#oh wow this list is longer than i thought

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

#one piece #x reader #Eustass Kid #eustass kid x reader #op kid #one piece eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x gn!reader #gn!reader #one piece x reader #kid has a praise kink #he just wants to be a good boy #fic request #ask snail #snail answers #snail needs sleep

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter 7 (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

advised and cowritten by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: cursing, kissing, general fluff, verbal arguments, mentions of toxic relationships, angst, 3.7k words

a/n: sigh. here y'all go. damn.

series masterlist

“What if instead of cleaning duty, I was on horses today?”

I look up at him from under my lashes as he scans over his clipboard with today’s task list.

“Hmm..” Chris taps a finger against his chin, tilting his head as if in deep thought. “How about no?”

“Please?” I beg, not caring at all about the slight whine in my voice. When he doesn’t answer, I step a little closer and drop my voice to a whisper. “I’ll kiss you again.”

Chris arches an eyebrow and gives me his cocky smirk. “You were gonna do that anyway.”

Wow. Someone’s gotta humble this kid. I open my mouth but my words get lost when I focus on his lips, his tongue prodding teasingly against his bottom one. Damn it. He’s got a point.

When I throw my head back in a dramatic show of defeat, he laughs and touches my waist lightly. “Sorry, Scotch. No favoritism. You gotta see Cinnamon on your own time.”

I shoot him a glare that turns into a small smile without my permission when I meet his teasing eyes. His hand on my waist lingers longer than necessary as he trails his eyes over my face. Just when I’m sure he’s about to lean in, a couple of the hands walk by and Chris pulls away.

He claps as he recovers, apparently remembering he’s in charge. “Alright. Get a move on. Last time you left milk in my buckets and they soured.”

Covering my mouth in mock horror, I gasp. “Oh my. Not the buckets!”

Chris bites his lip to stop his smile. “Watch it. Keep it up and I’ma put you on pigs tomorrow. Let ‘em dust your ass again.”

*****************

My lip curls up with disgust as I drop my soaked gloves into the trash bin and turn around. Turns out that disinfecting animal equipment is absolutely disgusting. Who would have thought?

Suppressing the urge to shudder at the memory of caked-on curdled milk, I smile at a passing worker as he collects the buckets to redistribute them. He nods his head back in friendly recognition. “Chris said to send ‘ya round to the cows when you’re all done.”

He’s leaning against a truck, staring at someone testing out paint colors on the barn with an inscrutable look on his face. My heartbeat doubles embarrassingly when his eyes find me but I force myself to not let it show. He doesn’t react outwardly either, but I clock how he readjusts slightly like he’s trying his hardest to stay still.

“You rang, bossman?”

He rolls his eyes and gestures towards the painter. “This is all your fault.”

Okay, so that was technically true. But how was I supposed to know when I told Birdie the peeling paint made my eyes bleed, she’d make my uncle redo it?

“I never told her to make it red. She always half listens to me.” I counter, leaning against the door beside him and letting our arms brush.

He glances over at me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Speaking of not listening, didn’t I tell you to make sure you grabbed all the buckets?”

“I literally did!” I answer, panic raising at the idea of having to scrub more nasty equipment.

“You literally didn’t.” He says with a butchered valley girl impression. “Coulda sworn I say some of the other side of here. Come see.”

I sigh as I follow him to the back of the barn, already growing irritated at Chris’ nitpicking. But as soon as we are out of eyeshot, he stops short and turns to me. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he leans in, bending his head low and tilting my chin up with his fingertips, before pressing his lips to mine.

It’s a sweet kiss, not unlike the handful we’ve already shared, but there's some urgency beneath this one, his tongue moving against mine. When he pulls away, it takes all my energy not to follow him and bring his face back to mine.

He leans back and studies my face, running his thumb under my lip before dropping his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do that since breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you?” I question with a smile, watching as he leans against the wall of the barn.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “And have your uncle get to whoopin’ my ass over grits? No shot.”

I smile at the thought of that. “You’re right. It would be pretty funny though.”

Chris just rolls his eyes, using his hands to pull me into him by my belt loops, our bodies leaned against the barn wall. “It’s like you just live to see me suffer.”

“Need I remind you of the work I was doing at the barn today? I’m gonna have nightmares about the smell.” I shiver slightly, reminiscing on the sour smell of milk and strong chemicals combined.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while his other hand simply rubs my lower back. I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into him but he’s definitely more affectionate than normal.

“What are you doing tonight?” He smiles, making eye contact with me and immediately causing me to look down.

Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t let me have that luxury for more than a few seconds, his finger lifting my chin to force my gaze back onto him.

“You ask me that every time as if I’m ever doing anything but hanging around you.” I lean in to close the space and place another quick kiss on his smirking lips. “Where’re you taking me now boss?”

“What makes you think you’re getting another date?” He asks as if the answer isn’t completely obvious.

I look up as if I'm really racking my brain for an answer before looking back at his blue eyes again. “I happen to think I know you pretty well. Now tell me, am I wearing a dress, or is this another good ol country get-together?”

“Call me uneducated but I’m not entirely sure on the dress code for every date.” He laughs. “State fair’s coming down, thought you might wanna go on a few rides.”

I gasp with a smile plastered on my face as I step back from him. “Really?”

“Really. Better go looking for outfit ideas soon, Scotch. I’ll pick you up for eight.”

*************************

“Since when were you scared of rollercoasters?” I ask, my arm intertwined with Chris’ as we walk past the brightly colored food trucks.

He scoffs dramatically, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of them, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Really? Because from where I was sitting, it was hard to tell your screams apart from the ten-year-old behind us.” I tease, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

Chris just kisses the top of my head. “I really can’t catch a break with you, can I sweetheart?”

“No, you cannot.” I smile to myself before a sign catches my eye. “Oh my god!”

I pull Chris by his hand, not stopping to explain what has me walking so fast. “Woah, what’d I miss?”

I catch my breath momentarily before replying. “They have my favorite lemonade here. I haven’t had it since my mom took me to the Cali expo.”

He looks down at me, eyes laced with a hint of concern at the casual mention of my deadbeat mother.

Before I can reassure him that I’m okay, it’s my turn to order. “Hi. I’ll have a large raspberry lemonade please.”

I reach for my wallet but by the time my eyes scan back to the cashier Chris is already handing them a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He smiles, grabs my drink for me, and begins to walk away from me.

The first sip transports me back to my childhood so quickly, I almost mistake Chris’ arm brushing against mine for my mom’s. Almost.

But the smile he gives me when I glance up at him is enough to keep me from letting those thoughts linger. Instead, I hold out the cup for him to take, listening to the satisfying sound of the ice sloshing against the plastic.

“Try it,” I demand. “It’s like sunshine in a cup.”

His eyes light up with amusement as he takes the cup, tilting it to peer inside. “Sunshine, huh? Awful big promise.”

I shrug, watching closely as he takes a weary sip. “You could have flipped the straw.” I joke when he hands it back, nodding his approval.

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Oh, so you can stick your tongue down my throat but we can’t share a drink?”

“Don’t recall that.” I lie, as I walk over to an empty picnic table and swing my leg over the bench.

“Yeah? Lemme remind you.”

He leans down, tipping my head up so he can kiss me slow and heavy. I reach up and tangle my hands in his hair. Just as I start to deepen the kiss, someone clears their throat and I pull away quickly, the memory that we are in public heating my face.

Chris just laughs, completely undeterred and unembarrassed, before he takes a seat next to me. He reaches over and takes the cup again, taking a slow and deliberate drink from the straw, all the while keeping his eyes trained up on mine.

“Cute,” I say when he hands the cup back, a smirk growing on his face.

“Thanks. I thought so.”

************************

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” I say mortified as I look around at the children occupying the other teacups. Yeah, that’s right. Teacups. Because I’m on a date with a child apparently.

“What are you talking about? This is the best part.”

Chris’ face across from me is one of pure and utter glee. A soft and playful demeanor he rarely wears coming to the surface. It’s so cute, I can’t help but match his smile.

The ride begins and we start spinning slowly, Chris’ hands resting longingly on the wheel. I had expected him to turn it as quickly as he could the minute we started but I guess he wants to be a gentleman.

Thankfully, I am very much under no obligation to be one.

Shooting him an evil grin, I spin the wheel like I’m steering a rouge pirate ship, cackling when the momentum sends him flying to the side.

He looks up surprised but grins back, spinning the opposite way even faster until we are both slipping and sliding, laughing uncontrollably.

I end up sliding over to him and he wraps an arm around my shoulder, slowing down the spinning a bit. I feel his thumb gently smoothing against my arm as I lean into him. “This was my plan all along.” He says softly into my hair.

I smile up at him, content as the world around us continues to spin.

The ride is over way too fast for my liking but it’s probably for the best. Forty-five seconds in and I’m already seeing double of Chris.

He hops off the ride first, extending a hand and helping me out. My first steps are a bit wobbly and he laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side.

“Easy, baby. How about we switch it up and go play some games?”

*****************

I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to cover my laughter, as Chris misses his final ball toss. And by final I mean, the fourth round that he’s paid for and missed every single time.

“Y’all got them motherfuckers glued down.” He accuses, jokingly pushing his buddy who’s working the stand.

The boy, who I remember vaguely from our night at Hank’s, smiles back tauntingly and walks over to the glass bottles, picking one up for demonstration. “Ain’t nobody cheating you. You just suck, Sturniolo.”

My laughter bursts out at this but I quickly play it off as a cough when Chris’ attention snaps back to me. “Why don’t we try another game?”

“No chance. You said you want that penguin, you’re getting that there penguin.” He says squaring his shoulders and pointing at the hanging toy.

Oh god. He might as well bang on his chest and swing from a vine.

“Can we just buy the penguin?” I ask the worker, giving him a sweet smile. He leans in, a bit charmed before he notices Chris’ eyes on him and takes a step back, shaking his head.

I sigh and pull out my wallet, grabbing a few dollars to pay the fee. But before I can hand it over, Chris grabs my arm, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m winning you that penguin.” I say as I place the money into the boy’s hand and pick up one of the balls.

“Okay fine. But at least waste my money instead of yours.” He mumbles as I wind back and completely overshoot on my first try.

The worker steps forward, giving me quiet advice on how to set my feet and I nod thankfully before I toss my second ball. It bounces off the ledge and moves the glass a bit but it doesn’t fall.

Motivated now, I try again, tuning out Chris’ rambling advice and aiming similarly to how he taught me to fish. The ball crashes through the bottles and the pyramid crumbles to my and Chris’ shared shock.

We look at each other stunned for a second before exploding with celebration as if I had just won the Superbowl. I’m serious. Pretty sure there was a chest bump involved.

The worker rolls his eyes but there’s a small smile on his lips as he takes down our prize and hands it over. “Here. Now gon’ get away from my stand. I’m gonna throw up.”

Chris grins at the penguin, handing it to me as we walk away. “Good shit, Scotch. I never doubted you for a second.”

I scoff, tucking my stuffed animal under my arm and looking up at him. “You did. But that’s okay. We just proved which one of us got game.” I lace my voice with a perfect impression of his cocky confidence and he kisses his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. You won this one. Bet you don’t wanna see me in basketball though?” He says, already taking off towards the booth like a little kid.

I huff in faux anger as I race to beat him there. “Chris. You are such a cheat!”

But as I hear his playful laughter ring through the courtyard, it’s impossible not to join in.

******************

“Looks like they’re about to close up. You bout ready to call it?” Chris asks, bringing my hand up to his mouth and pressing a quick kiss to it.

I nod, trying not to let the disappointment at the night ending show on my face. “Okay.”

We start walking towards the parking lot slowly, trying to stretch the minutes we have together. As if I don’t see him every day. Somehow it’s still not enough.

“So…” He starts, stretching the word out dramatically. “How was our first real date for you? Give it to me straight. I can take it.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “God. I hate to inflate your ego anymore. But it’s definitely been the best date I’ve ever had.” I shake my head a bit embarrassed as I add a quiet, “Not that I’ve been on many.”

He scrunches his face up as if that’s impossible for him to believe and I just shrug as if to say ‘what can I say?”

“Alright. What’s up with those West Coast boys? They blind or somethin’?” Chris asks lightly, his eyes glancing down to where our hands swing interlocked between us.

I laugh darkly in response, the memory of Jace souring my mood a bit. “More like I couldn’t see past my ex… or whatever he is.” I shake my head and sigh at how dumb I feel not knowing what to call him. “It was complicated. I’ve loved him- I mean, I loved him for a long time.”

Glancing up to meet Chris’ eye, I can tell he’s fighting between wanting to ask more questions and not wanting to press me. But after all the vulnerability he’s shown me lately, the least I can do is open up in return. I give him an encouraging smile and he finally continues. “When did y’all break up?”

The question rattles me immediately and I stop short. Technically…I mean… Did we? Not that Jace and I were ever anything near official and especially not that I have any delusions of him waiting up for me. But it’s true that we never had a conversation about calling it quits. Instead, I blocked him and hopped on a plane.

Worry skates across Chris' features at my silence as we watch each other for a second. “Scotch… You did break up with him, right?”

“Yes. I did…I think. Just not in so many words.”

Chris drops my hand, tilting his head and giving me a look of complete and utter disbelief. “You think or you know? Throw me a bone here and tell me I haven’t been losing my mind over somebody else’s girl.”

“You haven’t!” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I meant it to. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Dating is different in the city.”

His brow crinkles and his voice grows smaller. “You get down like that?”

And I don’t know if it’s his words or the way he’s looking at me like he just found out I don’t light up the sky, but something sets me off.

“You have no right.” I grind out, stepping closer and digging a finger into his chest to emphasize my point. “Don’t insinuate a thing about me like you’re some Sunday school saint. You don’t think I’ve heard about you and your ‘whores of the week’? You get down like that?”

The laugh he gives me is clipped and he takes a step back, looking over my shoulder as if he can’t stand to meet my eye. “If you believe that bullshit talk, that’s on you. I’m going off the words from your mouth. You don’t even bother to put the poor guy down before you're stringing another idiot along.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Take. Me. Home.”

“You. Got. It.” He answers, mocking my cadence and stomping off toward his truck. I trail behind him in silence, trying to hold back my emotions as adorable couples pass us by hand-in-hand. A few feet away from the car, he turns back around and glares at me, hurt and anger warring in his eyes.

“Just tell me one thing, Y/N. How long were you gonna wait before you ran back to that loser, huh? How long after I dropped you off at the airport? Were you gonna give me a month at least? A week?”

“It’s not like that, Chris,” I say, pleading creeping into my response without my permission. “I hadn’t thought it all through but I was trying to be done with him.”

His lips pull up in the mockery of his usual smile; this one is cold and unlike him. “Oh! Well, as long as you’re trying. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Rolling my eyes at his sarcasm, I step around him and pull against my door handle, finding it locked. “Hurry up before I walk home,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, wincing when I hear his mocking laugh.

He doesn’t say a word, just walks over and unlocks the truck on my side, swinging it open before heading back around. I rest my fingertips on the frame of the door, watching as Chris climbs in and starts the truck, but I hesitate to get in. “I’m not a whore.” I say, my voice remaining strong despite how much I want to break.

Chris looks over at me, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I never once called you one.”

“Then why is it so easy for you to believe I’m trying to play you?”

“Because you’re you, Scotch.” He says simply, his grip on the steering wheel tight.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I cry, frustration at how quickly this all went south rising to the surface.

He’s silent for a beat and the sounds of the fair become audible again. The sound of children laughing and faint carnival music at odds with the tension sitting between us.

“You know what it means.”

My breath hitches for a second but I nod, somewhat happy my doubts are confirmed. The ones that screamed at me Chris would never see past that stereotype that he pegged for the first day we met. The ones that whispered I will always be missing something vital but no one will care enough to tell me what it is.

I slam his car door shut and turn on my heel, walking vaguely toward the direction we came from. Chris is calling my name behind me but I keep my eyes forward even as they grow blurry. When I almost trip over the rocky asphalt, I stop and rip off my heels, carrying them in my hands as I keep forward.

From my peripheral, I see the truck pull up beside me, slowing to crawl and rolling the window down. “Okay, you’ve made your scene. Get in the car.” Chris says, sounding every bit as exhausted as I feel.

Ignoring him, I train my eyes forward, panic raising when I realize the sidewalk ends a few feet ahead. While I’m debating what to do, Chris calls my name again sharper this time.

Cars begin honking behind him as we both come to a stop. Just as I’m about to say fuck it and keep it pushing into the street, Chris’ patience snaps. “Get in the car, Scotch!” He hollers, reaching over and flinging the door open. “I’m not gonna watch you get hit by a fucking high roller.”

My lip trembles as I finally cut my eyes over to his. We stare at each other for a moment before the melody of horns starts back up and snaps us out of it.

“Please.” He whispers so quietly I have to read his lips to hear him.

So I do. Hopping wordlessly into the car, I let him take me home while I stare out the window, my mind racing. And not for the first time, the center console between us feels like it might as well be as tall as the Great Wall.

🏷️// @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume @xoxo4chrisss @ribread03 @h3arts4harry @chrissystur @pepsiboyy

#maggie b writes #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo au #cowboy chris sturniolo #cowboy!chris #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo fandom

[withahappyrefrain]

Pad See Ew and Parking Spots

The last thing you need while sick is the equivalent of a Hangnail over.....or is it?

Another entry to the Parking Spots Universe read part 1 and part 2!

Warnings: Banter, teasing, Jake being an absolute simp, no y/n but reader's nickname is Venus

Your head felt like someone had filled it with cotton and was pressing down. Stuffed and fuzzy, the pressure on your sinuses made turning your head a labor of work.

The constant pressure on your face made it impossible to enjoy the unexpected time off from work, as watching TV was too strenuous.

Instead, you put yourself on bed rest, trying to find a comfortable spot so you could close your eyes and nap.

Just when sleep was within reach, the loud vibrations of your phone ringing pulled you out of your moment of peace.

Pushing away the used tissues and weighted blankets, you found your phone, the name of the caller lighting up.

Human Hangover.

Of course. It's like he had a sixth sense, always able to annoy you at the worst possible time.

You put the phone back in the midst of pillows, allowing it to continue to ring. Sure, you could text him, but why should you?

You were getting too close anyways.

During the last parking lesson, you actually smiled at the Men's Health poster child.

It wasn't even something you noticed yourself doing. He just looked so fucking ridiculous, blasting 'Venus' by the Bananarama in his dumb Jeep as he waited for you to walk up.

You had half a mind to turn around and shut the door. He was ridiculous, bobbing his head up and down to the music, giving you an exaggerated wink.

Had he not said anything, you wouldn't have gone the whole night not realizing what you had done.

But he was obnoxious, so naturally he had to let out a breathless wow as he leaned his head against the steering wheel with stars in those sea green eyes.

"What?" You asked, rolling your eyes as you got into the passenger seat.

"Your smile."

The worst thing was that you couldn't even muster up a sneer, an eye roll, a snarky remark.

Instead, a warm flush had overtaken your cheeks due to his statement. His stupid, corny words were having an effect on you, one that didn't give you an immediate migraine.

As fun as it was to get free dinners, have picnics on the beach, and take jabs at him, it had gone too far. You found yourself that night looking at his lips much longer than you ever intended.

So getting sick was actually perfect. You would ignore him, giving him that final push to go talk to the long list of other girls who were waiting for him. Girls that would let him into their beds, let him treat them as a hump and dump.

Sure, his patience was admirable-you truly thought after the third date-parking lesson- he would finally get the hiny. But he was just playing a long game. As soon as you'd let him in, he'd leave. Therefore, you should leave first. It was perfect.

You downed some NyQuil and put your phone on silent. A pang of guilt flared up in your chest when you saw the several missed calls.

It was for the best. The last thing you wanted, nay, the last thing you needed, was another person to remind you that you're only good enough for a fuck, not a relationship.

So you swallowed the guilt and closed your eyes, finally able to drift off to sleep.

Whether minutes or hours had gone by, you couldn't say. The loud banging on your door not only woke you up, but caused your heart rate to skyrocket and your blood to run cold.

Who the fuck…..

You had half a mind to pull the covers over your head. But something in the back of your head told you that the pounding wouldn't cease.

Using all your strength, you willed yourself out of bed, pushing away the covers and used tissues, grabbing your glasses to clear your vision. Slowly but surely, you made your way through your apartment to the entrance door.

Upon opening it, you immediately wished you had stayed in bed.

“Oh my god, you’re ok-wow, you look rough. Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“I can see why the navy kept you, your observation skills are astounding,” you deadpanned. Your reflexes were too slow, bogged down by the cold you had, allowing Hangover to prevent the door from closing on him.

“Why are you out of bed, you should be sleeping!” He said, sounding closer to your mother than his usual obnoxious self.

“I was doing that until you came,” you gritted out between your teeth.

Jake stopped dead in his tracks, “You wear glasses.”

Fuck.

Jake didn't think it was possible to find you more attractive. But you wear glasses apparently. Why don't you wear them more often?

"Yes, I also have exactly one head if you didn't know by now," you rolled your eyes, "Officer Hangover-"

"Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Hangover, is there anything I can help you with? Because right now my priority is getting better-"

You stopped as you felt one of his hands gently press against your forehead. When did his eyes get so bright and intense? You had to look away from his stare.

"You're burning up," he murmured, his voice low and deep. God, you hated his voice. How it was smooth like whiskey, topped off with that slight drawl.

His stupidly large fingers gently grasped your chin, the cool metal of his class ring grazing your skin. Before you could comment, he titled your jaw up, forcing you to look at him and his ridiculous eyes.

"We gotta get you to bed V."

"That's what I was trying to do before you- hey!" Embarrassment flooded you as he picked you up like it was nothing. Within seconds, he was carrying you bridal style

"Put me down Seresin!" Jake couldn't help but smile at your words. Seresin. It was his last name, but you were calling him by one of his names.

Progress.

"Y-you're gonna get sick, put me down!"

"I'm in the military. I've had every vaccine known to man and then some."

You tried to jerk away from the circles his fingers were drawing on your back. Instead, your face landed right into his chest, the smell of cedar wood so strong, you could smell it faintly through your stuffed nostrils.

You pretended to gag, needing something to distract you from the fact he just picked you up so damn easily and was able to maneuver your body like it weighed nothing.

"Y'know how I can tell that you worked at Hollister? You douse yourself in that damn cologne." You mumbled against his broad chest.

Jake shrugged, "You don't complain."

He had a point, and that was the worst part.

"I-I need to sleep," you mumbled, something Jake found adorable.

"That's what I'm doing." Suddenly your back was touching your mattress. The hand Jake had on the back of your skull (when did that happen) gently guided your head to your pillow. His hands moved to your glasses, gently taking them off and placing them on your nightstand.

"How….how did you even find my bedroom? Are you stalking me?" Your weighted blanket was pulled over your chest, bringing warmth to your shivering body.

Jake chuckled, "You live in a one bedroom apartment. I'd be worried if I couldn't find your bedroom."

You knew you were ill because Crimson Chin was making sense. He needed to leave and you clearly needed more NyQuil.

A snarky comment was about to leave your lips when it was silenced by his hand gently tracing the skin on your cheek. Fuck, why was he so touchy? It was weird and you hated it, given the fluttering your stomach was currently experiencing.

"Just sleep, okay? I got ya Venus."

No, he most certainly did not. You two weren't anything, he was just some weirdo who couldn't park for shit and looked at you like he was seeing the wide open starry sky for the first time.

You were adorable sleeping. The way your lips were slightly parted, a cute little snore escaping from your mouth.

Jake could stare at you sleeping all day. He was quite tempted to, but he had other things he needed to do.

—----------------------------------------

"Hey, Venus. Wake up." When did you fall asleep? How long had it been?

Given that the sun was now setting, it couldn't have been too long, right?

Regret filled your entire being when you opened your eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" The human persona of regret and annoyance was in your fucking bedroom.

"How much NyQuil did you take?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Clearly not enough, as it didn't keep me from waking up to a nightmare."

He let out that low chuckle that made you so angry, your face heated up, "A nightmare? Most folks usually refer to me as their savior."

"It's been made pretty well known that the United States government doesn't have the greatest judgment, so I don't know why you're counting them."

Jake shrugged as he sat at the edge of your bed. It was then you noticed that he had one hand behind his back.

You reached for glasses, putting them back on. It took everything in Jake to stick to his plan and not tell you how absolutely stunning you looked.

He definitely needed to come up with a plan regarding getting you to wear your glasses more often.

"Well, I think this will change your mind," He grinned as he revealed what he was hiding behind his broad, well-defined back.

Your brows knit together in confusion as you stared at his hand. You look up at his face, then back down.

A container of Pad See Ew.

The question why forms on your tongue. It dies before it can even leave your lips, as memories of your first parking lesson flood back to you.

How could he…..better yet, why would he? Why remember such a minute detail, especially one that was a rare situation?

"I'm not going to sleep with you." Tension fills your body as you shift away from him. The air in your lungs feels constricted, almost as if part of you felt regret over your words.

It was the part of you that you had tried to squash so many times; the part that still had hopeless, naive dreams about being wanted. The part of you that always led to heartbreak whenever you followed it.

"Is that all you think I want?" His voice is soft.

Jake's not angry. If anything, he's fucking concerned because he thought that within the past month, he's made it pretty dog-gone clear he was crazy about you. That he thought the world of you.

Maybe Javy was wrong and he should have shown her the list of potential baby names he had saved on his phone. Perhaps that would have convinced you-

"Why else would you remember such a stupid detail?" You wanted to believe your anger was directed at him. But deep down, you knew it was also directed at all the jerks before him, the ones who made it impossible for you to enjoy a nice gesture.

Because it was never just to be nice.

"Because it's important and I enjoy listening to you?" It comes out as a question, though Jake's more so questioning why you find it so hard to believe that he wouldn't pay attention to you.

"I-I always remember what you say-the jokes and the non-jokes," He's trying to reassure you, but all you do is move away from him.

"You're wasting your time, Hagman. Just cut your losses now and go talk to the other girls who are dying to let you into your pants."

Your words are sour, much like the cold medicine you had taken hours ago.

"Why do you think that's all I want from you?" The tone he's using is new to you; it's not just soft, but there's a sadness that hangs around his words.

You shrug, your eyes now focused on your nails, "It's all anyone wants from me."

Jake's mind is now filled with the potential scenarios that would have led you to say such a thing, to believe such a ridiculous thing about yourself.

He has to remind himself to put down the container of food so he doesn't crush it out of anger or worse, spill it on your comforter.

"Who told you that?" You ignore his words, your brain too busy scolding you.

Why did you ever say yes to him? Why did you think you could control yourself? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You get yourself hurt every damn time.

"Hey," his hand on your shoulder breaks you out of the trance, "Who the fuck told you that?"

You jerk away at his touch. Why was he making this so damn difficult?

"No one had to tell me, I was able to figure it out pretty quickly when every attempt I've made at a relationship ends with the other person leaving me after they get bored."

Your eyes refuse to look at him; you can't. Not when memories of goodbyes over text messages and it's just not working, sorry are replaying in your head, mixed with flashbacks of nights where the loneliness was so overpowering, you cried yourself to sleep, desperate for something, anyone, to make the heartache just stop.

It was why not feeling was easier.

"Just stop wasting your time and leave me alone." There's a bitterness lacing your words as you spit them out. Your knees are brought to your chest, forcing your back to straighten.

Of course you're bitter. You dreamed about love, how great it would be to find someone to spend the rest of your life with. As a child, you didn't imagine your wedding but rather being married.

The world was cruel in the "lessons" it taught you. Not that you took them to heed, as now you were using all your willpower to not cry in front of the latest mistake.

It's an attempt to make yourself look stronger, tougher, not fragile. Jake knows it because it's what he's done so many times for God knows how long.

The front you put up is like staring at his own reflection. Deflect, make a snarky comment, and then push everyone away. No one can see that you're imperfect if no one is around.

Anger fills his body. Not at you, but at the fact he wasn't able to meet you before all those idiots filled your head with the idea that you weren't good enough. Angry that he couldn't go and beat those assholes up for making you think you weren't worthy of anyone's time.

So instead, he scoots his hand closer to you; not on your skin, but close enough to feel his presence.

"Look, I recognize I can't go and beat those assholes up for being the biggest idiots I've never even met," maybe if your thoughts hadn't consumed you, you would have chuckled at his words.

Maybe.

Jake Seresin isn't the best with words. Or emotions. Always was told they were bad (thanks Dad).

But like hell if he's going to just sit there and let you think that he doesn't think the world of you.

So, he swallows all the doubt trying to creep into his mind and is honest.

"But, I can tell ya this. I like you. A lot. Everyone on base is telling me I need to go get my head checked, but I know it's just because being with you on the ground is the closest I've felt to flying."

"And yes," he sees the way you look at him, question forming on your tongue, "I did compare being with you like flying. It's my life and I don't know…..I always thought it would just be my life and then I met you in that parking lot and you're bright and passionate and always say what's on your mind and I don't know I just....I want to do shit with you. Like take you to dinner and watch movies and bake cookies."

"You can bake?" No, that wasn't what you took away from his declaration (something you thought only was a thing in movies). But you needed more time to process what he had just said.

"Every year my mom puts on a Christmas Eve dinner and goes balls to the walls with cookies. My siblings and I always got roped into helping her, so we learned all her recipes. Of course, since I was the youngest, I mainly watched and stole spoonfuls of the dough until I was sixteen. But I can make her famous snickerdoodle cookies with my eyes closed."

It was then you noticed that when he smiled, the corners of his eyes creased.

It was endearing. Absolutely, completely endearing. His smile was comforting, like a warm fire on a winter night.

"Earl gray and lavender."

His brow knitted together in confusion; was it at your statement or that there was a small sliver of a smile when you finally looked at him?

"That's my specialty cookie," you explained as you reached for a tissue to wipe your nose, "I'll show you some time. Preferably when I'm not full of mucus and snot."

Some time. As in, you wanted to see him in the future. Show him a part of you.

"I'd like that a lot," he passed you the box of tissues.

The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's nice, serene even.

The small meow of your cat, Rugleach's way of alerting you that she was about to jump on your bed broke the quietness.

"Hey girl," Jake said to her, leaning down to scratch her chin. Your eyes widened at the sight of your cat, who hated all men, who was now purring and straining her neck to receive more pets from Jake.

Well, if that wasn't a sign.

Fuck.

"So this is the girl with more kills than me?" Jake asked, a cheeky grin adorning his handsome face.

"Yup, that's Rugleach. My protector from mice and birds," You smiled, leaning over to scratch her head, her purring being heard over your sniffles.

"You know," Jake paused, "I do have a security clearance so if you were to give me the names of those asshats , I could-"

"What, do you get a free stalking pass from the NSA?" You snorted.

"Yeah, it's part of my benefits," Jake responds, not missing a beat.

The corners of your mouth turn fully upwards and the most amazing sound comes out.

A laugh.

It's beautiful and melodic, just like you. The corners of your mouth are fully turned upwards, revealing a smile so bright and big, the corners of your eyes crease and your nose scrunches up.

Jake is thankful he's sitting down, but if he wasn't, he would have gotten on one knee and asked you to marry him right then and there.

So instead, he settles for leaning over to gently adjust your glasses that had been crooked.

"With a smile like that, why on earth would anyone let you go?"

His words combined with the tender action left you speechless, realization hitting you like a freight train.

Fuck, he was being sincere.

He was sincere the whole damn time. Ever since you first yelled at him in the parking lot.

A crumbled, used tissue hit his chest.

"Sap," you said, eyeing him with a teasing grin.

"This sap just brought you your favorite sick food. Besides," He leaned in, breath hot on your ear, "You don't seem to be complaining."

"I would never complain about Pad See Ew, Jake" you turned, hoping he couldn't feel how warm your skin was from his proximity.

It's the first time you said his name correctly. He loves it, loves the way you say it, how it rolls off your tongue so naturally. How sweet it sounds coming from your lips. How it’s your way of not just acknowledging what he said, but also how you felt about it.

He’d do anything and everything to hear you say it again.

He handed you the container, along with a pair of chopsticks. In return, you handed him the remote.

"If you put on some American military propaganda film, I'm kicking you out," You told him before taking a bite out of the dish, the noodles and sauce comforting on your throat.

Jake laughed, his hand squeezing your knee, which was a little annoying because it sent more heat through your body, "I mean, I just get really hard when Apocalypse Now comes on, can ya blame me?"

Your eyes couldn't roll back any harder, "That's a movie I've never seen and I know I'm not missing out."

"Wait, you've never seen it?" Jake's emerald eyes narrowed, concern filling them, "it's actually a great movie-not that it's my favorite, I mean, I thoroughly enjoy it but I don't get hard while watching it-"

He was rambling. Gone was the cocky pilot and instead was a guy who looked downright nervous.

You loved it.

"If I weren't so sick, I'd kiss you right now," his lips parted, though no words came out, "You should ramble more often Hangover, it's a good look on you," no attempt was made to hide your smirk at his reddening cheeks.

Jake sees this and it was ridiculously hot but also somehow totally adorable, probably due to the way the tip of your nose was so red from blowing into tissues and he just couldn't help himself.

A hand cradled half of your jaw, tilting your head up, making your lips in the perfect position for Jake Hangover Hangnail Hangman Seresin to kiss you.

You moved your lips against his, as best as you could when holding chopsticks and a plastic container.

His lips were like electricity, coursing through your veins. Your body was frozen, but not due to panic (which was the usual reason).

With anyone else, you would have been pissed that they thought kissing you while you were sick was a good idea. But with Jake….you didn't just expect it, you didn't mind it?

Yeah, you….didn't mind it at all.

Unfortunately, having a stuffy nose made breathing quite difficult, which is why you had to break away.

"You taste like Pad See Ew and NyQuil," Jake commented before pressing his lips against your right cheek. It would have to suffice while air returned to your lungs.

A laugh escaped your lips, "What did you expect? Again, you really should look into suing the government for all the brain cells you lost while in-what's it called? Grid lock?"

"So you do listen to me!"

"Can you not remind me of my mistakes? Thanks," you deadpanned, not minding the chuckle he let out. His lips pressed against your forehead, bringing a small smile to your face.

"Also, if you get sick, you can't blame me. Nor will I feel as inclined to bring you Mac and Cheese," you added before taking another bite of your food.

"I don't ever get sick," He scoffed, making you roll your eyes as you adjusted your glasses.

"That is exactly what someone says before they get deathly ill. I'm not going to figure out parking in a government military base. We're not there yet."

"So what you're saying," he leaned in, his breath once again on your ear and God, he needed to stop doing that or else you will kiss him again and will double his chances of falling ill, "We will get there?"

"You still need to learn how to park, Romeo," you paused, "speaking of which, you parked in the visitor lot, right?"

"No, that's too far away from your building. I just parked in front and hung up my work tag," Jake explained, as if that was the most sensible thing in the world.

"Jake….you can't….you have to park in the visitor's lot or else your car gets towed."

"V, they're not gonna tow someone who clearly works for the military."

"How much ya wanna bet?"

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

@abibliophobiaa @maxmayfield @rae-gar-targaryen @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @mygyn @sovereign-lights @cherrycola27 @k-k0129 @princessphilly @mxgyver @misshoneypaper @topgunruinedme @loveless-simp @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @readerthatreadsss @fandomxpreferences @teenwolf01 @toastedside @fictionwhores @awesomebooklover17 @helluvapimp @itllbefineeeeee @whatislovevavy @phantomxoxo @ouralcohol @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dreamsofouterspace @chavivaelisheva @the-untamed-soul @afuckingshituniverse @dogbarkbark4445 @krmy2386 @callsign-scully @avaleineandafryingpan @dissonannce @sometimesicryintheshower @potato-girl99981 @princessofglitterland @wildbornsiren @mrsjaderogers

#my writing #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin #jake hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #hangman x y/n #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin fluff #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin imagine

[taytrashmouth]

I'm so glad other people are having a peeta renaissance and I'm so obsessed with how you write for him !!!!!! Could you do promt #6 with Peeta please ! Maybe with the scene with Johanna in the elevator or maybe something with Katniss during the victor's tour ?? Big love ! ❤️

Omg omg thank you!!!!!!! Ahhhhh! Love this. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 6: you’re jealous

Jealousy, jealousy.

Peeta Mellark x reader.

A

You entered the lift with Peeta and Haymitch after the parade. Soon after Johanna entered the lift too. She undid her hair and rambled about how boring her costume was and the stupid Capitol.

She then asked Peeta to unzip her.

He glanced at you for a second before obeying. He looked up but you noticed how his eyes wondered.

A bitter feeling spread into your chest. Why couldn’t he seem to keep his eyes off her.

You had the sudden urge to lean onto Peeta and hold onto his arm.

He glanced quickly down at you, and kissed your head. Johanna climbed off the elevator.

“Wow.” Haymitch mouthed.

Peeta’s eyes went wide in an ‘ I know’ sort of way.

You let go of him, no longer liking the thought of holding him. Not right now, not nowthat she was gone.

When you got back to your room you changed out of your dress and climbed into bed.

“So, you love me…right?” You asked as Peeta brushed his teeth. He frowned leaving the brush limp in his foamy mouth and spat out the toothpaste rinsing his palate and toothbrush.

“Of course n/n.” He crawled behind you and held you close in his lap. “You’re everything to me.” He whispered.

You were quiet for a while before speaking up again.

“What did you think about Johanna?” You asked.

“She was alright-“ he shrugged, still holding you.

You scoffed.

“Oh my god! You’re jealous.” Peeta turned you to face him with a smirk.

“I am not!” You denied.

“Oh come on! You’ve been insecure all evening, you had to grab onto me when she was in the elevator, you’ve been asking about her since dinner.” Peeta listed and you sighed.

“It’s just- you looked at her… and you’re supposed to look at me. And I just- I got upset because you don’t act like that when you see me-“ you were cut off by a kiss.

“Peeta!”

“You are so cute when you’re jealous! Did you know that?” He smirked. “I wasn’t looking at her like that n/n. I was looking at the marks on her back, I think the peacekeepers beat her or something. They looked fresh. And I was thinking, she must be crazy, yelling about the Capitol 24/7 and getting undressed in an elevator.” Peeta explained.

You felt a little silly.

“Oh.”

“Even if I was checking her out, which I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ever look at you like that. You are so gorgeous and I respect you so much. I will only ever look at you with love and not like you were some painting I could eye-fuck.”

Tears filled your eyes. “I just get scared because I don’t look like her. I don’t look like the pretty girls in the Capitol.” Insecurities washed over you. “I don’t want you to be disappointed that you were stuck with me.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

Peeta kissed you on your cheek and wiped away the tears. He stroked hair out of your face. “You don’t look like them… you’re right. You’re more beautiful than all of them. I don’t want the over the top girls in the Capitol or the extremely over the top Johanna.”

You watched him with such love. You had just accused him of checking out some other girl and here he was making you feel better. He wasn’t even angry. He was perfect.

“I mean, have you seen Effie? I don’t think I could handle that much glitter. You know?” He rambled and you giggled.

“I want you n/n…I love you. I could never be disappointed about just you.”

You smiled and held each other tighter until you were almost asleep. You felt Peeta’s stomach moving? Was he laughing?

You heard laughed finally erupt and you leaned back, trying to figure out what was so funny.

“What is so funny.” You were smiling just off of his expression.

“I love you so much you know that.” He laughed. “Remember the day we first spoke back in 12. You asked me to go out with you, which I thought was really brave because you were normally so quiet.” He rambled.

“Then you told me that you’d been outside for about an hour contemplating before you came into the bakery. Well, I had no idea you got so jealous over me…it’s flattering.” He laughed again.

“What!?” You sat up in confusion.

“N/n you 100% saw that red head from school go in before you and watched her flirt with me. That’s why you asked me out. I should thank her really.” He smiled and you gasped and then buried your head in his chest, a bright shade of pink.

It was true. You had liked him for ages. She couldn’t steal him from you.

“I should start kissing you whenever you and Finnick talk.” Peeta tickled your sides and you laughed despite your embarrassment. “I mean, he’s a good looking guy, should I be worried.” Peeta smiled at you and you returned the gesture.

“Yeah you should be.” You tried not to laugh.

Peeta fake gasped and pushed you onto your back, the spongy bed bouncing under you.

“I’m sorry, have you seen his abs…” you fanned yourself. “I don’t make the rules babe.” You smiled.

“Is that so?” Peeta held your knees that were the only barrier between him and the rest of your body.

“Have you seen these abs?” He lifted up his t-shirt revealing his abs. You could look at him all day. He was perfect.

He pulled you closer by your feet and straddled you. Moving for a passionate kiss, and moving down your neck finding your sweet spot. When he sat up straight again you were left in a love sick haze.

“Bet Finnick can’t do that.” Peeta was out of breath after the heated kisses, the only reason he stopped was for air.

You shrugged playfully. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Look who’s jealous!” You smiled. You quickly hooked your ankles and flipped him over to be on top.

“I’m-I’m not jealous.” Peeta was right, he looked at you with only love.

You kissed him now, leaving him a love sick mess. Scruffy hair and all.

“Come on bread boy, let’s get some sleep.” You climbed under the covers and he quickly followed letting you use his now bare chest as a pillow.

“You have better abs.” You whispered and you could almost hear him smirk.

Requests are open please send them in

#the hunger games peeta #the hunger games #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg #thg peeta #y/n #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #team peeta #peeta my beloved

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: If This is Love, I Don’t Want It {Three Shot} 1 *

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Cursing, Infidelity, Heartbreak, Asshole Behavior, Mild to Moderate Levels of Smut, Slight NSFW, 

Words: 4k

Summary: Against your better judgement, you allowed Lewis to woo you. For 10 months he chased you with more determination than a starving wolf. You finally gave in and found happiness and what you thought was love. Thought is the operative word as you stare at the pictures from his week in Antarctica, pictures that show you definitely had been made a fool of.

Note: I know it’s late but now I’m in an asshole Lewis mood. LOL. High angst, no fluff, now googly eyes, expect to dislike him for this three parter. Hope you enjoy it!

Note II: Italicized text is a flashback/memory or someone’s words all from some time in the past.

 As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

  ***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~

-1 Year Ago-

 Being back in Monaco felt strange. After working with the Mercedes-Petronas Worldwide organization trying to really put women’s F1 on the map. You never liked how pushed to the side the women’s side appeared while male counterparts had this earth-shattering worldwide fame. The women you interacted with daily for the last two years were incredible beings. They were strong, intelligent, skilled, and amazing. Being back, you planned on badgering your father to put more shine and money into them while convincing him to make you their official go to.

 You took a deep breath and savored the salty fragrant air. This stop in Monaco wasn’t going to be a long one before you went back to London, so you planned on enjoying it to the fullest.

 “Excuse me.”

 Spinning you found a familiar smiling face before you.

 “Would you look at that, Y-F-N & Y-L-N!”

 You scoffed at the near six-foot man before you. As always, his hair was styled flawlessly not leaving not even one hair out of place. His dark eyes shined with friendliness and a hint of something else, something intriguing, but his smile was all politeness.

 “Sir Lewis Hamilton.”

You tipped your head down mocking the proper introduction for someone who’d been knighted. You knew he hated it, but you loved it because he hated it.

 “Cute.”

 You took the seven or eight steps back to your table that overlooked the balcony and took a sip from your wine glass.

 “How are you?”

 “Good. Enjoying life,” you replied waving around you.

 “Your father said you were busy and helping him with other things.”

 “I was. Are you here for business?”

 He sat across from you, clearly not caring that he didn’t receive an invitation to do so.

 “I wasn’t sure when I landed last night but seeing you here, I know.”

 “Know what?”

 “I’m not here for business.”

 He spoke with eyes locked on yours and it didn’t take a genius to guess what he was alluding to. He was here for pleasure. You bit down on your tongue, stifling your laughter.

 “Oh no? Then what?”

 “Pleasure of course.”

 You nodded. “And that pleasure is it with me?”

 Lewis smiled and you saw what so many women saw in him. He was gorgeous. There was a certain appeal to him that pulled you in. You understood how and why so many women flocked to him and yearned to stay by his side. There was a certain Je ne sais quoi. It was slightly infuriating the longer you tried to unravel what it was.

 You snorted then laughed out loud.

 “Oh my god. Does that really work?”

 He laughed along with you. “More times than you could imagine.”

 “Wow. I guess I should feel honored, Sir Lewis really dropped a line on me.”

 “I’m embarrassed now.”

 “You should be that line was horrible.”

 Both of you laughed together as a waiter approached.

 “Ma’am. Is this the last of your party?”

 You studied him trying to decide if you’d let him stay. It was that Je ne sais quoi that had you answering. “Yes. We can begin.”

 The waiter nodded then began listing off the specials of the evening, and the chef’s selections. Both you and Lewis listened as you flipped through the menu. Every so often you glanced over to him trying to unravel the onion you were sure he was. When his eyes shifted to you, you snapped out of it.

 “Ladies first, please,” Lewis uttered.

 Dinner progressed with nonstop conversation. He was intelligent, you that that, but seeing it on display this close to you couldn’t help but be fascinated. He spoke of more than just F1, more than driving, he spoke about politics, world struggles, music, art, fashion and plenty of other things. The first and second course zipped by without any ill feelings. By the time dessert finished you were not only stuffed but also enjoying yourself.

 When Lewis suggested accompanying him to a party you decided why not, you weren’t in a hurry, you didn’t have anything else to do tonight either. Ever the gentleman, Lewis assisted you into the back of his truck and spoke to you the entire way there. Throughout the party he kept you by his side, he took care introducing you to everyone he knew, even getting your drinks so no one else handled them.

 It would be a lie if you said you didn’t enjoy yourself. You did. You danced, drank, socialized, and even flirted it up with those around you. It had been a while since you were able to really let yourself go and it felt good. When Lewis came up behind you for a dance, you even allowed him to get close enough for you to get a hint of a feel of why the rumors surrounding him were so scintillating.

 He felt good, you couldn’t deny that, so good that you leaned back against him letting your head lull back onto his shoulder. Lewis’ lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered; “This is bad.”

 “What is?”

 “You are soooo off limits. You’re practically career ending level of off limits.”

 You smirked.

 “So that means dangerous, right?”

 You ground your hips against him. A deep groan was your reward. “Absolutely.”

 “And lemme guess, you like danger.”

 “I drive fast cars for a living, Y/N. Danger is the only thing I understand.”

 “And you want this kind of danger?”

 Poking out your ass a bit you nudged his now growing member. Damn he felt good, you thought. Everything in you was tempted to give in.

 “Do you?”

 Lewis pressed forward sending his now rock-hard length onto your ass.

 “Fuck,” you hissed and fought to keep your resolve.

 It took every ounce of control you possesed and every bit of willpower, but you managed to pull yourself from him to walk away. He stood there staring at you with such a hungry look your belly flipped. An hour or so later, you both walked out of the club. He automatically began leading you to his truck, but you stopped.

 “Thanks for the party.”

 His brow crooked. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

 “That I am.”

 “Why? I thought--,” he began.

 “I know exactly what you thought. You thought a sexy dinner, some slick lines, dancing, flirting and some alcohol would seal the deal for your wild night of fun with the boss’s elusive and selective daughter. You thought it was for sure gonna happen where you found out my mouth is a lot dirtier than you ever imagined. I don’t know whether to laugh or be offended that you thought it was going to be that easy.”

 “I--.”

 “I guess I can’t blame you, not truly. Every woman you’ve ever encountered give you anything and everything you wanted with this much or less.”

 You sighed then shrugged. “Sadly, Sir Hamilton I am not one of the women you pick up, screw crippled and toss into your rotation.”

 Lewis scoffed then stepped closer. “Who said that’s what this was?”

 “Oh, so what was this about?”

 Lewis took your hand and pulled you closer. “This was about me finally at the point where I’m okay with risking some things if it means having you.”

 His eyes looked sincere like he really meant those words, like he really wanted you for more than a quick fuck.

 “I mean it, Y/N. We’ve known each other for years, been dealing with each other for years, I know you feel something here between us. I feel it.”

 You smirked then shook your head. “God, the game you spit is smooth as fuck.”

 His hand snaked behind your back to rest right atop your tailbone.

 “What do you want, Y/N?”

 You leaned to his ear, “You to work for it.”

 Your eyes locked for a few moments before you pulled away.

 “Good night, Sir Lewis.”

 ~~~~~~~~

 -16 Months Later-

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck yes Lewis!”

 His panting melded with yours and they echoed in the humid room that smelled of passion, scented oils, and sex. As Lewis flicked his hips forward again, wedging himself deeper than you thought possible you screeched and gripped his back sinking your nails into his skin.

 “Uuuuah!”

 Lewis kissed your neck then ground his hips.

 “You feel so good baby. So—fucking—good.”

 As he picked up his pace you held onto him for dear life as he lifted you up, up, up into the air and through the spheres of the earth until you were floating in zero G.

 “I lo—lo--,” Lewis stuttered.

 Your eyes met and that was where they remained. Slipping the back of his fingers across your cheek, he pressed his lips to your nose.

 “I—I can truly see myself marrying you, Y/N.”

 Your heart jerked and stomach fluttered.

 “I can see myself having kids with you and—loving you for the rest of my life.”

 It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room leaving only carbon dioxide. It didn’t take long for you to get dizzy. Lewis’ lips met yours further dizzying you, further making you see stars. You locked your ankles behind his back and pulled him even deeper inside your heat. His groan was guttural, primal and when he finally began moving his hips again his movements were focused on one thing—claiming you completely, etching his scent and mark all over you so no one would question if you really were his. This was something more than flesh indulgence. This felt like it could be forever.

 “I love you,” you whispered into his ear.

 ~~~~~~

 -Three Weeks Later-

 What. The. Fuck. Was. This?

 You took a breath in but got nothing, so you did it again and again but still nothing. The more you tried and failed the more you panicked and the more you panicked the more lightheaded you became. Pressing your eyes closed you focused on your heart and tried to get its rapid beats under control. You did the counting exercises you did whenever you got overworked and slowly your heart slowed, slowly your breathing came back to normal. Slowly, you were able to get your vision back to normal.

 Only when your vision did return to normal you came face to face with the thing that had started all of this. On your phone screen were several shots of Lewis, your boyfriend of seven months in a hot tub in Antarctica. It was a trip he’d tried to convince you to take with him but due to your schedule you had to turn him down. You weren’t freaking out about him going without you, you were freaking out because of the evident fact he had some girl sitting in his lap in said hot tub. You scrolled through the pictures and scanned each of them.

 You’d thought that maybe it was the angle that made it seem worse than it was, or maybe it wasn’t a girl and a guy just sitting too close, or maybe it was a girl, but she wasn’t sitting on his lap just too close for comfort. However, there was no mistaking it. It was a girl, and she was on his lap although he had you, although three weeks ago before your business trip, he was in your bed whispering sweet nothings.

 “What the fuck?”

 You went into your phone, found Lewis’ contact and called him. It rang once, twice then went to voicemail.

 “Did he just--?”

 In disbelief you called again but it happened again and again and again. Now feeling anger, you tapped out a message to him.

 MSG: What the fuck is this? Answer your phone.

MSG: What am I seeing with you in Antarctica?

MSG: Lewis!

 He didn’t answer any of them. He didn’t answer your calls. It was radio silence. The more you scrolled through social media the more hurt you became. Everyone was speculating just which girl from his rotation it was, which one of his fuck buddies had him that weekend. A few desperates came out the woodwork claiming it was them and spilling details about his bedroom tastes and other sexual revelations and before long it was a circus.

 Twenty minutes. That was all it took for you to find out where he was and luckily you were in the same city. Twenty minutes to find him and another twenty to get to him. However, when you got to his Monaco house you wished you hadn’t found him. The music was blasting so loudly the ground shook. There were people everywhere. Clearly you’d walked in on a huge party filled with bikini clad women, drinks and numerous distractions set up around the property.

 “What the hell?”

 Once you were inside you made your way upstairs. On the path there, scattered across the floor were pieces of clothing, bikini bottoms, tops, and underwear. Once you got closer to the top you saw opened condom wrappers, and that was when you stopped in your tracks. The fear you felt was so strong that you couldn’t move your legs for a few moments. It was crippling. It was crazy to think that a year ago any thoughts of this man were pretty much nonexistent. He didn’t mean anything to you. You could walk away from him easy peasy. Now, it was nothing like that anymore. Now you thought of him constantly, now he meant so much to you, too much, now walking away was something you couldn’t fathom.

 When your legs worked again you stepped forward into the bedroom and there was Lewis on his back with two girls on either said of him giving him head. You could not believe your eyes. Your knees buckled but somehow you managed to stay upright. Lewis’ eyes found you, but he didn’t move, he laid there and allowed them to continue. A pain stabbed at your chest making you flinch. It was a pain that did not subside.

 “Wh—wha—what the fuck Lewis?”

 Your voice was weak. Whereas you’d left your hotel with rage and fire in your veins it had now puttered down to nothing.

 “Y/N.”

 He didn’t sound shocked, ashamed or as if he cared. His tone remained low, dull, uninterested.

 “What the fuck!”

 You walked to the side of the bed, and it was then the women sucking him off stopped. Lewis’ dick flopped forward but the only thing that registered was that he hadn’t moved.

 “Get the fuck out!”

 Lewis sighed then sat up leaning against the headboard, resting one arm behind his head.

 “Now!”

 The women climbed out of the bed as if they had not one care in the world especially about their nakedness. Rather than taking their clothes, they walked to out of the room completely bare. Once alone, you glared at him.

 “What the actual fuck Lewis! What is this?!”

 “What does it look like? A party.”

 “A sex party? What the fuck are you doing?

 “Having fun.”

 That was when he pulled the blanket up to cover his soft dick.

 “Having fun? You’re fucking kidding me right now!”

 Lewis rolled his eyes then sighed.

 “Come on Y/N, stop! Just stop already, yeah. You knew the deal bruv, you knew the deal from the beginning, from jump.”

 “What did I know Lewis? Huh, what did I know? Cause I am fucking lost!”

 “You knew what it was and what it wasn’t. You knew I didn’t do monogamy. you knew that wasn’t who I was. You saw the signs and the proof. Hell, you even mocked it right it in my face. Yet you thought you could change me. You thought you were going to be different, thought you were not like other girls. Get the fuck out of here!”

 Your eyes widened. That rage and fire sparked again, and you saw red.

 “Fuck you Lewis! That’s bullshit! You don’t do monogamy? I thought I could change you? Me? You were the one to chase me. I didn’t ask you to do that, I didn’t force you to send me flowers and love notes and presents every fucking chance you got. I didn’t ask you to wine or dine me and take me on trips. I didn’t ask to meet your brother or your family, or your friends. I didn’t ask you to take me to Thanksgiving. I didn’t ask you to rearrange your schedule to spend time with me or show up for my important dates. I never asked for anything from you Lewis!”

 “Yeah right! Let’s be real with each other right now Y/N. You knew what I wanted from the very beginning. You knew what it was I could and couldn’t offer. You entertained it. It’s your fault for thinking this was any different than what it was!”

 You picked up the glass of liquid on the bedside table and threw it in his face. You didn’t know what it was, and you didn’t care.

 “Fuck you!”

 He still sat there and that was probably what tipped you over the edge. He didn’t look one bit remorseful. He looked smug, unfeeling.

 “So I imagined everything. You were just pretending. So three weeks ago, what was that? What was what you said?”

 His eyes remained locked on something across the room.

 “You said that you could see yourself marrying me and having kids with me. You saw yourself loving me for the rest of your life. What was that?”

 He didn’t speak at once. His jaw remained clenched, and eyes focused elsewhere then you heard it. he laughed. It echoed loudly in the hollowed room and with his laughter you felt that stabbing pain more intensely. Was this how a heart broke, you wondered.

 “Damn that was a good line. Right?”

 Your own body answered your previous thought with near crippling pain in your chest. This was how a heart could break.

 Stupid. You’d been so stupid. It hit you then. You’d bought a lie disguised as a dream.

 “Wow. I thought—I actually thought that was a turning point for us.”

 A heavy sigh echoed in the room. “For fuck’s sake Y/N, I’d just cum harder than I’d ever cum before because of how amazing you felt. I was seeing stars. You can’t hold me accountable for any of that shit I said.”

 “So it was bullshit?”

 Again, Lewis hesitated before he spoke, but he still wasn’t looking at you.

 “Look at me!”

 It took a few moments but when he looked at you, his eyes were cold emotionless windows to a pit of nothingness.

 “We’re here now right. The facts are simple, this is the life I want to lead now. I drive fast cars and like everything else just as fast.”

 The tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t drop. They just clouded your vision of him. Ironic you thought, your eyes had always been clouded of him. You’d never seen the real him. It was all bullshit.

 “So you chased me for a year, put in all that work, all that effort, all that time to fool me and make me fall in love with you and then take my virginity just to do this—to end up here?”

 As the words fell from your lips you watched him closely, but he remained unmoved, remained stoic. His jaw clenched then his shoulders rose into a careless shrug.

 “At least your first time was memorable with the one and only GOAT.”

 He then let out a low whistle and seconds later the women reemerged and pranced over to him. You stood there and watched as they climbed back onto the bed and fell into his outstretched arms. Then there were three pairs of eyes watching you silently fall apart.

 “Unless you like to watch, you should leave,” Lewis finished.

 It was then your tears fell. Streams of hot tears rolled down your cheeks but as they dripped onto your shirt and the floor they just continued and flowed endlessly.

 “They all told me,” you began then paused dropping your head back hoping to recall the tears that wouldn’t stop. It didn’t stop them though, they flowed out the corners of your eyes now. “They all warned me about you.”

 You locked eyes with his, “I should have listened.”

 Turning you walked away along the same path you’d taken to get there. Every step you took away from him your heart hurt even more, and your tears continued as if the goal was to cry a river. You were well on your way to that. Whenever you wiped them away, they only came with more force. By the time you got outside you abandoned wiping them and focused more on keeping your head high and back straight. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. Not now. Not ever.

 To Be Continued.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou​ @heartfullofgolden          @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess  @19jammmy ​@nunya7394 @eltima02

#if this is love i don't want it 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine

[ourtearsofrain]

Feel Good (D.R.W)

Summary: You help your boyfriend release some energy after a long day.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count:  3.2k

Warnings: cussing, smut (18+ minors DNI), oral (M receiving), M!sub 

A/N: Could not get the image of Danny looking like this as you suck him off out of my head so I had to write something. Also, please read the smut psa section in my masterlist post!

As your boyfriend smashed out his last drum solo of the night on the stage far in front of you, signaling the end of Highway Tune, lights began flashing as his brothers added to the cacophony of sound by playing random notes on their bass and guitar, the crowd erupting into a roar of cheers. With one final “Thank you everyone, and goodnight!” from Josh, the lights cut from a fiery red to a deep blue, and the four men waved their goodbyes as they set their instruments down and walked off stage. As soon as the stage was clear, the arena’s overhead lights came flickering back on, basking the crowd in bright white light as people shuffled their way towards the exits. You held back, figuring you were in no rush and the security would give you less trouble as you made your way backstage after the swarms of dedicated fans asking for copies of the set list had died down.

After 10 minutes, you figured enough people had left and began your decent to the floor, beginning to regret your decision to sit in the nosebleeds directly across from the stage as you attempted to step around the pools of spilled beer splashed across the stairs. Danny had offered you a spot at barricade, front and center directly in front of him, or off to the side of the stage in the wing, but you had declined both offers. You didn’t want to spend not only the entire opening act as well as the show, but also an hour before the show started, cramped in between screaming fans that had camped out the night before to get those spots, or chance being in people’s videos and pictures as you watched from the wing.

You made your way across the arena floor towards the barricade and show your backstage pass to a security guard standing by the gate; he takes it and lets you pass after thoroughly examining it for longer than you thought necessary. You make your way through the twists and turns of the corridors, attempting to remember where the dressing rooms were, eventually giving up and asking a stagehand to point you in the right direction. After thanking her profusely, you make your way towards where you hoped she had said they were.

Too lost in thought attempting to remember the exact instructions given to you, you suddenly run head first into Sam as he exits his dressing room in a hurry. “Shit, I am so sorry.” He starts, not realizing who he ran into. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Wow don’t sound excited or anything, good to see you too Sammy. Great show tonight.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound disappointed that its you or anything.” Pressing his fingertips into his forehead firmly, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Opening them again he continues, “And thanks, although your boyfriend seems to think otherwise. He’s being a real piece of work right now so just tread lightly. You looking for him?”

“Yeah, I am actually. Could you point me in the right direction? I cant seem to find my way around this place at all tonight. And wait, what do you mean? What’s wrong with Danny?”

“I think he tried a new brand of drumsticks for tonight’s show and they kept breaking, something about them being ‘Cheap pieces of shit’. I don’t know, he was pretty fed up after his third pair snapped at the very end of Highway Tune.” He begins walking away from you backwards, towards where you thought the performer’s entrance must be. “Anyways, I’m too tired right now to try and talk to him more so, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, he’s your problem now. His dressing room is 2 doors back, good luck.”

You throw a weak smile in his direction as he continues backpedaling. “Thanks Sammy, goodnight.”

“Night kid.” And with that, he turns around and disappears down the corridor.

Walking over to the door Sam had said belonged to Danny, you take a deep breath, attempting to release all the tension from your body before bringing your fist up to the wood and knocking three times. “Who is it?” You hear your boyfriend’s voice snap, although muffled by the barrier between the two of you you noticed he sounded strained and angry.

“Just me love, can I come in?” You ask softly, hoping your calm responses and tone will help deescalate your boyfriend’s mood, or at least not further frustrate him.

“It’s unlocked.” He replies, and you try the handle, slowly opening the door to find Danny standing in front of the dressing room’s vanity, still shirtless after the show and bent at the waist to look in the mirror, aggressively scrubbing at his eyes with a makeup wipe.

“Hey hey hey love slow down, you’re going to rub your skin raw.” You say as you close the door behind yourself and briskly make your way over to him, grabbing his hand to stop his attack at the smudged makeup surrounding his eyes. “Let me help you, sit down please.” As he follows your instructions, taking a seat in a chair closest to the vanity, you grab a new wipe, leaning down and cupping the side of his face with one hand as you begin to gently take his ruined eyeshadow off.

Closing both of his eyes, he lets out a long sigh, and you can see his body relax under your touch. After a few quiet minutes, he says, “Thank you.”, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, love." You discard the used wipe and grab a new one to begin on the other eye. "I ran into Sam in the hall, he told me about the drumsticks. I’m sorry they were frustrating tonight, is there anything else bothering you, or was it just that?”

He takes a sharp breath in, irritation painting his features as he recalls the events of that day. “It was that and its just been a long day. The twins have been bickering all day over the smallest things, and I think Sam has been instigating for entertainment. Either that, or he can’t read a fucking room. I’m running on like 5 hours of interrupted sleep, so I guess I have been more easily agitated. Like I said, it’s just been a long, frustrating day.” He opens his eyes after you finish wiping the last of his makeup off, tossing the stained wipe into a nearby trash can and taking a seat in his lap, straddling him. You place your hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze as he brings his hands up to your hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain about everything today. Really, I’m alright now.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind listening, and I appreciate you telling me what’s bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He sighs, letting his forehead fall forward to your shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. Venting helped, like I said I’m alright now. Just want to get back to the hotel and take a hot shower.”

You move one hand to the back of his head, and begin lightly smoothing your hand over his hair, playing with some of his curls. “Alright, then let’s get your things and head back to the hotel. You can take a nice hot shower, and then we can curl up together and pass out. How does that sound love?”

“M’not tired.” He mumbles into your shoulder. Pulling away, he looks at you with a slightly defeated expression. “You’d think I would be after getting shitty sleep and having a long day but, as much as I want to, I don’t know if I would be able to sleep any time soon. I don’t know, I feel like I still have so much pent-up energy left over, I need to do something to get it out.”

As you look down at your boyfriend beneath you, you remember how you felt tonight whenever the screens on either side of the stage showed him; how the light caught his sweat-soaked skin, how his arms looked as he played, how his tongue poked out from behind his teeth whenever he was caught up in the music, and how he threw his head back, mouth open as if an unheard moan was escaping him, as he pounded out the finale. A mischievous smile crosses your face as you bring your hand at the back of his head back down to his shoulder and continuing its decent, joined by your other hand as you slowly run them down his pecs and out to his sides. They come to a stop on his hips, just above his belt. You lean forward until your lips are centimeters away from his. “I think I know how we can fix that.” you whisper, lips brushing his.

“Oh? And what-“ he starts, before you cut him off with a searing kiss. As the kiss becomes more desperate, his hands grip your hips and you grind your hips down onto him, causing his mouth to fall open slightly as he lets out a quiet moan. You draw back, letting your eyes roam over him, from his flushed cheeks and blown out pupils, down his chest, and eventually landing on the area of his metallic pants just below his belt buckle that's becoming more and more strained by the second. You bring your gaze back up to meet his, as he looks at you with a needy want painted across his face.

He clears his throat, attempting to clear his head as well. “How about we… uh how about we head back to the hotel now and… and continue this there?” he breathily stutters out.

You lean forward once more, catching his lips with your own quickly. Keeping your face mere inches from his own, you reply, “Sounds like a plan.”, voice laced with desire. You stand up and begin collecting his belongings scattered around the room, finding a sweater and tossing it towards him, still seated in the chair. “Well?” you ask expectantly, “Are we leaving or not?”

He zones back in, having been lost in his thoughts of what you could possibly have in store for him, and frantically pulls the sweater on, getting up from the chair and making his way to the door with you by his side. “You sure you don’t want to change into sweats or something?” you question, letting out a small laugh of amusement from how eager he was to leave the arena.

“Nope, I’m alright.” He insists, despite his failed attempt at discreetly loosening his pants by pulling down on the fabric at his crotch.

“Alright,” you shrug, “Your choice.” He holds the door open for you and as you pass him you lean in, whispering, “Doesn’t matter much anyways; they’ll be coming off sooner or later.”, continuing out the door and towards the hallway you had seen Sam go down earlier.

“You coming love?” Looking back you see Danny still standing in the doorway, face flushed and lips slightly parted. He snaps his attention back to you and nearly slams the door, quickly making his way to your side, slotting his hand into yours as you exit the arena.

-

The second the door to your room closed and both of your shoes are kicked to the side, your hands are planted firmly on his chest, shoving him against the nearest wall. He lets out a surprised gasp before you connect your lips with his, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and the other on your lower back, pressing you flush against his front. You playfully bite down on his lower lip and feel his hardening dick twitch as he lets out a groan. Your hands roam downwards to the hem of his sweater, and your lips leave his long enough for you to pull it off his arms and over his head. He replaces his hands on you as you begin nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck, eliciting a soft sigh as Danny leans his head back until it hits the wall behind him.

You start to trail your lips down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, and down the center of his abdomen, stopping yourself on your knees at the base of his happy trail, just above where he needs you most. With his chest already rising and falling rapidly with shallow anticipatory breaths, you slowly run your hand from where it rested just above his knee upwards along the top of his thigh. It comes to a stop on his dick, and you run your hand back and forth over it, squeezing gently. His moan is followed by a breathy “Please...”. You stand and bring your lips to the shell of his ear, relishing in his small shiver from your breath on his skin.

“Please what?”

“You…” he pants, “You know what. Stop teasing.” You turn away from him, beginning to walk across the room, leaving him whining at the loss of contact. He grabs your wrist, stopping you about a foot away from the bottom of the bed. “No, wait!” he sighs. “Please… please make me feel good, love.”

You turn, giving him a wolfish grin. “Now, was that so hard?” Pulling him towards you, you turn the two of you and lightly push him towards the bed, causing the back of his knees to hit the base of it. You move your hand to his cheek, holding the sharp edge of his jaw and bring his face towards yours, keeping your eyes locked on his blown-out pupils. “Don’t worry baby, I’m going to make you feel so good.” you whisper before shoving him backwards onto the bed.

He lands on his back and slowly moves up until his head is resting against the headboard as he’s propped up on his elbows, one leg bent at the knee. You gradually make your way up the bed on your hands and knees, coming to a stop between his legs as you begin another attack on his lower abdomen, lightly sinking your teeth into the soft flesh there before soothing the sting with soft kisses. His fists grip the sheets as you pull your mouth away and leisurely undo his belt buckle, undoing the button of his pants and drawing the zipper down. You maintain eye contact with him as your hands find his waistband and hook your fingers under the hem of both his boxers and pants, taking your time pulling them down his legs as his cock springs free of its constraints. Once free of his clothes, you grip his thigh with one hand and take him in your hand with the other, causing him to gasp at the contact. You look him in the eyes as you lick a stripe up the underside of him from base to tip, swirling your tongue over his already leaking head. You finally wrap your lips around him, sinking down and taking him all the way despite your gag reflex screaming at you to stop.

“Oh my fucking god.” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall back. You pull yourself off him completely, causing him to open his eyes in surprise and groan in protest.

“I want your eyes on me until you’re cumming down my throat, got it? You’re not getting shit if I don’t see you watching how good I’m taking you.” You wait for a response, cocking an eyebrow when you don’t get one. “I said, got it?”

“Yes. I got it, I won’t look away I promise. Please keep going.” His whine turns into a loud moan as you sink back down onto him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You bring your head back up, your hand pumping his base as you hollow your lips around his head, bobbing up and down. He struggles to keep his eyes on you, but keeps his promise as you continue fervently sucking him off, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets below him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good.” he gasps as you let out a hum of satisfaction. “Just like that, oh fuck I’m so close.”

You moan at his words, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he screws his eyes shut, his back arching off the bed as his head loudly hits the headboard and he lets out a string of moans and curse words, and you feel his hot release coat the back of your throat. His arms give out and he collapses fully onto his back, panting heavily as you pull off of him, cleaning any remaining cum off him with your tongue.

You move up the bed until you are laying on your side next to him and gently brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, cradling his cheek with your hand and turning his face towards yours as you place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “How about we go take a shower and get you better cleaned up, love?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you in blissed-out confusion. “What about you? You took care of me, now it’s your turn to feel good.” he half-whines.

“Tonight was about making you feel good, baby. You’ve had a long day, you need rest. We can cuddle up and fall asleep right after we shower; I’ll be alright tonight, I promise I don’t need anything right now.”

“Fine…” he grumbles. “But I’m gonna repay the favor sometime soon.”

You laugh, “Sounds like a deal.”, gently kissing him before getting off the bed and pulling him to the edge, leaving him sitting there as you strip your own clothes off. Once undressed, he wraps his arms around your abdomen, pulling you in between his legs as he peppers your stomach with soft kisses. You let him, placing your hands in his hair and playing with his curls for a few moments. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s go.” you say as you grab his hands and unwrap him from yourself before tugging him to a stand. You let go of one hand as you make your way towards the bathroom, pulling him along behind you.

You shower in comfortable silence, finally finishing 30 minutes later after frequently interrupting your routines with short, lazy make-out sessions. You dry off and change into your PJ’s, him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, and you in light shorts and one of his T shirts, and complete your nighttime routines side by side. Once finished, Danny crawls into the bed, holding the sheet up for you as you crawl in next to him. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his chest in a bear hug and you bring your hands up to rest on his chest, forehead against his collarbone as you tangle your legs together.

You’re the first to break the silence; “Love you.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as your breath fans across his chest.

The last thing you hear before drifting off into a warm, deep sleep is his sleepy response of, “Love you too.”

#fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #greta van fluff #greta van smut #gvf smut #danny wagner x reader #smut

[axailslink]

Two Hours

Riri Williams x poc FEM reader

Summary: Riri forgets she set up a study time with you today so when she comes back to her dorm she's dressed to a T after a night out you can't help but be the natural flirt that you are.

Riri runs back to the door as she sees you with your book bag "shit sorry I thought I'd be back in time" she unlocks the door and lets you in but you're just staring her up and down. "Wow, who's the lucky bitch?" She laughs as you sit on the bed eyes still pressed firmly to her figure "no one I went out with my sister for a night drink" you take out your journal and laptop "well can I be the lucky bitch? Because if you go out looking like that I feel like it's only right you have someone to look as good as you" you do a little spin and she laughs "yo shut the fuck up and pull those notes out" she sits beside you as you open your journal to your last notes but when you look at her again you just groan. "There is no way I'm focusing on these notes with you looking this damn good next to me like give a little praise to the shirt!" You grab her hand and pull her off the bed gently spinning her around she can't help but smile and shake her head. "Y/n you have two hours with me paid for are you going to waste them praising me the whole time?" You think about it and nod "yes but I could do a lot more than praise you if you just give me the chance. No one is good for you you don't talk to nobody and everybody knows boys ain't ya flavor but what's wrong with me? I mean look at me I'm cute ain't I?" She laughs as she looks you up and down "I'm not answering that" you smile and kiss her hand "a chance? A date? Shit a time?" She snatches her hand away "I don't fuck the students I tutor." You nod "okay then as of right now you no longer tutor me I'm not failing any of my classes anyways. Now what? Am I on the fuck list yet?" She shakes her head "you couldn't handle me" you smile and look at her straight in the eyes "but I think I could handle you" she pulls you to her by your belt loop and smiles "that's what you think but truth be told you couldn't handle being overstimulated for two hours as I continuously thrust into you not caring how loud or how much you beg for me to stop." You stand there shocked isn't even the right word to express your reaction you're at lost of words but not for long as she backs up. "Uhm I volunteer as tribute what time tonight?" She glances at the clock on her wall "like I said you've got two hours with me." You look at her then the clock and nod "aight let me put these notes up real quick imma use my two hours wisely." She laughs as she watches you with her eyes following your every move "you should go ahead and strip too why you at it." You shake your head she is about to whore you out and you just gone let her!? Absolutely oh good God almighty absolutely.

#WHERE ARE THE RIRI FICS #where are the askers? #riri my love #riri is my gf #riri williams x black!reader #riri x black!reader #ironheart x reader #riri williams black panther #riri williams x reader #black panther fics #black panther fic #black panther wakanda forever #black panther imagine #black panther x reader #riri x fem reader #riri imagine #riri williams imagine #riri x reader #riri couple #riri williams #riri williams x fem!reader #riri williams x black!fem!reader #black panther #dominique thorne #riri black panther #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x f!reader #letitia wright x black!reader #letitia wright shuri

[nattikay]

Shoutout to my mom who let me dump a bunch of spoilers on her so I could cry about Neteyam. Finally had the chance to get all that sobbing that dehydration robbed me of yesterday out of my system, and I’m feeling a little better now. I mean, the situation still makes me sad, but I don’t think I’ll continue to have my eyes suddenly start leaking every other hour like they did for most of today. :’)

so uuuhhh now that I’ve more or less gotten over that hurdle, I can finally sit down and make a post about all the other stuff from the movie! So here’s a list of some of the other thoughts and observations I had, not exactly comprehensive cuz this is all coming after 24 hours of grieving so I may not remember every single little thought I had, but here we go anyways (also tagging @tenebrius-excellium cuz you said you wanted to hear my thoughts):

-I just want to watch the first five or so minutes on loop for a while (although maybe without the cuts to Neytiri singing the songcord because 🥲, good golly the moment I saw that shot I, already being familiar with the lore behind songcords, was like oh NOOOOO), just the scenes of those ~14 peaceful years where the kids are growing up and the RDA is gone and everyone is happy together and it’s all just so sweet, this is the content I want, I want more of it, please pretty please, I know it’ll be a while before all the gif-makers are able to get a hold of those scenes but man as soon as they do goodness gracious I’m just gonna stare at it all for hours 😭

-While I was already assuming that the Metkayina didn’t actually know English and that we the audience were only hearing English for convenience, I was expecting that issue not to be directly addressed. So I was pleasantly surprised when it was subtly addressed with Jake’s voiceover about now being familiar enough with the Na’vi language to understand it as easily English as the audio of the kids bickering swapped from Na’vi to English. Theory confirmed!

-Speaking of the Na’vi language, I did feel very excited because I was able to understand some of the unsubtitled lines, which was a goal! so yay!! I mean, I didn’t understand every Na’vi line spoken (some of the longer ones I’ll definitely have to listen to more than once to piece together), but to even understand any of it at all, especially the ones without subtitles, felt very awesome!! dopamine rush babey!!!

-And on that note, the fact that Quaritch of all characters was making an effort to learn the language really surprised me! He struck me as the type of character to not give two craps about that sort of thing but hey. I definitely got a kick of out of Spider absolutely roasting him for his lack of skills hrh (note, I very most certainly do not condone actually mocking new learners making mistakes, obviously, but seeing as this is Quaritch we’re talking about...^^”) Spider’s line here was also a place I even managed to catch a subtitle discrepancy -- iirc, the subtitles read “You sound like a three-year-old!” but the actual line was nga plltxe na ‘eveng ahì’i! you speak like a small child! Which, I mean, y’know, same gist, but it was cool to be able to understand the actual words!! I also greatly enjoyed Spider trying to teach Quaritch the distinction between na and nga, just because man that’s one of those things every learner has been through, idk it was delightful to watch it go down between canon characters hrh

-Speaking of Quaritch and Spider....wow, I was surprised just how early they dropped the “Quartich’s son” bomb. That had been a pretty popular and plausible theory for a while, but I was expecting it to either be left up to interpretation or used as a bombshell later in the film. But nope, from the get-go it’s pretty heavily implied that not only is Quaritch Spider’s biological father, but that they’re both aware of this. So. Yeah, that was certainly a surprise.

-Kiri “I would rather drink acid than have Norm be my biological father” good gracious girl! like I mean yes the idea that Norm and Grace were secretly hookin’ up is obviously preposterous, but what did Norm ever do to you to deserve that reaction ^^; haha

-I mentioned in my High Ground post the three primary theories on Kiri’s origins. Having now seen the movie, I now think the mystical-Eywa-conception theory is by far the most likely. However, canonically it still remains a mystery/up to interpretation. Perhaps we’ll get more answers in movie 3...

-Y’know what, vulgarity is not typically my type of humor, but Lo’ak flippin’ Quaritch the double bird when asked to let him see his fingers did get a chuckle out of me hrh

-hey um yo the Metkayina kids were absolute JERKS, what the heck?? like good golly heckin’ rude. Except for Tsireya she’s chill I like her :)

-Personally I don’t think the story of this movie is a total rehash of the first one overall, but I can very mostly definitely see how people would consider it so. There were several lines in two scenes in particular, the one where the Sullies arrive at the Metkayina clan and the one with the tulkun hunters, that were just soooooo similar to lines from the first movie, not quite verbatim but certainly awkwardly close. I can absolutely see this becoming a common complaint from internet critics.

-Tuk pretty much solely exists to make the audience go d’awwwww!!, and y’know what, that’s ok because boy did she succeed :’)

-unfortunately, Quaritch’s ikran has by far the coolest design of all the ikrans, like bruh that color palette is heckin’ dope. what a shame ur now stuck with this jerk lol. Though I did snicker at Quaritch feeling the need to bond with the ikran “the hard way” solely because he couldn’t stand to be outdone by Jake lol

-I liked Lo’ak and Payakan’s friendship, it was very sweet. Also very interesting design-wise that a tulkun’s queue is in his mouth, and that the mouth has more of those bioluminescent patterns on the inside.

-The fact that the tulkun hunters are 100% aware that the species they’re hunting is fully sapient feels very ick to me. Sir that’s...that’s murder. Good gracious. and um “tulkun brain juice stops human aging” wh...what?? can uh...can we get some more explanation on that??? like is that gonna be somehow relevant to later movies or is it just some arbitrary thing to make the brain juice valuable, valuable enough to attempt to justify murder idk but uh....yyyyyyeah 😬

-minor thing, but I was surprised that the swimming baby from the trailer was, in fact, not Ronal’s. In fact, we never actually meet Ronal’s baby, which, again, surprised me. Why make her pregnant if we don’t get to see the baby, it feels kinda random ^^; to link her to her spirit tulkun who just had a calf I guess?? idk. once again, maybe it’ll become more relevant in movie 3.

-until proven otherwise, I am heretofore declaring that final “a son for a son” line to be Spider’s official adoption into the Sully family 😭😭😭

anyways, I guess that’ll do for now. I’m sure there was other stuff but I’ve been sitting here typing for over an hour already. Perhaps later I’ll come back with more comments, idk. I’ll be seeing the movie again next week with the rest of my family, so maybe I’ll notice different things/remember stuff that got swallowed up in the feels. Will I cry more than I did on my first viewing because I’m gonna try not to go in dehydrated again, or less because by then I’ll have had a week to process and accept everything? I have literally no idea. Guess we’ll have to just wait and see...

#awow spoilers #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

[carlyraejepsans]

> They make tandem bikes with three seats, you know.

You think of the numbness.

You think of the noiseless, colorless nothingness that would await you every time. How drowsy it made you. The way it clung to your lungs, the way it pulled you in like quicksand.

And you think of the fear that gripped you. Tearing at your heart like a wild animal, all teeth and fangs and rabbit fast heartbeats as you stumbled your way towards that light only you could see. Like a torch in the darkness.

You think about how it stuck to your skin. Thicker and viscous and harder to break free from every time.

You think about how it will be when it finally swallows you whole.

The breath that claws its way out of your throat is something mangled and raw. You wipe at your eyes, furiously, pressing the balls of your hands against your burning eyelids, willing the tears back where they came from, but it's no use. You hiccup again with a full body shudder, and your lungs ache with the effort of keeping a hold of your breathing.

Pathetic, a chastising voice of old sighs in your mind, first no dignity, then no shame. In life, as in death. At least you're consistent.

Blurred through your tears, Sans looks actually embarrassed for the first time since you've met him.

"uh. right. gotcha. i see..."

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and clearing his throat.

"this is, uh," he says, "kinda awkward. could you not—uhhh. nevermind."

He rubs the back of his neck again, very pointedly not looking at you.

"look pal, this isn't personal. a job's a job. it's show bizz, or whatever. you know the drill. besides," he shrugs, still only checking you out of the corner of his eye, "nobody else here gets to manipulate time and have another try at life, you know? we're just dead. so, uh, from my perspective, you kinda got lucky there—"

He stops himself and grimaces, "WOW. okay. that sounds even worse out loud. you know what? forget i said anything."

He passes a hand over his face.

You close your eyes.

"man, what the hell am i doing."

You lean back and your head rest against the library behind you, breath still spasming, no longer caring to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You're tired, and homesick, and running very low on hope.

You don't want to die, the thought alone terrifies you, but...

You just want it to be over.

Something bumps against the side of your shoe.

You crack an eye open to see a plastic bottle nestled against your foot, presumably after being rolled across the floor.

Sans hasn't moved an inch. He still won't look at you, but his eyes do go to it a few times. Then to the parcel in his hands.

Wordlessly, you reach out and grab the bottle. It's heavy and too opaque to see inside, but the liquid within sloshes around thickly.

You take a swig. The sweet, tangy flavor of it makes you sputter as soon as it hits your tongue.

You wipe your mouth with a sleeve, "Is this ketchup?"

"yeah," says Sans, finally looking at you, "why? you don't drink?"

The absurdity of the situation is enough to drag a wet snort out of you. You consider your options for a moment, than take another swig.

Sans' shoulders drop slightly.

"see? we're good," he says, almost to himself, "we're good. we, uh. didn't get along that much the other times, right?"

"Three," you croak after a few steadying breaths.

"huh?"

"Tandem seats," you rub your eyes dry one last time, "they—they make them with three seats, too. The bikes."

"seriously?" Sans says, "must be a long bike. that doesn't sound very, uh, practical."

"Maybe it's a balancing act."

"heh. maybe."

He passes a hand over his face, then closes his eyes.

"oh boy."

Seconds pass that feel like minutes.

Slowly, your breathing returns to normal. You rub at your wet nose.

"look, i'll make it quick," Sans says, "are you gonna destroy this place?"

You look at him, startled, "What?"

"wiping out half the map trying to get stronger... is that, uh, on your bucket list?"

You look at him a little helplessly, plastic bottle clutched in your hands, "I just want to go home."

He sighs. He looks tired.

"yeah, well. welcome to the club." Sans shakes his head, "actually... no. scrap that. goodbye."

He snaps his fingers. The latch on the bedroom door clicks as it swings open.

"you can go now."

You stare at him, "What?"

"leave. you can go" he repeats. He opens his arms, as if to showcase the tornado that swept through the room, "i mean it's already enough of a mess in here. do you have any idea how long it's gonna take me to NOT clean this up? i'll be sleeping for weeks."

He winks.

You scramble to your feet. None of this feels real anymore.

"You're not going to kill me?" you can't stop yourself from asking.

"what? nah. i'm on break. also, i mean, imagine if you actually stayed dead. how would i explain that to my boss?" Sans shrugs, "yeah you can just go. i've had enough surprises for the day."

It happens in the split of a second.

It bolts into the room from the window, sleek and writhing like a snake. Sans barely throws himself back in time to dodge it as it twists and crashes into the door, slamming it shut.

"what the—"

A second bolt follows. It catches him off guard and rips the parcel right out of his hand.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to focus and notice the gleam of metal.

Then the gloves.

"Why, darling," hums a robotic voice somewhere near the window...

#undertale #sans #mywriting #i amn so sleepy. if you see typos no you didnt

[marie-swriting]

Confession Of Love - Jake "Hangman" Seresin [1/2]

Masterlist

Speak Now TV Masterlist

Part two

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : You've been seeing Jake for four months but you're still not officially dating. It's going to happen soon, though, right ?

Warnings : Jake is an asshole (it's not against him, I love him, I swear), angst, cheating, alcohol consumption (be careful with your alcohol consumption), maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.7k

Song inspiration : Foolish One (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

you take the new arrival of books in the box next to you and put them in the correct shelves. You pay attention to place them in alphabetical order and sometimes, you take a look at the back cover, adding then a new book to your - long - to be read list. You set the last book of a saga in its place when a masculine voice comes behind you.

“Sorry, would you have a book on how to apologise after cancelling a date last minute ?”

“Jake !” you exclaim, taking him in your arms. “What are you doing here ?”

“I felt bad about yesterday. Those are for you.” he says, breaking the embrace and handing you a big bunch of red roses.

“Oh, thank you ! They’re beautiful.” you smile, pecking his lips, “But I already told you it was okay. You were tired because of your day at work, I get it. We can always plan something another time, like tonight for example. My shift ends at 6:30 P.M, you can come pick me up at seven.”

Hope can be heard in your voice on top of nervosity. Jake and you can’t see each other frequently because of his job as a naval aviator and he’s also often hanging out with his friends. You’re aware it’s normal for Jake and you to not spend every single day together though, two or three times a week would be a good start you think.

You look at him, waiting for his answer impatiently but as soon as you hear him sigh, you guess his answer. Even if you expected it, you can’t help but feel disappointed. 

“The problem is I already told my colleague I would spend the night with them.”

“It’s okay. You can send me a text when you’re free.” you affirm, forcing a little smile.

“Perfect. I’m not gonna bother you much longer. See you.” he says and kisses you.

You lovingly watch Jake leaving. Once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, you smell the roses and your disappointment leaves your body to let affection take over. It doesn’t matter if he wasn’t able to have some free time for you that night, he always makes sure to make it up to you like today. You stay in your bubble and walk in the direction of the backshop to put the flowers down. You find a container to put your roses in when your colleague Cora blows your bubble.

“Who gifted you those roses ?”

“Jake. They’re pretty, aren’t they ?”

“Wow, he must feel ashamed about a lot of things.” she comments, gazing at the flowers while you put them in the makeshift vase. 

“Not at all. Why do you say that ?”

“Like they always say, the bigger the bouquet, the bigger the guilt.”

“No one says that.” you state, frowning. 

“He cancelled again, didn’t he ?” she says, her question sounding more like an affirmation.

“He has a good reason.”

“I bet he does ! I don’t understand how you can still be with him. If my boyfriend was always cancelling dates, I-”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” you interrupt her, avoiding her gaze.

“What do you mean ?”

“We’re not really dating.” you inform and she gives you a look so you quickly add : “We’re taking things slow. Jake can be on a deployment any day so we don’t want too many strings attached.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve been with a guy for more than four months, you go on dates, you kiss, you sleep at each other’s house but you’re not official ? He’s worse than I thought. I mean, Y/N, don’t forget about his reputation ! Jake doesn’t do serious relationship. And just to prove it to you, has he finally presented you to his friends ?” Cora asks and you stay silent. “That’s what I thought. Why are you still with him ? He’s going to break your heart just like Logan.”

“He’s different !” you say, angry by her words and the mention of your ex. “Look, you don’t know him and you know nothing about my relationship with Jake so stop giving me unsolicited advice. I’ve learned from my mistakes, I know what I’m doing.”

On that note, you pass by your colleague and go back to your work. While you keep reorganising the books, you can’t prevent yourself from thinking back to your conversation with Cora. You know she didn’t mean any harm but you’re annoyed by the way she thinks you’re too foolish to know how to handle your love life on your own. You’ve known men… stupid ones, to stay politically correct, however you know better now and Jake has proven to you he’s different from your exes. It’s not because he cancels a lot of dates that he’s a bad guy. He is a nice guy. You’re sure of it.

At the end of the day, you take back your roses and bid Cora goodbye without adding anything else, still pissed off by her words. Upon arriving at your place, you put the roses in a real vase and set it on your dinner table.

That night, you spend it alone eating, watching Pride And Prejudice. As you’re watching it, you can’t help but melt because of Mr.Darcy’s confession of love to Elizabeth. You’re waiting for the day where it’ll be your turn, the day where, like those cheesy romances you read, you will get your confession full of love by the love of your life. You know you look like a hopeless romantic but you grew up with this idea of great love stories where the man is perfect and you’ve been searching for him since your teenage years. Maybe Jake will be this man and he’ll confess his feelings to you soon. You like him a lot and you wish you could share the future you have in mind with him.

Once your movie is over, you take your phone and check your notifications. You haven’t received anything. Not a call, nor a message. You thought that maybe Jake would send you a text to tell you about his day or at least say some nice words but nothing. Radio silence. It should be a good sign he’s having fun with his friends and yet, you can’t stop yourself from thinking this silence sounds like some bad signs ; he doesn’t seem to miss you. Sure he’s with his friends, you know he’s not spending his night on his phone though, a text wouldn’t be too much ! With mixed feelings, you put down your phone and start watching another romantic movie.  

During the whole night, you keep checking your phone without any change. When you go to bed around midnight, you keep on sighing and your mind starts thinking back to your relationship with Jake and to doubt it. 

Once you’re laying down on your bed, you glance one last time at your phone and when you see nothing new, you groan and aggressively put your cellphone on your nightstand. You change position in your bed and try to fall asleep, in vain. You toss and turn and yet, you don’t seem to be comfortable enough and your mind who is currently overthinking doesn’t make things better. This lack of message from Jake hurts you more than you care to admit. One thing is certain, you won’t get your love confession tonight. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten ahead of yourself so much ? Maybe your relationship with Jake won’t last ? Maybe there was a little bit of truth in Cora’s words ? You shake your head, hoping to get rid of these voices who start to make you more puzzled. If you discuss it with Jake, surely the situation will get better. Right ?

At least, you feel like the situation gets better the following week. You haven’t really talked with Jake but you’ve been able to see each other more often. 

Today, you spend the afternoon together. You don’t do anything special. Jake just came to your apartment and you stay on the couch watching movies and talking about random things. 

Your head on his shoulder, you think you were right to trust Jake. When he has the time, he’s the perfect… boyfriend ? Partner ? Friend ? Whatever the word may be, he is perfect. You never argue and your conversation knows no awkward silence ; everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. You even feel like you’re getting closer and closer to the moment where you’ll finally be official. You’ll finally be able to call him yours and you’ll be able to share more than some hours here and there with Jake. You can imagine a whole future with him, that’s why you want to believe so hard that what you have is something good, despite the particular circumstances. 

As soon as it’s getting late, Jake gets ready to go back to his house. From time to time, he stays to sleep at yours however when he has to wake up early the next day, he prefers to go home, his apartment being closer to his workplace. Once he’s set to go, Jake walks to the door while you follow him, tiredness visible on your face.

“Send me a message when you’ve arrived.” you say, yawning and Jake tenderly looks at you.

“I will.”

“Can we see each other next Saturday ?”

“I’ve already got something planned with my squad at the Hard Deck.”

“And do you think it’d bother them a lot if I came with you ?” you ask with a small voice before embarrassment catches you. “Sorry, it was rude. I shouldn’t have invited myself like that. It was stupid. I… Tell me when you get home. Good night.” you exclaim, ready to close the door but Jake stops you.

“It wasn’t stupid. Actually, I’ve been thinking of introducing you to them for a long time now.”

“Really ?”

“Sure. We’ve known each other for four months, it’s normal for you to meet them. I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend the whole evening together.” he states, putting his hands on your cheeks.

“Perfect.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Jake gives you a smile before pressing his lips on yours. Your kiss only lasts a few seconds and you enjoy it as much as possible, celebrating this new milestone in your relationship. You’re still not official, nonetheless he wants to introduce you to his friends, you’re on the right track. Once Jake breaks the kiss, he tenderly strokes your cheek before turning around and walking away. You watch him leave then close your door, a goofy smile on your face.

When you get to the Hard Deck, Jake’s arm around your waist the following Saturday, it’s not a goofy smile you have on your face anymore but a nervous one. You know Jake is close with his colleagues and you want to make a good impression. You hope with all your heart this moment will go well. For you, this is a key moment and you can’t allow yourself to make a wrong move.

As soon as you find the group of people wearing Khakis, except one man is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, your hands become a bit more clammy. Jake quickly introduces you to every member of his squadron and you do your best to remember their names. For now, you only know Natasha’s name, as she’s the only woman. Jake proposes something to drink and judging you need to relax, you ask for a beer. He kisses your cheek before going to the bar, leaving you alone.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” Natasha starts with eyes wide open. “When Bagman told us he wanted to present us to someone, I thought he was joking. I never thought he was the kind of guy to settle down and I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you can put up with him.”

“Once you get to know him, he lets the arrogance go and you realise he’s a nice guy.” you respond, laughing.

“Hangman said you two met four months ago, right ?” Bradley questions.

“Yes, at a café. I had just gotten my coffee when Jake bumped into me and, long story short, he offered me a new coffee with his number on the cup.”

“I see he still knows how to make a good first impression.” Natasha jokes. “What do you do in life ?”

“I work in a bookshop. I’m paid to be surrounded by books, I couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.”

“That’s so cool ! I should come sometime. I haven’t read a new book in a long time.” Bradley informs you and instantly, your eyes shimmers with excitement. 

“Oh ! I can give you recommendations if you want. What genre do you prefer ?”

Ensued then a conversation about your favourite topic : books. Bradley tells you some titles he likes, novels he’s been meaning to read for years and you listen to him with passion. You give him a whole list of authors and books to check out and he writes them down on his phone. Thinking you might have some other recommendations for him later, you ask him to give you his number. At the same time you’re saving his contact, Jake comes back to you and puts his arm around your shoulders.

“You’re not stealing her from me, aren’t you Bradshaw ?”

“We were talking about books, a subject you might not be familiar with.” Bradley retorts and Jake smirks.

“Oh no, she talks about it all the time. You haven’t finished getting new suggestions.” Jake says, faking desperation in his voice.

“Hey ! You’ve discovered good books thanks to me.” you defend.

“True. Anyway I’m going to play pool. You’re good here ?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Jake smiles at you before going to find his friend at the pool table. You stay with Bradley, Natasha and Bob, who just came next to you. You keep getting to know each other and you feel better, realising you don’t struggle to fit in - you’re not really the social butterfly, preferring your books more than people.

As the conversation goes on, you learn that Bradley is a good pianist and you ask to see him play. He doesn’t need to be asked twice and walk to the piano before playing Great Ball Of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. Natasha, Bob and you sing with him and you’re quickly followed by the other people in the bar. Jake comes to you and sings by your side and sometimes he spins you around.

Once Bradley finishes the song, you laugh with your new friends, glad to realise you’re having a good time. Jake asks you if you want something else to drink and you inform him you haven’t finished your beer yet. He tells you he’s going to grab another drink, leaving you for a moment.

“Natasha wasn’t joking when she said you were an outstanding pianist ! Very good choice of song, by the way.” you compliment Bradley.

“It’s my favourite. My dad used to play it when I was a kid. I have good memories with this song and my parents.”

“I can see that. Your parents seemed to be cute together.”

When you talked earlier, Bradley quickly told you about his parents and you have to admit the way he speaks of their relationship, it looks like a story from one of your favourite books.

“They were !” Bradley confirms with nostalgia. “Maybe too much. I’d like a relationship like theirs.”

“I’m sure you will. You seem like an amazing guy. You deserve a love story as beautiful as theirs.”

“You too.”

Bradley smiles at you before talking about his pianist skills while you’re searching for Jake next to the bar. You expected to see him with a drink in hand, but it’s a vision of Jake with a woman who has her arms around his neck that you find. Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing who this woman is and why she’s so close to your… to Jake. Jake gets rid of the woman’s arms then tells her something. He comes back to you at the same time where Bradley excuses himself to use the bathroom.

“Who was she ?” you question, not giving him the time to start a conversation.

“Who ?”

“The woman who was literally in your arms.”

“Oh, huh, I don’t know. She tried to flirt with me but I told her I was already in good company.” Jake explains with a flirty smile yet, you stay sceptical. “Y/N, I swear I don’t know her. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not. I’m curious, that’s all.” you lie.

Not fully convinced by your affirmation, Jake put his hands on your cheeks before leaning in and kissing you with passion. Even if you still have some doubt, Jake’s kiss helps you to calm down.

However, it’s really during the following weeks that you feel much better. Jake is being more present, casting away every doubt you have in mind. He’s managed to have some free time for you and you’ve even spent three days together, something never done before in your relationship. This time, you’re sure, everything is alright. Everything Cora told you or even everything you thought was fake. No matter what people say about Jake and his love life, you are the exception. Jake cares about you and he’s honest. Your relationship has a real future.

You’re so over the moon that you’re not as sad as usual when Jake tells you he can’t spend the evening at your place because he’s exhausted. You wish him a good rest before reading your book again. You’re in the middle of a chapter when you receive a message from your friend Laura who you haven’t seen in months. She asks you if you want to come to the bar next to her place. As you miss your friend, you accept without a second thought before getting ready. 

Once you arrive at the Scented Sky bar, you have a big smile on your face, impatient to meet Laura. Once you leave your car, your eyes find their way to a vehicle not too far away who looks like Jake’s. At first, you think it’s just a mere coincidence then you pay attention to the licence plate and recognize that it is Jake’s. Instantly, you frown. You don’t understand how he can be there when he told you he wanted to sleep, not to mention the fact this bar is far from his place. 

You keep searching for a rational explanation while you go to the bar. Before you walk through the door, you glance at the window and your eyes get teary at what you’re seeing. Jake did lie to you. He is at the bar and far from being tired as he presses his lips on a woman, the same woman at the Hard Deck he swore to you he didn’t know. The world is crumbling down your feet as you’re looking at them kissing passionately and being in each other’s arms. Tears are running down your cheeks and you can’t stop them. You want to go in and insult Jake with every bad word you know yet, the shock is so strong you turn around and go back home, trying to understand what you just saw.

When you close your door, you lean on the wall before sliding down and bursting into tears. You have your head in your hands, totally desperate and angry, not only at Jake but at yourself too. You wonder how you couldn’t see the signs. Now that you think back on it, you realise that, indeed, every element was in front of you : he keeps an emotional distance, he never uses pet names, you’re never his priority and so and so forth. You thought you found someone honest and you feel like a fool as you realise it isn’t the case. You should have listened to Cora, you should have listened to your instinct. You thought you learned your lesson, especially after your relationship with Logan, apparently you still have a long road ahead of you.

Once your sobs calm down, you stand up and throw yourself on your bed, not really taking the time to change your clothes. You stay there, laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, without understanding what’s happening. In the end, you are not the exception. As always. And you never will be. You will never have your love story, your confession of love, your happily ever after. 

Your phone notifying you of a new message interrupts your downward spiral. You take it and when you see it’s a text from Jake wishing you a goodnight, you want to answer him with a long paragraph, explaining how much you hate him. However, you don’t have the strength so you delete his number and block him on your social media. You feel lighter but still miserable. You don’t want to see him ever again.

Your wish is not granted. You’ve been able to avoid Jake only for a week. Despite all your efforts, Jake forces the hand of destiny by coming to your workplace. You see him entering the bookshop but you keep working, pretending to be too busy. You don’t even react when he’s in front of you. Your lack of reaction confuses Jake. He expected you to throw yourself in his arms and yet, he is taken aback by your silence.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me.” he starts with a big smile, “I saw you weren’t answering my texts and I can’t reach you on social either, weirdly, so I got worried. Everything okay ? Are you ignoring me ?”

“I don’t know, did you give me a reason to ignore you ?” you question looking up to him, forcing a smile.

“Huh, no. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“Then no, I’m not ignoring you. You’re such a nice guy, I don’t see why I’d want to ignore you.” you exclaim, ironically.

“Ok, I’ve missed something. Can we talk about it ?”

“I don’t want to talk to you !”

“If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, I think I deserve at least an explanation. I mean, we’ve had something for four months.” Jake demands and this is your last straw. 

“In the back shop. Now.”

Because of your authoritative tone, Jake doesn't dare to make an inappropriate comment and follows you while you go to the backshop. Cora looks at you from afar, completely confused by the angry expression on your face - you haven’t told her anything about your discovery, feeling too ashamed.

Once you close the door behind Jake, you cross your arms on your chest and glare at him.

“So, what’s up ?” Jake casually asks.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” you start, trying so hard not to scream, “I thought you were too tired so why were you at the Scented Sky ?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to outwit me ! A week ago, I asked you if you wanted to come to my place to which you gave me the stupid excuse of “I’m too tired to come”. And yet, when I went to the bar, I saw you, in great form.”

At your last sentence, Jake’s eyes widen, panic visible on his face. His brain tries to find a rational explanation however before he can say it to you, you quickly add.

“And do I need to specify you weren’t alone when I saw you ? You were with the woman from the Hard Deck. You know, the same woman you didn’t know at all. And not to mention you were kissing her.”

“I have a good explanation,” he fastly says.

“Oh yeah ? Which one ?”

Jake stares at you and chooses his words carefully before speaking, as if he was in front of a wild animal. He never saw you mad before. He didn’t even think it was possible so he doesn’t know the way you could react if what he says came out wrong.

“She was flirting with me again and before I could react, she kissed me.”

“I just told you I saw and you keep taking me for a fool ?” you retort, shocked by his lie. “You were the one who pressed his lips on hers, your hands were on her hips ! How can you think I’m gonna believe what you’re telling me ? How could you do this to me ? I thought we had something !”

“I…”, he stutters before starting with a calm voice, “Look, I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship, nothing was official between us and-”

“And I get it !” you cut him off sharply, “But It doesn’t give you the right to make me believe you care about me just for you to go see someone else. You know, if you had told me you weren’t ready for a relationship and you wanted to meet other women at the same time, I would have told you I didn’t want that and we would have called it quits ! You haven’t been honest with me when I’ve given you everything ! You’ve betrayed my trust just like the others.” you sigh, your eyes getting teary.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear I had the best of intentions.”

“If that is you with the best of intentions then I don’t want to imagine how you’d act if you didn’t care about the person ; you’ve ruined everything. You’ve taken me for an idiot for months and you have no remorse about it ! All I did was defend you, repeat to everyone you were someone nice and you’ve proven to everyone you live up to your reputation and that I am the stupid and desperate woman who only sees the best in the worst guys. Tell me honestly, were you even gonna tell me one day you didn’t want anything serious with me or were you gonna let me guess it by ghosting me ?” you question and Jake doesn’t answer. “Your silence says it all. I can’t believe I could have thought you were good. But, at least, you were useful for something. I had to learn to listen to my instinct when it tells me to walk out from a relationship instead of persisting. Thanks to you, I’ve finally learned my lesson. I hate you, Jake.” you pronounce, staring him right in the eyes. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Y/N, wait-”Jake tries to say.

“No ! Leave and never talk to me again.”

Jake doesn’t add anything and leaves the room without looking back. Once the door is closed, you let your tears run freely down on your cheeks. You sit down, not having enough strength in your legs when the door opens once more, letting in Cora. She doesn’t wait before taking you in her arms. She affectionately strokes your back while you’re sobbing.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. You were right, Cora.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“He’s the stupid one here, he doesn't know what he’s lost.”

Cora’s words should be comforting and yet, it makes you feel worse. Jake might not know what he’s lost but you sure do know what you’ve lost, time, love, energy and above all, trust. You know you’ll need time to heal from it.

And indeed, you need several months before you can spend a day without thinking about Jake. Now you can finally start to move on. This relationship, though short, has left a trace in your heart, just not like you wished. Since your split-up, you’ve decided to put yourself first instead of waiting for a man to show you his love. You need to understand what you want and what you deserve in a relationship and you can only do that alone. You need to know how to exist and to love without depending on the gaze of a significant other. 

For the first time in your life, you are your own priority and you feel good as a single woman. You wouldn’t be against the idea of living your epic love story one day but you are satisfied with your current life. You’re self-sufficient and that is the most beautiful confession of love you could ever have.

Masterlist

Speak Now TV Masterlist

Part two

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #marie swriting with music #marie swriting with taylor swift #marie swriting with speak now tv #Spotify #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin angst #jake seresin oneshot #top gun angst #top gun one shot

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part eight (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of trauma and mistrust.

Part seven Part nine

Tag list: open

After arriving in Velaris, Y/N talks with Elain and finds out her brother hasn't told her everything yet...

(Sorry, this is a bit short but I didn't have a whole lot of time to get this out today)

Being back in Velaris was a dream I had never thought would come true.  The people were as happy as ever, even if the streets showed that the war hadn’t left even our hidden city unscathed.

Apparently Feyre has a little art studio, which warms my heart.  I had heard a little bit more about what she had gone through, and I knew she deserved to have happiness, wherever she may find it.

“So who made those wings?”  Rhys asked, studying the pair strapped to me.  “It had to be someone in the dawn court, if I’m not mistaken.”

I chuckled.  “No, you’re not.  It was Lucian’s friend actually.”  I say, trying to leave Eris out of it.

He didn’t need to know about that.

“Nuan?  Wow, she never fails to impress, does she?”  He says, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle.

I stop in my tracks as I see the new building we were heading for.  It was quite big.  “That’s new.”  I comment a little dumbly, not sure how I feel about it yet.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you.  This, is the River House!  Big enough for all of us to live in comfortably.”  Rhysand was quick to say, grinning down at me.

I nod, smiling back up with him as I fidgeted with my sweater. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected some changes.  “It’s great.”

I hate it.

It’s not that it’s not beautiful, it’s just… I can’t stand open spaces like this.  It reminds me too much of the Asteri’s throne room, where…

I shake the thoughts from my head.  Not the time Y/N.  Find Elain, ask what she saw, if she knows why people are falling through the cracks in the fabric of the universe.

Because there is always a reason.

As we crowd in, and Rhys starts on a tangent I’m not listening too, I study the details of the place.

It feels well loved, and the more I look, it’s less like a throne room and more like a home.  There are paintings lining the walls.  Feyre’s I’m assuming.

“Hello!”  A little voice says, and I look down, freezing as I see blue tinted violet eyes looking up at me, giving me that sweet smiles only toddlers seem able to do.

Mother above.

“Oh, hello!”  I say, a friendly playfulness in my voice.  “You must be Nyx!  I’m your aunt, Y/N.”

Nyx’s face lit up.  “Auntie Y/N!”  He shouted with glee as he wrapped his little arms around my legs.

My heart warmed.  I always loved children, but seeing how much this little boy looked like my brother made me love him even more.

“He likes you.”  Feyre said, grinning at me before she came over, collecting her son.

I blushed, “I’ve always had a knack with children.”  I mutter, a little embarrassed.

Things were still awkward, it’s like no one knew what to do, whether to stay or leave, what to say.

I held back an eye roll, about to make some excuse to run off when the scent of baked goods and sugar shoved into my senses, overwhelming me.

I whip my head around to find the third sister.  Despite being older than Feyre, she seemed smaller, meeker than either of her other sisters.

But I catch the way she studies me, not unlike the way Lucian looks someone up and down when evaluating.

She was quick to look at the rest, her face molded into soft confusion.

I would have to keep an eye on this one.

“This is Y/N, Rhysand’s sister.”  Azriel tells her, and I’m shocked at how soft his voice is, the way he held her gaze.

Shit.

At least it was no longer Mor, but I couldn’t help the worry that started to churn in my gut.  I didn’t know this female, but everything in me screamed that there was something more to her.

Keep an eye on her indeed.

Things started to relax as conversations started up, and I noticed that Elain was staying at the fringes of the group.

I made my way over to her, bowing my head only slightly.

After I was forced to my knees and beheaded by Tamlin’s father.  I bowed to no one.  Not willingly, at least.

“Hello Elain.”  I said softly, almost a whisper.

She smiled sweetly, dipping her head to look away, mumbling a hello.

I smile down at her, knowing that under those pretty lashes she bats at me, her eyes are much more cunning.

“I was told you were the seer, that you were the one who said that there were three of us that would come back.”  I say, trying to keep my voice soft and saccharine.

She wasn’t the only one familiar with hiding under the guise of a naive girl.

She nodded, and I smiled, pushing more, “Do you have any idea why we are returning like this?”  I ask her, mirroring her curious face from earlier.

She seems to realize where I’m getting my inspiration from, because the corner of her lip twitches upwards before she presses her lips into a flat line.  “You should ask your brother.”

Turning around, she walked back into the kitchen, and I suddenly felt uneasy as I looked over at my brother.

Why hasn’t he already told me?

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #high lady feyre #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #rhysand sister #elain archeron #elain acotar #azriel #velaris #high lord of the night court #night court #high lady of the night court #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra

[yanderes-galore]

I looked at your rules page and it looks like you're writing for FNAF again? If so may I request prompts 52, 61, and 46 (from the prompt list you made) for a Withered Bonnie x Technician!Darling?

I'll see what I can do :) Remember, No haunted kids as usual.

Sorry for the long wait! Animatronic or android, doesn't matter.

Yandere! Withered Bonnie Prompts 52, 61, 46

"My world's covered in darkness without you!"

"Being alone is worse than you hating me."

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Self-aware robot, Malfunctions, Slight violence, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Implied kidnapping.

Static crackled in his sensors. His hearing was muffled and glitching at the slightest sounds. The crippled bot tried to move but his joints only clicked.

He can barely hear the voice but still tries to snap his head towards it. It isn't until you step in front of him he senses you. Even then it's minimal.

"Woah, calm down over there buddy. You're not even supposed to be on yet. I have assessed what I need to fix."

The bot then tries to speak. You jump when static is all that comes out. He's frustrated but finds your reaction funny.

"Alright... let's try to turn you off for now- It's obvious you need a new arm, faceplate, visual sensors, audio sensors... wow they really wrecked you, huh?"

He would laugh at your comment if he could. It's true, they used his parts to create a new bot. Now that the place was shutting down it seemed they were trying to get the older bots back in order. Why else would you be here in this room?

You don't know he's sentient yet talk to him out of habit. He tries his best to watch your every move out of curiosity. A feeling of company after so many nights of loneliness.

That is until he feels you press something and his system shuts down.

---

Upon his next reboot he sees you again. Yes... his vision is still poor but other parts have improved. This is proven when he tries to speak again.

"H-ello."

It's still a broken voice, but it is a voice. You stop what you're doing and turn towards the bot you're working on. You look tired but relieved.

"Oh good... an improvement. Your ocular parts still need to come in along with the faceplate but... I may have the arm done soon...." You mutter to yourself, not expecting an answer.

"I-I can bar-ley see yo-u."

You step closer to examine his busted endo. You could barely call the red lights sockets. Yet you were close enough he could register your face somewhat.

"Hm..."

"N-Name?"

"Oh, right, the register function. Surprised that works still." You back up a bit and huff. "Just call me (Y/N). I am the mechanic and handler of the older robots."

You then turn around and mumble to yourself. He could barely hear you with his audio damage.

"I'm spread way too thin... this one has the most damage other than the chicken-"

His code registers an uncharacteristic form of sympathy towards you. You're so tired from your job. He wants to be better, to no longer be nearly blind or deaf.... Your state seemed to make his code stutter and emulate strange emotions towards you.

Emotions...?

"That's enough for tonight." You yawn. With that, it's lights out.

He thinks he likes you.

---

Just when he thought the darkness and loneliness would consume him, you grace him with your presence. With new improvements it appears....

He can hear and feel another arm. His voice?

"Hello a-gain."

Needs improvement but it'll do.

"Hello, Bonnie. Looks like the arm works... can you hear me?"

"Y-Yes."

"Great, that works too."

He clicks his head towards you writing in a journal. His vision may be poor but he still can make out you. You look so... nice.

Bonnie finds himself shuffling off the table onto his metal feet. This causes you to swing around to him with slight fear. He doesn't mean to scare you.

"Uhhh... Bonnie, return to the table-"

"(Y/N)... y-you are ti-red."

"Can't do much about that-"

"Y-You can re-st."

"No I can't- Why am I talking to you...."

Bonnie tilts his head, lack of faceplate staring back at you. He wanted to help you like you helped him. Slowly but surely, you're building him again.

For that... he likes you.

Loves you even.

That's the emotion, right?

"Maybe there was a reason you were deactivated... you're eager. I need to be more careful-"

You pull out a remote. A shut off switch for repairs. Bonnie panics, going to grab it before you pull away.

He doesn't want to leave you yet!

He makes a swipe towards you in desperation. Metal claws nearly graze you before you press the button. Just like that, Bonnie's sensors shut down.

You begin to wonder how safe these repair sessions are now.

---

Your safety has been compromised. While trying to fix up Bonnie's voice box he had malfunctioned. Your remote was crushed in his metal hands and you had to run out of the room.

Bonnie didn't understand why you ran.

"(Y/N)? Cottontail? Don't run from me...."

The voice box was repaired but his "fur" was still patchy. He had no face or eyes and his endoskeleton remained exposed in various places. He looked terrifying.

You just needed to hope his vision was as horrible as you thought.

"Please come out..." The robot pleads, each step giving off a click of his joints. "My world's covered in darkness without you!"

He meant that quite literally. He was nearsighted with his damaged eye units. Whenever you came into view, you lit up his vision.

You were so nice to help him. He wants to show he cares.

Yet you keep running away.

He stumbles around the dark pizzeria, you had come after hours to work on the robots for relocation. You hide silently in one of the party rooms, a red glow shining through the door of the room.

"Cottontail... please don't be scared. I only wish to care for you."

He steps into the room, trying hard to scan the area. He can barely make out anything.

"Being alone is worse than you hating me...." The voice box buzzes out near you, the large rabbit bot turning until red lights stared at you. You thought he wouldn't see you.

"There you are, my cottontail...."

"Don't call me that, monster! You're glitching! Stay away from me!"

You go to scramble away but Bonnie swipes at you before you leave his poor vision. You feel cold metal dig into you before pulling you closer. The body of the robot feels fuzzy and worn once you collide with it.

"Monster...? You think I am a monster?"

The tone that buzzes out sounds saddened.

"I only wish to show you how thankful I am. I want to show you I love what you do for me... that I love you."

Something sparks within him, scaring you. When you scream he tilts his head. You lean back when he stiffly leans forward, voice box crackling one more phrase.

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

#yandere five nights at freddys #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 2 #yandere withered bonnie

[bitterie-sweetie]

Better than the movies

Pairing: Hoshi x reader Genre: fluff WC: 2.4k Warnings: alcohol, swearing

Everyone else is having fun at the party except you. And even worse is that the resident fuckboy just won't leave you alone.

If your life was a movie, at this moment, you'd be that introvert at a party. All alone by the bar, slowly nursing your drink as the only person you know has left your side to be with a bigger, louder crowd.

You know it's not your friend's fault. It'd be easy to blame her for insisting on bringing you to the party and then leaving you alone, but you also willingly came despite expecting that to happen. Maybe it's not too big of a deal, though. Your drink goes down smoothly, and you can vibe to music from here. Spending the holidays alone is totally fine, right?

At least it is until you spot him.

Kwon Soonyoung, the resident 'too hot for his own good and knows it' fuckboy, who happens to enjoy annoying you for his own entertainment. Why the hell is he here? You didn't know he was close enough to Joshua or Jeonghan to get invited, but then again you don't know much about him outside of the moments when he shamelessly flirts with you.

Now, he's alone and scanning the room. You watch him as his search continues, mildly intrigued that he'd care enough about this person to weave his way through the crowds. Lowkey, you hope he doesn't end up finding them so that he'd be just as alone as you are at this party. Maybe as karma for teasing you all throughout the semester. 

And maybe then you'd feel a bit better about being alone.

But what you don't expect is that in the next moment, he suddenly turns towards you and meets your eyes. Forget all the remotely nice thoughts you had about him; you take them back. Kwon Soonyoung has the audacity to smirk as he makes his way towards you, and he's all too quick for you to make an escape.

"Oh look who it is," your enemy greets, settling down on the stool beside you. "Fancy seeing you here, Y/N."

Great. If you'd known that Joshua and Jeonghan invited him, you definitely wouldn't have come here tonight. Perhaps you should've written Soonyoung's name down on the 'do not invite' section of the form they sent out, although based on what you've heard, that section is actually used as a list of people they have to invite. For the chaos it'll cause or something like that.

"So? What's the most beautiful person doing here all alone?" 

"Fuck off, Soonyoung," you mutter into your drink, not wanting to deal with him now of all times. 

"Ah, I see," he nods to himself. "Yeah, the party is kind of lame, isn't it? How about we get out of here and do something more fun?" 

"Don't you, like," you gesture vaguely, "have anyone else to bother?" 

"Wow, that's so mean, Y/N. Come on, it's the holidays. Can't you make my wish come true and be a little nicer to me?” Soonyoung pouts just slightly and you can no longer tell if he's still joking or not. 

You sigh, feeling the annoyance dissipate into a pang of guilt instead. He's not wrong—you probably should be a little nicer when it's the holidays and all. But before you can mutter an apology, he's moving his seat closer to you so he can lean in like he does every time he manages to sit beside you in class. It's nothing to react to, having grown all too used to it. 

And yet… in class it's one thing. Here, it doesn't quite feel the same.

"What about you?" you ask, quickly changing the subject and looking away before the thoughts can continue. "Are you this nice to everyone?" 

He's silent for a moment and you think you've managed to catch him off guard. But soon enough he bounces back just as easily. "Do you want me to only be nice to you?" 

You lift your drink to your lips and use that as an excuse not to answer him. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t push it. Soonyoung stays silent for the next while and opts to sip on his drink quietly beside you, only turning to people-watch when you do. The rest of the party seems like an entirely different world from your corner: there's loud music blasting in the background and the room is filled with a sea of smiles and laughter. You can see your friend dancing on the table while Wonwoo silently begs them to come down, and over by the tree, Mingyu and his friend are all whispers and shy glances.

Overall, the party looks like a success. You can’t spot the hosts anywhere, but it seems like they did a great job with it if everyone is having a great time. Well, almost everyone.

Soonyoung follows your gaze. "They look like they're having fun."

"Then why aren’t you with them? That could be you too."

"Nah," he shakes his head. "I could think of much better things that you and I could be doing."

"Yeah? Like what?"

He leans in until his voice is a whisper in your ear, and you don’t need to see him to know that he’s wearing his signature cocky expression again. "You want to know? Come back to my place and I'll show you."

That has you nearly laughing out loud. Soonyoung has said that to you so many times that it's lost all meaning already, and you're not sure he even means it, really. At most he's simply trying to get a rise out of you, to annoy you just so he can say you're hot when you're angry. It's hilarious how little variation there is to his tricks; by now, you know all of them by heart like bad lines from a movie you've watched too many times.

Wait—movie lines. That's exactly what the things he says end up sounding like, as if they really are lines that he's sloppily copied from somewhere. There's always been something about them that sounded off and you know he says these things to be flirty, or at least attempt to be, but they make him come off as cringey instead.

On the other hand, why would he purposely be doing this? You shift a bit until you're facing him, trying to read him to maybe get a hint at his intentions. Tonight he looks less irritating with the filter of dim lighting and alcohol obscuring his face—those sharp eyes are softer, less smug, and his smile isn't quite as cocky either. It’s as if he looks sincere for once. As if his asshole persona is finally cracking and you're getting a glimpse of the person underneath it.

And maybe it’s seeing him like this, or maybe it's your judgment becoming more blurred by the minute, but you start to think. Would it be such a terrible idea to go with him and find out what awaits you? Surely it can’t be worse than being at this party and feeling like you're alone in a room full of people. It can’t be too bad if there's the off chance it might actually be fun, and maybe you’ll be able to figure out what his deal is.

Besides, the fact that he's the one keeping you company here while your friends are nowhere to be seen has to count for something.

"You know what? Okay, sure." You down the rest of your drink and set it aside. "Let's get out of here."

“Wait what?” Soonyoung merely stares at you for a moment as his smile is gradually replaced with a confused frown. You're not sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, but admittedly, it wasn't this. “Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah," you respond with a nod. "You're the one who suggested it, right? So let's go." When he's still slow to move, you slip out of your seat first. "Come on. Let's go and you can show me this fun time you've been proposing forever."

Now is when he should agree, you think. At least that's what you imagined—the moment you give in, he'd be springing up with a grin, as enthusiastic as he always is. But now, Soonyoung doesn't budge. He doesn’t react at all until the slight tilting of the ground beneath your feet ends up throwing you off balance. 

"Be careful," he mutters, quickly reaching out to hold you steady, and then helps you sit back on your stool. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You shoot him a smile once you're properly seated, and he immediately lets go. And for some reason, you actually find yourself missing the warmth of his touch as it quickly disappears and is replaced by cold air. That's a thought for another time, though. "Why wouldn't it be?" you say instead, rolling your eyes at him. "We're going to have a great night, aren't we?"

"Y/N... hey, what's wrong? Talk to me."

The denial is at the tip of your tongue but dies instantly when you glance at him. Already, the Soonyoung in front of you doesn't look like the one you've interacted with on campus. This one seems completely different, like a real person instead of the one dimensional side he’s always shown you before. 

So you give in and decide to confide in him for the first time. "Well, for starters, I don't even know why I'm here. I thought this would at least be better than spending tonight in my apartment alone, but maybe it isn’t."

"You're not alone. I'm right here."

"No offense but… I'm not really sure that having a fuckboy as my only company makes it any better."

"Hey, no. What?" The frown on Soonyoung face deepens to the point where you can barely remember what his signature smirk looked like. You barely remember what was so irritating about him in the first place when he looks so serious now, even genuine. "Is that really how you see me?"

"Then how do you want me to see you? All you've done is try to flirt with me since the minute we met, and we've never actually had a real interaction outside of that. Until now."

And for once, there's no flirty retort, no smirk, no mischievous twinkle in his eyes. For once, he has no comeback at all.

"Like, what do you want from me, Soonyoung?" you continue, still running on liquid courage. "Why are you here and not with all the other people you could be with? I'm sure you have plenty of people to spend the holidays with, so are you here out of pity because I'm alone? Or is it because I'm just someone you want to mess around with for fun?"

"No, what? Shit, Y/N, I—" He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not here for anyone else. I only came to this party at all because I was hoping you'd be here."

"Why would you do that?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you can see the many emotions flashing across his face. It's strange. You'd only ever seen the happy exterior he shows the world and never thought too much about it, but seeing him like this is putting him in a different light. And when paired with his words, you're finally starting to see that things might not have been what they seemed.

That there's more to him and to the behaviour that you'd easily dismissed.

"Because..." Soonyoung slowly drags out. "I wanted to see you. And hang out with you. And get to know you better—oh come on. Y/N, you're really going to make me spell it out?"

"Spell what out? That you're in love with me?"

"That—" He stops, and you think he's going to deny your little joke, but he doesn't. Even under the dim lighting, you can see the tinge of red spreading across Soonyoung's cheeks to the tip of his ears.

How is that possible? You had no idea that was even possible, and frankly, you still don't. But putting all of it together makes too much sense for it to not be true. The way he acted around you, the way he intentionally tried to get your attention each time—perhaps this rare moment of sincerity tonight is showing that it's true. It’s real.

"Really?” Your heart speeds up a notch despite not knowing how to respond to this sudden confession. “That's quite a way of showing it. Why couldn't we just talk normally then?"

"I… I guess I wanted you to notice me."

"Notice you?” you repeat, thinking he’s kidding until his gaze drops in embarrassment. “Have you ever looked in the mirror? Anyone would've noticed you, Soonyoung. You didn't have to act like an asshole for that to happen."

"You're not like that." Then before you can say anything, he continues. "But hey, give me a little credit here. I thought it was a dumb idea too, okay? It's all Jeonghan's fault, that bastard. Honestly, I don't know why I believed him for a second."

You study him again, searching his face for any sign that this might be a joke, but there isn’t any. Soonyoung meets your eyes and it’s like you can see through him for the first time. If anything, the part about everything being Jeonghan's idea does sound legitimate, even though the only thing you know about the guy is that he has inadvertently ruined your holiday by inviting you to this party.

"Y/N, you're not alone, okay? And I'm not trying to mess with you. I know I've been an asshole and this party has been absolute trash, but give me a chance to turn things around? You deserve to have a nice holiday."

"I guess." The situation is so strange that you no longer know how to react when he's being so genuine now. "Then… let's get out of here and have a much better time than everyone here, yeah?"

"Alright!" He does spring up from his seat now, with the same enthusiasm that you'd always pictured. "You're the best, babe."

"Don't push your luck, boy."

Soonyoung's smile only grows wider at the sound of your teasing remark. You might not know what's in store for the rest of the night, but the way his whole face brightens may just be enough to say that coming to this party was worth it after all.

#hoshi fluff #hoshi fic #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung fic #soonyoung fluff #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff #my fic #last one in the series until end of year!! #then hopefully... i'll be able to write the rest that i had planned

[goodluckclove]

Blind Trust OC Interview!

I got tagged by @mk-writes-stuff, and this sounded like fun so I'm down!

I've been thinking of an upcoming plot thread where I delve into Scott and Edgar's friendship as children, so I'll be answering as both of them at that age (so, like, 4-8). It'll be good practice to write their kid personalities.

Enjoy some casual conversations between two very different children who love each other very much.

(edit: this turned out way longer than i expected it to be but it's very cute in my brain so i'm letting it happen. i also tag @ivaspinoza and @rkmoon and @thegreatbeargod-writes if they're down!)

Are you named after anyone?

Scott: I'm named after my dad! My dad's name was Scott so now my name is Scott. Mom says that if I decide I want to change it she can help me, but I don't think I will. I might be a girl named Scott and I think that's cool because then I can still tell people about how important my dad was!

Eddie: I think - um. I'm sorry, I'm not sure. I think there was a little boy named Edgar in a children's book I used to have. I don't know if that's right, though. I'm sorry.

Scott: You know sometimes people aren't named after anybody. Sometimes you just get a name off a list. Sometimes you make up special new names to give to kids when they're born.

Eddie: I think Edgar was already a name before me.

Scott: Maybe.

When was the last time you cried?

Scott: This morning! I thought about a duck I saw in the river last year that was smaller than the other ducks and couldn't swim as fast. But its little duck family made sure to wait for it to catch up. It was really nice.

Eddie: You told me about that last night.

Scott: Yeah, it made you cry too.

Eddie: I'm sorry.

Scott: No, it makes sense! It's really beautiful. It's important.

Do you have kids?

Scott: I read in one of my dad's books that I might not be able to have kids myself, and it made me really sad because I thought it meant I wouldn't be able to have a family. But then mom told me - well, she explained a lot of things I didn't really get. I think it just meant that I was wrong before, and if I want I can have a really big family when I'm older.

Eddie: How big?

Scott: Probably a hundred. They can be kids and uncles and aunts and cousins and friends and dogs -

Eddie: You'd need a really big house.

Scott: Don't worry. We'll find one.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Scott: I'm not really good at telling when people are being sarcastic. I don't understand how it's different than lying. I think it's a special kind of lying that everyone knows about but me. And that's kind of hard, but I think it's probably okay!

Eddie: It's not good when people are mean.

Scott: Some people feel like they have to be, I think.

Eddie: Why?

Scott: I don't know. But it must be hard for them.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eddie: I'm - well - I can tell if someone's going to be a bad person pretty quickly.

Scott: Wow.

Eddie: It's not really...it's hard to explain. Bad people - grownups, usually - get a look. In their eyes? Sometimes other people don't see it, but I do. I'm...really good at it.

Scott: That's amazing. Like a superpower!

What’s your eye colour?

Eddie: Scott's eyes are blue like, um...the sky in summer after I wake up from a nightmare.

Scott: Oh man.

Eddie: Okay it's your turn.

Scott: Um. Right. I - Eddie has brown eyes. Like...hang on, let me think. Like dirt? Yeah. Good, soft dirt. Mine's not as good as yours was.

Eddie: No, I liked it. I like soft dirt. Thank you.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Scott: I'm not allowed to watch scary movies because some of my older cousins put on Jurassic Park and I cried so hard I threw up.

Eddie: It is pretty scary, I think.

Scott: They say the dinosaurs aren't even real.

Eddie: Yeah.

Scott: How'd they get them to work on the movie, then?

Eddie: I think they made them up. With - uh - technology. Like a special effect.

Scott: Is Air Bud a special effect?

Eddie: I...I'm not sure.

Scott: I prefer Air Bud.

Eddie: I do too, I think.

Any special talents?

Eddie: Um, Scott is really, really good at the piano -

Scott: Eddie knows everything about every bird.

Eddie: Oh no. Oh no, Scott, that's not true.

Scott: Quick, name the best bird.

Eddie: That's not - Scott, that isn't really -

Scott: Come on I bet you know.

Eddie: American Goldfinch.

Scott: I knew it.

Where were you born?

Scott: I was born in Bluerose, Oregon!

Eddie: I was born in the Shreveport Academy in Louisiana.

Scott: That's really far away.

Eddie: Yeah. Yes. It is.

Scott: It doesn't feel far at all when I talk to you at night.

Eddie: ...No. I guess it doesn't.

Do you have any pets?

Scott: I'm friends with all the farm cats in town. Sometimes they'll follow me around to make sure I get home okay.

Eddie: That's nice of them.

Scott: You should talk about your pet!

Eddie: I don't have a pet.

Scott: There's that lizard in your yard.

Eddie: Oh, the skink? I'm not sure if that counts.

Scott: You named him Buster.

Eddie: I did. His name is Buster.

Scott: I like that. Buster seems nice.

What sort of sports do you play?

Eddie: I'm on the Academy little league team, but I'm not very good at soccer.

Scott: I don't play any sports, but I like to skateboard. It makes it a lot easier to get around town.

Eddie: Can you do any tricks?

Scott: Sometimes I can almost do a kickflip but if I keep practicing I think I can learn how to do a hardflip.

Eddie: What's that?

Scott: It's - different. It's cooler.

How tall are you?

Eddie: Short. I wish I was taller.

Scott: Why? I like that I'm short.

Eddie: Sure, but you might be a girl. It's okay if girls are short.

Scott: Well if you keep being a boy, I don't mind if you grow up to be short.

Eddie: I'll...probably get a little taller when I'm older.

Scott: Oh! That works for me too.

What was your favourite subject in school?

Scott: Eddie's really smart. He tells me all about his homework and tests and it all sounds really important.

Eddie: i don't really think school is fun, though. And you're smart, Scott. You're really smart.

Scott: I think science is neat.

Eddie: I thought there were only three types of matter -

Scott: No there are so many.

Eddie: Yeah, you're the one that told me about that.

Scott: Time crystals.

Eddie: Which one is that?

Scott: I can't remember. But they're there.

What is your dream job?

Scott: I want to be a professional zookeeper. And I would be friends with all the animals and take care of them.

Eddie: And you'd play the piano too, right?

Scott: Sure, but that won't be my job. That's just something I'd do for you and our family.

Eddie: Oh. Hah! Okay.

Scott: What about you, Eddie?

Eddie: Uh. Maybe I could be a Scout Leader. Like in the Boy Scouts!

Scott: You can take them to the zoo and - and I can tell them about anteaters.

Eddie: I'd like that.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing #authors of tumblr #queer writers #blind trust #migration patterns #songbird elegies #lore time bby #i miss writing my novel #it's been like four days #editing is important but i MISS IT

[munson-blurbs]

Absolutely love that gif of him on ur bsf to lovers post. 😩

Anyways, afab reader wears a short skirt and a lace thong that barely covers her privates <3 she teases eddie during a dnd campaign and bends over etc until he can’t take it anymore and he pulls her onto of him and moves her hips up and down as he fucks into her 😖 soft dom eddie and hellaaa praise

I'm combining this with a request for an Eddie breeding kink...I hope that's okay!

(”Breeding kink, you finding out by him looking at baby commercials and being nice to Dustin and the other kids thinking about him having one of his own”) @hahahafucku

Warnings: this is literally all smut and I think there’s a plot in there somewhere (18+ minors begone), breeding kink, public teasing, semi-public sex I guess, language, brief mention of reader’s body size

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I usually don’t write fics this smutty so pleeeeeeease let me know what you think! Too much? Not enough? Just right?

--

"Hey, babe?" You're glancing at the shopping list as you make your way through the store. Eddie was just by your side; you're supposed to be helping him pick up snacks for his campaign tomorrow, but your boyfriend has wandered off yet again.

"Eds, where are you?" you call out softly, attracting the attention of some irritated customers.

"Over here," you hear from four aisles down. You huff and make your way to him.

"Babe, do you really need four different types of chips?" you ask, but he's drawn into the products on the shelves. You look at what he's staring at: rows of diapers and jars of baby food.

"Are you pregnant or something?" you joke, poking his side. He jumps as you break him from his trance. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," he shuffles towards the cart and plops down the cans of soda he'd picked up. You're not convinced but place the thought on the back burner for now.

Why would Eddie be interested in baby products?

~

You wait until you're back in his beat-up van, bags of junk food loaded into the back.

"So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" you ask, more curious than accusing.

"What?"

"Come on, Eddie. Why did I catch you looking at baby stuff? Not just glancing, but really looking?" You'd been together for awhile, and you knew he wanted kids one day, but there was no way that he wanted them now...was there?

"I dunno," he replies sheepishly, long curls falling over his face. "'S stupid."

The worst-case scenario flashes into your mind. "Oh my god, did you cheat on me and get her pregnant?"

Eddie laughs louder than he intends to; your accusation is just too ridiculous. "Absolutely not! You know I only have eyes for you, sweetheart." He gives you his best puppy dog look and kisses you hard.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?"

He sighs and throws back his head in defeat. "Fine, but just...don't judge me, okay?" You continue when you nod, palms moist with sweat. "Okay, so, I've been thinkin'," he starts, looking down at the car floor nervously. The engine is running though you're still parked, and he kills it. "Thinkin' about how goddamn gorgeous you would look if you were havin' my baby."

Huh. Well, that wasn't what you'd expected him to say. "You mean in, like, ten years?" But you know better.

Eddie shakes his head. "Nah, sweetheart. Right fuckin' now."

"Oh," you manage, "but you're still in high school," you point out, though you know exactly what his reply will be, and you're right.

"Only for another month. And babies take a lot longer than that to cook," he grins while he says it, and you realize that he's no longer looking at the car floor, but at your stomach. He's imagining you pregnant with his baby.

"Wow," you breathe out. "Can I-can I think about it?"

His eyebrows shoot up; clearly, he was not expecting you to even consider this proposal.

"Y-yeah, baby. Of course." He presses a kiss to your cheek, though you can tell by the bulge in his pants that he wants to do a lot more. He starts the van up again and heads for home, leaving you with a lot to think about.

~

You thought about the prospect of having Eddie's baby all night. In the shower, you ran your fingertips over the flatness of your stomach, thinking about a bump there. A bump that held Eddie Munson's child.

Yes, you were young, but you'd been together for two years, and you were also adults. Adults with jobs--you'd been working full-time at the bank since you'd graduated last year. And Eddie will be working full-time with Wayne at the plant soon. You'd already discussed moving in together; you promised your parents that you and Eddie would graduate before doing so, and that day would be here in just about four weeks. Maybe you could do this.

The easiest way to tell him would be to call him, but you had a better idea. You'd see the feral look in his eyes when he mentioned his desires--why not allow him to...give in to those carnal instincts?

~

The plan was perfect. You'd ditch work claiming a stomach flu (no one wants someone vomiting all over the workplace) and sneak back into Hawkins High. You'd been gone less than a year and still knew the layout like the back of your hand. Most importantly, you knew the abandoned janitor's closet on the second floor, the one conveniently near the drama/Hellfire room where you could sneak off and make a quick wardrobe change.

There’s no mirror in there, of course, so you just hope that your red lipstick isn’t smudged or on your teeth. You smooth down your black tank top, adjusting your breasts so that your cleavage is perfectly framed by the neckline. The icing on the cake is the tiny miniskirt that falls at the top of your thighs, exposing the long legs that stand in your heels.

School’s out, and Eddie’s told you that Hellfire is starting a bit late today so that the boys can watch Lucas Sinclair play in a basketball game. Eddie never got the hype of school-sanctioned sports, but it was important to his little sheep, so he’d compromised. Worked out for them, and it also happened to work out perfectly for you.

You knew Eddie would already be in the Hellfire room, meticulously setting up his campaign. You could picture him pacing anxiously around the table, ensuring everything looked just right. With a peek into the hall that showed the coast was clear, you scurried into the room where Eddie was chewing on his thumbnail, looking over his Dungeon.

“Hey there,” you say softly, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/N, what are you--oh, holy shit.” His tone turns from confusion to pure lust as he eyes you, taking in you and your outfit hungrily. He runs his tongue over his lips involuntarily as he makes his way to you.

“Do you like it?” you feign shyness as he grabs your hips and pulls you as close as he can. You can feel him straining against his zipper already.

All he can mutter is “Oh my god,” as he buries his face in your neck, kissing it sloppily and sucking bruises into your skin.

“Figured we could try for that baby you mentioned, but I didn’t wanna wait for you to get home,” you shrug as he moves his hands under your short skirt, moaning audibly as he presses his palms against your bare ass, left mostly uncovered by a lace thong. When he hears what you’ve said--really registers it, which takes a moment--he pulls back.

“Are you serious?” He smiles, holding your face in his strong, calloused hands. 

You press your own hands to his chest and whisper into his lips, punctuating your statement with a series of kisses. “Eddie, I want to have your baby. I want to get big...and round...and swollen...growing each month...with your baby.”

He shivers against you and hoists you up, slamming you against the wall; you wrap your legs around him as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He starts to rub a finger against your soaked panties, when you both hear it:

“Can’t believe the other team didn’t show!” Lucas. Oh, no.

“Buncha pussies, forfeiting like that,” Dustin’s voice rings out.

“At least Eddie will be glad we’re starting on time,” Mike chimes in.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “hand me my bag. I can run into the corner and throw on my pants.”

Eddie lets you down but grips your wrist. “Not so fast,” he growls. “I just got you how I want you, and I’m not letting you go.”

“B-but the boys--”

“We’re not fucking in front of them,” he dismisses your concern, “but you’re gonna sit on my lap, dressed like my perfect little slut.” He grabs you by the hem of your skirt and you yelp. “You think I’m gonna let my fantasy slip through my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a heat rising in your lower body. 

“So now, you’ll be a good girl for me. You’re gonna sit on my lap, be my...helper...during the campaign, and then I’m gonna fuck a baby into you once we’re done. Got it?” He tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Eddie takes his seat on his throne and you do as he’s instructed, feeling his erection underneath you as he slides a ringed hand up your thigh. 

“Welcome, boys!” Eddie’s voice booms. You feel a blush creep up your neck toward your cheeks. “Got my little helper here today.” He takes the hand farthest from the boys and squeezes your ass and you gasp softly.

Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, Munson? you think. Game on.

~

You spend the rest of the Hellfire meeting doing whatever you can to torture Eddie. You’re constantly “repositioning” yourself, grinding on him and feeling him grow harder with each subtle movement.

“Knock it off, princess,” he whispers, but you’re in the mood to be a brat. You pretend to get a little sleepy and stretch, showing off your breasts in Eddie’s face. You watch his eyes flick to your chest before returning to the game.

While he’s reading the next part of the campaign aloud, you place your palm on his jeans, right over his cock, making him take a sharp breath in.

But your grand finale is when Gareth rolls the D20 and it lands right in front of Eddie’s notes. When it’s Mike’s turn to roll next, you stop him.

“I can get it, Wheeler,” you say, leaning over and giving Eddie a clear up-skirt view. You know he can even see your clothed pussy from the angle you’re giving him. 

Eddie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you back down, glaring at you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him innocently. “Am I not helping?”

“Okay, that’s it,” he mutters before turning to the rest of his group. “All right, we’re wrapping up for the night.” His announcement is met with a chorus of grumbles. “Hey, hey, hey, I don’t wanna hear it! We will continue this next week.” 

The boys file out of the room, mumbling about Eddie’s bizarre behavior. Once they leave, Eddie grabs you, positioning you so you’re straddling him in his throne. 

“What the fuck was that?” he pulls your hair to bring your face closer to his. “You tryin’ to make me blow my load in my pants? Sounds to me like you don’t really want me breeding you.”

“N-no, I do. I do,” you whimper. “Want your baby, Eddie. Please.”

“I don’t think I believe you. I need to be convinced,” he sneers.

“Please, Eddie. I need you to breed me. Need you to fill me up with your cum and get me pregnant,” you beg. You allow yourself a small sigh of relief as he eases his grip on your hair, but it’s short-lived, because he tears off your thong with a rip and slides his pointer and middle fingers along your wet folds.

“You’re soaked, princess,” he groans. “I love how wet you get for me. Ruined your panties and now you’re gonna ruin my jeans.” He presses one finger to your aching clit, making small, slow circles, and laughs menacingly as you cry out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, mocking your earlier question. “Can’t handle being teased?” When you don’t respond, he moves his finger faster, rubbing your clit harder. “How’s this?”

“S-so good,” you manage, grinding back and forth on his finger. You want--no you need--him inside you, but you don’t dare tell him that for fear he’ll deny you that pleasure. “You know exactly where to touch me.”

Eddie beams as he receives the praise, moving his finger from your swollen nub to your pussy. He slides it in and curls it, pumping it in and out, your beautiful moans ringing in his ears. He adds a second finger and lets out a moan of his own as you clench around him.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes preemptively. You’re confused until he removes his fingers and cleans them with his tongue, leaving you hurting for him. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper, palming his cock through his boxers.

“Eddie,” you whine, “I could’ve done that for you.” Touch-starved and desperate for affection, you lift your own shirt over your head. A sheer lace bra leaves little to the imagination.

Eddie sucks on the exposed part of your breasts, leaving hickeys all over them. One hand still on his erection, he uses the other to unhook your bra. As soon as it clatters to the ground, he’s groping your tits, biting your nipples as pleasure and pain intertwine and you scream loudly.

Not wanting to take his hands off of your breasts, he shuts you up with a kiss. “Can’t...fuckin’...wait...any longer,” he pants, and you take his rock hard length into your hand. You start to move to get on your knees, but he stops you.

“Need to be inside this tight little pussy,” he orders, rubbing his cock along your wetness until he’s covered in your slick, and he presses himself into you. “You were made for me, you fuckin’ know that?” 

“I’m all yours,” you agree easily, matching his rhythm as you ride him. “My body belongs to you, Eddie. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie’s groaning. He grabs onto your hips and moves you exactly how he needs you. “Your body, your mouth, your everything is fuckin’ perfect.” His thrusts get faster and your orgasm builds inside you as you feel him get deeper, hitting that spot over and over again.

“Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you plead, asking for permission rather than telling him. “Please let me cum all over you while you fill me up.”

“I’m cumming, too.” He grips your sides even harder, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you suspect there will be bruises there tomorrow. He slams you up and down over his cock and you finish with tears streaming down your face. You feel him shoot thick, hot ropes into you. With the little strength he has left, he places you onto the table, still inside of you.

“Lay back,” he orders. “Don’t want any of this coming out. You gonna get knocked up today, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-yes, Eddie,” you whisper. You watch as he pulls out of you. He frowns when he sees cum running down your leg. With a quick swipe of his hand, he pushes it back into you.

“You took all of me, didn’t you? Such a good girl,” he remarks. You’re too fucked out to muster up a response, and he notices. “Poor baby. I really fucked you good, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” 

Eddie puts himself away and sits back in his throne, admiring his work. “Love seeing you like this.”

“It’s all you, Eds,” you finally say. “All because of you, and all for you.”

“My beautiful little vixen,” he throws his head back with a low growl. “Tell you what. You stay just like that, make sure it takes. Then we’ll go back to my place and relax, okay?”

“And go for round two?” you ask mischievously. “Make sure I get pregnant tonight?”

Eddie laughs. “I wish, but Wayne will be home.”

You beckon him to the table and pull him in for a long, deep kiss. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me quiet, then.”

--

Taglist: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @benztripp @ali-r3n @munsonology

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic