunet now peeking through. "Eren!" You quietly shrieked, pushing his face back as he laughed. "You may have spidey senses but I don't."

Rounding the bookcase, Eren stood beside you as you were now propped up on a step-stool. Taking the books from your hold as you were now face to face with Eren due to the added height, he left a sweet kiss on your lips before he pulled away to shelve the books. "You also don't have the height," he teased, placing the last book in its place on a higher shelf.

"That's why I have you," you poked his bicep before hopping off the stool. You pushed the nearly empty cart to a side before grabbing the step stool and settling it underneath said cart. Eren followed you around like a shadow as you shelved a few more books in a nearby aisle, quietly speaking to one another about your day and upcoming plans. As you finished up the last few books, pushing them into their places, you noticed Eren deep in thought as he looked off. "What is it?"

"It's so empty and quiet over here," he said. "Too quiet in the back..."

Smiling, you shook your head at the sight of his eyebrows narrowing, still deep in thought as he brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it. "Yeah, not many people come to this side, it's usually only needed for research on prehistoric studies."

Nodding, Eren then turned his head and eyed you, "has anyone ever had sex here?"

Laughing as you covered your mouth, you swatted his arm. "Of course that's what's got you deep in thought—"

"I'm curious," he shrugged as you sighed.

"I've caught a few... I didn't see too much, luckily, but I've had to kick them out. Most of the time they leave on their own will out of embarrassment, it's rare for them to make a fuss. Most people actually don't like getting caught even if they like the thrill of the idea." Seeing Eren grin, you shook your head, "don't get any ideas."

Lifting his hands in defense, Eren shook his head, "I didn't say anything. However... I would love to kiss you again. You know... A little longer this time."

Rolling your eyes as you grinned, you took his hand and guided him away, falling so easily for his trap. A trap that you were fully aware of and didn't even really consider to be a trap... More like temptation. You ended up on top of Eren in that same spot the couples you found having sex. Your lips moved desperately against one another, Eren's hands under your blouse as he untucked it from your skirt. Your own hands were in his hair, loosening it from the bun it was in as it fell to his shoulders. The sound of your breathing and subtle panting bounced off the bookcases. You were so glad the library was dead in that moment.

Eren's eager hands played with the back of your bra before caressing your back. His hands glided along your hips and belly, over your ribs and just underneath the wire of your bra. Your knees straddled him as you felt his bulge press against your heat, thin panties not doing you much help as you whimpered and may or may not have rocked your hips a few times. Eren noticed. He encouraged it as his hands slid underneath your bra to properly cup and squeeze your breasts. All while your lips sloppily met in a hungry kiss of tongues exploring and lips swelling.

Gliding your hands down his torso, feeling the outline of his abs against the graphic tee he wore, your hands reached for the belt of his jeans, only to stop as someone called out for you. "Ugh..."

"Dammit," Eren hissed as the two of you separated from the kiss. "Rain check?" He asked as he pulled his hands out from under your blouse, cupping you cheeks and kissing your lips once more. "We'll pick up from where we left off."

Eren was true to his word. Well, he planned on being true to his word. That night after both of you were free from your schedules, he took you out, swinging around the city. It was something he did almost nightly to get you accustomed to it. Though it still made you nervous, you were growing more and more confident in Eren. It wasn't like he'd let you fall... but being that high up was nerve wracking. Now lying on top of your school's rooftop, softly speaking to one another while stargazing, you found yourself to be the most at peace than you've ever been.

With your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped over your hips, you lazily rolled on top of him before planting a sweet kiss to his lips. A small laugh left Eren before his hands reached up to cup your face. You smiled, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he gave you access. The two of you looked at one another with hooded eyes as your tongues met, Eren's hands moving to rest on your lower back before sliding down to your ass, cupping the cheeks as it made your skirt ride up enough to expose more skin. You shivered at that, even in the summer, the evening breezes had goosebumps forming on you.

The sound of a loud gasp caused the two of you to stop, you quickly lifting your head as Eren groaned in annoyance. There at the door of the stairs that lead to the rooftop stood a gaping Mikasa and Armin. "You—"

"You didn't tell us!" Armin finished for Mikasa, pointing a finger with cheeks tinted pink. Both him and Mikasa noticed the way their best friend had his hands gripping your bottom for dear life.

You were quick to sit up and adjust your skirt as Eren sighed, "sorry, babe..." Standing to his feet as he took your hands in his to help you up, Eren turned and let go one of your hands before approaching his best friends. "Yeah... we are together. No one knows..." using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, Eren looked at you for some help.

"He— He saved my life... and one thing lead to the next and we are dating," seeing their confused faces, you smiled, "I know he's Spider-Man. Just like you two do." Grabbing and lifting Eren's hand and folding his middle and ring fingers, you made him shoot a web. "See?"

Watching as the web landed across the brick wall of the staircase, both Mikasa and Armin then looked at Eren, then you. "So much to take in..." Armin whispered, but Mikasa took his hand in hers.

"As upset as I should be that you kept this from us... we can talk later," the dark haired young woman said with squinted eyes as Eren groaned. "We didn't mean to interrupt your date—"

"It's not a date," Eren grumbled with a blush, looking away.

"We'll get out of your hair, but we expect an explanation," Mikasa said, looking pointedly at him before pulling a still stunned Armin away, who was still trying to process what he walked in to. "Don't forget to invite your girlfriend to Jean's graduation party!" She said before she opened the door and brought Armin with her.

Watching the two go, you then looked up at Eren, "do they— do you three normally come up here?"

"Yeah... it's kinda our safe space... I brought you here because it's one of my favorite spots. Thought I'd share it with you. Should've considered the fact that they would possibly show up..." he trailed, rubbing the side of his face awkwardly.

Smiling, you gently grabbed his wrist and lowered his hand. "So, about that party?"

Graduation came and went faster than expected—but so did your time in high school. You walked the stage, got your diploma, and eventually found yourself properly meeting Eren's parents. Grisha was a quiet fellow, but he had a gentle smile on his lips the entire time his wife—Carla—gushed about her baby boy. Going on about his endless crush on you, how madly in love he had been for so long, all words that made Eren want to disappear into the ground beneath him. He was embarrassed to say the least.

Then it was your turn to be embarrassed, Eren meeting your parents as they recognized him as the son of their doctor. However, that wasn't what had you hiding your face in your palms—it was the fact that your father announced to your boyfriend that he recognized him because he's the boy my little girl would draw hearts over in the yearbook! Yeah... you weren't going to hear the end of that. It was safe to say you both were equally embarrassed over news you already knew. That everyone knew. Not one soul didn't know about your crushes on each other... even if it took this long to happen.

Eventually, you found yourselves together all night at Jean's party. You had no interest in announcing that you were a couple, simply holding hands and the occasional kiss was enough for word to spread like wildfire. Neither of you cared. Everyone saw it coming. However, it didn't prevent the onslaught of you two are together?! Probably why the two of you tried sneaking away after a few hours of playing games and drinking here and there.

"Shit—" Eren cursed as he tried to unhook your dress from the fence. The two of you—a bit tipsy—thought it was a bright idea to sneak into a nearby community pool. A giggle left your lips as he lifted you by your hips and removed the bit of material that got caught, holding you over his shoulder before walking away. On his little journey to one of the lounging chairs, Eren nearly tripped over his own foot as he settled you down. Crawling on top of you as his lips lazily met yours, the two of you sloppily kissed in between small fits of laughter.

"Shh— Shh..." you hushed, placing your index finger against Eren's lips. "Someone could— catch us."

"Doubt that," he scoffed before removing your heels, then kicking off his own dress shoes.

"What're you doing?" You murmured as Eren slipped off his socks and stuffed them into his shoes before lifting you in his arms. "Eren—"

"I've always wanted to do this—"

"Eren, you're crazy— don't!" Before you could protest any further, you found yourself being enveloped by the pool's water. Surfacing and catching your breath as you looked at a grinning Eren who looked a bit buzzed, you shoved his shoulders. "You—" pushing him into the water, the two of you messed around before Eren caught your wrists and pulled you into another kiss. One of his arms wrapped around your waist as his other held the back of your head, kissing you deeply, gliding his tongue along yours before the sound of footsteps and keys caught both of your attention.

Rushing out of the pool and grabbing your shoes, both of you slipped into the showers and covered each other's mouths as you watched the light of a flashlight flicker around. Eyeing one another as the footsteps grew farther, you let out tiny giggles before reaching for one another again. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his moved around your hips, continuing what was started in the pool.

"Can I take you back to my place?" Eren nearly whispered against your lips.

"Yeah..." you breathed with a nod.

With his swift movements, even while a bit buzzed, Eren was quick to take you away, back into the city. You both were freezing, instantly slipping into his quiet home—as his parents were already asleep—and into his bedroom. After handing you clothes to change into (as he did as well) he took your wet clothes and slipped out to leave them in the laundry room, worrying about the consequences of his mother finding your clothes later. Locking the door after his return, Eren found you sat on his bed, waiting for him.

The shirt he handed you slid over your left shoulder as the boxers you wore were loose at the hips and thighs, exposing skin as you sat there with your knees pulled in. Smiling at one another, the way your gazes grew soft in the darkness of his room that was lit by the moon, Eren quietly moved towards you. You moved deeper into his bed as he followed, propping himself up on one hand as his other cupped your cheek, lips meeting and hearts racing. "You could've showered," he mumbled against your lips, hands now in your wet hair.

"I could've... but maybe I wanted to share one with you," you muttered as your lips kept meeting halfway, small kisses being shared in between words.

Letting out a small sound, Eren moved to press his forehead against yours, "don't tempt me... I'll literally grab you right now and undress you and take you—"

"Slow down, cowboy," you chuckled. "We never got to finish what we started back in the library..."

Sucking in a deep breath, Eren lowered his head on your shoulder, already feeling himself throb at the thought of finally having you. "You're telling me we would've had sex in the library for our first time?"

Laughing, you shook your head, "not quite... we would've had some fun, maybe left to my place..."

"Fuck..." Eren breathed, "you really got me all worked up, babe."

Smiling, you lifted his head so he could look at you. Then, your hands reached for the hem of the grey tee he was in, tugging it over his head and tossing it before your hands trailed over his chest, then his stomach. Eren shivered at your touch, the way your fingertips brushed against every dip and curve of his torso, how your nails gently tickled his skin. He leaned down enough to close the gap between you as his own hands slid under the shirt you were. He knew you had nothing underneath, the pile of wet clothes not only including your dress, but also your bra and panties—his mother definitely was going to kill him if and when she found them.

Slowly but surely, the two of you undressed one another until you were completely bare. Your body beneath his as his was held up above your own. Your eyes darted across his skin, over every muscle and mark on it. A small scar or two from his childhood, the faint beauty marks that scattered his tan skin... His eyes did the same to you, but he couldn't possibly look away from your breasts. He was a man after all, he couldn't help himself... You were the woman of his dreams. His soulmate. The love of his life... and now he was going to be your first as you were to him.

"I've seen a lot of porn, I'm ready," he teased as you laughed, covering your mouth at the sound.

"You're such an idiot," you shook your head. "Touch me."

Sucking in a deep breath, his hands started at your shoulders before moving down your chest. Gently grabbing your mounds and feeling the flesh against his palms, his breath hitched as his heart raced at the sensation. Your bare breasts in his grip, all for him. He really hoped he wasn't dreaming.

Your hands caressed his shoulders and biceps, feeling the hardened muscles underneath. A small gasp left your lips as Eren's pointer and thumb tweaked your nipples, playfully fondling with your breasts as he grew more and more experimental. Kneading at them, Eren squeezed them together before burying his face in between. Another gasp left you as your blush deepened, but you couldn't help but laugh at his reactions.

"Can I take them in my mouth?" He asked.

"Do whatever you want," you nodded.

And that was enough for Eren to do all that he fantasized. He nipped at your skin, leaving marks behind on your collarbone and chest, and the fat of your breasts and just underneath them. Then, without any hesitation, he brought one of your nipples in between his teeth, gently nibbling before swiping his tongue along it, giving both breasts the same attention as he moved between them. Your back arched as subtle moans left you, your hands now in his wet locks as you closed your eyes for a moment.

Then Eren grew bold. He left a trail of kisses down your stomach, kissed your hip bones before kneading at the meat of your thighs. He left more red blotches in his wake before he parted your legs further and was greeted by your bare cunt. "Do you still want this?" He asked as you nodded. "Words, princess, use your words."

"Yes," you breathed.

With a lick of his lips, and a lick along your pussy, Eren began his experimenting. Everything he was doing to you was new to him. He saved himself for you because he swore he would win your heart someday. And he was glad he did. He may be inexperienced, but he wanted to grow with you. To learn what you liked. To know what made your body react. He wanted to know every bit of you and be the lucky man who got to please you.

Eren remembered a few things his friends had told him, and other things he read and saw online. He knew it was nowhere near the actual thing, but he truly wanted to make you feel just as good as he did. Even if he was nervous, he also was beyond excited in the fact that he was doing this to you. And his hard-on was an obvious reaction.

Listening to the muffled sounds you made as you used one of his pillows to block your moans, Eren swirled his tongue around your clit before swiping up your folds. He did that repeatedly, focusing on the way your hips jolted and your thighs clenched around his head. Smiling to himself at how wet you were—and how he was the cause—Eren brought an experimental finger to replace his mouth as he sat up. His fingers played with your clit before teasing your entrance as his other gently pulled the pillow from your face. "I want to see you..."

Sucking in a sharp breath as you bit your bottom lip, your hands moved to press against your face to cover it as his finger pushed into you. "Oh my gosh..." you breathed as Eren grinned, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you.

"Come on, look at me," he softly spoke, his free hand reaching out to pull your hands away. "I want to see the faces you make, I wanna remember them..."

Breathing heavily as you felt yourself falling apart, knowing very well you wouldn't last, Eren tested the waters as he added a second finger. As his pointer and middle pumped into you, he lowered his head again and kissed your clit before gently sucking on it. With a few more thrusts, you came around his hand, clenching your eyes shut in embarrassment. "Ere—" nearly choking on your breath at the feeling of your own release, your eyes fell open as Eren pulled away. You frowned at the lack of him in you, only to make a desperate mewl as he brought his wet fingers into his mouth, tasting you.

A look of ecstasy was written across his face, as if you were the tastiest dessert that ever existed. "Damn..." he breathed. "This was so much better than I imagined."

Blushing, you rubbed your face before Eren pulled your hands away again, leaning into a kiss as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your shaky hands roamed from his broad shoulders, down his pecks and hardened abs. Your dainty fingers found his hardened length and wrapped as much as you could around them—which wasn't much. Your breath hitched just as Eren's did as your thumb pressed against his slit, the pre leaking and smearing as you brushed against it. Eren bucked his hips as the two of you found yourselves breathing into each other's mouths. Your tongues touching but lips hardly moving at the lack of focus. The hands on either side of your head balled into fists as Eren felt his chest tighten with each breath.

Your parted knees that Eren settled in between pushed further apart as you brought his length against your soaking pussy. A moan escaped the both of you at the foreign feeling, your hand slowly pumping his cock as Eren moved his hands to grip his sheets. "I want you to feel... as good..." you breathed, hand gliding along his shaft as Eren hissed, biting his tongue and nearly coming all over your hand in an instant.

"Sh— Shit... sorry... I didn't—" Taking in a deep breath as he clenched his eyes shut, you softly smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. Flipping the two of you over, a small gasp left Eren as you straddled him. "H— How do you... wanna do this?" He asked, looking up at you as you looked like an angel under the moonlight, silhouette hovering before him as he was now under your control. He wouldn't want it any other way... at least, not in that very moment.

"Raw," you smiled.

"R— Really? You— You on the pill?" He asked as you nodded.

"Helps with the bad cramps," you shrugged before aligning yourself with him. "Is this okay?" Seeing him eagerly nod, a chuckle left your lips before you sunk down, taking him inch by inch ever so slowly. The stretch made you hiss as your eyes pricked with tears, you bit your bottom lip as your hands pressed against his chest. Eren's grip moved to your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh and more than likely leaving black and blues in their wake. He watched you with hooded eyes as you tried to take all of him—at least, as much as you could. It was no surprise that Eren was, indeed, packing. Your breathing quickened as you sat still, clenching your eyes shut before you shifted your hips. With the subtle rock, your eyes fell open and met with Eren's, a smile grazing your lips as the same went for his.

Then, as you began to move at a slow and steady pace, you grabbed his hands and interlocked your fingers with his, pressing them against the mattress on either side of his head. The two of you listened to each other's moans and panting breaths, Eren's eyes never left yours as yours never left his. You met each other halfway with each thrust, moving in sync as your bodies grew hotter and hotter, melting into one. Silent words being uttered along the way of praise and encouragement, enough for the two of you to reach your orgasm one after the other. Riding out before growing still for a few moments as you fell against his chest, Eren's hands left yours and caressed your back and hair as you took in deep breaths.

"Can we share that shower now?" Eren asked as you chuckled with a nod, lazily forcing yourself up and feeling Eren leave your body as you huffed. You almost didn't want to move, almost wanted him to stay in you for as long as possible, but a shower sounded very appealing.

Moving off of his bed and heading for his bathroom to pee, Eren soon followed after before preparing the shower, letting the steam cover up the small room as he locked the door behind him. Quietly, you moved your way into the shower and hugged Eren from behind as he stood under the shower head. You lifted your focus to watch his long hair stick to his skin as every inch of him was drenched and dripping. You followed suit, soaking up before you took care of one another, Eren washing your hair before washing his, the two of you lathering each other before rinsing off the suds. A few kisses were shared, some longer than others, lips lingering more as if you two fell asleep that way. Eventually, after exiting and drying off as much as possible—and changing into one of Eren's shirts as he pulled on a loose pair of sleeping pants—the two of you cuddled on his bed.

"I I love you," Eren broke the silence as your heart skipped a beat, your head resting against his chest, looking out his bedroom window as he stared up at your ceiling. "Yeah, I love you."

Smiling, you nuzzled his neck, leaving a few kisses before whispering in his ear, "I love you, too."

"Hmm..." lazily grinning, he extended his arm out as he flicked his wrist, a heart forming on his ceiling from his web as you looked up and lightly laughed at the sight. "After so long... After the many failed attempts... It took saving your life to finally win your heart."

"My hero," you spoke in a sing-songy voice.

"I'll always be your hero," Eren said confidentially, making you chuckle again.

"So cheesy..." you smiled "Thank you, Spider-Man."

1K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 4 months

Note

I feel like I’m writing too many asks so sorry if I’m flooding your inbox rn but-

yk what I really want

I want JJ to mansplain being a mechanic and fixing cars and shi

I want to be out with him while he’s wearing that one white wife beater with the red cap and all his muscles are visible while he works on some upper middle class man’s car

Imagine you’ll be asking him so many possibly silly questions (I’m assuming you don’t know much about cars cuz I don’t either so if you do pls just pretend for a sec🙏) and he’ll be answering them while working and going on a whole tangent and you’re probably not even listening because you’re staring at him like you want to pounce on him at any minute

like he probably looks and sounds so hot talking about fixing some old piece of shit while he’s all sweaty and covered in grease and his muscles are bulging and his veins are visible😩

I am not ok send help

-🌙

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

oh to be sat by him sipping my lil drink out of a straw, swinging my legs in a gingham dress that’s way too short — asking JJ a load of questions that u don’t actually care about, just wanting to hear him talk about the big-boy stuff you don’t understand <3

“n’the carborators fucked so i gotta work on that too… this pile o’junks gonna cost me a shit load of time and money, ‘tell you that much.” he rambles on, flipping some sort of wrench in his hand as he stands back to look at what he’s working on, then fixing his hat on his head, not paying you any mind really as you stare at him with your glossy bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth, obsessing over him. he glances up at you and you think you’ve been caught— but he points a lazy finger beside you to a toolbox instead. “think you can help me out a little? gonna need you to pass me some tools when i ask for ‘em.”

wanting to help him of course you hop down from where you’re stationed, happily ambling over with the toolbox in your grip. “yeah, course jayj!”

he shoots you a little smile, nodding in appreciation. “lil angel, aren’t ya?” he praises before continuing on with his work and his rambles. you try and listen, often passing him the wrong tool bc you don’t rlly know their names you just have to guess sometimes :( but he’s super patient with you, popping up from his station when you’ve passed him the totally wrong thing, sending you a little amused grin. “almost, but not quite, sugar.” he winks, taking the right thing out the box before disappearing back beneath the car again, leaving you weak at the knees.

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

#🌙 anon #jj maybank prompt

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theitgirlnetwork · 3 months

Text

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

Note:....Been a while. I know boooo, it was very shitty of me, and I'll spare you the sob story but I'm back. Thank you all for the continued support, I am extremely grateful to everyone who gave and continues to give this story a chance. I am ready to get back to work. This chapter is a long one as the beginning of my apology. As always, feel free to reach out to me with any questions or just to chat, but all in all, it feels good to be back. Happy Valentines Day, babies <3

Warning: Toxic Family Dynamics, anxiety, angst and strong language.

“Now we wait.”

Lip rolls his eyes as he sits on the bed in his and Charlotte’s room at Kev and V’s house, crossing his arms. “This is fucking stupid.”

V’s sharp elbow goes into his side as Kev shushes him, facing the opposite direction.

The three of them are sitting and waiting outside of the bathroom door, straightening as Carol emerges from the room, blue and white stick in her hands and Charlotte in tow. “Auntie Carol, I told you I’m not pregnant-”

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

“But Mama,” V tries, rubbing her head tiredly. “She just had her period.”

“You shut up, Veronica, you were supposed to be watching her, not letting her shack up while you did, lord knows everything but take care of your cousin. Now I’m gonna hear shit from her father and his wife the whole time they’re here.” The older woman huffs, squinting at the test, snapping her fingers and pointing to the bed, gesturing for Charlotte to sit. “The least we can do is make sure she’s not pregnant when they get here.”

Lip rests his hand on Charlotte’s thigh as he tries to hide his annoyance with the whole situation. The call with Charlotte’s dad had been disastrous, as he suspected it would be. The older man had cursed him to high heaven before demanding Charlotte be on the next flight home. When Lip heard that he’d panicked, snatching the phone back from his wife and hanging up. All they’d received since then was an eerie message that they were on their way. Because he’s him and he has literally no control over his own brain, he had no choice but to question why she hadn’t told her parents about them, about him. It seemed like her dad hadn’t even expected to hear from a boyfriend let alone a husband. They’d at least been together long enough that her parents should know he exists.

In fact that’s all he can think about, aside from the fact that he may have lost his job. And how the two may be related.

“Fuck!” Lip growls as he punches the wall in the hallway. He’s unconcerned with what Fiona will say about it. He’ll just blame it on Frank.

Charlotte’s head pops out of the bathroom with a freshly bathed Liam on her hip, both looking as innocently confused as ever. Liam claps his hand, squealing, mumbling out an excited ‘fuck!’ as he meets his brother’s eyes. “No, Liam, that's a bad word. Phillip didn’t mean to say that. He meant to say darn, right Phillip?”

The blond is in too foul a mood to concede for cuteness sake and instead squeezes the boy’s cheek and gives his wife an appreciative pat on the ass before scooting past. “Nah, I meant fuck.”

Charlotte pouts as she bounces the child on her hip a little before taking him to sit with one his other siblings as she goes to figure out what’s wrong with her spouse. She’s noticed that Phillip has been on edge since her parents’ message, but she was beginning to think that wasn’t all that was bothering him.

She finds him spread out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl on his face. Her pout deepens as she climbs over the side of the couch, laying her body over his, pressing her chest to his and offering him a bright smile. “Talk to me, bubba.”

“I’ve just got shit to figure out I guess, I gotta handle it or we’re fucked.” he huffs, rolling his big blue eyes, as she smooths the lines between his brows with her soft fingers.

“Shit like what?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head lightly.

“Watch your mouth.” He murmurs, softly, dragging his thumb over her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, humming with quiet satisfaction as she simply closes her mouth around it, brown eyes staring up at him intently. “That shit at the party, lost my cool, cause that fucker is trying to fuck you-”

“Don’t want him.” she says around his finger.

“I lost my cool and sorta might’ve cost us a good thing.” Lip sighs, smoothing his other hand over her hair. “Daddy wants to talk to me in his office later this week. Fucked it up, sorry baby.”

It almost feels worse. How quickly she shrugs off his failures. She doesn’t tell him he fucking sucks, or that he ruins everything. She doesn’t huff and push off of him. She offers him a soft smile, kisses him deeply, and tells him ‘they’ll figure it out’. They’ll do it. Another thing he just can’t do for her. He feels helpless. He loves her, and this job was the biggest step he’s made in showing her that. He might beg. He might literally have to set his pride aside and beg.

That was part one in the hardest lesson life has taught him. Phillip Gallagher is not good enough for Charlotte Gal…Fisher.

“Yay, Debbie!” Charlotte screams , clapping along as Ian whistles. The family was gathering for Debbie’s first soccer game of the season and it was…not going well. Turns out Debbie’s team sucks and she doesn’t respond very well to the rules and restrictions of soccer. She was currently focusing more on digging her heel of her cleats into the shin of a kid who’d accidentally kicked her hand while the ball rolled past her.

“Fuckin’ kill ‘em, Debs.” Mickey calls, lighting his cigarette. His brows furrow at the looks the parents around him send him. “I fuckin’ meant, metaphorically.”

“Figuratively.” Lip corrects, smacking away the middle finger that gets waived in his face. He sighs as Charlotte knocks his own cigarette out of his hand before he can light it, slapping her thigh, pulling her leg over his as she giggles in his ear. Lip relishes in the closeness and warmth he gets from this moment. His wife leaning into him, absently toying with his fingers as she cheers for his little sister.

It makes him think. He thinks about the future. Doing this with his kids. Their kids. Kids he didn’t even think he wanted. Not until her. Just the idea of her opens a world of possibilities he hadn’t even factored in. It feels good. It would feel great, if some fucking idiot wasn’t staring at her like a piece of fuckin’ meat-

“Can I fucking help you, fuck face, or do you wanna keep starin’ at my wife?” He demands, standing immediately. Ian and Mickey are following suit soon enough, the latter, lifting Charlotte and placing her on the opposite side of all of them.

“Woah,” the guy lifts his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the men nervously. “I just was trying to figure out where I know her from, I don’t want any issues.”

“Let’s just say you don’t know her from anywhere and you get to keep your teeth, alright?” Mickey growls.

The three men settle back into their seats and return to the game. Charlotte waves off Debbie’s confused look that she sends to the stands. She whispers into Lip’s ear that everything is fine. That the guy probably frequents the bar she works at. But from the way she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, zipping her jacket up to her neck and crossing her arms over her chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice…Lip fucking hates himself. He really does. He hates the guys at the club that pay to see the love of his life essentially naked. He hates that they go around thinking about her after they leave the fuckin’ seedy ass building. He hates that she works there, because despite the fact that her body is beautiful and he’s glad she’s comfortable in it, his insecurity is making her insecure and now they can’t be at his sister’s soccer game, or the grocery store, or the park or the club without someone fucking eye-fucking his wife, pissing him off and making her uncomfortable in her own damn clothes.

But mostly, mostly he hates himself for not being able to make her like the women sitting on the opposite side for the other team. The soccer moms who have husbands that take care of fuckin’ everything they need and have shit to spare to give them what they want. He hates that she’s not sitting here with one of those fancy, stupid ass purses that they all seem to fuckin’ have. He hates that while they got to drop their kids off at a nice ass school after they kissed their husbands goodbye and then went shopping or drinking or whatever upper middle housewives do with their days Charlotte was helping clean his shithole house. He hates that after the game he’s gonna drop her off to the club where she’ll meet more creeps who get off thinking about her and eye-fuck her in his face. He hates that he’s too pussy to go into the club because then he’s worried he’ll steal one of Mickey’s guns and air the bitch out and Charlotte’ll be forced to visit him in jail for the rest of her life.

So Lip grinds his teeth and finishes watching the game. Leg jumping as he tries to soothe his temper. That’s part two.

Charlotte’s parents arriving is the nail in the marital coffin for Lip. They go pick them up from the airport in the attempt to make a good impression. The couple borrows Kev’s car and the whole ride their Charlotte tries to keep him in a good mood. He knew he must be walking into the lion’s den from how she’d been acting. They’d had sex twice that morning, and before he could start to offer to make her breakfast for her…efforts, she was pulling out the ingredients to make him pancakes. In the car, she didn’t whine about his music, just humming softly as it played, rubbing his arm as his hand rested on her thigh. He wants to be able to leave it at this. He doesn’t want to interrupt the great morning by asking the dreaded question, but he’s him and he can’t let it go.

“So, we haven’t really gotten to talk about it, but I need to ask…why didn’t you tell your parents about me?”

Charlotte takes a deep breath, staring straight out the window as they pull into a pickup spot. “They’re parents…you know, they didn’t exactly send me here to get married in three months.”

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

“Bubba, it doesn’t matter.” Charlotte turns to face Lip, pulling her knee into the seat beneath her. “It doesn’t matter, I approve. I’m more worried about what you’ll think of me. My parents aren’t the nicest people, and…I’m not good with navigating them.”

“Charlotte, there’s literally nothing short of murder you could do that would make me change my mind, you’re not the one we need to worry about.” Lip pushes his tongue into his cheek absently, nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the reflection of the simple ring shining on his hand.

“This is temporary, right?” Charlotte murmurs, leaning over the console and placing her hands over Lip’s. “They’ll come, and see how good you take care of me and they’ll go home. ‘Kay?”

The blond man just nods quietly, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it, savoring their bubble one last time before they get out of the car.

“I hate the airport, it's dirty and busy all of the time.”

Lip rolls his lips together as he drags his in-laws bags over to the car, listening quietly with Charlotte as her mother and father talk about how miserable their flight has been. Her dad, Victor, had given him a curt nod in introduction and held his arm out for Charlotte to obediently place herself into a hug that Lip could tell she didn’t want. Her mother Cynthia had kissed her cheeks in a European way to where they never actually touch. Both people looked polished, and barely tried to hide their wince when Charlotte said, “This is my husband, Phillip.”

Lip’s wife’s pretty brown eyes haven’t lifted from ground level since they met her parents at the terminal, an absent look on her face as her parents drone on and on with pleasantries.

“...and, honey, don’t you think it’s a little too cold for that outfit?” her mom finishes, as the three of them stand back and watch Lip load the car.

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

“I don’t know how you could be, with this frigid Chicago air. Hopefully you’re not getting sick. Phillip, you always have to watch her, she never wants to wear a coat, always trying to walk around half naked and expect not to get sick-”

“We’d better hope she’s not having hot flashes.”

“Victor!”

And that too. The snide remarks. Glances down at Charlotte’s stomach, and positioning himself between her and Lip as they walk back to the car. The muscle in Lip’s jaw jumps in irritation as her father continues to insinuate that the only reason he’s here is because he’s some white trash deadbeat that knocked his daughter up.

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

“As you’ve told me.” The older man grunts, sliding between his daughter and the car, climbing into the front passenger seat the second the lock clicks open, not even sparing her a glance.

“Are you guys, uh, hungry? We could stop and get something to eat.” Lip sniffs, glancing up into the rearview mirror to get a look at Charlotte. She’s in the back, toying with her fingers as she stares out of the window. That is until her mom swats at her hand to get her to stop, and she takes to biting her lip instead.

“No thank you, young man, the hotel should be fine.” Victor huffs again, for the fiftieth fucking time since he’s been in the car. “Charlotte, I made you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, since you never took the time to find a physician yourself. Your mother will take you after we have breakfast. I assume you’ll be joining us, Phillip.”

Charlotte manages to look up at that, her voice resigned as she addresses her father. “Of course he will, Daddy, we’ll be with you bright early.”

The car goes silent for a moment before Victor mumbles under his breath, ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’

“Daddy?”

“I’m sorry, are we supposed to pretend that this is okay? Cynthia, I tried, but this is fucking ridiculous!”

“Victor! Please.”

“Okay.” Lip grunts, pulling the car into one of the hotel parking spots in the far corner of the lot.

“No, Charlotte Andrea Fisher, you are 19 years old. You are away from home for the first time, against my better judgment. You have been away for only 3 months. You are naive, and impulsive, and for some reason want to be like your cousin Veronica so damn bad. You are going to take your ass upstairs to the hotel room your mother and I got you and you are not shacking up with this boy-”

“He’s not a boy, he’s my husband, Dad.” Charlotte whimpers from the backseat. Lip grinds his teeth and unbuckles his seatbelt, catching her mother roll her eyes and rub her forehead as he climbs out of the car.

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

“You are a little girl, and that is a boy. You’re talking about marriage, that sham is getting annulled, if it was even legal-” Victor follows suit, climbing out of the car and slamming the door, opening his wife’s before walking, meeting Lip at Charlotte’s door. The older man goes to tug it open, only to be stopped by Lip’s hand. “Move.”

“No. My wife is coming home with me.” he says calmly.

“Your wife? Your wife, she’s my daughter, and she’s coming with me and her mother-”

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

“Oh.” Victor cocks his head, taking a step closer to an unflinching Lip. “You think you're tough, boy?”

“You tell me, we’re from the same place.”

The older man glares past him to the car window again. Shifting his attention to Charlotte. “Charlotte Andrea Fisher-”

“Gallagher.” Her muffled voice calls from behind the cheap glass. “My last name is Gallagher now, Dad.”

It’s quiet. Soft. Her voice waivers. But still. She said it. And still, it fills Lip up with pride as he leans against the car door, using its keys to click it closed as he watches her mother drag her husband away. Forcing him to the hotel.

After he watches the fancy, sliding double doors close behind them and the yelling becomes a little more faint, Lip unlocks the car. The way she falls into his arms crushes him. The tears, the shaking, the sobs of ‘I thought they’d give us a chance’ that part hurt.

Lip Gallagher has watched his parents abandon his siblings. Hit them. Steal from them. Lie. Everything in the book of bad parents. He’s been watching it his whole life. He’s numb to it. It’s life, he tells them. Doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. Frank and Monica. They’ve never been anything to them, and never would be.

But watching this. Watching Charlotte lose her parents in front of him, because of him, he’s never seen anything like it. He’s sad for her. He watched them rip her to shreds with words and disapproving looks. They came here and broke the love of his life within an hour and a half.

This wasn’t the final straw.

No, because Lip’s girl is sweet. This is something he’s always known, and in anyone else he’d call it a flaw. She’s like Debbie, but less vengeful. She forgives. Gives second…third…fourth chances. Hell, its the only fuckin’ way he’s been able to keep her, and normally, he’d thank whatever shitty higher power that’s up there that dropped this woman in his lap for him to hoard to himself but not today.

“She says she wants to say sorry for him. I’m not gonna talk to him, just her. She promised.”

“Bunny, I’m not gonna tell you don’t see your mom-”

“Good!” Charlotte chirps as Lip watches her tug on some notably baggy jeans over her shapely legs, and pull an oversized sweater over her head.

“‘M gonna tell you it’d be pretty fuckin’ stupid though.” he finishes, grabbing the edge of her sweater and pulling her into his lap as he sits on the bed.

Charlotte smoothes her fingers over his cheek before leaning her forehead against his. “Hm, like threatening your boss's son?”

“Fuckin’ defendin’ your honor.” he grunts, tilting her toward him and patting her ass.

“My hero.”

“Exactly, and now I’m the fuckin’ dragon, lockin’ you up in the tower so the evil people who made the princess cry yesterday don’t get to do it again.”

“That’s really not how fairytales work. And dragons can’t lock doors.”

“Fuckin’ smartass.” Lip breathes, connecting his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. He squeezes her tightly, trying to wring every negative thought out of her head. “They hurt you.” he whispers against her lips.

“They’re my parents. They think they’re doing what’s best for me. They’re not. But that’s what they think.” she whispers back, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “So, I’m gonna go to this doctor’s appointment. Do another pregnancy test. Show them we’re married because you loveee me. And then, I’m gonna tell my mom our love story, leaving out some key details. And I’m gonna make her love you like I do, Bubba.”

Lip sits back and takes in her words. Because maybe that is what she’ll do. Maybe Cynthia will reconsider and maybe that will make things better. Maybe they’ll understand their situation and that they love each other and he’s pretty sure they won’t fuckin’ love him but maybe they’ll understand that he fuckin’ loves her. “Hopefully not like you love me. You’d have some competition.” she gasps at that, smacking his arm. “What? You look alike!”

The plan was clear. Charlotte was supposed to go and charm the pants off her mom on Lip’s behalf, he was supposed to be at home, hold down the fort, and figure out what the hell he was going to say to his boss, to get his job back.

Lip had set up shop. He’d plopped back on the run down couch in his house, and pulled one of his little siblings toys from underneath his ass and started rolling a joint on the table. It was time for him to play his part. Think. For him, and for his family.

But then there was the knock. And then it turned into knocking. It was incessant.

“Fuck! Hold on. ‘M fuckin’ coming!” He calls, tripping over the plastic bat on the floor when he makes his way over to the door. “What-”

“Phillip.”

“I…what the fuck are you doin’ here? Come to yell at me s’more?”

Victor Fisher stands with his arms crossed. Polished with a neat sweater and ironed pants, looking wildly uncomfortable and out of place in his own old neighborhood. “No, I…think I did enough of that yesterday. At least that’s what Cynthia tells me.”

“Okay,” Lip shrugs, leaning in the frame and catching Victor’s glance at the chipped paint. “Well, she tell you that she and Charlotte are going to the doctor?”

“Yes. It was my own idea to come down here and ask you to come get something to eat with me while we wait.”

The blond��s eyes narrow as he laughs incredulously. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“Not at all.” Victor sighs, crossing his arms. “I am extending an olive branch. For Charlotte’s sake. Grab the other end.”

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.”

“Technology and science are languages that I’ve always been able to speak. It pays too.” Lip shrugs, pushing a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Well?” Victor asks without looking up. This has been their breakfast so far. Short, stilted conversation. Lip answering the questions Victor fires at him. Trying to gauge his reactions to everything he says. Pretending he wasn’t starting to hate this man.

“Gettin’ there.”

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.”

“Smart like you?” he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

“Uh, no. Not like me.” Lip shifts in his seat, suddenly unable to follow the conversation.

“Hm.” Victor reaches to the side of the table, pouring more coffee into his cup and then into Lip’s. “Charlotte is an only child, you know that?”

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

“So, you know why we want her to go to the doctor so badly?”

“Fuckin’- yes!”

“You know she’s got chronic pain? That she suffers from sickle cell? She told you that?”

What?

Lip tries to keep a poker face as all of the wind is knocked out of his body. A thousand questions are swirling around in his head. His chest hurts. He didn’t know, why didn’t he know? He should have known-

“Do you know what happens when people who suffer from sickle cell go into crisis? What a flare up of chronic pain looks like for her?” Victor sighs, fully removing his glasses this time. “Probably not, you’ve known her for three months. But it happens, and it's bad. She…she can’t move. Barely eats, loses weight rapidly. The pains. The shakes. The crying. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yea-yes-”

“I’m sure you could. You’re a man. I understand that. You grew up here. You’ve had to be a man long before you were supposed to and that is unfair and I’m sorry that happened to you but the reality is, Charlotte is a girl. You two are a year apart, but you’re a man and she’s a girl. She grew up in a nice house, with me and her mother. She went to nice schools. We knew she was pretty, too pretty for her own good, so we protected her from the boys not worth keeping around-”

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

“No, I’m not implying you’re not worth anything, Phillip. Boys like you from this area are diamonds in the rough. Just like me. I was just like you. And I got the girl. You have Charlotte, I had Cynthia. I know how it feels to hit the lottery.” Victor pauses to take a drink of his coffee, gesturing to the waitress for the check. “But Phillip, I don’t speak to my siblings. My parents. They were deadbeats. My siblings stayed here. I left them behind. They hate me. All of them. And over time, I’ve learned that I don’t care. I chose Cynthia. I chose me. They were holding me back. I let them go. Because you’ll learn, Phillip, that getting there only gets there, when you can focus. You can’t keep two families afloat.”

Lip works his jaw irritably, feeling his skin heat with irritation as he weighs what his father and law says. “What are you trying to say? I should abandon my family?”

“No. I’m saying it's not too late to choose them and annul your marriage. We both know you can’t take care of Charlotte. Not the way she should be. Not for a long, long time. So give her back to people who can. People who can make it worth you and your family’s while.”

“I…” Lip grits his teeth at the sound of his voice cracking. “I love her. I take care of her.” “She’s been living here, working as a stripper under your care. Want better for her, Phillip.” Victor says, snapping his checkbook closed as he slides the piece of paper across the table. The waitress comes over with the bill, dropping it between the two men and Lip absentmindedly reaches into his pocket to find some money, pausing when the older man holds his hand up to halt him. “Don’t worry, son. I’ve got it.”

Sending the message was hard, but it was the only way Lip knew how.

He knew he couldn’t look Charlotte in the face yet. No. He needed more time. Time to think. Time to decide he was doing the right thing. Time to finish talking himself into this.

Victor told him what he needed to do. Bend her heart, not break it. Neither of them wanted to see her broken. Just hurt her enough that she’s prepared to go home. Charlotte’s stubborn, so she won’t just give up. She won’t run to her parents so easily. So Lip would need to be able to hold out long enough that she would give up. Get tired. Realize it was over and go home.

And Lip would be able to pay the bills in the house, for the next three months. One month for each one he and Charlotte had together. He would be able to get his family a car. He would have something to drive back and forth to work in. A real car. Not a run down busted up car barely off the junk lot. A real car. One that he could keep for years.

So, he came home. Her mom kept her out a long enough time, clearly in on this plan to write him out of Charlotte’s fuckin’ life. He went to his house. He looked his siblings in the face and told them that he was ending things with Charlotte. And they were fuckin’ pissed. The kids weren’t talking to him. Debbie said she hated him. But she’d get over it. That’s what Victor had said when he’d told him how they loved Charlotte.

Carl mumbled something about a ‘waste’ and shoved past him. Liam doesn’t understand. And Lip knows that he’ll feel horrible when his baby brother wakes up tomorrow asking for her.

Ian and Fiona were the worst. Ian started rattling insults immediately. Telling him what a piece of shit he was. He knows. Telling him this is the only chance at something good, at love he’ll actually get. He fuckin’ knows.

Fiona just asked so many questions. Why? What happened? Are you sure?

That all stopped when Lip shrugged, schooling an emotionless expression onto his face, dropping the check onto the kitchen table and snapping his phone closed as he finished his message. “It’s done.”

All of that hurt. It fucking sucked and he felt like blowing his brains out when the flood of text messages started rolling in. But nothing could beat the crying. The begging.

“Bubba, please.” Her voice is small on the opposite side of the door, the whining lilt to it has his entire body tense as he leans against the wood, staring at the wall over Ian’s shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with any of his siblings. “I love you. Why are you doing this?”

“Lip-” Fiona starts, cutting herself off when her little brother looks up at her, wide blue eyes watery with tears, an exhausted look on his face, jaw clenched so hard she worried his teeth would crack. She thinks this is a mistake. She loves Charlotte, and even more, Lip loves Charlotte more than anything, but this was his decision, and he was her brother.

“I love you, what did I do? M’sorry.” she whimpers, soft thump letting the three siblings know she’d slid down the door. “Please, I love you. Please…st-stop.”

The three eldest Gallaghers stand there in a stalemate. Ian shifts on his feet, quietly shaking his head as he looks away. Fiona watches her brother struggle somberly, wondering if she could have done anything that would have avoided this.

And Lip, silent, straight faced, completely devoid of emotion as he rests his head against the door, staring forward. The only indication that he feels anything at all is the few tears that managed to escape down his face.

It goes on like this for an hour and a half. At 40 minutes, Ian scoffs, mumbling under his breath as he storms his way up the stairs, slamming his room door closed, causing his sister to flinch. Once the standoff reaches 1 hour and 15 minutes, Fiona sighs, scrubbing a tired hand down her face before patting an unmoving Lip’s shoulder, retiring to bed herself.

The sobbing and constant knocking at the door had slowed to quiet pleas, still making Lip’s chest hurt just as bad. He’s doing what’s best for her. He knows that. It hurts now, but she’ll recover from this. She’ll be better, she’ll have a chance to do better than him.

Lip will never recover. He knows that too. He knows that this is his better. His best. Being with Charlotte is everything. That’s why he doesn’t deserve it. He should’ve never tried to drag her down with him. He can’t give her the life she deserves, or the things she should have access to. He could only offer her hard work, and being bound to mental illness and alcoholism. Trapping her with a baby, forcing her to live in the fucking slums and dance for a couple of bucks from creepy frat boy fucks and drunk limp dick losers like his father.

Soon he can hear footsteps approaching the doorway, Charlotte is immediately riled up by the presence of whoever it is. “No, no, no, he needs to talk to me. Something is wrong, I don’t know what I did- Phillip, please.”

“C’mon Lottie, let’s go home.” Lip recognizes Kev’s muffled voice from the opposite side of the door. After some quiet arguing, he finally releases a breath when he hears the wood creak under the weight of them walking away.

The man ignores the crushing feeling in his chest, the gut wrenching pain that comes with the realization of what he’d just done. A numbness spreads over his limbs as he hazily makes his way over to and up the stairs, breathing shakily. He reaches the doorway of his dark room and stops there. He wants his bed. He wants to climb under the covers and pretend he didn’t just blow up his fuckin’ life. But he can’t make it over the threshold.

This is her room too. He didn’t think this through. She’s touched everything. How was he supposed to lay in the bed that they laid in together? Her clothes are still in the drawers. Pictures still taped to the mirror and walls. Fuck.

It’s humiliating, the way he breaks down. Strong shoulders shaking with stronger sobs. Body curling over until his knees simply give out, he sits on the floor next to the crack in the wall where Carl had drilled a hole to hide drugs for Frank. The sound of miscellaneous toys left out squeaking under him. Lip pulls his legs to his chest and cries, because it’s all he can do. Despite every ounce of his being telling him, ‘stop being a bitch,’ ‘the fuck are you cryin’ about, pussy?’ he can’t help it. And he doesn’t stop. Not when his throat started getting sore, or his back started to hurt. Not when the sun starts to peak in through the half broken window in the hallway. Not when he feels his little sister lay a blanket over him before sitting beside him, quietly resting her head on his shoulder.

Charlotte doesn’t fare much better. She finally fell asleep with V rubbing her back, sleeping in her cousin’s bed while Kev slept downstairs. When she wakes she has a pounding headache, her eyes are puffy and burn. She wraps one of the blankets around herself before dragging to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face.

She’s hurt. Heartbroken and confused. She knows why he’s doing this. Her parents said something. Did something. Something that made him decide she isn’t worth the trouble.

But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She loves Phillip. She loves her husband, and she didn’t take their time together lightly. She pulls on one of Phillip’s sweatshirts and jumps her way into a pair of jeans before looking at herself in the mirror.

“Hey, honey,” V’s soft voice comes from behind her, Charlotte’s cousin appears over her shoulder, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I’ve gotta,” she sniffs, combing her fingers through her hair. “I’ve gotta take Liam to daycare. And um, make sure Carl remembers his science project. See if Phillip wants me to have lunch with him at work today, I could…I could make him something-”

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

“He’s confused.” Charlotte says sharply, swinging her purse over her shoulder, holding her hand out to her cousin expectantly. “My key to their house is in our room. I…don’t normally need it.”

“Charlotte, listen. I’m not saying this to hurt you, but that boy left you crying on the porch in the cold, that sends a message. Don’t you think you two need space?”

The younger woman shakes her head stubbornly, looking forward to the door, refusing to look at V. “No. Space will let him spiral. My parents made him doubt me, I’m gonna show him that they don’t know what they’re talking about, that I’m what he wants and needs, no matter what they say.”

Determined, Charlotte makes her way next door, unlocking the door with V’s keys and gets to work immediately. Frank is passed out on the couch, so she nudges him awake with a beer at the ready, guiding the drunken man out of the door so he won’t be there when everyone wakes up. Next she starts on the bacon and eggs, brewing a cup of coffee before climbing the stairs to grab Liam, changing and dressing him. “G’morning Liam, did you sleep well?” she coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she makes her way back down the stairs.

When she gets down there, Fiona is sitting at the table, eyes going wide as she sees her sister-in-law. “Lottie? I…when did-”

“Early this morning. I know yesterday was really weird, and I’m sorry you guys had to see that-”

“Hey,” Fiona smiles, taking Liam from Charlotte’s arms. “There’s no embarrassment with family. Gallaghers know no shame, girl, and you’re one of us.”

And she means it. Fiona watches as a wave of relief washes over the girl bustling around her kitchen, dumping fresh bacon onto a plate. “Thanks Fi.” Charlotte tucks some hair behind her ear, sliding a bowl of cheerios in front of the toddler. “I’m sorry to even ask you this, but did he talk to you about anything? Like something they said or s-something I did-”

“Mornin.”

The deep voice makes Charlotte’s heart drop to her stomach. She turns slowly, as if she’s approaching an animal that’s likely to scare. And there he is. Standing there in his pajamas, hair mussed, bags under his eyes. But still handsome as ever to Charlotte. “Phillip.”

The blond pauses for a beat. His blue eyes are cloudy for a moment as he takes in the girl before he slips past her, ignoring her extended hand, offering a mug of coffee, opting to open the fridge and grab the orange juice instead. “Hey, you come here to pick up your stuff?”

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

“I uh, gotta get to work.” he sniffs, grabbing his bag from it’s place on the kitchen floor, slinging it over his shoulder with his jacket in his hand.

“But-” Charlotte flinches as the door slams shut, shoulders tense as she stares after her husband. Fiona quietly slips behind the girl, resting her hand on her shoulder, apologetic for her brother’s behavior, but unable to do anything about it. “He means it.”

Charlotte had whispered so quietly that her sister-in-law didn’t catch it, leaning in for clarity. “What?”

“Phillip, he’s leaving me, and he means it.” It was like a rock landed in her stomach, both painful and grounding, Charlotte steels herself. “Fine.” she huffs, grabbing her own bag and storming out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Phillip’s day had been absolute shit so far. He woke up to his boss’s daddy’s assistant calling him in for a meeting. No doubt calling him in to fucking fire him for beating the living shit out of his pussy ass son. Lip doesn’t regret it. Not really. But he regrets losing his fucking job.

On top of that, he came downstairs to see the one person he couldn’t handle seeing. She looked so damn pretty, mixing up in his kitchen, bein’ with his family and shit. The hopeful look in her eye as she saw him enter the room. He didn’t deserve for her to fuckin’ look at him like that. He wanted to kick his own ass for how broken her pretty little face looked when he dismissed her. He loves her. That’s why he’s doing this. Her eyes were pink and puffy. She’d been crying for him. The fact that he was fighting with himself not to like that…he’s a sick fuck. Like he’s said, he doesn’t deserve her.

Lip doesn’t even bother asking Kev to use his car to get to work, opting to take a walk to the train station to clear his head. He was in no real rush to be fired. As he blows into his hands to warm them, he lets his mind wander to the last place it needs to, but the only place it seems to want to go.

“So, what the fuck are they mad at her for? They don’t wanna do the band shit anymore?”

Charlotte giggles, running her fingers through his curls as he lays his head on her lap, scowling at the television. She was educating him on Disney movies; it seemed that in the process of raising his siblings along with his sister, he’d never gotten the chance to experience sitcoms and original movies that were formative for her childhood. He’d said, ‘I’m not watchin’, put your shit on and I’ll take a nap’ but here he was, watching intently with a wonder that made her heart ache. “Guess they don’t have your work ethic, bubba.”

Lip hums contentedly, bringing her free hand to his lips, absently pressing kisses to her palm as he continues watching the movie. “Yeah, I know you liked her little rapping white boyfriend.”

“Um, excuse me? Even though he’s cute-”

“Knew it.”

“And you happen to also be a white, blonde with blue hair, most of my exes haven’t been white, I’ll have you know.”

He tried to swallow down the comment, really. But he fuckin’ couldn’t hold himself back, sue him. “Yeah, how many exes are we talkin’ about?”

He expects for her to get offended, or be evasive. Tell him to fuck off. That’s what any of his sorta exes would’ve done. Hell, that’s what he would’ve done. With anyone but her. He’ll tell her whatever she needs to know. But Charlotte has soft edges. Even when he’s being a dick, she has softness for him he’d never experienced before.

“Not many, baby, just like, five.” She smiles gently, smoothing her hand over his hair again. “You’re the only one who matters now, Phillip.” she takes a deep breath, leaning down to press her forehead against his, and Lip can’t help but lean up to meet her, eyes trained on her face as hers slip closed. “Love you.” she mumbles.

She’s everything. “I love you, Bunny.”

With that, her brown eyes open, staring down at him with joy, she wrinkles her nose. “Ew, you like me?” she teases, squealing in his ear as he pushes himself up, grabbing her thigh and tugging her down on the couch.

“Fuckin’ brat.” he chuckles breathily against her lips, slapping her thigh lightly as he descends on her, her giggles ringing out into the air.

“Fuck.” the blond huffs out, roughly wiping at a stray tear before storming up to an abandoned car, left on the frozen grass and kicking at one of the doors, denting it slightly. He breathes heavily, shaking his head and turning to go back to his path to the train. Her laughter. That fuckin’ pretty ass laugh that she’s gonna end up giving to someone else makes him feel like he could vomit. He could hear it. In his head. It used to be nice. Now it feels like his heart is being wrenched from his fuckin’ chest. Damnit!

Lip drops his bag onto the ground, lifting his leg and kicking the car again. And again. And again. Until he stops. Then, he starts punching the windows, his knuckles start getting bloody as the glass shatters and breaks under his efforts. But he keeps going. He just keeps punching, and kicking, and screaming…? When did he start doing that?

He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice someone approaching him.

“Lip…?” A familiar voice calls out. Familiar, but not the one haunting him now. “Well, it’s been a while, I can guess how you’ve been.”

He stops, turning to look at the person intruding on his break down, brows furrowed. The blond reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, raising it to pluck one into his mouth before offering it to them. “The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Needed a nice bed, and food. Came to check on my mom. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I’ve been doin’?”

To say Charlotte was pissed off was an understatement. Hot, angry tears stream down her face as she swings open the door to V and Kev’s house, throwing her purse on the floor. She tries to level out her breath as she pushes into the bathroom. Charlotte rests her hands on the sink as she watches herself cry in the mirror. Sobs racking her body she doubles over with the force of her crying. She was glad no one was home to see her like this.

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing when she climbs into the tub, bringing her knees to her chest. She raises her left hand to look at the small ring on her finger. It’s not what she used to picture. When she was younger, she would envision her life. She would dream about what her ring would look like. What her husband would be like.

It was always a ring like her mother’s, a large house like she grew up in and the some faceless prince who spun her in circles but surprisingly never spoke.

This life she was building with Phillip was nothing like that. They live in a small house with his siblings, he’d shared a room until he was 18 and got her ring from his drunken father. It was small, and wouldn’t pass as a kids toy where she came from. Phillip was quiet compared to his siblings, but generally loud, crass, and aggressive. With everyone except her at least. He was a prince. He does spin her around, and hug her, and kiss her and look at her like she’s everything. The life he gave her was better than she’d imagined.

But he’s ready to throw it away. And it hurts. Charlotte is tired of being the one being hurt.

She sits in silence for a few moments, staring at the tiles on the wall before she can distantly hear her phone chiming in her purse outside the bathroom door. She tries to ignore the clench in her chest, the little glimmer of hope that it’s Phillip, calling to say sorry, that he’d changed his mind and he was coming over so they could make up. Charlotte pushes out of the tub at the third chime, walking on unsteady legs over to the bag, sniffling and tucking hair behind her ear as she squints to read the messages.

It’s her manager from the club, asking if anyone was interested in working the day party for today because the promoter’s entertainment fell through. Normally, she’d turn this down. She knows how Lip feels about her new job, and for her it was only a means to an end. They were discussing alternatives until this shit started. But maybe working a party would be a good way for her to get her mind off of things, and make some extra cash. Especially since it seems she’ll be doing things by herself for now on.

“So you got married? That wasn’t a joke?”

“Uh, nope, real shit.” Lip takes a final swig of his beer before sailing it into the street, smiling softly at the glass shattering before opening another.

“Hm, never thought you were the marrying type.”

“M’not.”

Karen shrugs, sipping her own beer and looking up at him. “Must’ve been pretty though, to get you down the aisle. Or pregnant. Both?”

“Not pregnant.” He says, opening his phone and showing her a picture of Charlotte. He supposes he’s gonna have to stop having those at the ready, if he’s gonna move on. As if he could.

“Damn, she’s sexy.” Karen’s eyes widen as she grabs the phone. She remembers the current situation and bites her lip. “Sorry.”

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Karen looks out into the road again, hesitating for a moment before nudging Lip’s shoulder. “Want me to take your mind off of it? It’s been a while.”

Before Lip had even met Charlotte he had told himself he’d never fuck Karen again. She’s better now, sure, but she also almost fucking ruined his life multiple times. Once he had met Charlotte, he hadn’t even thought of it. He really didn’t consider that he’d ever fuck someone else again. A realization that surprised himself more than anyone, considering he’d never been the monogamous type.

But now he’s in pain. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever be with Charlotte again. That makes him feel cold in a way that he’s never felt before. Lip, desperate for any kind of break he can get from what he’s feeling, rolls his eyes to the sky. “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

“Gee, you used to be a lot more excited for me to get you off.” she mumbles against his cheek before leaning in to kiss his lips.

Lip turns his head away, pulling his mouth from her reach, “Don’t um, kiss me.”

Karen looks at him for a moment before laughing. “Okay, kissing used to be your thing, not mine.” As she kneels in front of him, Lip finds himself squirming uncomfortably, looking everywhere but down when he feels her unzipping his pants. “Um…are you…is it like, too cold?”

“Uh, no, I’m…gimme a second.” He feels like he can’t breath, the ring on his finger feels like it’s literally fucking scalding his skin.

“Oh-kay.”

A few more moments pass and Karen speaks again. “Do you want me to help you? Is there anything I can do?”

“Nope, no, not at all. Just, shut up for one second, please.” He brings his hands together, tugging the ring off and putting it in his pocket and prays.

“You can think of her if you need to. I don’t mind.” she tries again.

“Um, yeah, maybe.” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and lets the images of Charlotte that he’s racked up over time run across his brain. It feels good to think of her. To sift through the memories of her smiling up at him, holding him close, crying out his name. But he couldn’t trick his mind or body. He’s in love. Still. And she’s not the girl on her knees in front of him. “No, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t I’m…I don’t think I can fuck someone who’s not my wife. At least right now.” Or ever. Shit. I’m never gonna get my dick wet again.

“Jeez, that’s serious.” Karen says. She hops up, tucking her hands in her pockets. “What is she? A contortionist?” Lip just looks at her and she sobers, her smile dropping. “Sorry. I’m serious. I’m talking to you as a friend, talk to me. Your wife is hot, and nice, and clearly has a hold over your dick, so what’s the problem, why’d you leave her?”

“She’s perfect.” Lip sighs, lighting another cigarette, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he works back the lump in his throat. He’ll be damned if he cries about this in front of Karen.

“Okay so-”

“She’s perfect. She’s everything, she deserves everything and I am stuck here. I live here. I was born here, I’m gonna live and die here and I don’t want her here to do it with me. So I can’t have her, that’s fine I’m teaching myself that it's fine but it fuckin’ sucks! It fuckin’ sucks Karen, and it’s fuckin’ worse because she’s willing to stay. I hate her for not making this easy!” He roughly throws the bottle into the street, barely missing a parked car.

“Oof. Okay. Clearly, you need to get your mind off of things.” She says, scooting the remainder of the six pack the pair of them bought from the liquor store across the street away from him. “C’mon, let’s get you a real drink and some recreational drugs.”

“You’re making some good tips out there girl, they’re loving you at this party.”

Charlotte smiles briefly before leaning over the vanity, reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror.

“Of course they are, they’re actually seeing her. Normally, guests only get a glimpse of the back of her head, before she runs into the back again to check in with her man.”

“Well, he won’t be checking in today, so-”

“What?”

Trish leans back in her own seat to look at her friend. “Did something happen with you and Lip?”

Charlotte tries to ignore the quiver in her lip and stare forward into the mirror, focusing on the pink she’s applying on her lips. “I dunno, he’s doing his own thing, I’m doing mine, I guess.”

“Well, that seems-”

“Girl, about time!” Kelsey, one of the girls Charlotte met through the club, claps, pushing her way into Charlotte’s seat. “All you talk about is that man and his gaggle of kids. Now, we can invite you to do fun stuff. We can go out!”

“They’re his siblings, first of all and they’re good kids.” Charlotte sighs, smoothing her hands over her hair.

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrow, her mouth opening for her to ask her co-worker what the fuck she meant by that, something she would’ve never done a couple of months ago. But Trish beats her to it, patting her arm and shaking her head. Instead of telling her other coworkers about herself, Charlotte settles for rolling her eyes and mumbling, “We could’ve always gone out.”

“Please, the way you used to all but trip over yourself running out the door to climb back on Lip’s dick? When would we have the time to ask?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the girl loving her man, Renee.” Trish intervenes, leaving her arm tossed around Charlotte’s shoulders. Was she really that pathetic? Did she really spend all her time running behind Phillip? She supposes that she never took the time to think about it while it was happening, but is this what everyone thinks? “Just because you don’t have one.”

“Well,” Kelsey shrugs, rubbing more glitter lotion onto her chest and meeting Charlotte’s eyes in the mirror. “Doesn’t seem like Lottie does either anymore. So, Lottie, have you dislodged yourself from Gallagher’s side or not? Are we going out”

Charlotte fully plans to say yes. For the first time since she’d met her husband, she thought that maybe this is what she should have been doing. She’s only ever had two identities in her life. Mr. and Mrs. Fisher’s daughter, and Phillip Gallagher’s wife. She’s never been Charlotte. Not when she left home, not when she got her first job, she just went from being one person’s possession to another. Maybe this is all a sign that she should focus on being alone. However miserable that sounds. That’s why, whether you believe her or not, she was going to say yes.

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

“Don’t fucking make it sound like that, it was just some weed and booze!”

“Fuckin’ weed and booze, he’s on his fuckin’ ass Karen! Fuckin’ idiot!”

“Fuck you! How was I supposed to know he drinks and smokes like a little bitch now?” the blonde girl huffs loudly as she turns back to the drunk man in front of them, barely intelligible as he slams his hands down on the bar again, demanding to be served another drink. “Lip, seriously, we need to fuckin’ go-”

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.”

The bar owner emerges from the back again, his cellphone in hand, a scowl on his face. “Aye, Gallagher, she’s takin’ too long, he’s scaring the real customers, get him outta here before I gotta call the cops.”

Ian groans, running his hand down his face, “Yeah, good luck cleanin’ up all the coke you’ve got on these tables before they get here. Fuck off, your place is a dive, Billy.” Turning back to his brother, the redhead, tugs his arm, making the shorter brother stumble but ultimately not moving him at all. “Lip, come the fuck on man.”

“Just fuckin’ leave me alone. Not listenin’ fuckin’ idiot-” he slurs, shoving Ian a little before grabbing a half drunk beer from the bar and downing it.

“God-fuckin’-damnit-” Ian growls snatching the already empty bottles. His brown eyes catch on something over at the door and his tense stance settles. “Thank god.” he mumbles under his breath.

Karen’s eyes follow his over to a woman who looks just like the one Lip had shown her earlier, a tense, concerned look on her pretty face. Her cheeks dimple as her lips turn down into a frown upon spotting the spectacle in front of her. Her hair is tied up into a clean bun, her body covered with a matching sweat suit. Her eyes look exhausted. So that’s the wife?

“Phillip-”

“Bunny, you’re here, come drink with me, baby.” The blond offers her a crooked, drunk smile that has the same knee weakening effect on both women. His muscled arm shoots out, wrapping around the girl’s waist and tugging her to him, all but dragging her into his lap.

“No, Phillip, it’s time to go home. Let’s get you up.”

Big blue eyes roll closed, his forehead falling forward, uncoordinatedly thunking against the woman’s forehead. She doesn’t flinch, just keeping her tired, sad eyes on him as he inhales deeply, breathing her in. “We gonna go home together?”

It’s the softest voice Karen has ever heard the eldest Gallagher son use. He’d spoken to her softly before. They’d been best friends, lovers. He was always scared of her leaving…rightfully so. But this, it was like he was scared that she was going to break if he rose his voice too much. It was like he was whispering a secret that’s just for them and everyone else in the room is intruding. Karen hadn’t ever seen anything like it. She likes this for him.

The girl was ordering water, grabbing a straw from over the bar and guiding it to Lip’s mouth as he stayed close, rubbing his hands along her hips and mumbling about missing her between gulps. She hadn’t even looked at Karen, her eyes had locked on Lip since arriving. “Um, I’m Karen by the way.”

Big brown eyes finally take her in. There’s no disdain behind them. No hate. She doesn’t look at her like every other girl who’s ever loved Lip has looked at Karen. She just offers a tired look. Glossed lips parting briefly, snapping shut again when she feels the Lip’s head droop forward onto her shoulder, quick hands shooting up to cup the back of his curls. “I’m Charlotte. I’ve got to get him home, are you okay?”

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

Charlotte bites her lower lip in determination as she pats his cheek, getting him to stir awake again. Her eyes never return to acknowledge Karen. “Up, Bubba, up. Are you okay to get home? I…need to take him home, are you okay?”

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, Ian, can you please help him, help him stand?” Karen watches as this woman, Charlotte helps hoist Lip’s weight onto Ian, the redhead slinging his brother’s arm over his shoulder, nodding at Karen as they make their way out of the bar with her…ex? Best friend?

She can’t help but compare herself to the girl. She knew that they were both pretty, generally attractive in different ways. Both short. Big eyes. Round faces. Their difference physically was glaringly obvious, but that wasn’t what mattered. It was in the eyes. Everything is in the eyes. Not the color, but the looks.

When the evening started to turn sour, Karen had been fucking annoyed. She hates babysitting. Hates having to take care of people. That’s why she’s always loved being around Lip in one way or another. That’s why they’d been such good friends. He was the caretaker. He takes care of people. His family, neighborhood kids, her. He doesn’t ask for anything for himself aside from the occasional blowie, and it was mostly a joke.

Until he asked for more. Until he asked for love, attention and care and a partner. Things that Karen had no interest in. Things that crazy bitch Mandy wasn’t able to give him. He needed too much. He went from something easy to do, someone easy to be around to being this person who needs things.

It was hard, too hard. Being with Lip is exactly the daunting task people think it would be. But Charlotte, his wife, she’s doing it. She looks exhausted, pissed off, and just caught her husband hanging out with his ex. But she came. She managed to unclench her jaw and offer him a soft look and kind voice.

Karen had been poison to him. She knows that. She was bad for him, and to be honest, she’d thought that even with the time had passed he wouldn’t have been strong enough to get her out of his system. But, she should have known better than to underestimate Lip Gallagher. He found something good. Someone for him.

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

“Shut up, man, you’re just gonna make stuff worse.”

“M’talkin to my wife, motherfucker, you shut up.” Lip slurs as Ian all but drags him down the street. “Sweetheart-”

“Phillip, please.” Charlotte begs, voice cracking as she refuses to turn around and face him. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her own form, walking several paces ahead of the Gallagher brothers up the dark road. “Please.”

It had been going on since they started walking. He keeps trying to talk to her. He keeps calling her all of these sweet names and they fucking hurt. They hurt like him telling her that they could get their marriage annulled. They hurt like him telling her to go with her parents. They fucking hurt like him let her sit on his front porch crying and begging just to see him as he sat on the other side of the door. And now, she understands that he’s drunk or high or whatever, but she needs him to stop talking.

Her plea is answered with the silence she asked for. Shocked that he actually went silent, Charlotte whips around to see if he’d fallen asleep, but is met with big blue eyes with dilated pupils, brows softened as he meets her shaky gaze.

The woman turns around so he can’t see her chin tremble as she leads the group onto the streets. Another voice breaks the silence, over the sound of three sets of footsteps, only one set steady, the other two, sloppy and wavering. “Lottie, what do you wanna do?”

She knows what he’s asking. They’re rounding their homes. Where should he put him? Is she going to stay with him? And she immediately feels shame wash over herself. She knows the answers to all of those questions. She should be embarrassed. This man has treated her like shit over the last 24 hours. She hates how he made her feel about herself. She didn’t understand how he could be both the man who strolled past her as if he didn’t know her this morning and the one who was just looking at her the way he did.

But she’s weak, and he’s everything.

And she’s already shifting his weight from his brother's arms into hers, stumbling a little under it as she guides him toward her cousin’s house.

“Charlotte.”

“It’s okay.” she breathes. “I’ve got him.”

And she struggles getting him to the door. He tries to help, she can tell. But he’s too fucked up, his motor skills are lacking and only set back any progress she makes. She grips the railing with her spare hand as she helps him up the last step. She tells him to watch his step as she leads him through the doorway, eyes locking V’s as the wooden floors creak under his steps. She ignores the disappointed look on her cousin’s face as she guides her husband to her room. Their room.

But as she pulls the shoes from his feet and helps him into bed, she’s confident in one thing. Charlotte knows she loves this man. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks the breaking point should be, or who they envision her with. She wants him. And she was going to keep acting like it.

Charlotte feels a tightness around her waist as she wakes up in the chair she’d dragged into the bedroom once she’d gotten Phillip settled. Her eyes are already watering as they peel open, burning from tears and exhaustion.

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte sighs, sniffling a little and letting her head drop back against the wall. “How bad?”

“I fuckin’ hurt you-” his voice is muffled against her stomach, his arms tightening around her, fingers squeeing and releasing the fabric of her shirt.

“Yes.”

“I hate that. M’just fucked up, y’know? But m’sorry, baby, m’sorry.”

Charlotte is annoyed by the sob that leaves her body involuntarily, causing him to pull her even closer to him, her butt almost hanging off of the chair. She’s even more annoyed that she’s wondering if his knees hurt from kneeling on the floor in front of her. She shouldn’t care. “You left me outs-side alone.”

“I know, baby, I know.” she feels a wet spot forming on her shirt and tries to stop her lower lip from shaking. “Fuckin’ supposed to be taking care of you. I’m a shitty husband, you deserve better. And I’m trying to be that, I swear, Charlotte I fuckin’ swear. I…I’m gettin’ to keep my job, and m’gonna save more, gonna get us some more money, just gimme a little more time, sweetheart. I know this fuckin’ sucks, but I’m gonna do better-”

“You’re hurting me.” Charlotte mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, letting the tears freely fall down her cheeks.

Suddenly his arms are gone from her waist and he’s staring up at her, frantically running his hands through his curls. “M’sorry, I was holding you too tight-”

“Have I done anything to make you believe I won’t wait? Have I cheated on you? Made you feel bad about not having a house for us? Buying a car right now? Anything? What did I do to deserve you telling me you didn’t want to be with me anymore? Stop hurting me!” She finishes with a stomp, feeling childish. Lip is quiet as he listens to her, his hand running along her thigh in soothing strokes.

“You’re perfect. You didn’t do anything, Charlotte. That’s why I was fuckin’ tryin’ to do the right thing.” Lip huffs, clenching his jaw anxiously. “I was tryin’ to give you up. Because there’s somethin’ wrong with me Charlotte. I can’t get out of my head. Everyday I wake up and hear how too fuckin’ good for me on loop in my head, and then people remind me, and I can say fuck ‘em, they’re not you, I don’t care what they think, but then your parents came-”

“Fuck them too.”

“No,” Lip pushes up off the floor and paces in the room. “Not fuck them, because yes, they’re fuckin’ assholes, but they made you, and you’re fuckin’ everything, so they are pretty much the authority on what’s good shit and what isn’t. I don’t deserve you, they know it, I know it, for some fuckin’ reason, you don’t know it, so let me make this clear for you, Bunny. This shit shouldn’t be so hard. I’m hurting you. That’s not what being in love with you feels like for me. My love for you isn’t good enough, because it’s making you suffer. Being in love with you gives me a fuckin’ reason to breathe. So I was trying to be fuckin’ good. And let you go.”

Charlotte watches as he finishes, standing in front of her. Blue eyes bloodshot. The veins in his neck popping out, his chest rising and falling with effort. He looks so serious. And all she can do is laugh. Literally, put her head in her hands and laugh.

“Um…what the fuck?” he asks incredulously, watching her shoulders shake with her laughter.

“You’re such an asshole, Phillip.” she giggles, wiping her wet cheeks, gasping in an attempt to stop her own laughter.

“I’m really not fuckin’ gettin’ the joke here.”

Charlotte shakes her head, crossing her legs as she sits up fully in the chair, trying not to break at the confusion on his face. “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for you to decide that you want to save me the trouble of being in love with you? You pursued me, you asked me to marry you, you made me love you and it's too late. I’m stuck. You leave, I’m still hurt. You stay, you can choose to man up, make good on your promises, stop feeling sorry for yourself and be a good husband. You want to stop hurting me, then stop hurting me. Stop talking about me deserving better and be better.”

The couple stares at each other from across the room, nothing but white noise from the house fills the air as Charlotte’s challenge hangs between them. A few beats pass before Lip begins slightly nodding his head, the same focused face he keeps when he’s working on a project from work, or doing people’s taxes for extra money. Lip smooths his hand over his jaw, clearing his throat. “Okay. I’ll be better.”

“Okay.”

“Can I…uh, hold on a second.” The blond murmurs, crossing the floor and places his hand on her jaw, dragging her up into a deep kiss, absolutely breathing her in as he nearly pushes her chair back with the force he pushes against her. He breaks away only lightly, his lips against hers, as he speaks. “I love you. I’ll be better.”

“I love you too.” she smiles. “And I know.”

This is good…this is better. I’ll deal with the rest later.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher x oc #veronica fisher #shameless #gallagher #better #charlotte fisher #lip gallagher x you #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

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melodygatesauthor · 4 months

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The Webs We Weave

Peter B. Parker X Miguel O'Hara

Not Beta Read

I MIGHT write more for this, but as of right now I don't plan for it to be a series.

Summary

Miguel is babysitting May one night while Mary Jane and Peter are on a date. When they come home and Peter is drunk, things take a turn that Miguel wasn't expecting.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, smut, top!Peter, bottom!Miguel, anal sex, we're ignoring anal prep in this one folks, anal creampie, cheating (Peter cheating on MJ), porn with some plot, gay sex, dirty talk, drunk sex, unprotected anal sex.

Word Count: 2k

“Thanks for watching May,” MJ whispered as she walked by Miguel who was sprawled out lazily on the couch.

“Yeah,” Miguel murmured, the fatigue of a long afternoon with the toddler weighing on him.

“I hate to ask this but, Peter is–”

“HEY MIG!” Miguel groaned upon hearing Peter’s voice outdoors, understanding perfectly well what Mary Jane was going to ask of him.

“On it,” Miguel grumbled, making his way to the door.

A drunken Peter was still sitting in the car, playing music far too loud for the neighborhood he lived in, and far too loud for one o’clock in the morning. Not to mention it had been a bit of a struggle to get May to sleep, and Miguel didn’t like the idea of listening to a screaming child all night. He practically ripped the car door off its hinges, turning the radio off before promptly grabbing Peter and pulling him out of the car.

“Will you shut the hell up? Your kid is sleeping.” Miguel hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Peter by the collar of his shirt into the house.

“I’m sorry!” He slurred. “Just trying to have fun with my wife, you know, that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Peter!” MJ whispered harshly, aiding Miguel to the bedroom with her intoxicated husband. “Put him on the bed. You getting drunk every time we have a date night isn’t fun for your wife.”

It was tough to see them like that. Miguel knew how much MJ meant to Peter, and vice versa, but he knew they weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a long time. They’d invite Miguel over for dinner, or sometimes host parties and it would always end in one, or both, of them crying about how miserable they were.

“Gotta stay together for the kid. I know it might not make sense to you since…”

Peter didn’t say shit like that on purpose, but it always made Miguel wanna knock the guy’s lights out whenever he did. The man’s a fucking idiot, Miguel reminded himself.

“Are you staying?” Mary Jane asked, eyes nearly pleading with Miguel.

He sighed, “yeah, yeah I guess I can. I had plans to go home and get a good night’s rest but yeah I can babysit your husband too. Why the hell not.”

~~~~

Miguel stayed. Of course he stayed. What else was he going to do? Leave his closest friend’s wife to deal with his bullshit? She was choosing to put up with his nonsense as much as Miguel was, but Miguel had a soft spot for Peter and his antics, even if he sported an irritated face ninety-percent of the time. Beneath that tough exterior, he cared deeply for the guy.

Miguel was curled up in the guest room when Peter sauntered down the hallway to the door.

“Mig,” Peter slurred, jumping Miguel in his bed.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of–”

“Sh,” Peter shushed, sitting on the bed next to Miguel. “Don’t wanna wake up MJ.”

Miguel could see Peter’s features through the moonlight coming through the large window on the other side of the room. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and hair sticking out in every direction. Miguel’s eyes traced the outline of Peter’s body, white teeshirt sitting loosely over his frame.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake me up? Peter–”

“I want a divorce, but I don’t want to do that to May.”

Miguel groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Peter talk like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re drunk. Go to bed.” Miguel grumbled, laying back down and rolling over so his back was to Peter.

“Miguel,” Peter whispered, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

He tried to shrug Peter’s hand away but the man was persistent. He moved in, curling up behind Miguel and pressing his chest against the larger man’s spine. His arm snaked under Miguel’s arm and around his waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just getting comfy, just relax will ya?” Peter sniffed out a laugh as he cozied up closer behind his friend.

Miguel could feel it, the hard press of Peter's dick against his ass cheek. He tried to ignore it, thinking that drawing attention to it might be more awkward than just letting it go. What Miguel couldn’t ignore, was Peter’s fingers grabbing at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugging them down before reaching for Miguel’s to do the same.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, but also, really fucking horny, Mig,” he slurred drunkenly. “Be a good friend for me okay? Please?”

Miguel wanted to tell him to stop…didn’t he? This was weird, and it was wrong. MJ was right in the other room, and Peter was his best friend. They’d always been just friends…that’s it.

Miguel heard Peter spit and felt him jerk himself once, and then twice, before sliding his cock between Miguel’s cheeks. Peter couldn’t see the way Miguel was gripping the sheets, nor the way his jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“I’ve never done anything like this before so do I like…do I just…”

He moved his hips forward, the fat tip of his cock rested against Miguel’s tight ring of muscle. Miguel exhaled sharply, cock springing to life almost immediately with the prod of Peter’s thick head. He tried to relax, making himself more pliant. Peter pushed forward, his wide girth slipping into Miguel’s hole like it belonged there.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed, feeling his cock throb inside Miguel’s tight ass. “You’re so tight, Mig.”

Miguel couldn’t respond, the feeling of Peter’s cock stretching him out made his brain short-circuit. He huffed out through his nostrils, fingers digging into the sheets as Peter started rocking himself back and forth. The bed creaked, forcing him to slow just a tad, fearful that Mary Jane would find out what they were doing.

Peter’s dick twitched inside of Miguel again, forcing him to choke back a moan. He still didn’t want to tell Peter he liked it. Part of him, despite his friend already being balls deep in his guts, still wanted to pretend that they weren’t doing what they were doing. Miguel’s cock ached, the glossy tip leaking precum all over the bedding. He rutted forward, the delicious friction of the sheets forcing a soft exhale from his lips.

“God, Mig, you like that hm?” Peter asked, his pace still a slow roll into Miguel, body shuddering every time he bottomed out. “I can hear you whining, it’s cute,” Peter laughed.

“Cállate,” Miguel grumbled, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Peter stretching him out like that.

“Oh come on Mig, you…fuck…you like it,” Peter teased.

Miguel didn’t say a word, not wanting to give Peter the satisfaction of thinking he’d won Miguel over. He was still trying to process the fact that his best friend of the last couple years was buried deep in his ass with the man’s wife sleeping just two doors down. Miguel’s talons extended outward, digging into the extra pillow by his head. He pulled it down to his cock, shuddering at the feeling of his slick length brushing against the fabric.

“Y’know if you roll that thing up just right I bet it would feel amazing,” Peter slurred in Miguel’s ear. “Try it.”

Miguel grumbled but eventually conceded to Peter’s idea, rolling the pillow so it had a hole in the middle and stuffing his dick inside. The fucker was right. It did feel good. He breathed out, bucking his hips forward into the makeshift fleshlight.

“You thinking about me, Mig?” Peter’s hips rolled behind Miguel even faster. “You thinking about how good it would feel to fuck my ass? F-fuck, maybe I’ll l-let you try me out next t-time.”

Peter started struggling to speak, breaths coming out in sharp gasps the closer he got to spilling everything he had into Miguel’s tight hole. Miguel felt Peter’s hands digging into the meat of his narrow hips. His thrusts were getting more ragged and sloppy, and Miguel couldn’t shake the delicious feeling of his own cock throbbing and leaking into the pillow the more he fucked into it.

God he felt depraved, happily letting his drunken friend fuck him dumb while he rutted desperately into a damn pillow. Of all the times Miguel had felt self-loathing, this was near the top of his list. Every time Peter’s cock stuffed him to the brim though, he forgot all about it, mind going numb with nothing but the feeling of his asshole getting railed.

“Peter, this is so f-fucking dumb,” Miguel said, still holding on to the smallest bit of dignity he had left, the part of him that felt bad for Mary Jane.

“Sh,” Peter whispered, nails digging harder into Miguel, “I’m so close Mig, please.”

Peter whined in Miguel’s ear, and how could he possibly say no to that?

Giving in, Miguel started moving along with Peter’s rhythm, fucking the hole he made in the pillow like it belonged to a living, breathing human. Miguel’s mind went blank, filled with nothing but the feeling of his aching cock against the fabric while he rolled his hips faster.

“Oh god Mig, do you want me to come in your ass? I can pull out if you want I…oh shit I’m…” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before he felt his cock twitching and shooting hot ropes deep into Miguel’s tight hole.

“Fuck, Parker, for fuck’s sake…”

Miguel lost it, cum spilling out into the stark white pillow while his asshole contracted around Peter’s dick. He’d never had such a strong orgasm before that night, the feeling forcing his entire body to stiffen and shake with every throb of his cock. They laid there for a while, the room filled with nothing but their combined heavy breaths before Peter finally pulled out, leaving Miguel feeling empty.

“Fuck, Miguel,” he whispered, kissing Miguel’s neck once before pulling his sweats back up around his hips.

Miguel didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what he’d do even if he had. It didn’t feel like the right time for post-sex cuddling and a soft makeout session, so Miguel just kept his body turned away from Peter as the man got up and left the room silently. If not for the cum still dripping out of Miguel’s spent asshole, it would be like Peter was never there in the first place.

When morning came, Miguel wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Peter even remember stealing into Miguel’s room the night before? Would he go on as if nothing ever happened? As far as Miguel was concerned, it would be best if they let it go. How could they possibly continue running the Spider Society as partners if they were…doing things in secret behind the scenes? It didn’t make sense. Not to mention…Mary Jane.

She was smiling when Miguel made his way into the kitchen in the morning, the red headed toddler hanging off her shoulders while she made coffee. Miguel and MJ exchanged pleasantries, but Miguel’s aching rear amplified his guilt tenfold. He felt like he should tell the blissfully ignorant wife that her husband had cheated on her the night before.

Then again…Miguel didn’t exactly do anything to stop it.

“Morning!” Peter exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom with a wide stretch and a loud yawn.

“Morning, Peter,” both Miguel and Mary Jane said in unison, turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry if I caused too much trouble last night, I was deeerunk,” he said nonchalantly, walking up behind MJ at the counter and kissing her on the cheek.

While she was turned away, Peter and Miguel shared a glance where Peter looked Miguel up and down.

“I don’t remember much so, I hope I wasn’t a…pain in the ass…”

Miguel gulped. Peter clearly didn’t intend on ignoring what had happened between them the night before, and Miguel couldn’t shake the new feelings he felt stirring inside.

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o'hara #astv #astv miguel #peter b x miguel #peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #spiderdads #miguel x peter #miguel o'hara x peter b parker #miguel o'hara x peter b #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #across the spider verse #peter b atsv

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respectthepetty · 6 months

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Naughty Babe, who is Le Ling?!

I watched the Naughty Babe finale and had no idea who Le Ling was; therefore, I have to be annoyingly cringe about it, but before I begin, let me just say that Max looked delicious the entire eight episodes.

But also, this Daddy did too! And I'm not talking about Aon. No! Yi's father has been looking like an entire five-course meal every single time he appeared on the screen. This is the type of father that if your partner was acting up, forget about effing the friends. EFF THE DADDY! Sir, why are you looking so scrumdiliumcious? Is it all that money? Or is it the power? Perhaps it's you in red. Rawr!

Hand over heart, this entire family could get it. Mom included.

I gotta focus! The kids were in the playroom planning shenanigans.

This is a boy who gets it. I've always loved that his name is Syn because he sins but prays about it. Repents while he is doing it but still does it. Makes his sinful peeps pray too for good measure. We're not going to hell on his watch!

Lian not stopping Diao is funny because all throughout Cutie Pie, Yi would call Lian and be like, "your boy's at the club, but I'm only here to collect my man who I have 24-hour surveillance on, so sucks to be your trusting ass, but I'm built different, so I hope you get to your man on time before some serious shit goes down. Toodles!" These two are the pettiest friends, and I love my ghost ship.

POPPY! Where were you all season?! Hopefully filming Love Puzzle, so I can see you kiss a homie, but I was glad to see the secretaries in love and as chaotic as ever . . . in red.

Look at that face! That is a man trying to get all these heathens into the next life, YET THEY WON'T WORK WITH HIM! I guess the honeymoon will be in hell, Nuer!

This dog looked adorable, in red. So glad Domundi switched it out from the Cutie Pie dog. A+ casting choice.

This boat showing up was unnecessary! Was this supposed to be a rainbow moment because a high speed boat thingy coming out of nowhere was not the move?!

This blue color was even depressing Diao out. Get some yellow or orange back on my boy's body, NOW!

Look how vibrant that red ring box looked! LOOK AT IT! The ring looked really pretty with that red watch Diao was sporting too.

Red and white rose petals? They wasn't even married yet. Save them for the actual ceremony. Wasting expensive confetti. And the kissing too. Didn't have sex all this time, now they can't stop. Geesh!

I know this is tied into Chinese tradition and Yi's family being Chinese, but YI IS A RED RASCAL!

And leading up to this wedding, there had been so much blue to represent Diao's family being the hindrance to their love, and now this entire wedding was red to represent Yi and his family and Diao becoming a part of his family, and

Y'ALL CAN'T TELL ME NOTHING!

Then to have the gold dragons which represent Yi's family but are also Diao's color.

Y'ALL CAN'T TELL ME SHIT!

I'm in heaven. I do not care what the plot was. I do not care about the fake amnesia. I do not care about how the dog attack turned into a tiger attack. NO ME IMPORTA! Diao called out his father in front of all those rich ass people and God while wearing his man's color, and I'm living for it!

Kuea is a Red Rascal too, and I appreciated this public service announcement.

Diao sucked his thumb (😑), then they fucked, yet my color demon eyes only saw red candles. Thank you, props department!

Makorn asking if Diao wants a new husband (yes, sir. YOU!) while Yi wore red with that product placement red drink . . . *Mwah!* This blue table cloth gotta go though!

Red over Diao's heart, but that damn blue is still there! Diao, where is your yellow and orange, my man?! DONDE?! Oh yeah, they have kids with little rainbow toys. Good for them.

Hold on, was I supposed to remember this little girl? Diao was talking about her like I should know her. Who dafuq Le Ling?

Even this baby was confused. Who is this chick? Girl, for reals, who is you?! This feels like Buffy the Vampire Slayer's fifth season when Dawn was introduced. Like I KNOW I ain't seen this chica before.

Well . . . she's part of the family now, so good for her.

All in all, YI IS A RED RASCAL, and marriage equality will come to Thailand no later than 2026.

And same-sex partners will legally be able to adopt by 2029.

Naughty Babe, Cutie Pie, and Domundi said it with their full chest, and Apollo is gonna cosign it with his bouncy red ball because Red Rascals may not like each other, but they love to cause havoc when least expected, so . . . fuck it up, sis!

Amen.

#naughty babe the series #yi is a RED RASCAL #and Apollo is coming for Thailand #episode 8 #I loved this show and I loved the finale #give me more please!#the colors mean things #color coded boys in love #the color exchange #marriage equality 2026?#apollo get on it!

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adiduck · 7 months

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anotha question ✨

there’s gotta be some icemav pining for each other that’s borderline verbal abuse of one another that makes the daggers think they hate each other (affectionately)…or everyone can tell they like each other cause 22’ is right there

You know what? I think I can do this. I'm gonna give a few different snippets (some of which I have already posted) which, in totality, I believe paint a picture:

Pushups with Bradley (already posted)

“Strong silent type,” he says finally. “No worries, no worries. I can fill the air for all of us.”

“He can,” Ice says, because he’s a damn good wingman and knows when Maverick needs a backup straight man in a conversation.

“One of my many talents,” Maverick agrees, gratefully. “Right under fucking up high yo-yos in new aircraft.”

“One-seventy-one,” Hondo says, and his voice shakes a little like he’s suppressing a laugh. Maverick looks up and winks at him while he’s doing his pushup.

“I got him into a defensive spiral and pulled out right before we hit the hard deck, and he reversed positions and got me on lock when I didn’t drop down to weapons envelope,” Rooster says suddenly.

Maverick pauses and then whistles low.

“One-seventy-two.”

“That’s closer than I got,” Maverick says. “Fucker using the hard deck against you. One of our instructors did that to me first day at Top Gun.”

“And you broke the hard deck to get tone,” Ice interrupts, voice very dry.

“One-seventy-three.”

“And it didn’t count, because of the fuckin’ hard deck,” Maverick agrees. “Probably made the right call there, honestly. Saved yourself a reaming from the brass.”

“Not that Mav’d know anything about that,” Ice offers up.

“A third talent,” Maverick says easily, grinning.

On Ice’s other side, Rooster’s starting to relax a little.

“You really can just run your mouth, huh?” Rooster asks.

“You have no idea,” Ice drawls.

Rooster snorts.

“Alright, that’s enough chatter, gentlemen,” Hondo says, amused. “One-seventy-four!”

Football

“Come on, Captain Mitchell, take it off,” Phoenix crows, just after they’re back in the water post-lunch. The Captain, midway through pulling his white t-shirt over his head, starts to laugh, whole-bodied and amused.

“Been a while since I’ve been objectified by someone under my command to my face,” he says, peering out the neck hole as Phoenix grins, unrepentant. Very helpfully, Hangman puts two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistles, and everyone else cracks up.

The Captain’s played with them for the first half of the morning--keeps up, makes it pretty clear that he’s still meeting those medical standards for flight. He takes a few breaks--Maverick makes sure to tell him to remember to hydrate--old people are more susceptible to heat stroke, right?--and to be careful not to break a hip every time he comes back. Like clockwork. It makes the Captain’s jaw tick, which is hilarious enough Maverick doesn’t mind getting his ass kicked the next round every time he does it.

Eventually, though, it’s just too hot, and the guys start stripping shirts off. Maverick’s been enjoying the view, actually. There are a lot of very pretty people slated for this particular mission, and that’s not even counting Ice, with his wide shoulders and swimmer’s build, the freckles across his shoulders and eyes shining with challenge.

Maverick’s not stupid enough to hit on any of them when he’s gonna need to fly a suicide mission with them in two weeks, even on the down-low--Hangman’s definitely watching Maverick under his lashes when he thinks nobody’s looking, he’s not fucking subtle--but the point really does stand.

The Captain’s just about the last to give in, and honestly it probably is because he’s feeling old next to everyone else, if Maverick had to guess.

But here he is, joining the rest of them in shirtlessness. Maverick grins, soaking in the sun and comradery and good cheer, and knocks shoulders with Ice.

Ice shakes his head. “Keep it to a dull roar,” he calls. “I still have to deal with the younger version in a couple weeks after you all inflate his ego."

“Too late for that,” the Captain says, and winks at Ice, then continues to pull the shirt off over his head--

Later in Football

“Gotta ask, Maverick, are you also that crazy, or was that something that came with age?” Omaha complains. Over on the shore, the Captain raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he’s herded over to a chair. Still in the water next to them, Bradley scoffs and turns away.

Maverick frowns, and then shrugs, uncomfortable. “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” he says. “I dunno, if he says Medical said he was fine, he’s probably fine.”

“So,” Omaha says. “The answer’s yes.”

“The answer’s definitely yes,” Ice drawls, he flips the football up onto his finger, gets a few decent spins before it wobbles and falls into his hand. “Hey,” he shouts at the shore. “Are we playing or what?”

“Hold your horses, we’re coming,” Hangman hollers back, as the Captain laughs again, reaches behind him to pull his dog tags to the front of his chest--

Maverick freezes. “Is he wearing a ring on that chain?” he asks, squinting.

Ice frowns, squinting too.

“Huh,” Omaha says. “Looks like it.”

“Aviators,” Bradley shouts suddenly, and Maverick startles a little. “Move it or we’ll move it for you!”

Hangman flips him off, even as Phoenix also rolls her eyes and the group starts moving back towards the water.

Maverick starts towards the shore. “Play without me,” he says.

“Come on, Maverick, if you go sit down we don’t have even teams,” Bradley says.

It’s definitely a ring. The Captain’s noticed him looking now though, flipped his aviators up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“He’s not married,” Maverick says, as Ice catches up to him. “It would’ve been in his file. Divorced? Engaged?”

“Divorced would have also been in his file,” Ice says. “Mav, if he wanted you to know, maybe he’d have told you.”

Maverick pauses. Hesitates. “It’s not Charlie, probably,” he says, feeling a bit guilty. He--well, he hasn’t been thinking about Charlie. He’s been busy, sure, but--

“It could be,” Ice says. “But if he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. Come on, let’s go back and play.”

Maverick hesitates.

“This’d be the second time you run out on me to go talk to someone about your love life, Mitchell,” Ice says. “Gonna start thinking it’s me.”

“It’s definitely you,” Maverick says automatically, and then huffs, rolls his eyes. “Well when you put it like that--”

Ice huffs a laugh, throws an arm over Maverick’s shoulder and turns him around. “Let’s show these assholes how it’s done, shall we?”

Drinking Game

“Star Wars and Star Trek got a complete reboot in the form of a movie. Which one really did?” Fanboy asks, grinning.

“Star Trek,” Ice says, only half a beat later. His voice has loosened to something of a drawl along with the set of his shoulders, the sprawl in his chair becoming increasingly boneless with every wrong answer. “Star Wars is only three movies, I don’t know why they’d bother remaking them.”

“Mitchell?” Fanboy asks.

“Uh,” Maverick says. He’s on beer three in about half an hour, and that’s not a lot, but it’s not nothing. And he barely knows what either of those things are. “I’m going to go with Lieutenant Nerd’s assessment over here.”

“Bite me,” Ice says easily.

“You’re correct,” Fanboy says, and Ice smirks in satisfaction as all around them everyone takes a drink. Maverick grins back, can’t seem to help it.

“Okay, next, a sports question,” Payback says. “Let’s see how well you know your baseball. Use of certain steroids was approved in 2007, or the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.”

The world stops. “They did?” Maverick says, the words bursting out of him without any input from his brain, maybe too loud.

Phoenix cracks up, leaning over the table.

“Of course you’re a Sox fan,” Hangman mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going for steroids are legal,” Ice informs them primly.

“Hey,” Maverick says. Ice gives him a bland look back, mouth pinched at the corners. Asshole.

“Might as well drink, then,” Payback says. “Sox have won most recently in 2004, 2007, 2013, and 2018.”

“Yes!” Maverick says. “Fact check!”

“You don’t believe him?” Phoenix asks.“I just want to see,” Maverick says, and holds out his hand for the cell phone. “Come on, give it up. This is the best day of my life.”

Last run before the mission (already shared in this exercise)

“Still with me, Phoenix?” Maverick asks, swinging into the fourth turn.

“We’re with you, Mav, don’t wait for us,” Phoenix says, and Maverick grins, banking hard.

“Kinda--the point, isn’t it?” he asks through the lung compression, and leans into a bank in the opposite direction. “Can’t do it myself.”

“Red letter day,” Ice says over the radio, sounding equally winded from the banking. “Mark your--calendars.”

Maverick laughs. “You said that, not me,” he says, and turns a flat ninety degrees under the simulated aqueduct.

“Do you know what ‘maverick’ means?”

“Sounds like a story,” Payback gets out.

“Tell you later,” Maverick says, and evens out, grins. “Time?”

“Five seconds under,” Bob says.

Maverick grins. “Fuck yes. Now comes the easy bit. Bob, prep that laser--popping!”

“The easy bit, he says,” Fanboy says. “They’re calling them miracles.”

“Naw,” Maverick says, reaching the apex of his climb. And there’s the target. “They call us ‘Maverick’ and ‘Iceman’.”

#adi is a writer #ask game #wip snippets #icemav #operation groundhog au #I think everyone's getting the picture LOL

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clever-fox-studios · 3 months

Text

Two Weeks

A little thingy I started as a crossover of my Legacy AU and @garbagechocolate 's Truth Virus. I might continue as it's short and meant as pure angst, if that's desired; it'll go on AO3 if that's the case. It's not canon to my AU at all, but it does have Legacy-canon-compliant information that may or may not be relevant when the time comes~

Content below the cut:

Overhead lights hummed, casting dirty yellow-white light across cement, tile and metal rebar and pipes, trying and failing to make the dirty underground service bay seem somewhat sterile but only managing to pick out every crack and spot of dirt in grimy, perfect detail. Normally, Parts & Service was busy and filled to the brim with techs and programmers looking for something to do during the day, but at this moment only two could be found operating the repair pod, the others long gone on daily tasks of some sort or hiding out of camera view to catch a smoke or pilfer uncollected fries from the warmers. Fingers drummed the service pod keyboard lightly–click-clack-clack–but never enough to press a key by accident. That was what rookies did. Contrary to the opinion of corporate, they were not rookies. They were not paid like rookies, and yet…

Yet.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just wait for Phil?”

Balling a fist, the older technician slammed his fist into the desk, avoiding the keyboard altogether but still startling his coworker into biting his own cheek with fright.

“Owowow–”

He gave the younger worker a hard look, stilling their whining so he could speak, sharp and firm as a stroke of a key on the computer. “It’s a fucking patch for the new system they wanted the jester thing to test run.”

This was true.

“It’s from the server at fucking corporate, so it’s gotta be legit, right?”

This was also true.

“We shouldn’t have to wait for Mr. Espresso For Dinner to supervise us every fucking time the talking pipecleaner needs a spit shine”

Nervously, the younger technician nodded, then shook his head. “But Phil–” He stopped for a moment. “Mr. Mercer was extremely clear about us being careful with the theater unit after the–”

“I. Don’t. Care,” the older man cut in, face creased with angry lines and graying brown hair. “I’ve been working here almost as long as that junkrat in a trenchcoat. Just because he’s Reed’s favorite little dumpster fire he gets the head IT position, but I’m just as capable of working on the attendant as he is. I’m not a fucking rookie–no offense.”

“N-none… taken,” the younger man squeaked, unable to voice further concerns.

“Just get the fucking twink down here so I can get this done, will you?” With a sigh, the older man wheeled his chair to the desk and began to prepare the file for processing, grumbling under his breath. “It can’t be that hard to install a fucking patch for something that’s already in their system, it’s robotics, not fucking rocket science!”

“Let me guess.”

Sun fidgeted with his ray, fingertip flicking over the point rhythmically, eyes looking anywhere but into the acid-bright hazel eyes staring him down from behind unkempt brown-black hair.

“You didn’t stop them because Mason’s a jackwad and you didn’t want to cause more problems?”

Nodding, Sun’s fingers closed around the end of his ray tightly–a nervous reflex. Before he could do any real damage, a hand wrapped around his wrist, firm but not overbearing. It still got him to jump, gaze darting up in spite of himself to see the hazel gaze was less of a disappointed burning and more of a concerned flicker, one that knew well and good about his… ‘problematic’ tics that had been developing over the months.

“I’m not mad, Sun,” the man said, voice gentle as he slowly brought the jester’s hand down from his head. “Not at you two, anyway.”

Sun couldn’t help himself, the apologetic babble coming up before he could really stop it, “I’m so so so sorry, Phil! I know you’ve told us not to let them bully us, but the new employee was so nervous and we didn’t think it was a big deal, we just–”

Phil’s palms pressed into both of Sun’s cheeks, causing him to stop as the short human got his attention, face unchanging. “Sun,” he started, speaking slowly and firmly, “I. Am not. Mad. At you. Understand?”

Feeling his jaw quiver, Sun nodded; the hands left his face, turning to hold the man’s chin in thought as he finally broke eye contact. Quietly, Sun folded his own together at the fingers, trying desperately to contain the guilt he felt as he noticed the stirring in the back of his programming of Moon as the night unit tuned in from wherever it was he found himself during daylight hours.

“Is he mad?” the crackly voice inquired.

Sun knew only he could hear his brother but it didn’t offer any solace–it was upsetting, if nothing else. Wrong. Even after months, he still wasn’t used to it, finding himself turning to answer only to be met with an empty room. This time, though, he was acutely aware that Moon wasn’t there. That turning would net only a concerned gaze from their maker, Phil Mercer.

“Not at us,” Sun whispered back, aloud.

Phil’s gaze flicked to Sun at the sound, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t need to. Instead, Phil mumble, a bit loudly on purpose so they boys–the theater jesters both–would hear without needing to be direct, “That idiot can’t even set the time on a microwave without using wikihow. I could run diagnostics myself and see if it worked but Al’s already up my ass as it is and I don’t have time for a full sweep…” He sighed with exaggeration, folding his arms together.

Sun’s head was tilted curiously at the mutterings, his fingers fidgeting over each other rhythmically.

“Of course Mason picks this week to be a pain. The inconvenience can’t be helped.”

“We’re sorry–”

“Shush.” Rubbing the back of his head and neck, Phil came to a decision–he only hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite them all later. “How’s daycare duty treating you both? Any issues outside of the whole ‘Moon didn’t switch from theater to nap time’ thing the patch was for?”

With a click and whirl of his rays, Sun smiled, glad for something good to talk about--relatively speaking. “Oh, it was lovely! The children are so much fun to interact with! Such wild imaginations!”

A half smile crept onto Phil’s face under his 5-o’clock shadow. “Moon? What about you?”

Sun waited as Moon spoke, relaying his answer precisely while switching the voice setting to the blue unit’s default. “It’s different trying to make the little ones sleep instead of cheer or laugh. Keeping them up by mistake was… odd. But I’ll learn.”

“Well,” Phil mused, “hopefully you find it easier now but I’ll be honest, I don’t trust that patch corporate sent–especially knowing Mason was the one to install it.”

“I don’t trust that guy as far as we can throw him,” Moon muttered, earning a snicker of agreement from Sun.

Catching this, Phil asked, “What's so funny?” still grinning.

Eyes wide, Sun stuttered, “N-nothing! Moon just–doesn’t like Mr. Mason!”

Knowing how this game went, Phil pressed, “So what did he say?”

“It’s not that funny, really!”

“Then why’d you laugh, Sunny D?”

With a raspy giggle, Moon kept on in the back of Sun's mind, “I saw him struggling once to change the input source on the TV in the P&S bay when he pulled a late shift.”

Sun’s voice cracked with disbelief. “What???”

“Let me in on the joke,” Phil begged dryly, giving the tall robot a playful elbow.

“No no–stop!” Sun laughed, rays spinning while Moon dropped more little things about the man named Mason and his prevalent skill issues; if he could cry he’d surely be in tears from laughing, between the snark of his brother and the amused ribbing of his friend on either side as Phil started piling on his own observations of the tech’s mishaps. “Please, this is so mean!”

“You’re feeling better though, right?”

The others stilled, giving Sun a chance to catch his breath so to speak. “I… am, yes.”

“Good.” Phil gave his back a pat. “So listen carefully, alright?” Sun nodded, feeling Moon’s presence close in as he leaned in to hear. “I’ve already got a bunch of things to go over and finish up for you guys for this new trial run they want you two to do. I’m going to work on my own fix for the default program issue but I can’t install it until I’m back.”

Sun’s rays retracted just a hair, giving off a series of clicks that gave away his sadness as he clamped his hands against them with embarrassment. “Ah!”

Phil’s brows raised in a sympathetic arc. “I know, I wouldn’t leave it be like this but Emilia’s…” Without meaning to, Phil’s voice trailed off for a moment, his mind going a thousand miles away briefly. “She’s having a rough trimester.”

“Oh no.” Carefully, Sun’s hands grazed Phil’s shoulders, attempting to comfort the man . “Of course, of course! You can take time for Mrs. Mercer as much as you need!”

Phil gave the lanky robot’s hand a grateful pat. “Appreciated, Sunny, but I still have a job to do. I’ll be home for two weeks and I’ll come back with all kinds of things to clean you up and make you the best daycare attendant those chucklefucks at corp–”

“Phil, language!” Sun blurted, catching both of them by surprise for a moment.

After a second of seeing Sun’s shocked face, rays retracting with embarrassment, Phil let out a deep laugh. “Well, it’s already working so that’s a relief!”

“Can we do that to all the adults?” Moon wondered quietly, a devious feeling creeping into Sun’s mind of how his brother wanted to abuse that feature for his own amusement. It was admittedly tempting with the way some of them talked.

Exhaling briskly, Phil got the pair’s attention before they could get caught up with mischief planning. “Do you think you two can handle me not being here for that long?”

“We should." Sun hoped saying it would give him some confidence in the idea.

“Can you promise me not to be too agreeable with the new guys and keep your butts out of P&S until I get back?”

That one would be harder. “W-we can try. The kids…” Images of the last few days flashed through Sun’s active mind–colorful paper, sliced apples, pillows soaring through the air–and glue.

So.

Much.

Glue.

“You are too new to this to have that look of ‘back in ‘Nam’ already, Sun.”

Sun blinked and came back to the present, grin shaken but not gone. “It was just a lot! Great, but a lot! We can handle it! The helpers are very good at keeping us ready to go!”

Moon mused, “Especially Nana,” which made Sun’s smile change from nervous grin to gentle curve at the mention of the older woman with curly, gray hair and too many bracelets that insisted on everyone, even the staff, calling her ‘nana’ or ‘granny’ despite none of the kids in the daycare being her family by blood.

Phil observed all of this quietly, taking note of Sun’s expression and how he tended to look off to the side whenever Moon spoke. Despite being unable to hear the entire exchange, he had some idea what they were talking about; nothing those two did went unknown to him for long, even in spite of their best efforts to hide some of their hiccups from him at first. If nothing else, he was glad they could still talk to each other actively. I’m glad those mooks in the office are still afraid of the big bad OSHA man, he thought to himself smugly, thumb twitching against his forefinger.

With habitual movements, the messy haired man pulled a sucker out from somewhere in his pocket, peeled the wrapper off in one graceful tug and popped it in his mouth–he grimaced as the sour tang of lemon-lime graced his tongue. Peeking at the wrapper, he saw a small green gator-shaped icon stare back at him. Of course it would be Gator Blast.

“Phil?”

Said man glanced up, realizing the yellow jester had finished his aside in time to see the face Phil pulled at the bizarre flavor of Faz-pop he’d managed to fish out. “Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Rolling the candy to his cheek, Phil grumbled, “Monty’s lollipop flavor tastes like plastic and battery acid.”

Horror and concern flickered through Sun’s optics. “Should you be eating that??”

“Too late now.” He checked his watch quickly and made a displeased sound in his throat. “I’ve gotta go wrap some stuff up before Al starts in on me, promise me you two will be careful.”

“We promise!”

“I’ll see you in two weeks. Moon.”

Sun felt his brother’s awareness lean in again just as he was recoiling to whatever mental corner he claimed for himself.

Brow raised as he placed a hand on the daycare exit doors, Phil stated, “Behave,” despite knowing full well it wouldn’t be obeyed for very long. Waving politely, Sun affirmed on Moon’s behalf that he would, indeed, behave as much as possible–Moon himself made no such claim but chose not to argue the point for the moment. No, it would be more fun later to bring it up if and when Phil eventually found out he was not, in any capacity, behaving himself.

With the daycare functionally empty now, the yellow attendant set about checking his new and improved To Do list. Equipment and playsets loomed above him, one of the few things he found that could make him feel small–and hesitated. They still were not used to sharing a body, never mind the bizarre sensation of action overrides that happened on occasion when one of them felt too strongly and it overtook the other’s priority listing, but this one Sun had gotten familiar with. Though he himself didn’t have any issues with the bright plastic tubes and tangled nets that so many kids--and himself-- loved to scramble and climb over, he knew his brother had some… lingering hesitations about them.

For good reason, he knew, despite having been assured Moon wouldn’t remember the details, yet it didn’t stop the lunar unit from the occasional fear response whenever either of them found themselves looking up at the bars and bridges too long. Gently, Sun murmured, “Moon?” just loud enough to get his pair’s attention and snap him out of his trance–immediately, Sun felt his knees relax and motion return to him.

“Sorry, Sunny,” he heard back after a moment.

Carefully, Sun picked his way across the daycare floor to the great glass wall that enclosed the play area; there was a spot they knew where the shadows on the other side made the glass just a bit more reflective, allowing them a murky look at themselves if they stood in just the right spot. For a moment, Sun saw only himself staring back, red frill laying neatly around his neck, eyes bright and baby blue against his yellow and gold facial mold; he blinked hard and was not surprised in the least that when he look again, what stared back was a red frill laid under a blue cowl, navy and gray features replacing his own as grayed eyes peered back from the glass. A quirky little feature that had taken getting used to, but Phil never passed up on a chance to make things a bit easier on them, even when corporate threatened him with termination for making ‘unsolicited upgrades’.

Guilt crept through Sun’s circuits as he met Moon’s gaze in the glass; part of him was glad Phil hadn’t manually swapped them out to see for himself, but the betrayal of trust was almost too much for the yellow jester to bear. Feeling this, the reflection of Moon’s face creased with concern–he couldn’t touch his brother physically, but Moon knew he could be heard regardless. “You could have told him,” the night-colored bot said gently.

Sun started, “Its–” but hesitated, unable to maintain eye contact with the reflection. “I’m sure it’s nothing major. Mr. Mason isn’t the most… careful with us, and Phil has enough to deal with. You heard him, Mrs. Mercer isn’t feeling well and she’s having a baby–!”

“Sun.” Moon’s voice was firm, cutting off the tirade of excuses before it could get out of hand. “You’re doing it again.”

“I’m sorry.” With a start, Sun realized he’d grabbed onto one of his rays again while talking.

“Why do you do that?”

The barest hint of a shrug moved Sun’s shoulders. “Maybe the same reason the playsets make you freeze in place?” Sun’s brow furrowed. “I–I’m sorry, I…”

That hadn’t meant to be said aloud.

Moon seemed just as confused as Sun felt, thankfully, his brow an exact mirror of Sun’s, bunched in confusion at the odd vocalization. “It’s… fine,” he eventually managed to say, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to do it, I just…”

“I know.” Standing straight, Sun brushed imaginary fluff from his collar, attempting to make himself ‘presentable’ in an effort to get some kind of control over himself. “And you’re right, I should have told him about your eyes, but if he’s going to give us a big system clean-and-polish when he comes back, we can wait until then. Right?”

Their gazes met in the glass again.

Moon closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “It’s probably just Mason being clumsy, nothing major. We’ll tell Phil once he’s back. Mrs. Mercer needs him more than we do right now.”

“Exactly!” Turning quickly, Sun moved away from the glass, no longer able to maintain a sense of ease while his brother stared back with the empty, gray eyes that didn’t belong to him. “Today’s list has something new on it–” Pausing, Sun raised a finger in thought. “I don’t know where they keep the disinfectant.”

“I hope it’s not behind the desk.”

“Me, too!” Set about to find the elusive chemicals, Sun didn’t dare to check the glass again. At first, he’d hoped he'd been wrong when they chatted after the patch update and he thought Moon’s eyes were off somehow, but then a worker commented on it.

“Why are his eyes gray?”

Thankfully, by some miracle, that tidbit hadn’t gotten back to Phil yet.

Not that it made it feel better in Sun’s coding when he was met with empty gray irises any time he used the glass or a mirrored surface to see his brother.

Moon’s eyes shouldn’t be gray, he told himself fretfully.

They should be yellow.

#security breach #robot #security breach au #sundrop #legacy au #moondrop #fnaf sb #garbagechocolate #truth virus au #truth virus #angst #this isn't going to be fun for anyone

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cupidscrule · 5 months

Text

PT ONE OF A SHORT FIC!!

Adam stanheight / reader.

Tw - eating disorder, bathroom trap.

Saw 2004

"Hey- sweetie- com'on Hun? Please you need help, we can't keep supporting you if you're just killing yourself." Your mother said to you over the phone, god you didn't care, it wasn't hurting them. All you wanted was one thing, to be a beautiful model, find love, to be loved jeez, and we all know the only way to do that is to be skinny. You were 45kg, 5'4. Yeah, most people would say you're horribly underweight, but fuck them and there stupid opinions, they didn't know you. They couldn't get a say in what shit you pulled, doesn't even matter? Who would care?

Whatever that's besides the point, you were underweight. Still starved yourself, didn't care how people felt, hell you could basically fit toddlers clothes, I mean you always wanted to get in kawaii fashion nows the perfect time. Okay okay back to the point,

You always hated yourself, ugly, pig, god those words you heard all your life. You hated yourself, your loving family, left all your friends, you were alone. Well not really, no I mean like not alone. See everything was going fantastic, i was crying on the bathroom floor like every night, when the shower curtain pulled back and a thing wearing a pig mask shoved a needle in your neck, well probably my neck

Was a bit too hazy to fully remember, so that's how we ended up here.

Little ol me, in a black room, ankle chained, smelled like shit, like actual fucking shit. Jesus, where the fuck am I.

Still haven't figured it out yet. "Hello?? Where the fuck am I??" Oh shit there's someone else here?? Too dark to notice, didn't really think to scream, y'know just in case. It was a males voice, sounded about 20-25. The details don't matter "WAIT I FOUND A LIGHT" he shouts before the bathroom lights flicker on. Jesus no wonder it smelled like shit you were actually in a bathroom, I was just joking earlier. The man was a few meters away from me, he was wearing a white shirt, weird blue button up shirt and was undone, and jeans. His ankle was also cuffed? Fuck whats going on, is this some sick prank? He had short brown hair, and looked tired. Guess you had one thing in common?

"Hey- what's your name??" I asked him with an awkward smile, y'know trying not to start CRYING. "MY NAME IS VERY FUCKING CONFUSED WHAT ABOUT YOU?" jeez, wasn't he just a ball of sunshine? "Well do you remember how you got here?" I said after a few seconds, honestly I didn't even care if he was pissed all I wanted to do was get out of here. I looked around, saw fuck all. Well besides a man in the middle of me and mystery man who killed himself. Yeesh hope it didn't get that unbearable. "Nothing. Fucking nothing. I went to bed in my shithole apartment and woke up in an actual shithole??" He says looking over at me. He looked upset, but who wouldn't if they woke up in a bathroom with your ankle cuffed to a poll. "But- what's your name." Mystery man calmly says, wow what a change in emotion. Went from crazy bitch to sweet little charmer

"The less you know about me the better. What about you?" I say rubbing my eyes, before reaching down to my foot trying to break the chain. "Adam." He says after a solid 40 seconds, god finally something useful. "Huh, well nice to meet you Adam, NOW HOW THE FUCK DID WE END UP HERE?" I gotta admit I did sound a bit angry there but fuck if I care? Seems like a life or death scenario either way. Doubt this guy cares about kindness the way he acted before, "well - nice to meet you.. Adam. Now, do you know anything? Like why we're here?" A good minute passed before I said that, I guess I did feel a bit bad. He looked over at me, looking confused but not at me? "No, I really don't but-" he says before cutting himself off "wait he has something in his hand??" Adam continued speaking, pointing at the corpses hand. Yeesh it was a tape player, what a weird thing to hold onto, it also looked like there was a gun? Well I mean kinda expected that, given the head shit wound. "Can you reach it??" I shout to him, before getting on my stomage Trying to reach for it "No- Wait - actually" he says going over to a bathtub, grabbing the drainer. Using it to grab the small player, "smart.." I said putting on a half smirk, he grabs it with his wet hands, he pulls out two tapes, one with Adam written on it, and the other with yours. He inserts the one that has his name on it and presses 'play'

"Rise and shine, Adam. You're probably wondering where you are. I'll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room that you die in. Up until now you simply sat in the shadows watching others live out their lives. But what do voyeurs see when they look into the mirror? Now, I see you as a strange mix of someone angry, yet apathetic. But mostly just pathetic. So are you going to watch yourself die today, Adam, or do something about it?" Wow, that's fucking harsh. Poor guy honestly? "Hey toss me the one with my name on it-" I say to him holding out my hands, he throws it with the tape.

" Y/n , this is your wake-up call. Every day of you've starved yourself to look hotter, you have people worried that today might be your last day alive. Now, it's your job to end someone other then yourself, Your aim in this game is to kill Adam. You have until six on the clock to do it. There's a man in the room with you. When there's that much poison in your blood, the only thing left to do...is shoot yourself. There are ways to win this hidden all around you. Just remember, X marks the spot for the treasure. If you do not kill Adam by six, then Cathy and Paul will die, Y/n ... and I'll leave you in this room to rot. Let the game begin. Follow your heart."

"Follow your heart -?" I say under my breath, looking over to Adam who is just staring "listen.. girl- we don't have to do what it says. Okay? We can figure this out and both live-?" He says oddly calm, "it said follow your heart- and there's ways to win everywhere?" You say looking around, "you said heart?" He says looking over at you "yeah?" I reply just kinda staring, what the fuck is he doing.

He stretches over towards a toilet bowl which has a heart smudged on it, sticking his hand in the toilet "Adam- no- ew-" you say gagging looking away from him. "Fuck nothing.." he says before opening the top of the shitter, grabbing a black bag with various things in it, "The fuck is that?" I said to him looking back at him, a big ass trash bag which he dumped on the ground as two saws fall out of it, and a little case, with unknown things in it.

Adam immediately goes to cut off the chain, unfortunately the saw flimsily breaks In half. "What the fuck??" He shouts tossing it away, "they aren't meant to cut metal. They're meant to cut off our-" I say staring at the little saw, eyes wide, who the fuck would come up with this sick game? This is torture, hell on earth. What did I do to deserve this?

#cupidscruel🍡#adam stanheight #saw 2004 #adam faulkner stanheight #girlblogging #adam stanheight x reader #adam saw #adam stanheight fluff #fluffy #tw disordered eating #disordered eating thoughts #tw eating issues #saw franchise #saw movies #saw x #saw #2004 #bathroom trap #gay

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

Text

Darling Death

A collaboration with @sufferingstarlight

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

Warnings: toxic male behavior, talks and mentions of death and dying, cemetery, not proof read

Chapter 5 - Day 5

"So, grim reapers can cook too? Let me add that to the list of random abilities you seem to possess," I said as I took in the array of food on the dining room table. Bacon, eggs, oatmeal. "You made pancakes too?"

"Actually, they're crepes." He seemed proud of himself, but also the slightest bit timid, like he wanted to make sure everything was to my liking. He stood in the entry way as I took a seat. I filled my plate with three glorious pieces of bacon, a hearty scoop of eggs and two of the crepes-not-pancakes.

"I gotta say," I said, as I shoveled a fork full of the stuff into my mouth. "Pancakes are better." I looked up, my cheeks stuffed with food. Timothee stood there, staring at me, a hint of a smile plastered on his face and I realized he looked more like he was lost in thought...and maybe admiring me. He quickly realized I noticed shook his head, as if erasing the expression from ever existing.

"Are you not gonna eat?" I asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the amount of food I had on my plate.

"I don't really need to eat," Timothee said, shrugging. "But I'll sit with you."

I watched him as he walked effortlessly to the table, if I didn't hear the slightest clack of his shoes on my hardwood floor, I would have assumed he was floating. He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

"Lemme guess, grim reapers feed off of a portion of the dead's souls, giving them sustenance until the next victim they reap passes?"

"Yes, actually."

My eyes snapped up, meeting his. There was a mixture of seriousness and amusement in them, and it was a mixture that made my stomach flip in a way that I wasn't expecting. This time I shook my head and scooped up the rest of my food with my fork.

"You're fucking weird, man. Speaking of, I've got work today and a date tomorrow, so would you mind keeping the gloomy stalker show to a minimum? I can't have another outburst like I did the other day. Josie is already sick of my shit as it is."

When he didn't respond I looked back over at him. His hands were in white knuckled fists on the table, if he were holding a glass, I'm sure it would have shattered into a million pieces. His dark hair curled over his eyes, so this time I couldn't make out their demeanor, though if it matched his fists, it wasn't a good sign.

"A date? Really Y/n?" Timothee finally said.

"Uhm, yeah? Why is there some rule that bars me from going on a date before I die?"

"No, but maybe I should make one," he said under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked, hearing every word he'd said. Was he jealous? All he was supposed to be here for was collecting my soul.

"Nothing. Is this date with a boyfriend?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I said even though the thought of Tristan and I being more than just friends almost made my breakfast come back up. "He's an old friend that's liked me for at least a decade. Last week, before you showed up, I agreed to give him a chance over dinner and a movie."

"So, there's no boyfriend?"

"Why do you care?" I pretended to be annoyed.

He smirked at my tone, and even though the fact that he seemed so interested in my love life, or lack thereof, should have bothered me, it did the exact opposite.

"I don't. It's just that sometimes the goodbyes are messy when there's a lover involved, so you might not want to make him any promises on this 'date'." He put the last word in finger quotes.

The rest of that day went by shockingly quick and uneventful, though Timothee couldn't resist a casual jump scare or two. He'd walk behind me, unknown to anyone else and run a finger across the back of my neck or blow into my ear. Each tease made me want him to push me against a wall again, run his nose against my neck and breath my 'underworldly' scent in. And weirdly enough, I started to like the sound of that.

Darling, you smell like the underworld.

Day 5

I slid on my strappy black dress, the one I pretty much reserved for dates, disappointed that Timothee wasn't around to see it on me. I hadn't seen much of him, which was weird considering I couldn't get rid of him lately. I tried to push away that feeling. The feeling of missing someone you have no right to. The empty chest feeling that is only cured by one person's presence.

The only thing I didn't like about that dress was how much it showed. It wasn't as revealing as it could be, but it still showed the one part of me I always tried to cover. My collar bones. It wasn't that they were bad, they were actually quite nice. It was the dark, swirling birthmark staining my skin on my left collar bone. I'd tried everything from makeup and concealers, that eventually just melted off of it. To removal that even lasers couldn't touch. It was just...a part of me. Every time I wore this dress, I watched as my date's eyes travel down to it. Normally, I'd wear a cardigan to cover it up, but with mine and Tristan's fifteen years of friendship, he saw it before.

I made my way to the semi-fancy Italian restaurant, already limping in the heels I shouldn't have worn. It wasn't until I walked inside and met Tristan at the table, he already reserved for us, that Timothee took a seat. Right next to Tristan. I wasn't unaware to Timothee's eyes sweeping over my body. The last few days he'd only seen me in casual clothes, nothing this fancy. Then I saw it. His eyes locked on my birthmark.

I shot him a look, the irritation evident in my eyes and face. Tristan looked in the direction of Timothee, a confused look on his face, but, of course, couldn't see him. Tritan looked around the room, wondering who I could be giving this look of disdain to. Little did he know he was sitting right next to him.

"Thanks for giving me this chance," Tristain said.

I hid my cringe. Why did he make it seem like he was interviewing for a job.

"We've been friends forever, Tris, why wouldn't I give you a chance."

Beside Tristan, Timothee rolled his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, watching me in amusement.

Tristan perked up at my answer, hope filling his eyes. Timothee pushed out his bottom lip into a pout shook his head in mock sadness. Then I remembered what he said the day before. Don't make any promises. So instead, I just smiled at him.

We placed our orders and drank our drinks awkwardly while we waited. I hated how strange this felt, even if Timothee wasn't sitting in between us, Tristan and I had dinner together many times, why did he have to make something as causal as eating food together feel so different this time.

"So, y/n," Tristan said, breaking my train of thought. "I've been thinking and, I really think you should open up a bit."

Timothee made a face of mock shock and put an index finger to his mouth in thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, not able to hide the slight attitude brewing inside of me.

"It means I know you like me. And for some reason you won't let me in. So, I think tonight is the night that that happens."

"Let you in? Wha the fu-"

Sensing the mood, the waiter approached with our plates and politely placed them in front of us and walked away without asking any questions.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I finished my sentence.

"It means that this is the way the rest of tonight is going to go: we're going to eat this food, and I'm going to pay for it. Then we're going to go to the movie you picked out at 8, which I am also paying for, then you're going to take me to your house and we're going to do what I say from that point on."

I was shocked into silence, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I'd known Tristan for fifteen years and he'd never once acted this way. I looked over at Timothee and I almost wished I hadn't. His face was almost dark with rage. His eyes normally a greenish-blue color was now completely black. His furrowed and close to his eyes and he worked his jaw in a way that I'd only seen people do before a fight. Then, he stood up, the chair behind him fell to the ground causing Tristan and a few people in the surrounding area to gasp. Our waiter came over and picked up the chair and whispered a polite and confused "I'm sorry." Timothee made his way to the front of the restaurant and slid out of the door once a busboy held it open for a older couple to come in. And suddenly, I felt a lot less safe without him sitting at the table with me. This new side of Tristan seemed sinister.

Tristan shoveled a ravioli into his mouth, glaring at me. "Are you not going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," I said through my teeth.

The door opened again, and I heard the sound of a familiar voice. I turned around and there he was, Timothee. My grim reaper. I didn't hide the smile on my face, I couldn't help it. This time it was clear everyone in the room could see him. I watched as he spoke in a whisper to the busboy at the door. Timothee glanced in my direction and winked. Then the busboy looked over at us and nodded. Instant relief flooded my entire being.

I wasn't sure how he was able to change so quickly, but he was now wearing a very expensive looking suit, all black with small accents of red and a pin attached to the collar that was none other than a scythe. The entire restaurant quieted and watched as he walked, in seemingly slow motion, to our table. All eyes, including mine and including Tristan's were on him. The busboy followed behind and quickly pulled out the chair that Timothee was sitting in moments before.

"Y/n," Timothee greeted me, pulling my hand into his and kissing the top of it. Already, I felt my core turn molten. His lips felt like fire and ice on my skin.

"Who is this man?" Tristain said, disgusted.

"You must be Tristain," Timothee said extending a hand. When Tristain didn't take it, he elegantly curled his fingers into a first. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but it's unfortunately the exact opposite. Tell me, does it bring you pleasure to try and take advantage of women, or do you do it because your dick is small?"

I snorted and spat out some of my drink. I could see Timothe's smirk forming along his profile.

"Excuse you?"

"What do they call that these days? Small dick energy?"

I covered my mouth with my palm, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a...close friend of y/n's." Timothee said, putting an emphasis on the word close that made me bite my lip.

"Wow, I've waited all this time for you to give me a chance y/n and you just take in some twink off the street?"

"Tristain!"

Timothee shrugged, "I've been called worse." Then he leaned in closer, luckily the rest of the restaurant went back to their food and conversations. "Allow me to tell you how the rest of tonight is going to go..." Timothee's gaze hardened and instantly Tristan's eyes glossed over, his mouth hung open, and he was transfixed on Timothee, as if he was being hypnotized. "You're going to get up from here and you're going to leave."

"I was just about to leave, yeah," Tristan said calmly.

"And when you leave, you will not contact y/n again."

"Who?"

"Good, good," Timothee praised and selfishly I wished it was me he was praising instead. Then, he took a fistful of Tristans shirt and pulled him closer, "and if you do," Timothee spoke so softly I could barely hear what he said. "I will kill you myself. And trust me, you don't want to see what kind of death a reaper is capable of."

Tristan nodded and stood up and waved. "Enjoy your meal," he said as he made his way to the door. I watched until he left, waited a few minutes to be sure he wouldn't reappear and turned back around. Timothee was already sitting in his seat.

"Will he be, okay?" I asked.

"You still care about that?"

"I mean I don't want him to die on the way home. He seemed out of it."

"Unfortunately, he'll be fine."

The waiter stopped by and took away Tristan's plate. Timothee nodded politely and focused back on me.

"You don't own me you know," I said, in a voice that should have sounded headstrong but was anything but. As time went on it seemed more and more to me like that's exactly what I wanted. "You're just here to collect my soul."

"Technically, I do. I am sent here to watch you, look over you until your time is up. I am meant to protect you. Though, this situation is unlike one I have ever encountered."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"You should eat," Timothee said, changing the subject. "Eat your dinner, and I'll take you to that movie."

"Okay, but you have to keep talking."

Timothee nodded. Only resuming the conversation once I scooped a bite of lasagna into my mouth.

"Most of the souls, at least everyone I've collected have not been able to see me. I wasn't expecting it to have this type of effect on me."

I swallowed my lasagna hard as he said the words.

"I don't own you. No," he started, then reached out and brushed my hair away from my collar bone. He let his finger graze my birthmark. I shudderd at the touch. "But I'd like to. Very much."

Fuck.

He scooted up, his chest flush against his side of the table and one of knees made their way in between my legs. He dropped a long arm beneath the table and slid his palm up my leg. I dropped my fork. "I wish I could be the blood that traveled through your veins, the air that you breath into your lungs." His index finger grazed my core through my panties and I jumped, hypersensitive to the touch. My plate clanging against the table, my glass tipping over.

"Can we go?" I pleaded.

"Eat your food. All of it."

I started to protest.

"Or do I need to feed it to you?"

I shoveled in the rest of my lasagna and downed my entire diet coke. My skin tingling as Timothee gave me small touches under the table. We walked out moments later, my knees weak. Timothee laced an arm around my waist, holding my up and against him. His temperature freezing against my hot skin. We began walking in the direction of the movie theater, but somehow between soft touches and him pressing his nose into my hair we strayed off the path.

"Look!" I said, pointing to a cemetery. "Let's go in there."

"What about your movie," Timothee called after me.

"It's already 8:35, it's already started."

"I loathe cemeteries," Timothee groaned.

"What!?" I pulled his cold hand into mine and drug him into the foggy gates of the local cemetery. "A grim reaper scared of a graveyard!? This is where the bodies of all those souls you take go!"

"I didn't say I was scared. I just don't like them."

"Why?" I teased. It was getting dark, the cemetery would close soon, but for some reason I felt compelled to go in there. Like I needed to be there. "If you're scared say you're scared." I climbed upon a stone bench next to a large oak tree. Timothee stood in front of me and for the first time I was eye level with him. Then it hit me. "I've got eight days to live." I said it out lout without even meaning to. "Eight days to live and...I've not even gotten the chance to live."

Timothee looked at me and maybe it was because we were eye level for the first time, but it seemed like he really saw me. "If it makes you feel any better," he said, taking my arms and draping them over his shoulders. He circled his around my waist, pulling my closer into him. He ducked his head slightly, running his nose along my chest, stopping at my birth mark. He kissed it lightly causing my back to arch. His touch there felt like dark magic and sin. "I wish it was anyone other than you."

"Why?"

"Because now that I know you exist, I don't want you to cease to."

And before his lips found mine, they hovered there, his cold breath swirling and mixing with my warm breath, becoming too intoxicating for me to pretend I didn't need him now. His lips skated across mine effortlessly, like a dance we'd practiced for eternity. My hands slid into his dark, curly hair. I wrapped my legs around his waist, earning a soft groan from him. He turned us around and sat on the bench. He kissed me like it was the first and last kiss he'd ever have. Like sadness and hope mixed together to form a melancholy war between life and death.

A kiss can change a human life. And that one did.

This has been a Sufferingsouls production

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