#somehow gotta make it to fucking sunday when i’m going to see it again

[rainbowinbeigeboots]

do you ever just cry while thinking about how tender creature is with lisa or are you normal?

#something about that peach ring proposal scene just gets me and the way he just looks at her with so much love #granted it could be because i’m really depressed rn but damn does that scene in particular get me #i’m so mad the site i usually use isn’t working for me for some reason rn #and i could go to my local theatre since they’re still showing it but god i’d have to get out #but also god i REALLY need to watch this film rn bdcause it unfortunately is my current comfort film/hyperfixation #and i can’t justify paying the digital price for it while i already preordered the physical copy #save me lisa frankenstein save me #somehow gotta make it to fucking sunday when i’m going to see it again #until then i’m just gonna stare at gifs and cry about how sweet they are #lisa frankenstein #meaghan rambles

[courtingchaos]

Braised

Line Cook Eddie x Barista Reader

Summary: A long day at work leads to a long night in Eddie’s bedroom.

A/N: woof. I started this back in March? Took me this long to come back to it but I like it. Nay, love it because line cook Eddie is my boyfriend. Also, I need @newlips to know this has lived in my head since January and is the inspiration for this. It’s literally just….so so so much smut.

Warnings: Slight somnophilia (listen you had a long day and he’s got a great mouth), sex, drug use (not for the somno)

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Eddie, I’m really tired.” You giggle when his mouth finds the back of your neck.

“Yeah but I think I found some more syrup back here. Mhm, yep another sweet spot.” He rakes his hands into your hair to pull it up gently so he can get at more skin. It tickles, makes you scrunch your nose at the feel of his lips pecking around.

“Seriously Ed, I’m not gonna be much fun tonight.” It’s not that you didn’t want to fuck around, it was that it had been a Sunday From Hell. You’d shown up to his apartment a sticky mess, a new bleach stain on your favorite work jeans. He’d done nothing but smile and take your bag and usher you off to his bathroom, tossing in one of his big bath towels behind you and promising to have dinner ready when you were done.

Since then, he’d somehow convinced you to sit on his bed with him when you’d gotten out.

You gotta plug your phone in why don’t you sit down I’m sure your feet are killing you let me rub them for you oh why don’t you let me get that knot out of your back no seriously just lay down I’ll give you a little massage no I’m not getting fresh calm down.

You’d gotten comfortable, lightly dozing in the middle of his bed while he made sure the knot in your back never showed up again.

“Feel better?”

You nod and sigh dreamily. He’s shifted up from the edge of the bed to straddling your hips, bent over your back to whisper in your ear. “I can make you feel even better if you want.” He dances his fingers down to run along the edge of the towel.

“Eddie…”

“What if you just lay there huh? Let me take care of you.” He says quietly.

You were tired. You were sore. However the shower had worked a minor miracle and the growing bulge pushed against your ass was changing your mind by the minute. You pretend to contemplate, rolling your head back and forth on the back of your hand that’s propped up under your chin.

“And you’re making me dinner?”

“And I’m making us dinner.”

You shrug lightly. “Can’t complain if I fall asleep.”

“Scouts honor. I’ll leave you alone if you fall asleep.”

“Well I didn’t say that.” You mumble in your skin. His weight shifts forward, planting his hands next to your head. He hovers over you and chuckles. “Are you being a freak?”

“…Maybe. What constitutes a freak?”

“Talkin’ about me fucking you while your asleep’ll do it.”

The towel is the first thing to go, Eddie’s fingers sliding between the terrycloth and your shower warmed skin. It’s pulled free and flung towards the bathroom door, the chill air hitting your clammy skin for only a moment before his big frame is back on you, knees around your hips and hands planting beside your elbows. Your cheek upturned, he leans down to give you a kiss.

“You’re real sweet on me, huh?” You mumble. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the flash of a smile before he dives back down to kiss a trail from your face to your shoulder all the while slowly grinding his hips into you.

“You could say that.” He spends a while on light touches, pulling quite sighs out of you while you relax further into the comforter. You think you might actually be falling asleep when you realize he’s stopped touching you. He gets off the bed for a minute to rearrange and grab his other pillow. He kneels beside you again and taps your hip. When you don’t make a move he grabs you, fingers digging in enough to make you laugh.

“Don’t tickle me!”

“Then move!” The smile is evident in his voice even though you can’t see his face. He jostles you again and you turn your hip up off the bed.

“No, lift your hips up, like-forget it.” He leaves the pillow and yanks you up by the waist, making you tuck your knees up under you to stay up right. He makes a pleased sound and smooths his palm over the curve of your ass.

“You just gonna stare all night?”

“I could.” He says quietly. His finger traces light lines up the back of your thigh and you can feel the heat slowly creeping its way across your hips. It reaches out towards the lingering feeling of his palms pulling you up, where his fingertips had dug in. You were getting used to him moving you around however he wanted, liked it a lot even, just not sure how to ask for it yet. He pulls you out of your thoughts when he tucks the folded over pillow under you and gently pushes you back down.

“Relax.” He coos at you from above. His palm is warm against your ankle where he pulls a little to help you straighten your leg out. Tugs your other leg straight and then settles himself between your knees.

“Eddie-“ Turning your head over your shoulder is a deep stretch, and with your ass in the air slightly you can barely make out his hand hovering near his mouth and his dimples. He tilts his head over so you can actually see him.

“Hey that doesn’t look comfortable or relaxing.” He swats at one cheek, just fingertips, admonishing you. Tucking your chin back to the pillow you hide your smile in the silk. “You trust me, right?” He’s asking you, sincerity laced in his quiet words. You nod your head yes but he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Tell me?”

“Yeah.” A little breathless, only because he keeps stealing it from you with these kinds of acts. “Of course.” You do. It’s been a few months of actual dating and every time he’s asked it’s been yes (vehemently yes) and still he asks. It’s not like he’s moved on to suspending you from the ceiling, but it makes you a little morose for all the times other people didn’t check in, didn’t ask after simple things.

“Hey.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. He’s gotten so good at reading you, can see when you immediately start to get lost in that maze of thought again. “I can leave you alone.”

“Don’t…don’t leave. I am having fun.” You shift just a little so he can see the side of your face, hair pushed back so he can see your eye glinting in the lamp light. “I mean it.” His dimples match your grin and when his weight shifts up you can feel the smile pressed against your shoulder where he places a kiss. He litters your back with them, going down your arms till he can’t reach them tucked under your cheek. He lays them up your neck until he can feel the tension bleeding away. Plants a big obnoxious one on your cheek, one that gets you to scrunch up your nose again. He runs his hands in between the spaces he misses, fingernails leaving little pink lines down your back, lines that fade after a second. He’s trying to get you back in that relaxed state you were in. Post shower and dewy and looking like a water nymph lounging on his bed.

He’s at your hip, hovering over the black lines of the tattoo there. Breathe hot where it’s trapped between your skin and his face. He runs his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up. Steadies himself while he stretches out between your legs. He shifts around to lean on his elbows, watches the goosebumps fan out and over your skin. You’re good and sunk into the bed so he leans forward and slowly bites down on your left cheek.

Your leg kicks up next to him. “Eddie!” A high pitched squeal of his name makes him laugh around the mouthful of you. He keeps an eye on your face and rests his wrist on the pillow, knuckle barely grazing your pussy. Your hips shift slightly under his mouth and he lets go, admiring the imprints of his teeth before running his tongue over it. Inches his hand up on the pillow enough to slide his finger between between your lips, wasting no time in finding your clit. Circles it slow in tight circles, your sigh loud in his quiet room when he finally touches you how you’ve been wanting him to. He likes watching you like this, soft and relaxed. Knows he’s doing his job at keeping you out of that thought trap when your hips chase his touch. He rests his head momentarily on your ass, the quiet chuckle from you cut off when he slides his finger up and brushes over your entrance. You clench against him gently prodding, canting your hips back to chase his hand when he goes still.

“Hold on.” You hear the wet sound of his mouth and then feel the momentary cool touch of his spit slick finger going in slow until he hits his knuckle. The moan caught in your chest is dislodged when he flutters the fingers of his other hand over your sensitive bud and crooks his finger deep inside you.

“Is that good?”

A slight nod of your head and then a sharp gasp when he spreads you open with two fingers and spits, fingers working to spread it around. “You like it when I make a mess of you?” Another nod, he can see where you’re fisting the pillow under your head, but that’s not what he wants. “Hey.” Firm but gentle, he gets your attention.

“Fuck, yes Eddie please…” You run out of words when he slips another finger in, both now rubbing up against that soft spot inside. He’s taking his time, both hands working at a torturous pace and making you squirm around the bed.

“Told you I’d take care of you.”

“I never doubted you.” You gasp into your hand. He said he’d wanted you to relax but this is having the opposite effect. Between him nibbling on the cuff of your ass and taking his sweet time fingering you, it’s no wonder you’re pulling taut around him. You kick your leg up and try to squeeze at him, trying to keep him in place even though you couldn’t pay him to move.

Eddie speaks lowly. Hushed tones accentuated by the sound of you, wet made wetter from him sneaking his tongue in with his fingers.

“Been waiting all day for this.” His nose brushes along your folds when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. Goosebumps explode over the backs of your thighs when his now free hand lays over your lower back to pin you to the pillow.

“Taste so sweet for me.” He licks a wide tongue from your aching clit to your entrance, tip of his tongue dipping in to taste.

“Eddie I swear…”

“What?” He licks his thumb, pausing for second before gliding it over the tight ring of your ass. A gasp and your legs tightening around him make him look up at you. Your hands gripping the pillow, mouth hung open on a gasp tell him everything.

“You like that?” Another long lick over your center pulls a groan out of you and Eddie is done asking questions. He makes a mess out of you, wet sounds drowned out by your whining and moaning. You babble about his mouth and how good it feels and Eddie preens, doubles down and presses just a little bit more with his thumb. He flicks his tongue over your clit and when you squeeze him between your thighs he speeds up.

He’s been achingly hard since he started this little venture, grinding his hips into the bed with every one of your moans and as much as he enjoys taking you apart like this, he can barely wait to sink into you.

You chant his name when he sucks your clit and your hands look for purchase in the pillow and the sheets. The tremble in your legs barely starts before your pulled tight all around him, low groan from deep in your chest punched out by the rapid flick of his tongue. You’re just off the edge, orgasm rolling through while you huff into the pillow trying to catch your breath when Eddie hauls up. Distantly you hear his clothes hit the floor and he’s between your legs again, cock laying heavy on your ass.

“I take it back.”

“Take what back?” You’re floating in clouds made out of his bed.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He strains out while pulling his hips back and slowly grazing lower and lower till the head of his cock catches and he pushes in. You both groan in unison and he takes his time fully filling you.

“Fuck baby, so fuckin’ wet for me.”

You can’t do much but lay there in awe, boneless and relaxed and letting Eddie do whatever it was he wanted.

“Feel so good for me.” He drags his hips back slow and pushes back in slow and keeps talking low and slow and he’s got you in a trance. Nodding along and agreeing, keening and whining when he pushes right into that perfect spot.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum again.”

“What, this?” He gives a little more on that thrust. “Not yet you aren’t.” He grabs your ass, one hand on either side to use as leverage in this game of torture he’s playing. He lets a line of spit fall from his lips between you two and resumes his previous activity of sliding his thumb over your ass.

“You are a dirty girl.” He teases when you push your hips back into him. “Want me to fuck your ass?” He’s so full of himself, with every right to be. You nod under him, a silent ‘oh’ on your lips.

“Of course you, I’d take such good care of you.” Eddie babbles at the back of your head to try to distract himself. Every ridge and bump slides along his length and sends him closer to the edge and every lurch forward he pauses, not wanting this to be over.

It’s only when he makes you arch your back and he drives down into you that he starts to falter, your second orgasm taking you both by surprise.

“Oh shit, Eddieeddieddie!” You chant his name and push your hips back to keep him inside and Eddie thinks he might just fucking die tonight.

You’re out, hands falling limply beside your head and mouth hanging open. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so blissed out.

“Oh my god.” Even with you floating off, your pussy grips him, fluttering around his cock in the aftermath of your own orgasm. He’d been playing a game with himself, just as much as with you but he’s nearing the end of his own limits. A thin line of sweat trickles down his back and his nerves are on fire. He holds you open so he can watch where he sinks into you but there’s a faltering in his rhythm. He curses and grips the globes of your ass, nails digging half moons into your skin.

You feel good, you always feel so good and he’s lost his train of thought. Stuck on the wet sucking of your pussy and the soft fat under his hands. He reached his goal in getting you relaxed, so much so that you’ve gone limp under him, little grunts of pleasure when he hits particularly deep. He can let go but he doesn’t want to, this impromptu edging he’s been after slowly killing him and making his eyes roll.

“So fucking good for me, yeah?”

You barely nod, too busy drooling into the pillow to give him a real answer.

“God I love the way-oh fuck honey, do that again!” You flex around his cock and Eddie’s hips stutter before he decides ‘fuck it’. He punches his hips fast and holds you down to keep you in place. Your grunts turn into moans and you scratch at the pulled up bedding, looking for something to hold on to. He fucks you right until it’s almost a mistake, pulls out and paints your back in hot lines, a pained groan vibrating in his chest while he pumps his twitching cock.

He can feel you trembling under him while he tries to catch his breath. One hand holding his softening cock while the other rubs up your leg and over your side.

“That was fucking beautiful baby.”

A slight chuckle from you and he leans over you to nose at the side of your face. “You okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t have a single worry in that pretty little head, do you?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Good.” He peppers a few kisses against your cheek and you smile lazily.

“I’m gonna go get a towel okay?”

You raise a weak thumbs up and he gives your ass a slap on the way off the bed.

In the time it takes him to find a towel and come back into the bedroom, you’re out fully this time. He lets his eyes wander over your body, moulded into his bed. The slow rise and fall of your back as you slip deeper into sleep and he shakes himself out of his poetic waxing to clean you up before it becomes a problem.

You only stir a little when the cloth hits your skin but Eddie is done quickly, ditching it in favor of tracing light shapes over your back. He smirks at the short red marks along your back where he’d hung on for dear life and it’s only the timer on the stove that’s able to pull him out of his memories, lest he burn the apartment complex down.

“Hey.”

You stir, pulled gently out of your nap. Eddie is crouched beside the bed with his chin hooked on the mattress, watching you blink blearily at him. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Did I fall asleep?” You ask, stretching under the comforter that he must have pulled up over you.

“Like, immediately. Got that NyQuil dick, what can I say?” His laugh shakes the bed when you smack his shoulder lightly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Much easier to get you under the covers.” He gives you a quick kiss before standing up and holding out your pajamas to you. “You can eat dinner naked if you want, but there’s sauce involved.” He tilts head though and hums. “On second thought don’t, I can help you clean that up.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snatch your clothes out of his hand. Sliding out of bed you march into the bathroom while he whistles after you.

“Jesus christ this is so good.” You say around a mouthful of food. Eddie grins into his fork, cheeks hot with his oncoming blush.

“Yeah?”

You shoot him a look daring him to pick apart his meal. “I’ve never had a turnip before. This is heavenly.”

“Never?”

“No! Especially not whipped!”

He watches you shove a forkful of charred broccolini into your mouth and pretend cry. “I really thought the ribs were gonna win but it’s this fucking broccoli.”

“Broccolini.” He corrects, gently. You roll your eyes and mutter sorry while you dig around your plate.

While earlier had be a spectacular beginning of the night, this is what he looks forward to the most, when he gets to stretch his wings and try new things with dinner for the two of you. Your face always lights up and is swiftly followed by a low growl of ‘oh my fucking god’ when you get first taste. You have yet to give him any critique outside of asking why he was buying you treats instead of making them.

“Eddie, I’m not kidding, this is the best thing you’ve made thus far.” You run your finger around the edge of your plate, gathering up the left over wine sauce. He watches your tongue lap it up off your finger and then watches your tongue glide along the edge of your wine glass, collecting the few remaining drops, momentarily wishing he was a piece of drink ware. “So, question.” You set your glass down pointedly.

“Answer?”

“When are you gonna let me take care of you?” You give him warm look, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“You can totally make dinner whenever-“

“No, that’s not all I mean.” You slide off the barstool and round the corner of the counter to where he’s sitting. You lean your whole body into him, hands toying with the loose curl from his clipped back hair. “You always take care of me. If it isn’t dinner it’s in there,” you gesture over your shoulder to his bedroom with your thumb, “or it’s paying for my nails, or taking me on dates. When do I get to do that for you?”

Eddie sighs and looks down at his plate. He doesn’t want an argument to spool out of this. You’ve touched on it before and every time gotten a little defensive about him always spending his money.

“I get joy out of your joy.”

“Okay, and I’d get joy from taking you out once in a while.”

He can see the resolve in your look, the slight pinch of your eyebrows and it’s been too good of a night. “Alright. Later,” he gives you a look, “we’ll talk about you paying for my nails okay?” He can’t get through without laughing and you push him, grinning. He stands and wraps you up tight in a hug, lips buried in your hair next to your ear. “Seriously, I promise. I’ll think of something.”

“Now though, I want to go out on that balcony and smoke that stupid little pink joint you rolled yesterday.” He points toward the door and you huff into his neck.

“It’s not stupid! The papers had little cherry blossoms on them!”

On the balcony Eddie sits in one of the folding chairs while you drag a pillow out with you to sit between his knees. You both sit in silence, passing the joint back and forth and scrolling through your phones. You hold it up for him when you find a funny video and he runs his fingers through your hair between passes. He stops paying attention to whatever he’s reading when you lay your head against his thigh and place a little kiss on the inside of his knee. You’re engrossed in some article, mindlessly nuzzling into Eddie’s leg and he has to take a deep, shuddering breath.

It’s balmy out, a quick breeze pushing through every so often. He’s full of good food and good wine and good weed, the smell of dinner and your perfume filling the air. Your hair is soft under his hand, a small hum from you when he scratches his nails against your scalp. Eddie has to stop himself, has to bite his tongue from blurting it out. It’s only been two months of on paper dating but he knows it in his gut, deep in his bones.

It’s love in the way you loosely wrap your arm around his calf. Love in the way he gets excited to go to the grocery store with you. Love in the way you sigh under him almost every night of the week.

“You okay?” You rest your chin on his thigh, looking up at him. “You got kind of quiet.”

“I-“ he looks anywhere but your eyes, wide and shining in the light filtering up from the parking lot. “I really like you.”

Your smile makes his insides melt. “I really like you too Eddie.”

He feels like a coward, like is leagues away from how he feels but it’s what he’s sticking to. He doesn’t want to send you fleeing out the front door, not when it’s been a basically perfect night. “I really like spending time with you…like this.” He circles his finger around and you laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh I’m sure you do.” You turn around to face him, kneeling on the pillow and running your hands up under his shirt. Your fingers tickle on their way up to rest on his sides. He leans forward to give you a kiss before you lay your cheek against his sternum. He knows there’s no way you can’t hear his heart kicking up, can feel your hands tighten on him and your sigh through the thin cotton.

There’s a rumble of an old Chevy and Eddie watches Jeff pull through the front gate. He’s only got a few more minutes with you like this before his roommate comes in, but it’ll be enough. Hand cradled against your neck, holding you to him he thinks about all the love just under your cheek and hopes maybe you’ll feel it, even if he can’t say it yet.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson smut #Line Cook Eddie #My Work #My Fic

[kryptonitejelly]

Yeah I’m sorry (but not really) - it is Monday and I don’t want to fucking work, so ya’ll get Flyboy 😌 but in HC form, because I don’t have it in me to write something proper (and despite what I say I also do need to work aksdsjds) and I need something easy and happy because I’ve been feeling slightly alfjkdbksjs so we all get Flyboy!!!

Because now although I just did future Flyboy, I can’t stop thinking about college Flyboy (again!!)

Imagine following Jake + the football team on a weekend away. They actually have just one game to play on the Friday evening - and they have the rest of Saturday and Sunday free.

It is not too far off from where you guys are, but not too near either - different city, few hours drive.

You somehow find yourself loading into the bus with the rest of the team. It is just the team + coaches + you. There is just one single seat left - so of course it is yours. Jake asks you to come, and obviously everyone wants you there - the coaches don’t even bat an eye anymore, they are used to you because everyone knows where you find Jake, very often they find you.

Your bus leaves Friday morning (it happens to be an alternate week where you don’t have class on a Friday. Jake does, because although no one believes it you don’t share all your classes, but he gets a pass because of football) - so he stays over in your apartment that night telling you “so I can haul your ass out in the morning, no way are you missing that bus”.

He arrives at your place on Thursday night, freshly showered and dragging all his gear for the game + weekend. He basically just helps himself and hops into your bed once he gets there. When you look at him, Jake just goes “what, need to sleep early for the game tomorrow” - he sees you are all packed yourself, so he just pulls you into the bed, and flicks a show on, on your laptop and forces you to watch it with him.

“Didn’t you need to sleep early?”

“Winding down for the night is part of the routine,” he shushes you and shamelessly plops his head on your shoulder, the laptop balancing on both your thighs which are side by side. You give up and oblige him - because it really isn’t going to go any other way.

By the end of the show, the positions have flipped, your head is on Jake’s shoulder instead, and you have fallen asleep. It makes him chuckle - because you always do this, always fall asleep first. He manages to tuck you into bed, and keep your laptop before setting his alarm, flicking off the light and settling into bed with you.

He flips his head to watch you as you sleep, eyes closed, chest rising and falling and it makes Jake feel at peace.

He gets up as soon as his alarm raises the next morning, hand reaching out to pull his phone towards him to silence it. As usual, you’ve somehow managed to end up wrapped around his body, your head snuggled into the crook of his neck. It makes him not want to get up, because Jake thinks he could stay like this forever. He allows himself a few more moments with you snuggled against him, before he extracts himself and goes to wash up.

He wakes you after he has washed up, the same way he does every morning - sitting on the bed, hand on your upper arm, thumb rubbing gently against your skin until you stir.

“Gotta get up darlin,” he says, and you groan in protest, raising a hand to flap at him, before that same hand drops into his lap. your fingertips manage to graze his inner thigh, and Jake just sucks in a breathe of air.

“C’mon, I’ll make coffee,” he is rewarded by your squinting your eyes open with a grumble and he stands, hand slipping into yours and pulling you into an upright position.

You are both soon heading towards the pick up point, you carrying your coffee and a small handbag, because Jake is carrying your overnight bag - he insisted. You have Jake’s hoodie on your frame - not one you stole from before, his actual hoodie of the moment, and he is just in a tshirt, you sipping coffee from a travel tumbler. You are both walking in silence because Jake is just enjoying being in your company, and you aren’t a morning person (although your mornings are better with him)

The team greets you with a cheer, the boys waaaaaay too excited for the morning, and it is all fist bumps and slaps on the back between Jake and the rest. They might greet you with a cheer but by now everyone knows to leave you alone in the morning, so you kinda just hide behind Jake sipping your coffee. He is engaged in conversation with the rest, and somehow he manages to reach for you, and snake an arm around your shoulders so that he is holding you to his side, his thumb sliding absently along your arm on the fabric of his hoodie as he continues his conversation with the rest. No one bats an eye because it is so natural.

You all get to your destination in the afternoon, check in to your accommodation (yes - of course you and Jake share a room) before it is off to their campus for a light lunch + for warm up before the afternoon game.

You are seated on the sidelines with a book in hand as the team runs drills before the game. You look up from your page, and catch Jake’s eye just as he is about to run a drill and he winks at you. It makes you roll your eyes, and you see him laugh before he sprints off.

The team is huddled up, drying off and having a debrief before they have a quick change and rest up before the actual game when you hear a bunch of giggles behind you. You find yourself looking to the bleachers to find a bunch of girls from the rival school flocked together, you manage to make out what they are saying and to no surprise - they are fangirling over the team, and over Jake (“Seresin is soooo handsome” / “I heard he is single now” / “Look at those arms, I bet he has some killer abs as well”)

It makes you roll your eyes and scoff, before turning back to your book.

Jake is changed, dry, and stretching beside you, when you catch him eyeing you. He isn’t nervous for this game, the team isn’t - it is one they are sure they will win.

“What?”

“You need a game day outfit. You aren’t even wearing school colours. As it is we are already on enemy territory.”

“Please, you know you’ll win.”

Jake ignores you and rummages through his bag to produce a clean jersey - his own, with his name and number emblazoned behind.

“Put it on.”

“Why?”

“C’mon.”

“What if you don’t have enough?”

“I do.”

“But the bathrooms are so far away.”

Jake is tugging you to the corner wall of the bleachers. He steers you against the wall, “change here, before the crowd gets here, I’ll block you.”

“Jake,” you protest but he is already caging you in, his palms pressed flat on either side of the wall behind you, and he closes his eyes. College football Jake would have been b r o a d - so he manages to block you.

Jake feels the material of your own top brush against his nose as you hoist it over your head before very quickly pulling his jersey on.

“Done,” you mumble and he finds you standing in front of him in his jersey, attempting to roll the sleeves of the garment up and tucking the bottom into your jeans.

“It’s a good look,” he picks up the top you discarded on the floor and you both walk back to the sidelines. He falls a step behind you and enjoys the way the words “SERESIN” and his numbers are blazed across your back.

You are on your feet and shouting and yelling throughout the game. They win the game, easily - but it doesn’t stop Jake from running towards you once the timer goes off and picking you up and swinging you around in excitement.

“We WON,” he yells, and you can’t help but giggle, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “did you see me score that last one,” he crows and places you on your feet, his hands not leaving your waist. Jake is sweaty, but it doesn’t bother you and you push hair from his eyes.

“Sure did, you were fantastic as always Jakey,” the adrenaline is also pumping in your veins and your eyes are as bright as his.

The team decides to clean up in the university changing rooms and you are mulling around in a nearby waiting area when you hear the same girls again, “did you see that girl, the one in Seresin’s jersey?” / “he went to her straight after the game” / “i thought he was single” / “she isn’t even that pretty anyway” / “wonder what he sees in her”

It makes you >:(( and you are both enraged and also slightly hurt, when you feel it, hands on your hips, sliding around from the back.

“There you are gorgeous, I was beginning to worry you ran off without me,” Jake’s voice booms out, and he throws it across the floor. It makes the girls jump and turn to stare at you both in shock and horror. They clearly hadn’t realised you were there. Jake ignores them and continues to speak to you.

“I like seeing you in my shirt,” he winks, and you hear the girls whisper to each other in hurried tones, “think it makes you even more beautiful than you usually are.”

There is something about the way he says it - but you miss it as you turn to watch the girls scamper off. Something in his eyes, something you miss - but would have told you how much Jake meant it.

“Thanks” you say to him and he is about to reply when a barrage of noise finds its way out of the changing rooms. So he shuts his mouth again.

The room had two separate beds - but somehow, each night you end up watching a show in bed and the same thing happens. You’ll fall asleep in the same bed, and end up curled around Jake each morning 😌

Friday night is spent in celebration. Saturday wandering around town with the rest of the team, taking in the sights, just having some good old boisterous innocent fun, ending with a huge team dinner and karaoke - duh. Where you end up belting out some good old upbeat pop songs with the rest of the team - something Jake wouldn’t admit, but loves to see. You with your hair down, yelling and jumping around into a microphone with a group of guys that would, like him, do mostly anything to protect you.

He hears a few guys talking about you, strangers - most likely from the rival school. “She’s pretty, should I approach her?”

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jake can’t help say as he sips from his drink without looking back at them.

“You her boyfriend or something?” The guy snorts and Jake does look back, eyes flashing dangerously and the hostility coupled with the flexing of Jake’s biceps that sre peeking out from his tshirt is enough to make the guy back off.

You are scheduled to leave on Sunday afternoon, and instead of joining the team for an all you can eat Sunday brunch, Jake says you both have plans and drags you off ok your own instead. He takes you to the cutest little cafe he has somehow managed to find, and you both have your own brunch, before walking around the town, just wandering into local shops, until it is time to go. You are both taking a slow stroll back to the accommodation where you are due to meet the rest and be picked up. You have a coffee cup in your hand, your arm slipped into the crook of Jake’s arm, holding his bicep.

😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌 IDIOTS THE BOTH OF THEM 😭😭😭😭

Linked ask here

#flyboy #flyboy universe #flyboy drabble #flyboy headcannons #flyboy ideas #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman seresin #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #not cm

[cjsinkythoughts]

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve​’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.) 

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air. 

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe. 

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control. 

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too. 

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity. 

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

*****

*****

Personal Taglist:

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​ @the-larry-romance​ @abitofeverythinggg​

#mickey henry x reader #mickey henry x reader smut #mickey x reader #monday the movie #monday the movie mickey #honeybunswritingchallenge #cjswriting #💙🇬🇷🥵

[cockasinthebird]

It was awkward at first, which isn’t much of a surprise to Steve. This is a whole new world for him-  how would he ever even go about dating or flirting with guys, least of all Billy Hargrove. Girls he understood, flowers and chocolate and driving them to the mall and carrying their shopping bags, classic textbook stuff that he’s actually quite good at if he had to say so himself.

Hi was all he managed to write to Billy.

Hey ;) was the response.

Nerve wracking, dizzying, nauseating. It left him a mess for that entire weekend, making him incapable of ever even responding to any of his other matches on the apps, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Billy fucking Hargrove. Yet he also didn’t know where to go from there, and when Billy didn’t see it fit to send him a second message, it just died out right then and there.

But there was no relief, no Oh thank God that he wouldn’t have to even try and find out what it’s like with Billy- what sex is like with Billy. Yet the thought of it stayed. Every night, morning, day. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, all ruined by a crown of golden curls, broad shoulders, his musky stench, that ugly tattoo… It doesn’t make any sense to him still, but now whenever he thinks about how firm and strong Billy was, bumping up against him on the court, the way he almost admired Steve in the showers right before calling him a pretty boy, and his voice when he said it… it’s all too vivid now. Whenever there was a moment for it, his idle hands would slowly find their way past the border of his briefs, but after only a few strokes of his half chub he’d pull back with a loud and exasperated sigh.

Come Monday morning and he’s sitting in his car, hands gripping too tight around the steering wheel, students flocking to the front doors of Hawkins High. Yet somehow through the mess of reluctant teens, Steve still manages to spot Billy without even really thinking about it, like a gorgeous needle in a hormonal haystack, jeans clinging to his sculpted ass, the fabric around his thighs looking about ready to tear-

Steve shuts his eyes, squeezing till it becomes uncomfortable in an attempt to forget that he knows what Billy looks like naked; how freckles dust across his features everywhere, how smooth he is, how he’s oh so perfectly waxed-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit.” Of all things that could have happened, Steve sporting a boner at school wasn’t rare but definitely the worst. Especially given the subject of his all too sudden desires. 

He had never cared to think twice about Billy when he wasn’t around, and now he’s the only thing on his mind. He can’t go in there like this, can’t face him like this, Steve’s body is too sensitive to even the slightest hint of Billy apparently. 

And he’s not going to jerk off in his car, that’s just… sad.

The fact that he makes it all the way home without a single speeding ticket is just dumb, lazy luck, and that he makes it to his bedroom before jerking off for the second time today is just impressive. At least he can still show some self restraint.

But only a little.

For when he’s done and ashamed of it all, he sluggishly drags his feet toward the shower, where as soon as the hot water hits his skin, he’s reminded of the locker room at school. And he’s reminded of all the times he has caught Billy stealing glances, only for those crystal blues to flee once they’ve been caught, maybe spit out a little toxic comment that’s barely heard in passing.

As he now looks down at his fully hard dick once more, yearning to a certain someone’s attention here in the nude, Steve closes his eyes only to be met by the prideful, girthy cock that even when flaccid Billy struts around with like he’s the king.

His lips pursed around a cigarette. His hands as they grasp the ball at practice. His fingers so nimble whenever he plays with a pencil in class. His smile that he flashes to all the girls. His tongue out to swipe as he grins at Steve.

“Fuck, ah-” he bites into his one hand as he cums into the other, white clashing with the pink of the bathroom tiles. And another, “Fuck!” as he slams the side of his fist against the wall of the shower.

Barely an hour passes before he’s hard and ready again, lying on the couch with old reruns of whatever on the tv, his eyes glued to the pics Billy has posted everywhere for his own conceited ego’s sake, and the hundreds of likes and comments he gets, of course.

But it’s hard not to like what you see, when you’re faced with self-confidence like this, and well earned at that considering his Adonis looks and frequent exercise routine. It wouldn’t shock Steve if he found out that Billy could lift him without breaking a sweat.

Actually it thrills him far too much to even consider, as he watches a video on instagram of Billy benching far more than what Steve weighs, and all the blood rushes into his already eager erection at such a speed he gets a little dizzy.

He almost misses the doorbell ringing in his intense, almost stalker-y field of view, and who the fuck even rings anyone’s door at almost 1pm on a Monday. A sigh and rubbing his eyes prepares him for the inevitable greeting of either mormons or jehovah's witnesses, or maybe he’s lucky to meet a travelling salesman who’s got a cure for crushing on people way outside your league.

The bell rings several times as he walks up to the door, and even after opening it up to the warm summer weather, it takes Steve several long seconds before he realises who’s standing there, toothy grin and denim clad with an arm up on the doorframe.

It hits him like a bullet to the heart, the shock of finding billy Hargrove here, in front of Steve who’s barely dressed and-

Billy’s eyes hone in on the obvious tenting of Steve’s green boxers, and that grin spreads into the widest, flashiest smile that Steve has ever possibly seen.

“Is that for me?” he drawls out, lustful and daring.

And it sets the poor trust fund kid aflame, his heart pumping so fast and hard he feels it pulsate in his dick. The blood rushing away from his brain must be making him dumb, because the only seemingly obvious reaction Steve can sort out is reaching for Billy and kissing that smug look from his face.

It doesn’t take Billy long to get in on it; he pushes his way through the door and closes it behind him, strips clean of his denim jacket before tugging off Steve’s shirt. It all happens so fast he can’t even follow, the taste of Billy’s spit and the feel of his teeth biting disorients him to a point where he can barely answer the question,

“Where’s your bedroom?”

With, “Upstairs and to the left.”

Suddenly they’re on his bed, the memory of them stumbling up the stairs as they undressed distant and nearly gone, as the throbbing of his cock has never felt louder than in this moment.

Of all the girls he’s been with, being with a man is… different. He’s nervous, almost nauseous with it, yet has never been more excited, turned on, or harder in his entire life. Hands are everywhere but where he desires them as they push him into the covers, smoothly runs up and down his chest and abs then all the way up to cup his jaw. His face feels wet with kisses and how eagerly Billy licks his lips to taste everything.

It’s a rushed mess yet it doesn’t go fast enough.

“Touch me,” he whispers without thought as he tries to keep up with Billy’s pacing.

“Yeah? Want me to touch you, pretty boy? Touch your hard, long cock?” Billy’s tone almost cruel and rough at the seams, his hands going down to grip Steve’s hips with near brutish strength.

“God yes,” Steve moans at the slight pain, “I want you to touch me so fucking bad- jerk me off, please.”

“Please?” Billy barks out a laugh at that, “Those bitches you fuck into all that nicety? Please and thank yous.”

“They love it,” Steve says with confidence that can only come from personal experience.

But it only makes Billy laugh more as he pulls away. He sits up on his knees, cock hard and thick where it stands at attention between his muscular thighs. “That won’t work with me, princess. Don’t gotta ask like a good guy for me to fuck you, just say it and I’m here.”

“How easy of you,” the words are out before Steve even thinks about it. The rivalry they have is still new and fresh, it can barely be helped, and for a moment he fears that he has ruined the moment.

Yet Billy doesn’t move away. He slowly licks along the arch of his upper lip, something deep and primal in the way he stares, and a hand runs through his golden locks to push them away from his irritatingly handsome face.

“Look who’s talking.”

In a rush that seems natural to Billy, he flips Steve onto his side before laying down behind him and pressing the head of his wet dick against the crevice of Steve’s thighs.

“Wait!” Steve almost shouts as the churning of his stomach makes him sick with worry about the more technical functions of… this.

“Don’t worry baby,” Billy’s voice all of a sudden like silk, a range so odd and unfamiliar compared to his normal boisterous attitude, “I’m not gonna pop your cherry the first time we do this. You got me too excited for that, don’t wanna wait while I prep you like you deserve,” he whispers against the shell of Steve’s ear, and it eases every single worry he had.

“Oh…” The pent up nerves in his stomach vanishes, like a knot coming undone, every single muscle in his body relaxes into the sheets.

Well, almost every single muscle.

“Yeah, oh,” Billy chuckles and rubs his nose against the back of Steve’s neck, kissing his back. “I can be a nice guy, too. You don’t gotta worry bout a thing, just let me take care of you.”

Today has been… a long, confusing mess. From the boner he woke up with after dreams of Billy, to the one in his car, the one in his shower, the one on the couch, to the way Billy so rudely shoved his way into Steve’s personal space, up the stairs, onto the bed. Rude and hectic from their first kiss till now. Now he’s… nice? Steve feels a fool for falling for it, but at least he’s aware as he lets down his guard and allows for Billy to… do whatever he pleases.

Is this how girls feel whenever a hot guy is nice to them? Whenever Steve is nice to them? Doesn’t feel like the worst thing in the world.

So he nods and hums a light agreement.

“Good,” Billy hums, too, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl in the best way possible; the shivers down his spine almost delightful as they go straight to his dick.

And when Billy gently pushes his heated flesh in between Steve’s thighs, the wet pre lubing up the skin perfectly, it’s weird and foreign, but also impossibly erotic and thrilling, and suddenly all Steve can think about is how Billy’s cock would feel inside of him.

It’s no lie that that’s something he’s thought about before - not necessarily with Billy mind you, just in general when sliding into a soaking wet pussy, he’d often get almost lost in thought about what that feels like, and if this is any indicator of it, he’s even more eager for it now.

So eager he can’t help the long, breathy moan that escapes him as Billy moves into his embrace till they’re lying flush together.

“That good huh?” Billy whispers from behind, and Steve can only imagine the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Rather than responding he moves, closing his legs tighter and grinding back against Billy, as to test his own boundaries with all of this - which has been something of a win, considering he really went from his first kiss with a guy to this within ten minutes or so. And the way Billy groans all pleasant and pushes harder into their meeting of skin jolts through Steve’s cock like a bolt of lightning making him spurt out pre.

“Yeah, keep your legs just like that,” Billy speaks uncharacteristically soft as he moves one hand down, his burning hot palm smoothly moving over a thigh and staying there for leverage, as he starts rocking back and forth. In and out. 

Steve’s breath stutters and he can’t help but put a hand over his mouth. It’s not uncommon for him to be overly vocal and enthusiastic during sex, but this felt… almost embarassing, the kind of blithe and soft coos and moans rather than deep, throaty groans making his cheeks red.

“Don’t do that.” Billy moves his hand up to grab Steve’s and intertwines their fingers. “I wanna hear you. Let me know what I do to you.”

His cock throbs with urgent need at those words. Such a deep, baritone voice that excites Steve to a fever pitch, his body burning up where sweat gathers down his back between them. It’s gross and stimulating all at once, as Billy thrusts between his wet thighs and holds him close, he feels like a virgin again.

And maybe that’s why Billy is treating him so kindly. Not that he disagreed with the fervor earlier, how crude it was to be manhandled like that, but this? This gentle rocking of their bodies as they together find harmy in the rhythm, it’s intoxicating. Steve barely even notices when his own hand sneaks down to wrap around his hard length, so lost in the moment he can’t think straight, can’t stop the sighs and moans that spill from his body as he melts into Billy’s embrace.

“That’s it,” Billy speaks softly like summer rain, “God you’re so fucking hot. Can’t tell you how long I’ve admired you in secret, thought about every single mole and freckle as I jerked off at home. This is all I’ve wanted for so long, I thought I was dreaming when I saw you on the app.”

Steve wants to respond, wants to say something like, “How do you think I felt when we matched,” but his mind is a fog of euphoria, barely able to even hear what’s being so dearly and honestly said as he can’t focus on anything other than the slickness of Billy’s cock hitting the back of his balls, nudging him closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

“Your thighs are so nice and soft, clenching around me just right, arh, you feel so fucking good, princess.”

When Billy speeds up, Steve naturally follows along.

“I’m so close.”

Steve, too. The pent up feeling that’s been quickly building to an unbearable pressure point is becoming too much, hot and ecstatic like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“Wanna cum between your legs so bad, baby.”

“Ah- please,” Steve finally finds words and it comes out like a pathetically needy little whine.

He wants to wait- wants them to cum together like he’s seen on porn as fake as that might be, but it’s a sudden and rampant thing, blinding him with fireworks behind his screwed shut eyes. A feeling that can’t possibly be expressed in any other way than a loud, prolonged, almost shocked moan, as he cums into his own hand that he jerks with ardent intensity.

Whilst not simultaneous, Billy is not far behind; urged on by Steve’s alluring keening he sped up his thrusting and grinding like he’s in a race for the finish line himself. And it would be kinda humorous if it wasn’t so hot how hard he slams into the gathering of warm, soaked flesh. Oh how he pounds into Steve with all his sweaty might, grunting and groaning till he cums with a loud and lustful moan, his hand still holding on to Steve’s with a near crushing passion to it.

And then there’s silence, as they breathe out together, muscles relaxing, dicks flaccid and sticky with cum. It’s warm and nice and cozy, but it’s hard to enjoy for Steve.

Is Billy actually this nice, or was it just a play to get off? Did he do to Steve what he does to every other bitch that he gets with? What now? What’s next? Are they gonna be a thing or just friends with benefits? Wait, are they even friends? Fuck buddies maybe? All the thoughts that he didn’t have time to be anxious about before comes rushing in fresh and clear in a post-climax-clarity moment, and it stirs the pit in his stomach alive again.

When Billy squeezes his hand gently, and asks, “What are you thinking about?” whilst nuzzling into the nape of Steve’s neck, kissing him lazily as if almost asleep.

It… helps. The thoughts aren’t gone per say but they’re in the distance now, and all it took was a simple question- a sign of caring.

Steve turns around in bed to look at Billy’s drowsy expression, before answering, “Thinking about taking a shower. You wanna come with?”

Billy’s nose furrows and wrinkles as he peeks out past ruffled curls. “Can’t we stay like this a bit longer?”

It makes Steve’s heart beat different.

“Sure.”

#Harringrove #my writing #lemon

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @spenxerslut  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @enbyfaerie @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid  @elldell1204 @babyhoneystvles @lost-in-the-stars03 @reiding-recs @minervaonmars @radtwinkie @crimeshowtrash @dayho3  

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol @froggybagels

Series tags:  @uhuhuh @itsametaphorbriansblog @magenta145 @annesauriol @watermelonfanfic-recs​ @ampal98 @mggsprettygirl @ceeellewrites @thatsmyfavoritewhiteboy​  @misshale21 @ilzieah @gublersbooblers @outcrbxrafe @andromedasstarship @reidspurplescarfs @hanniebee33 @nazdaniels @irisisonline @nazifa94  @laurnrnlds @outer-spacious @stupidcrazylittlething @princesssmooshie @luvspence @maddievevo @slaytherinthoughts​

Broken tags:  @archer561 (check visibility settings!)

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #lhalc

[cvtqr]

we only have 15 minutes, sugar

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; mentions of past jean x reader, oral sex, masturbation, recording, manhandling?

february 19th

you always found eren jaeger attractive, especially tonight at this party. his long hair thrown up into a messy bun, his white shirt with water split on it - making it see through. god you were about to start counting his abs. but who you were really here for? jean. you guys weren’t in a relationship or anything, just friends who liked to help eachother. it started off when you guys would go to eachother for advice or he would find himself in your dorm room ranting to you. just helping eachother with little problems of course. that doesn’t mean sucking his dick was that much of a stretch from it, right?

anyways jean was in a frat house, along side eren. they were throwing a party, and somehow jean convinced you to stop by. you didn’t know if you were regretting it or not. jean was no where to be seen so you just sat yourself on the kitchen counter drinking some punch you found in a bowl. you were admiring eren from a far, remembering all the bad things jean had said about him. how he just annoys the living shit out of him. but god, how attractive he was. you could’ve sworn you looked down at your phone for not even a minute when you heard someone clear their voice right in front of you. you looked up to be met with eren.

“uh hi?”

“hey hey! erm- y/n. we had physics last semester together. eren, eren yeager.”

yeah, i already know your name

“oh hi!”

“my friend reiner over there says he knows ‘ya too. wanna come play truth or dare with us in the backyard hm?”

slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you jumped off the counter, centimeters away from eren.

he let out a low chuckle, placing his hands on the counter, trapping you inbetween the granite and himself. he looked you right in the eye before reaching one of his hands back to grab a chip in the bowl behind where you were sitting. your breathing shakened a bit and you rolled your eyes at him, looking down.

he let out another chuckle before grabbing your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at him. “no need to roll your eyes sugar. if you were expectin-wanting something else, just say it. i’m not a mind reader baby.” he gave you a little wink before letting you go and backing up.

“i erm- i gotta pee i’ll meet you guys outside.”

he gave you a small head pat before running towards the back door.

right when you turned around to head to the bathroom you crashed right into jean, stumbling back a bit.

“oh hey jean!”

he sent you a blunt hey and started walking to the back door with an annoyed look on his face.

tch, what’s his problem.

your little bathroom excuse wasn’t actually an exuse, the amount of punch you were drinking finally caught up to you. right after you sat down your two best friends since birth, sasha and connie came bursting through the door, hysterically cracking up.

“YOO IM TRYING TO PISS.”

ignoring your comment they both collapsed onto the counter laughing their asses off.

you lightly smacked sasha on the back of her head, since she was the laughing the closest to you. “i swear if one of you idiots don’t tell me what the problem is-”

“YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE OUTSITE FIGHTING OVER YOU-” connie said between laughs practically screaming.

“my who?”

“JEAN AND EREN. I-I ASKED FLOCH WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING AND THEY SAID IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND HOW JEAN IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU ARE SO GOOD AT SU-”

“GOD SASHA YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL HER THAT PART”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING!”

“SORRY, sorry y/n. apparently jean saw you and eren in the kitchen and well, tried beating eren up.”

letting out a sigh you pulled up your pants and ran out of the bathroom.

running outside you found jean knocked out in the arms of marco and eren standing up, wiping some blood out of the corner of his mouth while winking at you. walking right up to him you slapped him right across the face.

he let out a deep, long chuckle.

“i need to talk to you.”

“lead the way sugar.”

you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside while feeling every single pair of eyes on you.

“where’s your room.”

“if you wanted to get me in bed you could’ve just asked baby.”

god can anyone be that full of themselves

“no - no. i don-”

“i’m just joking sugar. follow me.”

he grabbed your hand and led you up into his room, closing the door behind him.

“what the hell was that all about.”

“for the record he started it. he got jealous for no reason and i wasn’t going to let him use me and his rag doll. and you shouldn’t be with someone like jean anyway. you should hear the way he brags about you being his bitch whenever the house is hanging out.” eren plopped down onto his bed

with that you didn’t know who to be mad at this point. he patted his lap signaling you to come over and sit on it. ignoring him you rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, causing him to chuckle again.

“you should clean your wounds that looks pretty deep on your cheek. and take a shower you smell like dirt and grass.”

he got up and headed over to his bathroom door. leaning on the door frame he turned back around.

“only if you stay.”

“hmph, i’ll think about it.”

15 minutes later eren walked out of the bathroom. you were no where to be found. he did know that he’d get back to you one day, considering you left your phone number on a gum wrapper in place of where you were sitting.

february 26

friday strolled around as quick as ever. this week you talked to eren a few times. he texted you on sunday night to have a good week. sicne he was being nice you replied with a “you too:’)”

after that he texted you yesterday afternoon asking if you wanted to come to another party. you never responded, and now it’s friday, 2:05. you just finished all your classes, and you’d be lying if you said you had anything else to do. well except for the pile of homework you usually wait until sunday to do.

sighing you texted him back saying you already had plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. after that you decided to take a short nap. what you thought would be a short nap turned into you sleeping until 6:30. you figured you should get up and get some dinner. you decided to grub hub some taco bell and eat it in the dinning hall. after getting your food you sat down in the corner of the room. it was pretty empty since it was pretty late for dinner.

“ouch, i’m offended.”

you turned around at the familiar voice

“even jean could convince you to come out but i get some lame exuse.”

“it, it wasn’t an exuse. i do have plans.”

“yeah with yourself.” he pulled over a nearby chair and sat next to you.

“i ditched the party, it was pretty boring.”

“so you came to bother me?” you said while still stuffing your face with your food

“yeah pretty much, you wanna hangout?”

“i mean do i really have a choice?”

he leaned over and grabbed one of your nachos, shoving it in his face.

“no not really sugar.”

rolling your eyes you threw out your garbage and led him to your dorm room. since it wasn't that far of a walk, neither of you said anything on the way there. he just simply followed you. 

once you got into your room you shut the door behind you. 

“if you’re sitting on my bed then shoes off.”

“demanding” he said while slipping his shoes off and plopping onto your bed

“soo..” he said as you sat down next to him.

“wanna watch a movie or something? i see you have a tv in here.”

“sure, let me just fix my blankets so get up.”

he nodded and chuckled, getting up. you pulled down your comforter so there was room to get in, and threw all your blankets into the corner before grabbing your remote and slipping into your bed.

“is this an invitation to come lay with you under your blankets.”

“shut the light.” you said while pressing power on the remote. 

the last thing you remember from that night was cracking up with eren over some stupid movie the two of you put on. before you knew it you woke up with a tight grip around your waist. you look over to see eren, still sound asleep. he was so pretty. you figured the two of you just fell asleep while watching movies yesterday. moments like these you were grateful your roommate was on back at home for family issues.

you tried slipping out of his grip before he pulled you back in and groaned. he was still sleeping so you figured you weren't getting up anytime soon, so you closed your eyes and drifted off back to sleep. you woke up about two hours later to find no eren, but a note.

forgot i have to work on a project with floch. i had fun last night, lets do it again soon :)

you were in a good mood the rest of the day. 

may 15 

its almost been four months since you've met eren. you also cut off your contact with jean. he was a good fuck while it lasted. over the last four months you and eren got closer than ever. hanging out almost everyday, going to parties together, falling asleep cuddling every weekend, you name it. yet again, friday came around. instead of cuddling, you and eren decided to go to a party at some sorority house. 

three hours later you were sitting in a circle with a bunch of people you recognized / were friends with. you were all playing a game of truth or dare, cracking up at each other. everyone’s secrets were coming out and people were doing some crazy things. and the list of things we had to do on campus was piling up. for example, connie has to pull a prank on professor ackerman during class on monday. until it was sasha’s time to ask you.

“hmmm. OH Y?N! truth or dare babes!”

you really had to think this one over. sasha had the power of exposing every single one of your secrets if you picked truth, but she's also kind of crazy so who knows what she would dare you to do. after a small debate in your head you went with dare.

“i pick dare.”

“alright! hmmMMM. i dare you to go into an empty room with eren for 15 minutes.”

you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks when you stood up and stretched your arm out for eren to grab. 

you both left the living room and headed up to a room while hearing the small, faint giggles from your friends.

entering the room eren shut and locked the door behind the two of you.

“so.. what do you wanna do?”

“hmm. we only have 15 minutes, sugar.”

this is it. the moment you've been waiting for. you had eren right in front of you. just go up and kiss him already! 

as you slowly walked up closer to him. he flipped the both of you, pinning you up against the wall. 

“let me see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, sugar. pleaseee you don't even want to know the amount of times I've fisted myself to the mere thought of it.”

you gave him a nod and that was all he needed to pull you off the wall and push you down onto the bed. pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, he grimly smirked. 

“don't you dare cum without my permission.” was all he said before going between your legs and flicking his tongue onto your clit. your breathing quickly became heavy and irregular before he shoved two fingers, palm deep into your cunt. 

“ahh~ f-fuck eren-” you blurted out while starting to move under his touch, slightly bucking your hips up. 

that was until you felt a strong pair of hands hold your hips down. 

“stop moving or i’ll stop.” he hissed out before going back down on you, eating you out more forcefully than before, brining you right to your climax.

“f-fuck eren i need to cum- please let me cum. pleaseee~”

“no.” he said while pulling his fingers out of you.

“the only place you’re cummin’ is on my cock. you hear me?”

you wiped away the slight tears forming in the corners of your eye while nodding.

“that's a good little girl.” eren said while smirking

he swiftly grabbed you and flipped you over onto all fours, while shoving your face into the mattress. your first reaction was to perk your ass up for him.

“well someones eager aren't they.” was all he said before pulling down his pants just enough for his fully hard cock to spring out. he could've came just to the feeling of eating you out. 

he leaned down into your ear while whispering, “as sweet as sugar.” he started jacking off while still leaning down, before quickly cumming all over your ass. 

did he just?

he pulled up his pants before getting up and heading up towards the door. 

“well sugar, looks like our time is almost up. we should get back to the ga-” he was cut off by you running up to him and clinging right onto his shirt. practically crying you were blurting out small no’s.

“f-fuck the game, er - eren please just fuck me.” you were so desperate to the point where you were choking on your words. 

“aw, i’m sorry baby i didn't mean to make you cry.” he said while stroking your hair and patting your head. “come suck me off in my car and maybe if you do a good job i'll take ya home and fuck you, yeah?

may 18

sitting in your first class of the morning you were bored out of your mind. getting some lecture from professor ackerman after connie drew all over his desk.

that was until you got a snapchat notification from eren. opening it you were oh so grateful you had your headphones in. it was a video of eren cumming all over his laptop with a video of him shoving his cock oh so deep into your pretty little cunt. 

with the caption of missin’ the taste, sugar :’(

you’d be sure to pay him a visit during your lunch break.

#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan fic #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #aot fic #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #eren jaeger #eren yaegar #eren smut #eren x reder #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don��t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

[kozumekenza]

on my mind :: two

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 1.5k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: mentions of alcohol, hangovers, profanity, talk of sex, one-night stands

After a lot of deliberation and even more wine with Yachi, you both came to the conclusion that ignoring Suna and the one-night stand would be the best course of action. You were also hesitant to give back the National Team jersey you had taken, fearing that it would draw attention to what had conspired between you two.

Instead, you adopted the expensive jersey into your wardrobe. 

So now you sat, head thrown back over the edge of your couch, fifth glass of wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, bright red jersey with a large 12 and Suna’s name emblazoned on the back haphazardly thrown over your body. It was a comfortable jersey, plus, it was laundry day. You would wash it before (if) you ever gave it back. 

Yachi stole the wine glass out of your hand before you could drain the rest of it. 

“What the fuuuuck, ‘Toka? I was almost finished!” 

Yachi just looked at you with a blank expression. “Y/n, you need to go to bed before you show up to your first day of work hungover. You’ll thank me in the morning. C’mon,” she grabbed your hands to pull you up, dragging you along all the way to your bedroom. 

You cuddled into the sheets, trying to ignore the smell of Suna’s cologne on the jersey and failing miserably. Yachi brought you a glass of water and painkillers, then turned off the lights and bid you goodnight. 

At least you knew why Suna was in Tokyo now. It made sense that he would make the National Team, and it was a major oversight on your part for accepting a job as a trainer for said team. However, there was nothing you could do now. You would just have to wait and see how it all played out. 

You tossed and turned before finally surrendering to the comfort of the jersey’s scent. It was easier to fall asleep when you could pretend someone was next to you, anyway. When you ultimately dozed off, it was to memories of your ex-boyfriend’s calming hugs and bright smile.

---

When you arrived at the National Team Training Center the next morning, you were anxiously waiting for Suna to corner you about Saturday night’s events. Instead, you were able to walk all the way down to your new office across from the locker rooms without seeing anyone else. You set down your purse and backpack in your new office, smiling at the Assistant Athletic Trainer plaque outside your door. Popping back out into the hallway, you dropped a coffee off with your boss, Iwaizumi Hajime, whose office was adjacent to your own. 

Practice didn’t start for another hour, giving you plenty of time to calm your nerves about seeing Suna. You booted up your laptop and began preparing the players’ training regimens. After about thirty minutes, Atsumu strolled into your office. 

“Hey, y/n!”

“‘Tsumu!” He wrapped you in a big hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to giggle.

“How’ve you been?” He set you back down and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Good! Lots of prepping for this new job, making sure all of your workouts are in order.” You gave Atsumu a light punch in the arm. You had missed joking around with him. Before you moved away from Hyogo, he was one of your best friends.

“Well, I hope it goes well. Hey, speaking of which, my shoulder has been kinda sore lately, think you could massage it for me?”

You just rolled your eyes and nodded. Of course, Atsumu would use your new position to his advantage. You could already tell that these next few weeks would be full of Atsumu begging for back massages when he didn’t really need them. On the bright side, at least if he was trying to scavenge a massage from you, Suna probably didn’t mention anything to him.

“Let’s go out to the court, practice is about to start. I’ll do it out there so that we aren’t late.”

Atsumu nodded, so you grabbed your backpack with your medical supplies and followed his lead to the court. You dropped your stuff at the bench and motioned for him to sit down. As you worked on his shoulder (his muscles were kind of tight after all), he talked about the temporary move to Tokyo and preparations for the upcoming Olympics. It was only April, but the competition would be here before anyone knew it. At least the team had the benefit of being at home for the duration of the Olympics. You couldn’t imagine having to adjust to a new timezone before competing at an international level. 

As you two talked, more players began to filter in. Iwaizumi came out to check on you, scolding Atsumu for taking advantage of your trainer status, to which you just laughed. 

“It’s fine, I promise. If I really minded, I would’ve told him to leave.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Iwaizumi looked at his watch, “Shit, I gotta go. It’ll probably be just you out here for most of the morning, y/n. I have a ton of meetings and work to catch up on, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! I can handle it, don’t worry.” You smiled, trying to conceal the large amount of fear you still held for interacting with a certain middle blocker. Iwaizumi gave you a grin before turning and walking back towards his office. 

Atsumu smirked at you, “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

You punched Atsumu in the shoulder, hard. “Shut the fuck up! And he does not, he’s gay, and he’s fucking married!” 

“Hm, what a bummer. You’re too tense, you need to get laid.”

Your eyes widened as you slapped a hand over his mouth. “Atsumu!”

“Hey Atsumu, y/n, long time no see.”

Your heart dropped as you turned towards the unmistakable voice, one hand still on Atsumu’s mouth. 

“Sunarin! What’s up?” Atsumu shrugged your hand off as he stood and gave Suna a half-hug. You stood to the side, slowly inching towards your backpack as a means of escape. If Suna turned his attention to you, you could just busy yourself with whatever you had in there. 

“Fuck, y/n, it’s been forever since I last saw you.” You looked up at Suna, schooling your expression into something resembling calm, cool, and collected and ignoring the pounding of your heart. 

You gave a half-hearted laugh, “Yeah.” Suna flashed you one of his signature grins, and you nearly choked on air. Why was he so attractive?

“You’re still as beautiful as ever.” Fuck. “So this is what you’re up to nowadays?”

“Yep!” You allowed a little grin to slip through. “Living the dream as an assistant athletic trainer!”

“That’s awesome. I always knew you would do something great.” Oh my God. “Well, it looks like practice is about to start. We should go out sometime, catch up! It’s been years since we’ve talked.”

You nodded and watched as he jogged over to where some other players were stretching, then turned and buried your face in your hands. What the fuck. He didn’t remember Saturday. That was good. Now you just had to play it cool around him, and everything would be fine.

You felt an arm settle itself on your shoulder. “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

“Atsumu, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The man in question quickly removed his arm from your shoulder, giving you a questioning look. “The fuck is your problem with him? I know you two still have whatever from high school that’s unresolved, but you look like you want to die on the spot right now.”

“If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” You could already tell you were going to regret this.

Atsumu brought his hand up with a cheesy grin on his face. “I solemnly swear. Now tell me.”

You sighed and internally cringed. You couldn’t believe you were about to tell Atsumu this. “On Saturday night, I got drunk and woke up in Suna’s bed,” you watched as Atsumu’s jaw dropped, “And he doesn’t remember anything, thank God.”

“Holy fucking shit, y/n!”

“Keep your fucking voice down!”

“Wait, wait, wait, it gets better,” you winced as you prepared yourself for whatever bad news Atsumu was about to bring, “He called me Sunday morning, talking about a ripped skirt and a bra some chick left, and that she stole his National Team jersey. You’re telling me that was you?”

Grimacing, you nodded.

“Damn, y/n. You’re screwed.”

You nodded again.

---

After a morning of tough practice, you were finally enjoying some peace and quiet at your desk. You ate the bento Yachi packed for you (she was a literal angel) and tried to avoid thinking about how hot Suna looked while practicing today. You couldn’t stop staring at him; every time you looked away, you somehow found yourself looking in his direction again.

Your buzzing phone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Osamu’s laughing voice filled the tiny speaker. 

“Y/n! You slept with Sunarin! And he doesn’t even remember!”

You were going to murder Miya Atsumu. 

taglist: @sunasexual​ @call-me-lulu​ 

#kenzawrites #onmymind #Suna #haikyuu suna #suna x reader #suna haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #hq anime #hq suna #hq angst #click for HQ #hq #anime #hq x you #suna x you #hq x reader #reader insert #hq x y/n #suna x y/n #suna rintaro x y/n #ejp suna #ejp raijin

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 22)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Happy Sunday (: Only two more chapters left and I’m sad about it.

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter 21 Masterlist

My friends drag each other to Heyward's shed where he stores all his useless junk he'll probably never touch again. I always said Pope's dad was a borderline hoarder. But the clutter does nothing to distract me from what's happening to my brother.

I pace back and forth with my hands interlocked on the top of my head. As I move back and forth, my friends keep their eyes trained on me as if I might sprint back to the airstrip.

No one says anything. The four of us are try to defuse the ticking time bomb thats about to blow in all of our heads without actually losing our minds.

I freeze when I hear the familiar hum of a plane fly overhead. I feel my throat tighten and my face heat with frustration. And just like that, Ward Cameron wins again.

"There goes the gold," Pope says and throws his hat across the room.

"Shit!" JJ kicks the closest thing to him which happens to be a three legged wooden table.

"Fuck!" Pope picks up a metal trash bin and throws it across the room, just like his hat.

"Pope!" Kie yells.

"God damn it!" He continues to throw anything he can find. His bomb exploded and he's destroying anything in his path. "Shit! Fuck!" He finds a wooden baseball bat in the heap of the clutter and hits whatever he can find. Glass tables, wooden chairs, more trash bins. I'm almost mesmerized by his movements because I have never seen this side of Pope before. "Shit! Damn it!"

"Pope!" Kie's trying to clam him down while JJ and I just watch with open mouths and raised brows. However, Pope just ignores her and continues to yell and break shit. "Pope!" I can imagine the release Pope must be feeling from this. All my life, I've never seen him act like this. He's usually so composed, always the one to keep us from doing shit like this. I don't know how to react now that roles are reversed. "Pope!"

Pope eventually falls with exhaustion against the arm of a musty green couch and pants to catch his breath.

"Yeah, dude," JJ says slowly. He puts his hand on Pope's shoulder and squeezes. "I was wondering when this was gonna happen. Here you go, chief." JJ holds out his dab pen for Pope to take. Pope looks at it and for the first time, he actually considers it. "A little weed never hurt no one."

"JJ," Kie says, disapproving.

"Relax, Kie."

"You know he doesn't smoke."

Pope ignores both of them and takes the pen from JJ and inhales a large hit. As if this kid couldn't shock me more today.

"Well, maybe not until today."

"Pope."

"Yeah, what is that gonna help?" Pope says. "I lost my scholarship. Walked out in the middle of the interview. Every -" Pope inhales sharply and shakes his head. "It's gone. It's not gonna happen."

"You did that for us?" Kie asks.

"No, not for us. For nothing."

I never thought of silence as being physically heavy, but right now, I feel like I'm being weighed down by a thick fog that I can't swim out of. Pope's right. Despite everything we did right this summer to get something we all deserve, we ended up with nothing except for more problems.

"I'm here for you, Pope," JJ says. "Welcome to my world, okay?"

Kie looks at me for some kind of assistance, but I have nothing to offer. She sighs and looks back at the boys. "JJ -"

"What, Kie? He's right. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't have to do that," Kie tells Pope and motions to the weed.

"What do you care?" Pope snaps.

Before this can get any worse, I turn at the sound of footsteps approaching us. My jaw physically hits the ground, at least that's what it feels like, when I see John B.

His eyes are facing forward and his clothes are covered in blood. He looks like he's in some kind of state of shock and I am terrified to find out why.

But my sisterly instincts kick in first. I'm running to him before the others even see him and my hands are pulling his shirt up to make sure the blood isn't his. John B reacts as if I'm not even there and stares ahead.

"John B what happened?" My voice shakes as my eyes scan his body. There's not a even a scratch on him, but I almost wish there was. Because this means the blood belongs to someone else, and I don't want to think that my brother is the reason for it.

"Dude! Dude, you good?" JJ runs up behind me and looks over John B's body with big eyes.

"Oh, my God! John B!"

"Is this yours?"

"Whose blood is that?"

I cup John B's face in my hands and make him look at me. When his eyes finally find mine, I ask, "What happened?"

Before he can answer, cop cars with their sirens on pass us on the road behind us. John B grabs me by the arm and shoves us all back into the shed and we duck behind a wooden slack.

"Shit," Pope curses as his chest moves up and down heavily.

When the coast is clear, John B tells us what happened. Sheriff Peterkin showed up. At first Ward thought she was going to arrest John B for breaking into the airstrip and almost causing a catastrophic accident, but she was there to arrest Ward. Of course Ward wasn't going to go down without a fight and before Peterkin could react, she was shot in the chest. By none other than Rafe Cameron.

"Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin?" I ask in disbelief.

I always thought Rafe was a lot of things, but I never had cop killer written down on my list. However, I do know that Rafe is the kind of kid who would do absolutely anything to impress his dad. He's been fighting for his attention since he was a tween. Maybe in his own sick way, he thought killing Peterkin was saving his dad.

John B nods. He tells us Peterkin told him to run. And as much as he didn't want to, he was better off with us than dead. Sarah even told him to go as she protected him with her own body while he ran away. Rafe tried to shoot him too but couldn't get his aim down as he sprinted through the woods to get to us.

"What?" I feel my blood turn ice cold when I think about Rafe trying to kill my brother. The one family member I have left. "Why would Rafe want to kill you too?"

John B shrugs. "Because I saw the whole thing."

"So did his sister," I say. "Do you think Sarah is okay?"

"Rafe wouldn't hurt her."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

Now I know that Rafe is pretty much capable of anything worthy to an eternity in hell.  I don't think anyone is safe in his company. Not even Sarah. Maybe Ward.

"Kie, can you give me a ride somewhere?" John B asks.

We sneak through the back roads to get to Kie's house. When we get in her car, John B directs her to the police station. By the time we get there, the sun is completely set, blanketing the town in an eery indigo color.

Everything seems so silent to me now. The hum of Kie's radio, the shuffling of leaves brushing against each other, the bickering between my friends and brother. There's a ringing in my ear that won't go away until my hands are wrapped around Rafe's neck.

I feel like my brain as been replaced by a dark cloud. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans can make me feel any better or lighter. It's like an invisible hand has reached down my throat and twisted my heart right out of my chest.

Peterkin was the one and only person that actually helped John B and I. She kept DCS off our backs for as long as she could, she never rubbed it mine or John B's face that the whole island thought we were delusional when we said our dad was coming back, and she was even going to arrest Ward Cameron for my father's murder.

She didn't deserve to die. Although I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, I can't help but think that her death is somehow my fault. It was my family she was protecting. She was doing her job, but she could have easily written my dad's death off as an accident like every other cop on this island.

"John B, what are we doing at the police station?" JJ asks when Kie parks the car right outside of the front entrance.

"Somebody's gotta tell them what happened." John B's voice is filled with sadness and guilt. I wish I could pull all this weight off his shoulders and add it to mine. He use to be so optimistic - always the one to cheer me up. Now that it's the other way around, I'm dumbfounded on what to do.

Pope takes another hit of JJ's juul and ends up coughing most of the hit up.

"Oh," JJ says from his seat behind Pope and pats his shoulder twice. "Easy there, chief. Damn."

I ignore the fact that Pope sounds like he's hacking up a lung and turn to look at my brother.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"All right. I'm just gonna be real with you right now," JJ says to my brother. "You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."

I scoff at the idea of taking advice from JJ's dad.

"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kie says, looking through the rearview mirror with a scowl on her face.

"I agree with JJ," Pope says. "Fuck the police."

Kie turns to look at him. "You going dark side now?"

"When's the last time the police helped us?" Pope says.

"Peterkin looked out for me, all right?" John B says loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "Tried to, at least." He looks at me. "They need to know."

John B steps out of the car with his head hanging low on his shoulders. I bite down on my bottom lip, contemplating what our next move should be. All I know is that I can't let him do this by himself.

"Wait, John B!" I jump out of the car and follow him to the front door. "You're not going to do this alone."

I wait for John B to argue with me but he doesn't. Instead, he nods his head and leads me into the police station, a place I've been in a couple times by force. Never by choice.

There's a woman at the front desk who looks exhausted and busy. I can hear the mumbling of her radio on her desk and the static after each statement. I'm pretty sure I hear Peterkin's name but I don't know if it's my own head repeating her name over and over again.

"Um...excuse me, ma'am," John B says.

The woman barely looks up from her desk and writes something down on her pad of paper in front of her. "This is not a good time, kid." Had she just taken the time to look up, she would see the guy standing in front of her is covered in blood. Maybe then, she would be more worried. Instead, she focuses on her radio. "Adam, advise if you need air tran."

I open my mouth to give this woman a piece of my mind, but John B cuts me off. His voice soft and broken. "I know who shot the Sheriff."

I force myself to look up at him. He looks like he's trying his best to keep himself composed when all I know he wants to do is collapse on the nearest chair and just...breathe.

The woman freezes and finally takes in John B's appearance. She studies the stain on his shirt and the sweat on his skin, the hollowness behind his eyes and his shaky hands.

"You stay put," She says as she backs away. "I'll get a deputy."

I look around the station and feel an uneasy swirling motion in my stomach. It's unsettling. Like JJ's words are getting in my head. Maybe coming to the cops wasn't such a good idea.

My head snaps towards the radio when it statics to life again. "Central, three Vick. We have a suspect in our 31. John Routledge."

My blood runs cold and my eyes flash up to meet John B's. He's staring down at the radio like it's an actual person and he's frozen in shock.

Another woman's voice comes up on the radio. "Copy that. All units, be on the lookout for John B Routledge."

"Sixteen year old white male. Six foot. Last seen wearing board shorts, a 'Bad Brains' T shirt, and a faded red hoodie."

"Copy that."

My hands grab John B's to drag him out of here. My head scrambles to come up with our best plan, but I know staying here isn't it. Ward somehow managed to spin this around on my brother. I shouldn't be shocked, but I keep managing to be knocked out with more surprises right when I think things couldn't get any worse.

Just as I'm about to pull John B out of there, two cops come out from the back and stare at the two of us with big eyes. A man and woman dressed in their faded brown deputy uniforms. My eyes trail down to their hands that are both steady on the gun in their holster, ready to aim if they need to.

"Just...breathe. All right?" The woman cops holds out her hand as if to tell John B to stay calm.

The other officer nods. "John B. Do what she says."

"Look, I didn't...I didn't do it, okay?" John B tries to explain but his voice his shaky and lacks any sort of confidence.

"Dont...move."

"Go..." My voice is barely a hushed whisper but my tug on his arm is strong. "Go, go, go. Run!"

John B and I sprint out of the station before any officers can guard the door. I can barely hear them yelling after us through the drumming in my ears.

"Kie! Start the car!" John B yells as we basically body slam ourselves into her car. "Start the car, Kie!"

I basically rip the back door open and stumble into JJ's lap after tripping on my own feet. Everyone's yelling. The people in the car. The people running out of the police station.

"What? John B!" Kie yells as her hands shake. She tries putting the keys back into the ignition but her hands are trembling too much.

"The cops!"

"Shit!" JJ curses and looks over my shoulder at the cops who are sprinting towards us.

"Go!" John B yells at her. She turns the key but of course the car decides not to start. "Kie, drive! Go!"

"Go Kie!" Now I'm yelling at her.

"Stop the car!" One of the cops yell with her gun raised at the back window.

"I'm going! I'm sorry!" Kie says as anxiety cripples through her.

"Right now!" The woman cop from inside approaches the car. She tries to open it but the door is locked.

"What did you do?" Kie yells at us.

Kie moves the vehicle slowly out of the parking lot, but the woman is relentless. She runs with us side by side and hooks her fingers around the door handle.

"Open it!" JJ yells at John B.

John B opens the door to knock the cop off the car. The tactic works and she rolls on the ground. Only now we'll probably be written up for assault too.

I fall back into my seat and pant for breath. My head falls back against the cushioned seat and my eyes close. Okay, okay, think, Marleigh. Think.

Ward killed my dad. Ward stole my gold. Rafe killed Peterkin. And somehow, my brother is the one being framed for murder. Make it all make sense.

I hate them. The Camerons. Kooks. All entitled, greedy sons of bitches who don't know how to handle rejection or the word 'no.' They think all their meals should be served on a silver platter and kids like us are born for the sole purpose to serve them. They deserve to rot. They deserve to feel all the pain we do.

And yet, they don't. And they never will because that's the life we live. A life where people like Ward and Rafe Cameron can get a way with murder because no one would blink twice at their lame excuse of a story.

A lie.

It all boils down to money. Money we almost had right in our pockets. But now it's gone as is pretty much everything else in my life. My house. My dad. Maybe now my brother.

JJ laces his fingers with mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I keep my eyes closed but let my head fall on his shoulder. I focus on his touch. How his thumb delicately rubs against my skin in a light up and down motion. How his lips are able to make my heart flutter when they kiss the top of my head. How his soft whispers, telling me everything is going to be okay, are sweet enough to make me melt into a buttery mess.

Maybe not everything's gone. I still have JJ. The constant in my life. The one who can always make me feel better even in the shittiest of situations. My sun on my darkest nights. My sight into the future when I can't even think of tomorrow.

I don't let JJ go. Even when Kie parks the car back at Heyward's shed under an open roof. We have literally nowhere else to go. The cops will undoubtedly check all of our homes, including Kie's. The Chateau is definitely surrounded by cops, waiting for John B and I to make the dumb move of going back there. And Tannyhill isn't an option anymore.

The sun is already poking out behind the trees as morning approaches. My body aches from sleeping in this cramped car, but I try to ignore the pain and focus on the fact that we're all still together. For now.

The five of us sit in silence. Some of us try to wrap our heads around what just happened and try to come up with another plan. The rest of us, like me, are so tired, they can't even remember what their middle name is.

The only noise in the car comes from Kie's radio. "...should be functional within twenty four hours." Meanwhile, another cop car with loud sirens pass us on the road without sparing this car a second glance. "And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from -"

Kie switches the radio off and glances back at John B and I. My brother has his seat reclined all the way back and is staring up the at the ceiling of the car. JJ has moved so his back is against the car door with one leg bent at the back of the seat and the other one on the floor. I sit between his legs and play with the necklace he gave me a couple days ago. Crazy enough, it feels like years since he gifted me this.

"Let's game this out," JJ is the first to speak. He looks at Kie and Pope in the front seat. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but..." He sighs. "...who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused...is John B, who is...pretty much a homeless sixteen year old boy at the moment."

"Thanks." John B deadpans.

"Okay, man. Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option." John B gives him a look to stop talking but of course JJ doesn't take the hint. "What other options do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit," Kie says.

"Sarah will bail me out," John B says a lot more confidently than I feel about the situation.

"She did witness the whole thing," Kie says.

"Thank you."

"You really think she's going to pick you over her own family?" I can't help the attitude that drips off my tongue with each word. Sarah's a nice girl and I really liked her. But Rafe and Ward are her family. "No offense, but you've really only known each other for a few weeks."

"Not happening, bro. Okay?" JJ says, agreeing with me. "We gotta get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope speaks up for the first time all morning. "It's the only way."

"Exit stage left while you still can. Before the entire island is on lockdown."

"Guys, just get down," Kie slumps further into her seat as another round of sirens pass us.

"Sarah's not a Pogue, John B," Pope says. He has a point. Sarah hasn't been friends with all of us for that long. I almost wouldn't even blame her if she took her family's side.

"Yeah. You can't stay here, man," JJ says, tightening his hold on me.

Another moment of silence passes through us and I wonder if JJ's right. Adrenaline on the island is at an all time high. No cop, no lawyer, no person is going to believe John B over Ward. Not without evidence. We need time to clear John B's name. So maybe getting him off the island would be best. Even if it's just temporary.

~ ~ ~

When Kie parks in front of the ferry, Pope hops out to buy the tickets and Kie moves to the passenger seat. I offered to go with him but JJ told me that was a bad idea because I would get recognized as John B's sister.

So here I am, useless and laying down as flat as I can next to John B to avoid being seen through the windows.

I look at John B. His eyes are closed and his chest moves heavily up and down. His fingers flex and clench into fists every couple of seconds. I wonder if his fractured hand is starting to hurt him.

"The first thing we're doing when we get off this stupid island is buying you a new outfit," I say. I cringe in disgust when I look at Peterkin's blood stain on his clothes. Another reminder that she's dead.

I look up to the front seat window when Pope comes back to the car. He's mumbling to himself and I think he has something in his hand.

"Okay. All right, no."

"Pope, can you act normal?" Kie says through clenched teeth and unlocks the door for Pope to get in.

"Okay, um...okay, so, bad news. The ferry's closed, and there is this."

Kie takes a piece of paper from his hand and looks at it. Her eyes close for half a second and she shakes her head. "Shit."

"What is that? What is this?" John B asks.

JJ snags the paper out of Kie's hand and looks at it. "Well, John B, uh...this is a good framer of you." He turns the paper over and shows my brother and I a picture of John B on a 'WANTED' sign with a cash reward of $25,000.

"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B right now," Pope says.

"That's a lot of money," I can't help but laugh. "Gotta say, John B. Didn't think you would be worth that much. Hell, maybe I'll turn you in."

"Congratulations John B, you're famous," JJ says.

John B slaps the outside of my thigh with the back of his hand. I scoff and slap him back, which causes a strings of slaps and hits, though mostly playful, and some a little harder.

"Stop. Guys, stop!" Kie says loudly. JJ pulls my hands away from my brother and folds them in my lap. He gives me a warning look, like a teacher would their student, and it makes me want to laugh about how bizarre this whole thing is. "We got to get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights -"

"It's at the Chateau, Kie," John B says.

"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place taken out," JJ says sarcastically. "Let me think. Oh, yeah. No. they definitely have that place locked down."

"Let me think. Just give me a second," John B says frustratingly.

"JJ," Pope says.

"What?" He looks up.

"Does your dad still have the boat? The cigarette boat, the Phantom. The one he used to race."

I look up at JJ, but I can't read his emotions. He keeps his face unfazed. "Maybe."

"You could get right up the coast, no problem. Okay, look - "

"It won't be easy, Pope."

"The surf's running from three to four."

"I don't know where the keys are."

"Well, find them."

"I'm thinking," JJ snaps.

"Why is nobody moving forward?" Pope yells at the car in front of us and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel.

I rub my fingers in a circular motion on my temples and close my eyes again. Words are being spat at about a million miles per hour. It's hard to keep up and my blood vessels twist with anxiety.

"Can you relax?" Kie hisses. "JJ, how much weed did you give him?"

"Guys," John B says. "Your car's on the poster."

Pope ignores everyone and hits his fist against the horn of the car. "Can we move it?"

"Pope!"

I'm going to puke.

"Come on!"

"Don't honk the horn!" Kie says, hitting Pope's arms away from the wheel.

"It's that guy. Right there!" I hear a voice outside our window say. The voice sounds young. Kid-like.

"Shit," John B tries pushing himself further into his seat. I didn't even realize he sat up in the first place.

"We got a snitch. Pope, turn the car on," JJ says, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to hit Pope on the shoulder.

"We get $25,000 if we find him!" The kid says.

"Hey! He's right there!" Another voice. Manly. Great, we're drawing a crowd.

"Hey! We gotta go!" Kie yells.

"Pope, go!" I yell.

"Turn the car on!" JJ yells.

We're all yelling and I think my eardrums might burst.

"I found him first!" The kid says to the man.

"Hell you did, you little bastard!"

"Pope, turn the frickin' car on!" JJ yells.

The crowd starts growing around the car. John B turns into my side and pulls his hood up over his head.

"I am trying!" Pope yells back at us.

"Turn the car on!"

"Go, go, go!"

Pope jerks the car forward and hits the car in front of us. I jolt forward in the middle seat and stop myself from going through the windshield by pressing my two arms on the front two seats.

I hear the crowd gasp and move backwards to avoid the nutso in the front seat. Now that I think about it, who let Pope drive in the first place?

"Pope! Jeez!" JJ curses.

"Dude, back up!" Kie yells.

Pope puts the car in reverse and steps on the gas, but hits another car in the process.

"Hey!"

"The other way!"

JJ pats Pope's shoulder again. "It's okay! Pope, just go!"

Pope hits the corner of Kie's front bumper against the car in front of us again but continues to step on the gas until we're completely out of our spot.

"What are you doing?" Kie yells at him.

"We'll bump out!"

"Watch out!" I yell when I spot a couple of people crossing the street before Pope can kill them.

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch out!" Pope yells and swings his hands in front of him to motion for the people to jump out of the way. "Watch out!" My back hits the back of my seat, hard. Pope has the audacity to laugh. Head back and all. "Oh my god."

"Pope!" Kie yells. "What the fuck?"

"I'm living my best life right now," Pope says through laughter.

Kie slumps in her seat. "My mom's gonna kill me."

"I should be the last to say this, but you are not okay to drive," JJ says. I turn to glare at him and he puts his hands up in the air to surrender. He looks back out to the road and yells, "Stop!"

Pope stomps on the brakes and sends us skidding to a stop. JJ's arm whips out to the right to stop me from flying forward.

We're gonna die.

Pope looks over his shoulder at my brother. "John B, get out."

"What?" I glare.

"He's right," JJ says and my head snaps to him. He ignores me. "We'll draw the cops, you run."

"Shit," John B curses and unbuckles himself.

"I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay? Three o'clock, okay?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I say, but John B shakes his head.

"No. You stay here. Stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you!" I fight back and look at him like he has two heads. He must think I'm crazy if he thinks I'm going to let him run away by himself.

"JJ -" John B looks at him.

"On it. Go!" JJ's hands wrap around my waist, forcing me to stay in the car. I try prying his fingers off of me, but he's a lot stronger than I am. John B starts running off. "Three tomorrow at the dump!" When John B disappears behind the tree, JJ finally lets me go. I turn around and shove him back by his chest and slide over to the seat that John B was just in. JJ sighs and looks forward again. "Come on, go, go, go!"

Pope steps on the gas again and veers forward.

I look out the window and ignore the queasiness that has fully taken over my stomach. I know John B and JJ were right to keep me in the car. I would only slow John B down and get myself in trouble and therefore, be completely useless in helping my brother. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm abandoning him.

~ ~ ~

Pope, for some reason, is still driving. I don't know where he's going but it seems like we're on our way to Figure Eight. Pope turns on the radio, blasting one of North Carolina's hip hop stations.

JJ leans forward in the middle seat and pushes his head between Kie and Pope. He's managing to laugh like we're on some joy ride on Memorial Day weekend. "Pope, you clocked that car, man. Like that was so bad!" JJ shakes his head. "I'm just glad I'm not driving now."

" Pull over." Kie tells Pope. "JJ, it's not funny. He shouldn't be driving."

JJ grimaces. "Mama's mad."

Pope pulls the car over and switches seats with Kie. A delirious grin stays on the high boy's lips as he settles in the passenger seat.

"What are you -"

"Where are we going?" I ask Kie as she makes a familiar right turn.

"The last place they're gonna look." Kie says.

~ ~ ~

By the time Kie pulls up to Tannyhill, the sun has disappeared into the horizon and the pit of my stomach is the size of a category five hurricane. I can't remember the last time I ate or drank anything and the pounding in my head feels like a hundred bullets are penetrating my skull.

Kie's brilliant idea is to somehow get to Sarah and convince her to go to the police to confess what actually happened.

"Perfectly focused," Pope says to himself, which makes me glare at him. Pope is anything but focused.

"You sure this is a good idea?" JJ says.

"She's the only one who can clear John B," Kie says.

"Last place they'll look because of how stupid it is."

Kie ignores JJ and gets out of the car with Pope following right behind her. When I open the door, JJ pulls me back and closes the door again.

I look at him. My first reaction is to be concerned. Something in JJ's expression makes me fold. For a second I forget the mess we're in and I get lost in his blue eyes. It's just me and JJ and the world outside of this car no longer exists.

His warm hand wraps around my smaller one and he pulls me closer into him. His other hand cups my face, right underneath my jaw. My face feels like it's physically sparkling with the touch of his breath and forget butterflies - there is a zoo in the pit of my stomach. I glide into JJ like magnet.

His lips press into mine and I cave in. I pull him close enough to where I'm straddling him. Time stops as does my breathing. My fingers run through his blonde hair, tugging on the ends. He stifles back a moan and my face flushes pink.

I pull back for breath and rest my forehead against his. I don't know how many more times we're going to get to do that. And it hurts me thinking it might come to an end.

"I'm sorry," I say.

JJ ignores me. "When we get to Yucatan, we're getting a bungalow. We're going to live in bathing suits and get drunk off of pina coladas every day. Skinny dipping is going to be our main source of exercise - well, other than the hot dangerous sex we're gonna have every night. I'm never going to leave your side and I'm going to keep you safe until the day we die. In a few years, we'll get married. You're gonna wear that dress you wore to Midsummers and we're gonna have beautiful beach babies who will go on to win surfing championships by the time they're ten because they're going to be prodigies. Our prodigies. And John B is going to be there with us. Because he's not going to jail for a crime he didn't commit. Okay?"

I don't even realize tears are streaming down my face until he's wiping his thumb against my wet cheek.

"Promise?" My voice cracks and I really wish it didn't. But that's the life I want. That's the life I need. I don't care if it's in Yucatan or in the middle of a deserted island. I just need my boys, Kie, and Pope.

JJ kisses my left cheek. Then my right and my nose. "I promise."

"I love you, J."

"And I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

JJ laughs. "Okay."

As much as I don't want to leave him, as much as I'd rather stay here with JJ and forget about all our problems, I know I can't. Because Kie is probably freaking out, waiting for me. Because John B is on the run somewhere and I need to do something, anything to help him.

"I should probably..."

JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah I know. Be quick. Okay?"

I nod and jump out of the car before my head or my heart can make me do otherwise. I push my legs, that feel like rubber, over the stone wall that lines the Cameron's property.

I stop in my tracks when I hear Pope and Kie in some kind of intense conversation...well as intense as Pope can handle right now. I think he's still super high.

"Pope! Pope! Pope! Sh!" Kie says in a hushed tone.

"Hey, I'm trying to tell you, I love you."

Oh shit. I look at the stone wall I just jumped over and consider jumping back over it to avoid eavesdropping on this conversation.

"First of all, I need you to be quiet," Kie says.

"Okay, yeah. Quiet, I mean -"

"No. Stop talking, like, now." Kie says. This time, Pope doesn't speak. "Second of all...thank you for saying that."

I can't help but physically cringe at that statement. Because I know what's coming next.

"Okay," Pope chuckles.

"Now, that's very sweet, but it's - look it's not gonna happen."

"Okay, well, why not?"

This is like a car wreck you can't look away from. I had a feeling Pope was in love with Kie for years now. But he never acted on it. Didn't even flirt with her the way JJ did before we were together. A part of me always hoped he did. Because I wanted to see how Kie would react. I think the two of them would be really cute together. Kie could teach Pope to take more risks and Pope could give her a beautiful life that didn't require her working for her parents forever. They compliment each other. Always have.

"Because Pogues can't mack on other Pogues."

Pope scoffs. "That rule doesn't make sense, and nobody follows it. I mean look at JJ and Marleigh -"

"Look, I - I want something different."

"Okay, I-"

"I - I wanna go to Antartica, and I wanna ride camels..."

"I want to do those things with you."

"No. Pope, it's not gonna work."

"I want to be that person!"

"No. It's not gonna happen," Kie shakes her head. God, this is brutal. I can't wait to tell JJ. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Like..." Kie sighs. "Look, I know that that's really hard to hear right now, but we don't have time for this, and this is a really bad place to do it." She pauses and Pope doesn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." He says, but his voice has completely changed. It's dark and cold and doesn't match my Pope's personality.

"Are you ready for the plan, or..."

"Yeah."

"Okay..." Kie says and this is when I decide to make my entrance. I can't help with the situation at hand but at least I can cause a distraction.

So I cough. "Sorry for the hold up. JJ and I were just fighting over who has to be look out. So..." I force myself to look between Pope and Kie as if I didn't just witness their whole conversation. I try not to focus on the tear streak down Pope's cheek and look at Kie. "Ready?"

Kie nods and leads us towards the Cameron's. A house I almost called my home.

Kie is in charge of getting to Sarah Cameron by her bedroom window while I stay with Pope and create a distraction. We decided it was best if one of us stayed with Pope so I offered myself, considering what I just watched.

Pope still seems to be upset. He's not exactly being quiet trying to stay hidden like we should be.

"Gotta stick to the plan," Pope mumbles to himself and plays with the grill. I find the closest pillow on their patio set and place it on top of it. "I like camels. I like Antartica."

"Pope..." I say softly. The last thing I want is to piss him off more but he's making me nervous.

He ignores me. "What's wrong with that plan?" He bends down and picks up a rubber duck in a paramedic costume and looks at it thoughtfully. "Same." I don't know exactly what that means but he throws the duck into the grill and finds the lighter fluid. When he saturates the pillow...and duck, he turns the grill on. The fluid quickly ignites and flames shoot out from the grill. Pope's head is close enough to the fire that his hat catches on fire. "Shit!"

"Holy shit," I throw my arm at his head and knock the hat off of him. I stomp on it until the flame dies under my sneakers and pull him behind the closest tree that can hide us both.

Less than a minute later, I hear two pairs of footsteps come out. I recognize Ward's voice as he curses at the destructed grill until he stops and mutters the name "Sarah" under his breath and makes a beeline back in side.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @stellarskys @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights 

#jj maybank fic #outer banks rewrite #jj x oc

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 4)

Summary: You tried hard to believe that Bucky was a changed man, but he made it difficult

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents

Author's Note: Alright, I’ve flaked. My different-song-per-part ambitions were too high, I flew too close to the sun. I’m so sorry Billy.

---

You buried your face in his neck.

Everything he’d said was spiralling through your mind. You knew your parents well enough to know that staying with Bucky for much longer meant losing them forever. You didn’t want to go back but, if you stayed away and things didn’t work out, there was a chance you’d end up completely alone.

Bucky was a risk, a huge one. You wanted to trust him. You wanted so badly to believe that he was everything he appeared to be.

So you did.

A leap of faith. You were good at faith.

You pulled your head up, coming face to face with him. ‘I would like to get very, very drunk.’

‘Me too.’ He went to get up, but stopped suddenly and looked back at you. ‘You ever been hammered before?’

You shrugged with one shoulder, reluctant to admit further inexperience. ‘Communion wine is pretty strong stuff.’

‘Jesus. I almost feel bad, enabling sin like this.’ He sauntered to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboards, grinning in your direction when he found a half-empty bottle of tequila. ‘Almost.’

The golden liquid burned your throat as you took shot after shot, the warm glow in your chest getting stronger with every sip. This was fucking brilliant, why had you never tried it before?

‘So, here’s the plan.’ You could see that Bucky was at least a little tipsy, he’d been matching every one of your shots with three of his own. ‘I make enough money fixing bikes to keep the flat and feed us, so you can quit that fucking college course and find something you actually want to do.’

You paused for a second, processing his words. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’

‘Are you turning me down?’

You grinned and shook your head, making a mental note to reconfirm that in the morning when he was sober. You had hoped that he’d at least let you stay with him for the summer, but knowing that he was willing to put up with you more long-term quelled some deep anxiety you’d been harbouring for days.

You shifted your tone, trying your best to look as sober and sincere as possible. ‘Buck. You said you just want someone to talk to, right?’ He nodded, half-smirking and pushing some hair behind your ear. ‘So talk. You know so much about me, I want to know about you.’

‘What you wanna know?’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

His eyes wandered away from yours and he dropped his hand to your shoulder, wincing a little while he strung his words together. ‘Well you’ve met my dad, he’s no different now than he always was. The only time I ever hear from my ma is when she needs money. God knows what for, I don’t ask.’

‘I’m really sorry, I can’t imagine what they put you through.’

You’d never seen him so subdued. You almost felt bad for putting a damper on the evening, but you got the impression that Bucky had never spoken to anyone about this stuff before, drunk or sober.

‘Fucked me up for a long time, I did a lot of bad stuff.’ You reached out and squeezed his free hand as he was speaking, prompting his gaze to fix back on you. ‘But I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘You’re a good guy Buck.’ You gave him a wide smile. ‘Plus, after all those Sundays at church, the big guy owes me a couple favours. I can get that slate of yours wiped clean, no problem.’

He narrowed his eyes at you, the warm glow returning to your chest as you watched his mouth curl back into that familiar smirk. ‘You’re buzzed, ain’t ya?’

‘Should I slow down?’

‘Nope.’ He poured you both another drink. ‘Speed up.’

You didn’t ask about the things he’d done, you didn’t need to know. It was in the past, and he regretted it. That’s all that mattered to you.

The tequila was gone far too quickly. Both of you raided the cupboards again, finding a nearly empty bottle of triple sec, three cans of cider and a bottle with Russian writing that contained something resembling paint stripper.

A few hours and all that booze later, you and Bucky found yourselves tangled around each other on the bed, nursing your slowly developing headaches.

‘You’re a terrible influence, Barnes.’ You croaked into his chest.

‘I’m barely even getting started darlin.’

---

The first thing you felt in the morning was dizziness. Even before you’d opened your eyes, you knew the room was spinning around you. You adjusted yourself a little, relieved when you felt Bucky’s arms still wrapped around you and his chest against your cheek. Scooching upwards, eyes still screwed shut, you brought your face level with his.

He stirred, croaking faintly. ‘Still here. Haven’t run away yet.'

‘I feel like there’s a bee hive inside my head.’

‘Your first hangover.’ He chuckled. ‘We should celebrate. Breakfast?’

‘I’m never eating again. Or drinking. Or… moving.’

He started wriggling. ‘Well, either you move or I piss the bed.’

You flopped onto your back, the movement making your brain rattle inside your head, as Bucky scuttled to the bathroom. You started drifting back to sleep, only to be unceremoniously woken when you were hoisted off the bed and carried you through to the front room. He made breakfast while you lay on the couch, feeling sorry for yourself. You managed a few reluctant mouthfuls and a pint of water.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Bucky piped up whilst washing the dishes. ‘When you feel a bit better we should go back to the flat. I know it’s close to your parents, but at least my dad doesn’t have keys to it.’

You considered for a second, weighing up whether you were more intimidated by your parents or his. ‘That’s fine with me. Whatever you think is best, Buck.’

---

The two of you left the trailer the next morning. You were still feeling pretty ropey, but you were at least able to walk six feet without getting dizzy. In truth, you were pretty happy to be getting away from the trailer. Aside from the stained walls and crappy shower, you hadn’t felt safe there since Bucky’s dad had burst in the other night. Christ knows what else that man was capable of.

Somehow, at some point during your first day back at the flat, Bucky had convinced you it’d be a good idea for the two of you to go out that night. He suggested his usual haunt, a bar you’d never heard of despite living in that town all your life.

It was a dive bar. You’d never been to a dive bar before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant, but as soon as you saw the outside of this place you knew. There was a flickering neon sign advertising Miller High Life above the door and bikes as far as the eye could see.

Some extremely intimidating clientele eyed the two of you as you approached, giving a gruff chuckle when you brushed past them to get to the entrance. Bucky enthusiastically greeted a few guys who were already inside. One of them you vaguely recognised from school, but the others looked quite a bit older.

You were so far out of your comfort zone in this place, every muscle in your body felt tense and you were convinced that dozens of dirty looks were being thrown your way.

‘What’ll it be then sweetheart?’ Your eyes followed the voice to a tall, brawny blonde with freakishly wide shoulders and a crooked smile.

Your mouth opened slightly as you scurried around trying to figure out what kind of alcohol was sold in a place like this, before Bucky piped up. ‘She’ll have my usual.’

You just nodded, keeping quiet for fear of coming across as the naïve religious freak in front of his friends. A few seconds later you found yourself with a pint of beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other.

‘Boilermaker.’ Bucky whispered, close to your ear. ‘Proper booze, gotta make up for all that shit the other night.’

One of the friends led you towards a cramped booth with a sticky table. You found yourself tucked in between Bucky and the blonde, the former’s arm circled tight around your waist, hand resting possessively on your thigh. You didn’t speak much, only when spoken to- that was until the blonde started cross-examining you.

‘No offence, but you weren’t exactly what I was expecting.’

Great. This shit again.

‘Leave it, yeah?’ Bucky’s tone was friendly, but you could sense a hint of warning.

‘Like I said, no offence.’ He smirked. ‘She just looks a little suburban, y’know.’

Bucky got more agitated. ‘What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?’

‘Jesus, chill out Barnes. She’s not bothered, are ya?’ He nudged you hard, pushing you into Bucky’s side. You just smiled politely, a pathetic attempt to diffuse.

Progressively more irate words were thrown back and forth between them, but everyone else around the table was seemingly unfazed by the argument. It escalated quickly, resulting in blonde reaching over to yank Bucky up by the lapels, spilling a pint of beer all over you in the process. Buck shoved him off and helped you out of the booth, apologising as he ushered you towards the door.

Blonde was shouting after you, following you to the door. Just as you thought the two of you might make it out of there intact, Bucky wheeled round and punched him square in the mouth. He got a swift jab to the stomach in return and the two of them crashed into the bar, arms and legs flying in every direction.

Finally, after intervention by a couple huge biker guys, you managed to pull Bucky away. As you pushed open the front door, flashing blue lights flooded the bar. You squinted, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Cops. One of them approached you and Bucky, the same one who came to the flat after your parents reported you kidnapped.

‘Told you your time would come, boy.’ He smirked. ‘James Barnes, you’re under arrest on suspicion of assault.’

Everything said after that was drowned out by a high pitched whining that started in your ears. Buck was dragged away and shoved into the back of a car, he shouted something in your direction before the door closed but you didn’t catch it. You were reeling with shock. They pulled away, lights fading as they disappeared down the street.

There you were, completely alone. Standing in the gutter outside a dive bar, trembling and covered in beer, playing perfectly into your parents’ predictions.

What the fuck were you supposed do? Go sleep on Bucky’s doorstep, hoping he’d get released before morning? How many more times were you going to have to do that?

You couldn’t help but feel so, so stupid. You’d leapt, fallen and landed flat on your face. Maybe your mother wasn’t exaggerating, maybe she was right all along. Christ, maybe you were just some naïve, sheltered Christian kid in way over your head.

You had no choice. You went home.

---

Waking up back in your bed sent a wave of depression crashing over you. You could still smell stale beer and cigarettes, making you feel even worse.

Only your father had been awake when you timidly knocked on the door the night before. He’d stepped aside and let you in without much more than a stern look, but you were dreading having to face your mother this morning.

You sat up, the motion kick-starting yet another hangover, and walked to the bathroom. Switching on the light, you stared into the mirror and were greeted with someone you barely recognised. Your eyes were dark, bloodshot and puffy, your hair was wild from days of washing it with shower gel in the trailer’s crappy shower, your clothes from the night before were still hanging off you, stained and reeking- but you looked alive. And you felt it.

The doorbell rang.

You ran to the top of the stairs, only to see your mother standing in the doorway, face to face with Bucky. He looked awful, cuts and bruises littering his face. You stepped back slightly to hide yourself from his view.

‘Get off my property or I’m calling the police.’ Well she hadn’t changed while you’d been gone.

‘Is she here?’

Silence. You peeked round the corner to see your mother whip her phone from her pocket. Bucky shouted your name. Fuck, so much of you wanted to just run down the stairs and throw your arms round him, but you knew there was a good chance you’d just end up here again a week or so down the line.

‘Fine.’ He backed away, holding his arms out. ‘Y’know, sooner or later, it comes down to faith. Someone’s gonna help her see through all your bullshit, I might as well be the one.’

He limped down the steps and was gone from your view. Dragging yourself back into your room, you looked at your phone for the first time that morning. Twenty-five texts and eight missed calls from Bucky. Taking a deep breath, you typed a message to him.

Meet me on the bench at noon tomorrow.

---

As you turned into the park, you saw him sitting there. He looked tense, elbows resting on his thighs while he ran his fingers through his hair. As soon as he spotted you approaching he stood up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him, so you just perched on the other end of the bench silently. He obviously didn’t take the hint, moving closer and sitting right next to you.

You heard him chuckle. ‘Blink twice if we’re being bugged.’

You lifted your eyes, scanning them over his wounds. His knuckles weren’t even fully healed from the fight with his father. He was just cuts upon bruises upon scars and you weren’t sure if he’d ever stop adding to them.

His face dropped when he saw your obvious distress. ‘I’m really sorry y/n. I fucked up, bad.’

You just nodded, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep your thoughts straight.

‘I know I struggle to control my anger sometimes, but you gotta believe I’m getting better. I’m not the person I used to be.’

‘You keep saying that.’ You couldn’t meet his eyes, too scared to see the hurt your words would cause him. ‘Then you do shit like this? I’m really struggling here, I-’

‘I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying, now more than ever. Because of you.’

‘What happened the other night... I was so scared, Buck. I barely even made it out of the house to get here today.’ Tears were clouding your vision as you felt his hands grasp your firmly. ‘I can’t do that again.’

---

Part Five

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess  @livingoffsavvyillusions 

I’ve bolded the names that wouldn’t let me tag, sorry guys

---

#bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #biker!bucky x you #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x y/n #biker!bucky x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x OC)

Summary: Maggie tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the last two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week. 

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up. 

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Maggie’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner. 

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Maggie never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Maggie was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.  

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now. 

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again. 

No new messages. 

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something. 

…

Maggie dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles. 

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him. 

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag. 

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left. 

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling. 

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper. 

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath. 

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Maggie breathed. 

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.” 

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Maggie laughed wetly. “Oh my god, mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted. 

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Maggie ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Maggie admitted, tears spilling over her lash line. 

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost forty years.”

Maggie heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.” 

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Maggie hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf. 

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?” 

Maggie dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled. 

Maggie closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Maggie swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Maggie could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Maggie’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Maggie Mae.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered. 

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Maggie heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.” 

Maggie listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope. 

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.” 

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Maggie the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes. 

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response. 

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his. 

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on. 

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.” 

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.” 

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done. 

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.” 

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way. 

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long? 

“And then I met you, and you…” Maggie let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough? 

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted. 

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too. 

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself. 

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.” 

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air. 

“Maggie, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.” 

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered. 

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Maggie nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath. 

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.” 

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again. 

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Maggie. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.” 

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes.  “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.” 

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head. 

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.” 

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.” 

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.” 

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself. 

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice. 

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation. 

Maggie took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes watched the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman, and he was smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple. 

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Maggie. 

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.” 

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane to think that I stayed with him for so long, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was— that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now. 

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I was been able to recognize the moments when I was falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there, and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no.” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and crushed his heart. “And then he just— left. And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Maggie dissolved back into the couch, an indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving personal trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.” 

She nodded, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, talented, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.” 

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check, find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated, and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.” 

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with Maggie. 

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.” 

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.” 

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you…  I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.” 

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered. 

“Agree to disagree.”

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @spenxerslut  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @enbyfaerie @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid  @elldell1204 @babyhoneystvles @lost-in-the-stars03 @reiding-recs @minervaonmars @radtwinkie @crimeshowtrash @dayho3  

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol @froggybagels​

Series tags (x OC): @linnyalou @mikewizkalifa

Broken tags:  @archer561 @samanthareid06 (check visibility settings!)

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #lhalc

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: Helping Uncle Tony

Thank you to @petercherryparker for giving me my first commission! It means so much to me that you were willing to give it a try and for being patient with me since I haven't done this before either 😅

Summary: 

Uncle Tony somehow fucked up his hands and has them both in casts.

Peter volunteers to help then he helps.

Notes: uncle/nephew incest, handjob, frottage, come swallowing, anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, ambiguous age for Peter, first time

WC: 9139

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

"Boss, Mrs. Parker and your nephew are requesting entrance."

Tony pauses in his rambling speech. Dictating. He's dictating the lines of code for his next project while he lounges in the lab. On the screen, Friday completes the last line before she automatically switches to the security camera on the first floor.

His sister, Mary Parker, is waiting impatiently and there, a familiar mop of curly brown hair… His nephew. Peter.

"What time is it again?" Tony mutters but he's already getting up.

It's a bit difficult because he can't use his hands. Both hands are stuck in bright red casts and are covered from his knuckles all the way down to his elbow.

He hates them but he's not letting them stop him from working on his tech.

"Think I can beat them to the penthouse?" Tony says when he gets into his private elevator.

Peter did text earlier that day with a message saying they were coming over from Queens. He's been so caught up getting this program done that time just slipped through his fingers.

"Probability just reached 0%," Friday informs him and he finds out why when the doors ding open.

"Tony!" His sister is already waiting for him in the penthouse and judging by the look on her face, she knows exactly where Tony's been.

She rounds up on him, scarier than his assistant and his board of directors. "You're supposed to be resting," she sighs with exasperation.

"Yeah, you know that's unlikely," Tony says without missing a beat. "It's my hands that broke–" he wiggles his immobilized arms at her for emphasis, "–not my brain. You know I can't just stop."

In response, Mary softens but she tries to hide it by clearing her throat.

"I know and that's why–" she turns back towards her son and tugs him forward, "I'm lending you this one to help you."

"Hi, Uncle Tony," Peter says shyly from her side. He gives a little wave but doesn't really look Tony in the eye.

"Hey there, champ," Tony says, distracted, before he turns back to Mary. "You know I can't do that to him, Mare. It's summer break, he should be– I dunno, going to Jones beach or hanging out with his friends. All that fun stuff."

Mary's lips thin in that way which means she's about to start arguing but surprisingly, Peter interrupts.

"Actually– I'm the one that bugged mom about helping…" Peter says as he steps closer.

Tomy's gaze switches to him and his brows scrunch in confusion. Peter's cheeks take on a pink hue when their eyes meet, a peculiar reaction that Tony's gotten used to. His nephew's always been a sweet but shy kid.

"Pete, I really appreciate it, but you don't gotta be stuck with me when you should be having fun," Tony reiterates but the boy stubbornly shakes his head.

Peter's curls bounce in that cute little way that makes Tony want to pet them. His expression mirrors Tony's, brows scrunching adorably in the middle and honey brown eyes going all soft and pleading.

"It'll be fun!" Peter says firmly and what gets to Tony is that he actually sounds genuine. "I always have fun when I'm with you, Uncle Tony… And I get to see all the cool stuff you're working on… Maybe even help you make some stuff?"

The last bit is said with those puppy eyes turned up to max efficiency and Tony's resolve crumbles. He could never say no to his one and only favorite nephew. Mary knows it, too, because there's a smug little grin on her face.

"See, there you go, Tony," she says. She pats Peter's shoulder fondly. "How long did the doctors say your cast has to stay on?"

"A couple weeks…" Tony says in defeat. "But I should be fine if Pete just wants to stay a week…"

"Mom can drop off more of my clothes on Sunday," Peter says, excitement pitching his voice higher. He bounces the duffle bag in his hand to show the older man. "I brought some clothes already. Toothbrush, too, so you don't gotta worry, Uncle Tony."

Looking at his nephew's puppy dog eyes, of course, Tony can't refuse. Besides, his nephew is right. They always have fun when they're together and ever since the Parkers moved to Queens, they just haven't had as much time. He has missed his nephew even when work keeps him busy.

"Alright, you got me, kid," Tony says, "we'll try it out for a week, okay?"

"A week," Peter agrees but somehow, Tony feels as though he's the one humoring Tony instead of the other way around.

"Brat," Tony says fondly.

Mary sticks around for a few minutes more but she eventually decides to head out. Before doing so, she pulls Peter aside for some last minute words.

Tony tries not to eavesdrop but considering he's right there, it can't be helped.

"I want you to remember what we talked about in the car," she says seriously. "I know you and Tony like to mess around in the lab and do all your sciency stuff but Uncle Tony's recovering, okay, Pete?"

"I know, mom," Peter says dutifully. "Even if we're having fun, I need to help Uncle Tony and make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt his hands."

"That's right, sweetie," Mary smiles, "and you know your Uncle Tony. He's always jumping ahead of things so I need you to really be on top of things. We want Uncle Tony to get better and that won't happen if he doesn't let it heal properly. I need you to be his hands until his gets better."

"I can do that, mom," Peter promises sincerely, "I'll watch him like a hawk and he won't even lift a finger while I'm here."

"That's really sweet but–" Tony has to interrupt.

"No buts!" Both Mary and Peter cut in. Tony ends up pouting at them but he really can't refute anything Mary says.

When she's finally gone, Tony looks at Peter and smiles awkwardly.

"Just you and me, kiddo," he says to break the silence.

"You and me," Peter smiles brightly then perks up like an eager puppy. "Wanna show me what you were working on before mom and I got here…?"

And just like that, the awkwardness vanishes.

Tony grins and makes a grand gesture towards the elevator.

"Let me show you to my lair…"

---

They settle into a routine and truthfully, Tony's having the best time of his life.

It starts off slow because even if he's the one that needs help, he feels bad asking for the simplest things. Peter takes his job seriously though and has a keen eye for when Tony's itching to do something.

Peter takes over all the things Tony would struggle to do and he does it so effortlessly with no complaint. It leaves the older man feeling a tiny bit embarrassed at his dependency but he's grateful.

It becomes easier to just let Peter handle everything and soon, Tony relaxes into their routines.

His nephew is a god-send. He has all of the Stark smarts and none of the bullshit that Howard hammered into Tony's head since he was young.

This means that Tony can ramble on and on about his work and Peter keeps up astonishingly well. He listens with wide eyes, lips parted as though Tony was speaking prophecies. Even better, the kid throws back ideas, suggestions that make Tony's mind whirl with fantastic possibilities. It's surreal, it's wonderful, it's just how they are.

Tony and Peter.

"I really should be paying you," Tony groans when the boy digs his thumbs into a stiff muscle.

Peter has some magical hands and somehow, he just seems to know where to press on Tony's back. He kneads the tension right out of the older man's shoulders and Tony has to slump on the desk so he doesn't tip over out of pure ecstasy.

"Not taking your money, Uncle Tony," Peter sounds exasperated but there's a fondness to it that softens the bite.

"You're basically babysitting me," Tony still tries to convince him. "How about $800 a day? Dunno what the going rate for babysitters is but I'll throw in a bonus cause you're my cute little nephew."

Tony knows Peter won't take it so he's just rambling for fun.

Peter, though, goes quiet and his hands pause in their motions. His arms come around from behind and his chin settles on Tony's shoulder.

Hugs are nice and it isn't the first time Peter's helped himself to one. The older man doesn't think much of it, only squirms cause Peter's breath tickles his neck.

"I'm just happy being here with you, Uncle Tony," Peter tells him honestly. "I really missed being able to just walk a couple of blocks and hang out."

Warmth blossoms in his belly and if it was anyone else, Tony would've pulled back emotionally and physically. But Peter has always been like this, always loved hugs and affection. Once again, he has Stark blood but he's better.

Tony would usually pat the boy's hand but with the casts, he's more likely to be reprimanded. So instead, he slowly turns and Peter moves with him so that they're embracing. Even then, Peter's careful with the casts and makes sure not to brush against them.

"I missed you too, kiddo," Tony admits. "I'll make sure we have more hang out days when my hands are good, okay?"

"I'd like that," Peter mumbles into his shoulder.

Peter's mom drops off more clothes. She's satisfied that Tony is doing better, even smiling more frequently. Peter glows with pride beside him.

A day shy of being together for a week and Tony wakes up tangled in his sheets, body sleep-warm and cruising from pleasant dreams.

"Morning!" Peter cheers as he walks in carrying breakfast on a tray.

Tony's mind is still all fuzzy without his morning coffee so he just lays there and hums in acknowledgment. The bed dips under Peter's weight and the silence is so unusual that Tony peaks an eye open.

The boy's bottom lip is caught between his teeth while his cheeks are flaming red.

"Kid?" Tony's voice is rough from sleep. It startles Peter and those honey brown eyes shoot back up to his face.

The blush doesn't recede though.

"Um… Do you… need help, Uncle Tony…?" Peter mumbles, edging closer so that his knee presses against Tony's blanketed thigh.

"Help…?" Tony echoed. "Help with what–"

Peter's eyes dip down and this time, Tony follows him.

"Oh," Tony groans, aghast.

He's sporting some serious morning wood. And well, it's to be expected if he really thinks about it. Before his accident, Tony was a heavy believer in self-love. One can even say he's a serial masturbator, but he just… hasn't been able to do anything about it with his hands out of commission.

Sometime during the night, his dick must've slipped through the slit in his boxers so the only thing keeping him decent is the thin blanket over his lap.

"Just– ah, fuck. Just ignore it," Tony says, embarrassed.

He can't even hide it under a pillow or turn over. Both require the use of his hands which… Not possible.

"That can't be comfortable…" Peter still mumbles, completely ignoring Tony's instructions. "It looks really… big. And uncomfortable. Does it hurt…?"

"Not as much as my pride," Tony grumbles. "Can't you just… I don't know, put a pillow on my lap? It'll go away if we both ignore it."

It's an embarrassing situation and Tony's barely holding it together. He's been caught in all sorts of scandals but never one so personal as this. If it's embarrassing for him, it's probably worse for his poor nephew.

He expects Peter to listen to him, to save himself from this awkward mess and just leave him to his breakfast.

What he doesn't expect is to feel Peter's curious hand on his cock.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flying open in disbelief.

He's not mistaken.

Peter is leaning over him, one hand gently gripping the base of his covered cock.

"Kid… What are you doing…?"

Tony fights against the need to thrust into his nephew's hand. His cock doesn't care who it is that's helping him out, it just cares that it's getting some love.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter breathes out as he looks at Tony with wide but determined eyes. "Mom said to make sure you're comfortable… If I do it like this… I'll make it go down faster, right...?"

His hand on Tony's cock starts to move. It steals away the words Tony wants to say as his hips twitch towards the source of friction. This shouldn't be happening, he shouldn't be feeling so good from Peter touching him...

"That's–" The older man tries to stop this but his words stutter and fail. "You shouldn't, Pete...!"

"Am I doing it wrong…? Am I making it worse?" Peter's lips tremble into a frown. It looks so wrong on his nephew's sweet face that Tony shakes his head, unwilling, even then, to upset the boy.

"Feels good..." Tony tries to stifle the moan working up his throat. It comes out as breathless gasps instead while his legs shift restlessly in the bed. "But you shouldn't…"

The frown melts away to reveal a sweet, happy smile.

Peter looks so determined, eyes focused where his hand is moving up and down over Tony's hard length. He's doing it so gently that it makes Tony's body crave for more, for a firmer grip.

"I don't mind doing it, Uncle Tony," he says while stroking Tony's cock. "I know it can hurt… And you're already going through a lot. I love you, Uncle Tony, and I want you to feel good."

What can Tony say in the face of such sweet words? Even if he wanted to, he couldn't bear to stop him now.

"Let me take care of you, Uncle Tony," Peter says. "Oh– let me…"

Tony groans in defeat when Peter pulls the blanket down. There's no hiding it now.

His cock stands proudly between his legs, fully erect from Peter's ministrations. It's flushed a rosy hue, prominent veins up and down the length… A thick mushroom tip that's darker in color than the rest of the length.

"Pete…" Tony says, helpless but so turned on when Peter resumes his duties.

His hand wraps around Tony's cock again, no hesitation, and Tony tries to stifle a moan that works up his throat. This is not the right response but it feels so good… Just the sight of Peter's hand wrapped around him sends arousal skittering up and down his spine. It looks so obscene, too. His nephew's finger can't even fully encompass the girth of his cock.

"Like this, Uncle Tony…?" Peter asks as he starts to stroke again. His thumb swipes over Tony's leaking cockhead and his hips jerk from the sensation.

All rational flies out the window.

"Ah– T-tighter…" Tony gasps.

The desire for release rises to the forefront so embarrassingly quick that the older man bites down on his lip to ask for more.

Peter complies with such sweet obedience that Tony moans and then oh– it's heaven. His nephew is clumsy and a bit awkward in his attempt but it smoothes out into something beautiful when Tony's hips start chasing after his hand.

His eyes are mere slits as he throws his head back. His hips jerk desperately into the sweet grip milking his cock. He doesn't think about what he's doing even when Peter continues to make soft encouraging comments.

It should freak Tony out but he's caught off guard. The loss of the use of his hands has affected him more deeply than he anticipated. The pleasure sings through him after just a week of not being able to do this and he craves it with a ferocious hunger that scares him with its intensity.

Just a week and Tony's hips are thrusting into his nephew's touch. His cock is leaking. He swears that his cock is so hard for Peter and that he's never been as hard for anyone else. Peter, his sweet innocent nephew, is the one making him feel so good, it's sinful.

Peter… He shouldn't be doing this to Peter but the boy's so focused on his task. The pink in his cheeks is so alluring… And how has Tony never noticed the shape of his lips? Or how it looks so soft and inviting, parted the way it is. Tony could easily slip a thumb right between and what would Peter do…?

Tony could just imagine the shock in Peter's pretty brown doe eyes and then the way they'd slowly drift closed. The pleasure of a new discovery would make his nephew's features slacken. Would he suck on Tony's fingers? Would he moan for his uncle…?

The older man hisses when Peter squeezes him just right, bringing him right to the edge. Tony struggles to cling on. It's so wrong, so wrong… His precum is dripping all over the boy's fingers, but Peter's not stopping.

"Uncle Tony… Is this okay? Does it feel good?"

Peter has such good intentions even while doing such a dirty act.

"Pete– Pete, I'm gonna…" Tony groans out the words but his eyes slip shut in defeat.

"Oh!" Peter knows what's coming but his little nephew surprises him again in the most delightful way.

An even sweeter heat envelops his cock. Just the tip but this new sensation is warm and wet. Tony can recognize that type of heat anywhere and he loses it. Peter's mouth is on his cock.

His eyes fly open and he's treated to the sight of his nephew's pink lips suckling on his cockhead. Peter looks up at him with wide eyes and his hand still makes sloppy, aborted jerks in an attempt to maintain his rhythm.

Such a good boy...

Any semblance of control completely deteriorates and Tony comes with a shocked groan. His cock pulses, balls drawing in tight, as he shoots into his nephew's mouth.

It happens so quickly and his muscles tighten with the intensity of his orgasm. Peter tries to take it all, every single load that Tony sends pulsing into his mouth.

It's too much for him. Tony sees it when the rush of cum gets too much. Peter's eyes widen even more and he pulls back coughing with his uncle's cum dripping down the corner of his lips.

He goes back down like the champ he is though and tries to take the rest of Tony's cum. He gets a load shot across his face for his efforts and the image will be forever seared into Tony's mind. Peter looks so beautiful with Tony's cum on his face that the older man can't find it in himself to even feel guilty.

He does feel bad, though, when Peter's face crumples in dismay.

"Oh, God, I-I'm sorry, Uncle Tony." His bottom lip even trembles. His distress is genuine and Tony's barely catching his breath. "I was trying not to get it everywhere… I thought I could do it but I made a mess. I'm sorry– Let me go get some paper towels and I'll clean it all up."

Not having the use of his hands is such an inconvenience. He can't even stop the kid from running off but he tries.

"Peter," Tony says firmly enough that the boy pays attention. His tone softens when the boy hesitates. "Pete. Just wait a minute, okay. Just– C'mere. Lie down next to me, okay?"

Peter does as he's told. He must be feeling even worse than he says because he scoots in close and curls up against Tony's side. The reality of the situation becomes an urgent need to discuss what just happened but Tony's mouth has gone dry.

"I'm sorry…" Peter whispers in the silence and Tony's heart aches.

"Hey, hey," Tony tries to soothe him. He can't turn onto his side so instead, he says, "Look at me, kid."

Once those brown eyes are back on him, Tony takes in a deep breath. He refuses to do anything that would make his Petey cry or feel bad. God forbid he do anything like that, his nephew's too good to him.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Pete," Tony says gently. "You really helped me out, okay? And– ah… Was that your… first time doing something like that…?"

Peter flushes and his lips press into a displeased line.

"Was it obvious…?" Peter mumbles, looking away.

To Tony, it had been but he's not gonna say that.

"Only cause I've been around," Tony says offhandedly. "But there's nothing to be sorry about, Pete. If anything, I'm sorry that I wasn't in better control."

"You were fine, Uncle Tony!" Peter protests, "And besides, you shouldn't be doing anything strenuous so really, I should be the one to, um, take care of all of that."

Tony wants to argue, of course, especially given the circumstance but he knows he's unlikely to win. And maybe… maybe, he doesn't want to win in this one.

So instead, he hums in acknowledgment.

Peter's hand creeps up his chest as the boy curls against his side.

"Did it feel good though…?" he asks quietly, hopefully. "I can do it better next time."

Next time… Tony's mind latches onto the words and even worse, his traitorous body floods with excitement.

"It was amazing, kid," Tony confesses. He turns just enough to kiss the top of Peter's head. "You did good, sweetheart… So good…"

That sweet smile that Tony has come to love so much spreads across his nephew's face. Peter practically glows with pleasure, a pleased little smile on his face. Tony practically melts in the face of it.

"You know, in things like things, I'd really want to return the favor if that's something you want, too," Tony says then before Peter can protest, he adds, "I can do other stuff that won't hurt my hands."

The boy looks perplexed for a moment but then his face brightens as he considers the proposal. There's something he wants and Tony would give him anything and everything.

"Kiss…?" Peter asks softly. "Can we do that…?"

The question surprises the older man. Peter has just given him one of the most mind-blowing orgasms Tony has ever had and his sweet boy is asking for a kiss…

"Of course, angel," Tony replies easily.

When he goes to lean down for a kiss, he can't help smiling at how Peter's eyes drift closed and his lips make the slightest little pucker.

Their lips touch, a gentle and chaste kiss but when he pulls away, Peter's eyes open and there's a quiet wonder in them.

"Wow…" Peter breathes. "Again? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony chuckles in response but instead of answering, he just presses in for another kiss and another and another… Until they're both lost in one another.

 ---

Because of what happened, there are drastic changes but some things also stay the same.

Tony tries to be the good, responsible adult he's always worked to be but Peter won't let things go back to how they were.

"Helping" his Uncle Tony feel good becomes an imperative task to the boy.

Tony protests at first. He feels like he has to put an end to it but little by little, those objections become half-hearted attempts that fade into drawn out moans of appreciation.

Whenever he looks down at Peter between his legs, he thinks, 'fuck, I'm going to hell…' but then another thought kicks in. It may be very much worth it when he has his angel of a nephew sucking him off. Those pretty pink lips… They feel so soft and warm and perfect on his cock…

The moment his resolve broke entirely is the first time he guides Peter into getting off. He can't stand the thought of being the only person feeling good. It's even worse when the boy would squirm on his knees, shyly pressing the heel of his hand against his own little problem.

Nope, Tony isn't having it.

Peter's cute little face is flaming red and Tony knows that he badly wants to flee to the bathroom to take care of himself.

"C'mere, kid," Tony breathes.

Peter shuffles closer and then gasps when Tony slots his leg between his. Tony's knee bumps against the boy's hand, pushing it against his covered erection.

"When my hands heal up," Tony starts to say, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, Pete. Gonna touch your pretty little cock and make you come for me."

The boy whimpers, a soft, pleading sound, but his wide eyes flutter in pleasure. His mouth trembles, a clear indication of how Tony's words affect him.

"But for now…" Tony nudges his leg closer and in response, Peter's hip jerks forward. "Move your hand, Pete… Let me feel it."

"Uncle Tony… That's…" His sweet innocent nephew has had Tony's cock in his mouth on multiple occasions but he still can't say such dirty things. It makes Tony feel so bad that he wants to dirty him up.

"It'll feel good, angel," Tony promises him, "for both of us. I'll make me feel really good to know you're getting something outta this, too."

Peter's eyelids flutter as he considers it. It doesn't take him long to decide either.his nephew is a good kid but the promise of pleasure convinces him.

"Should I take it out?" Peter asks hesitatingly. The very tips of his ears turn bright red, an adorable reaction.

The possibility crosses his mind, an image of Peter creaming his pants if he chooses not to take it out.

Tony's mouth goes dry.

"If you want to," Tony encourages instead of outright saying yes like he wants to. "Don't want you to chafe against your jeans or anything."

The boy bites down on his bottom lip before nodding thoughtfully.

"It's not as big as yours," Peter says as though warning Tony. It's cute that he even thinks that that would matter to Tony.

Regardless, Peter unbuckles his belt and tugs his jeans down though he has to wiggle a little to get them down his thighs.

Tony gets a glimpse of the tent his boxers make before he tugs those down too. His hand shyly covers his erection, glimpse of pink flesh between his fingers before he reveals himself.

"Oh, you're perfect, sweetheart," Tony promises.

Peter's cock is indeed smaller than Tony's but it fits his boy well. It's just as dainty as the rest of his body, perfectly proportionate to the more slender build he has.

His nephew blushes adorably as he circles the girth of his cock with his hand. He gives half-hearted strokes as though unsure of what to do now that they've reached this point.

Tony gladly takes the reins.

"I want you to press close to my leg," Tony instructs gently, "Just like before, Pete. Since I can't do it for you… Just listen to my voice, alright, angel?"

The blush on his cheeks may as well be a permanent fixture. Tony hopes Peter never loses this endearing quality, so shy and eager for his uncle's touch.

Peter leans closer, his hands resting on Tony's leg.

"Ah…" the soft exhale gives away the moment Peter's cock comes in contact with Tony's leg. Besides that, the older man feels it, hard and so hot even though his pants.

"Move for me, baby," Tony tells him. "Just like earlier… You can rub against me, I don't mind…"

His leg muscles flex as he nudges his leg closer.

"O-okay, I'll try…" Peter mumbles, peeking at his uncle with darkening eyes.

His hips start to move. At first, the movements are barely noticeable. Even when Tony feels that hard outline brush against him, it's still so faint. He lets Peter take his time though, just watching the boy slowly lose his inhibition.

"Mm…" that first soft moan is a victory to the older man even when Peter tries to clamp his mouth shut.

Their eyes meet and the boy shudders, dark, thick lashes threatening to cut their connection. Peter holds on though they tremble. His mouth looks soft, lips parted around an O of pleasure.

"That's it, baby…" Tony encourages the boy when his hips start to move. "Feels good rubbing against me, right? Even if I can't touch you… Can't jerk you off, you like me seeing you like this…"

"I… I do…" His nephew answers in a soft whisper as though it's a secret between them. "It feels… feels good…"

His hips start to really move and Tony can feel his nephew's cockhead grazing up and down his leg. Peter's still too shy.

"Good, sweetheart… That's good…" Tony doesn't push. "Wanna make my best boy feel so good…"

More pleasure causes the boy's expression to slacken but his grip on Tony's leg tightens. It isn't long before he starts to lean against his uncle.

Tony then takes the opportunity to press forward.

"O-Oh!" The cry of pleasure that Peter makes and the harsh jerk of his hip is worth Tony playing dirty.

He expects Peter to pull away but perhaps his nephew has been wanting this much longer than he initially knew. Once Peter feels that delicious friction against his cock, it's like his hips glue themselves to Tony's leg.

It's all there on his face, naked and exposed. Pleasure and need.

He presses in tight, his cock a firm solid line of heat against the older man.

"There you go…" Tony almost coos to the boy. "That feels better, doesn't it, Pete?"

His own cock starts to thicken in his pants again. He's amazed by how quickly he's recovered. That's the effect Peter had on him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter whimpers softly. There's a desperate edge there as he clings to Tony's knee. The older man recognizes it well.

"Go on, baby," Tony encourages hungrily, "Keep going, keep rubbing against me… Wanna make you feel good too, Pete."

Peter can't seem to keep his eyes open so they're squeezed shut. His pretty mouth, though, is parted, letting out the breathless little moans that have Tony's ears straining for each one.

His hips jump in desperate jerks as he chases after his pleasure and Tony's voice guides him along the way.

Tony knows the moment Peter's right at the edge. His nephew's face is flushed, sweat-damp curls sticking to the sides of his face. Honey brown eyes look at him through barely there slits.

The older man just wants to eat him up, especially when Peter starts to say his name in that breathless needy tone.

"Uncle T-Tony… Uncle Tonyy… 'm gonna…" Peter mewls. His brows are scrunched up in the middle, mouth trembling.

Tony wants to sink his hands in Peter's hair and just haul him for a kiss. He can't though– such a shame.

"A-ah…" Peter comes with a soft cry, eyes squeezed shut, and body shuddering violently.

There's a rush of warmth when his cum spurts messily over Tony's leg but the older man just continues to murmur soft praises about how beautiful Peter looks, how gorgeous and good his sweet nephew is.

Peter shudders one more time, his cheek pressed against Tony's knee. Tony hears the boy's harsh breathing but ends up sucking in sharply when Peter's hand slides up and between his legs.

His fingertips bump against Tony's half-hard cock upon finding out his uncle's predicament, Peter looks up at him with pink cheeks. His eyes are at half-mast, the most enticing bedroom eyes that Tony's ever seen.

It kills him that Peter's probably unaware of just what it does to him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter murmurs as he nuzzles against any part of his uncle he can reach. "You're hard again…"

Tony swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

"Yeah…" he doesn't deny it, "Watching you, Pete… God, you don't even know what you do to me, do you…?"

A sweet smile pulls at Peter's lips and his touch grows firmer as he runs his fingers over Tony's swelling length.

"I'm just me, Uncle Tony…" he says like he thinks Tony's just being nice. "Want me to help you again…?"

"I'm not gonna say no…" Tony chuckles then leans back when Peter shuffles closer.

Getting hard so soon after having Peter's mouth is something that hasn't happened before. But then again, he hasn't had his sexy nephew rubbing against him before either.

Peter's mouth closes around his cock and Tony groans at the feeling of his tongue swirling around his cockhead. He leans back and watches, enjoying the sight of his nephew's pretty lips stretched around his cock.

That tiny nagging thought that this was wrong has all but disappeared. Peter's gaze locks with his own as he seeks approval and Tony gives it happily.

"Good boy… Such a good boy…" Tony sighs.

He'll find more ways to return the favor.

 ---

Week two edging into week three.

They've just returned from his doctor's and Dr. Cho has declared that his hands are healing up nicely. She says it with surprise as though she had expected Tony to come in with a sheepish grin, hands banged up and in worse condition than she left it.

Of course, Tony attributes the progress to his blushing nephew and she nods in understanding. He introduces his nephew to her as his amazing little helper. Peter blushes at the praise but Tony can tell he's happy about it. He listens even more closely to Dr. Cho's advice and tips for recovery than Tony does.

It's progress but she also says that it may take a few more weeks. Tony reassures her that he's in good hands.

When they get back to the penthouse, Peter disappears into the guest room that he's claimed his own when he first arrived. He barely uses it now, preferring to stay in Tony's bed, but most of his stuff is still there.

There's a report waiting for Tony in his email so he lets the boy be.

Around dinner time, he seeks him out to find out what Peter's craving for.

The door to Peter's room is cracked open but Tony still doesn't want to just walk in and possibly startle the boy.

"Pete?" He calls out. "I'm feeling for some burgers, what do you think…?"

He nudges the door open and his jaw almost drops.

"Uncle Tony–" Peter's face is flushed in that adorable pink shade that Tony's come to love and this time, yeah– it's appropriate.

His nephew is shirtless and bent over the side of the bed, those sinfully tight jeans of his pooled around his ankles. He's reaching back awkwardly and Tony follows the length of his arm down… down… where the boy has two fingers nudging into his little hole.

"Am I interrupting?" Tony asks dryly. He shuts the door behind him even though they're the only ones in the penthouse.

"Um, no," Peter mumbles shyly as he straightens up, "I was kinda hoping you'd come in sooner actually."

"Were you now…" Tony says as he walks towards him. It feels like there's a hook pulling him closer and he's unable to resist.

He takes in his nephew's lean form, eyes going from top to bottom and making a show of it. Peter's gotten bolder and more daring in the time they've spent together so if he's inviting his uncle to take a look at him, Tony will.

The older man has come to know Peter's body almost as well as his own. Even then, Peter still takes his breath away every time, especially when he's like this.

His nephew is just the perfect twink. He has a slender build with just enough muscle on his arms and legs that it hints at strength. Not to mention his skin, paler than Tony's, just takes on such pretty color when he's aroused.

Tony watches as the flush deepens when Peter sees him looking. It crawls down his neck, sweeps across his collar bones, and makes it midway down his chest where his pink nipples stand peaked.

His half-hard cock bobs in the air between soft thighs and Tony's mouth waters with the need to suck on it just to hear the boy cry.

"I looked up how to do this…" Peter admits coyly, calling Tony's attention, "But I was thinking that maybe you can help? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony's ready to jump right in but there's a hunch tickling the back of his mind.

"What brought this on?" He decides to ask.

His nephew gives him that sweet smile that Tony knows he can't resist.

"I, ah, just figured you'd like this better?" Peter says. "I know I've gotten better with my mouth… But this would be better, right?"

"Oh, sweetie," Tony murmurs. "You don't gotta do that for me."

Peter's sweet smile turns into a pout. He kicks his jeans off in a blatant disregard for them and then completely naked, he presses in close to his uncle.

"But I want to," Peter says stubbornly. "Wanted to make you feel even better, Uncle Tony. And since Dr. Cho said your hands are doing better, I thought maybe we could celebrate…?"

Those sneaky, greedy hands of his rest against Tony's chest then start to slide down. It's done in such a teasing manner that Tony wonders where his sweet, innocent nephew learned such a thing. It tugs at all of Tony's desires, his nephew's familiar touch eliciting such a keen response.

"I heard it could feel really good…" Peter murmurs. His face tips up, lips just begging to be kissed. "Can't you show me, Uncle Tony?"

"Fuck, kid…" Tony gasps when Peter starts to touch his cock. "Didn't need much convincing before, don't think I need it now either but I like it when you try."

The bright smile Peter gives him says he knows just how hard Tony finds it to say no to him. In this case, it was never even a possibility.

"Wanna show me what you were trying so far?" Tony prompts even when he lightly presses Peter's hand down harder on his cock.

Just as expected, Peter's hand slips away when Tony shows the slightest inclination to use his hands. The kid's concern for him is too much sometimes even when it has Tony feeling so warm from the inside.

"I can do that," Peter says. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to Tony's lips before turning back to the bed.

Just like before, he positions himself so he's bent over. Tony gets the perfect view, his nephew's bare back presented to him with its adorable scatter of freckles. And further down, past his slim waist, a perfect peach just begging to be grabbed and squeezed.

He has to swallow the lump in his throat when the boy reaches back and pulls his cheeks apart to reveal a glistening pink hole.

"Christ, kid…" Tony breathes, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to give me a heart attack."

"Uncle Tony…" Peter protests and wiggles in place.

Tony only groans at that and comes closer. He wants to touch his nephew so badly… He has to force himself not to reach out and just do it.

"What were you using?" he says to distract himself.

"I, uh, took some of the vegetable oil when I first tried…" Peter admits, shyly, "But, um, this time, I took one of the lubricant bottles you had in the nightstand? I hope you don't mind…"

Tony wants to shake his head at the vegetable oil comment but he's glad Peter isn't using it anymore. He only wants the best for Peter and he wants the kid to feel good too. Subpar tools, even if they work, just aren't good enough for his boy.

"Not at all," Tony says reassuringly, "it's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely better," Peter agrees breathlessly. One hand inches closer to his glistening hole. "Wanna see, Uncle Tony?"

His cock wants him to do more than just observe but Tony knows that waiting is worth it, especially if he gets to see Peter playing with himself.

He licks his lips.

"Yeah, baby, show me what you were doing…" Tony says. His voice drops to a low, intimate murmur.

His nephew, excited and so eager to please, squirms in place. Maybe even rubs his hard cock against the bedsheets.

"The stuff I read said to go slow," Peter says as he starts to nudge a finger in. "Go slow and use lots of lube."

Tony hums in agreement as his nephew starts to dip his finger in and out. He watches hungrily as that single finger pushes in smoothly. The boy's tight little rim clamps down, basically clinging to the small intrusion before Peter slips it back out. It's the worst kind of tease, watching his beautiful boy's body begging to be filled.

"One finger feels okay… Two is…" Peter cuts off with a hitched gasp as he adds another.

"Tight…?" Tony suggests.

"Mm… ah… y-yeah…" his nephew groans.

Tony comes even closer and lays a hand on Peter's trembling flank.

"Uncle Tony–"

"Shh," Tony soothes the boy, "Just touching you, kid, not gonna try to press hard or anything."

Peter's skin is warm beneath his fingertips, but he longs to feel the jump of muscles under his palms. Later, he tells himself.

The boy settles down, grudgingly accepting that Tony is being careful. Maybe part of it is that he wants his uncle to touch him as much as Tony wants to.

"Breathe, sweetheart," Tony instructs, "Breathe and relax… Bear down when you push in and it'll help."

The boy obeys beautifully, those slim fingers nudging in slowly when he inhales. A soft whimper escapes him when he does it.

"Don't rush it," Tony gently tells him. "You gotta work for it, Pete. Get your hole used to being stretched like this."

He knows what it's like being an overeager teen, knows that there's been a hunger in his nephew every time he's handled Tony's cock. How long Peter's wanted him, perhaps Tony will never know.

"That's it, kid," Tony encourages when Peter's body relaxes, melting into the bed. "You're gonna have to put another one… Gotta stretch yourself good for my cock. Your fingers are so small compared to what you want… You do want my cock in you, don't you, Pete?"

The boy shudders and whimpers, wrist flexing and fingers pumping faster at Tony's words.

"I do, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans, "Want you to put it in me…"

Tony caresses the boy's side soothingly, still light enough that Peter doesn't protest. Not only that, but the boy actually arches into his touch with a soft moan.

"I will," Tony promises, "as long as you're ready for me."

His cock throbs in his pants and he's tempted to ask Peter to help him out of them. But his nephew looks so caught up in the moment, eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he works himself loose for Tony.

Tony sneaks a hand to the band of his sweatpants and nudges it down. He hasn't bothered to wear underwear since Peter's been so greedy for his cock so his sweatpants are the only obstacle.

"One more finger, baby," Tony says soothingly, "One more then–" he presses his cock, blood warm and so hard, against the boy's ass and Peter's eyes fly open at the touch.

"Oh–!" He leans up to get a look and his eyes lock on the older man's cock.

Tony, himself, loves the view. His cock is ready, swollen to an intimidating size with prominent veins decorating the length. His cockhead, a deeper color than the rest of him, is already damp at the slit.

With Peter's eyes on him, Tony nudges his cock forward toward the boy's fingers stretching his hole apart. The cockhead bumps against them and his breath hitches in his throat.

"Oh, God…" Tony hears Peter moan.

Those slim fingers retract, leaving Peter's pink hole to close around nothing. It looks so desperate, lubed up and ready to be fucked but not quite yet.

Even so, Tony takes the opportunity to rub his cock right there, his sensitive tip brushing against Peter's equally sensitive hole. The boy shudders and he even rocks back, trying to get his uncle's cock to slip into him.

But Tony makes sure that besides teasing them both, his cock doesn't press in.

"One more, kid," Tony reminds him. He reaches over and nudges the lube towards Peter. "Add more, too. You'll need a lot more if you want my cock inside you."

A soft whine is all Tony gets but Peter hastily obeys because he knows Tony's won't continue if he doesn't. The cap is popped off and more lube is added to the boy's wet fingers. It's probably more than he actually needs but Tony isn't going to call him out on it.

"Good boy…" Tony murmurs when Peter returns to the task.

He presses three fingers to that soft little hole. The excess lube drips down and Tony catches it with the tip of his cock. While Peter starts to finger himself, Tony lightly spreads the excess lube along his length. He wants to be ready for the boy, too.

His breathing is harsh but Peter's is even more evident. The boy is moaning, eyes watching his uncle while he gets used to the stretch.

He has three fingers nudged in now. The skin around his hole is rosy and wet as he works his fingers in and out slowly. Soft, sloppy sounds combine with his moans and Tony decides to add to it.

"See, I knew you could take it, baby," Tony praises him, "Three fingers… Almost ready for me..."

"'m ready… So ready, Uncle Tony," Peter swears, cheeks red and hips rocking.

His fingers push in deeper, past the second knuckle, and his entire body shudders. He's trying so hard to show Tony that he can take it.

"I know, baby… I know," Tony murmurs softly. "Take em out, Pete. Gonna put my cock inside now."

A soft exhale then a soft moan as Peter extracts his fingers. "Ah…"

The pink little hole, worked open to accommodate his cock, slowly closes but in those few seconds, Tony can imagine what his nephew would look like with a gape. He just wants the use of his hands so that he can spread the boy apart with his thumbs and just tease him there with his cock until neither of them can take it anymore.

"God, Pete… The things you do to me…" Tony groans when he presses his cock right against that wet hungry hole. "Wanna just… do really bad things to you, Pete… Wanna fuck this tight hole of yours until you're loose and dripping with me… Wanna make you mine..."

The boy whines and rocks against him. This time, Tony doesn't pull away. He groans when he feels the inviting heat of Peter's hole slowly opening around his glans. So warm and tight…

"You can, Uncle Tony," Peter pants, "if you want to… I want it too, please…"

Tony breathes in harshly then slowly starts to sink in.

Despite Peter's efforts, the sheer size of Tony's cock is still so much to take for someone as inexperienced as his nephew. Peter gasps and his hand clenches in the sheets, hips instinctively pulling away from the penetration.

It's still just the tip but Tony pauses anyway.

"Keep going…?" Tony gives Peter the option to tap out but the boy shakes his head adamantly. Those endearing brown curls bounce as he rejects the very idea.

"N-No!" Peter's voice shakes and his entire body trembles. "I-It's a lot…"

More deep breaths but Tony could see the boy trying to relax.

Tony leans down so his chest presses lightly against Peter's back. Gently, he slips a hand around the boy's hip and between his legs.

He finds Peter's hard cock and gently rubs it, up and down, with his fingers. The cast makes the movement clumsy and it takes away from Tony feeling the warm, heavy weight but it does the job.

Peter whines and grows restless beneath him, body tight with growing pleasure but also softer and more welcoming.

"More, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans. He reaches back, tries to spread himself open with one hand for the older man.

It's too tempting to resist… Tony nips the boy's shoulder before he straightens himself. His hands aren't healed enough to carry the weight of his body and he's not chancing the possibility that they have to stop because he hurt himself again.

His cock sinks in slowly. Inch by inch, he works his erection into the boy's body with short, gentle thrusts. He has to, for his sake and Peter's.

The boy is so tight around him and everything about it is too much… It's not just the sensation either, though the heat and pressure around him are enough to leave him breathless.

It's the fact that it's Peter. It's his nephew that's making him feel good. The boy's moans are what's making Tony unravel, those soft whimpers and the eager, almost desperate way that his body silently begs for more.

When he gets that last inch inside, they're both panting with exertion. Peter's knuckles are white where they're curled in his sheets but everything else about him is full of color.

The tips of his ears are red, his lips, a trembling pink, and his shoulders… Down to where that pink little hole, stretched so tightly around his cock.. That, too, is such a rosy color and Tony's barely even put it to use...

Tony runs a hand down the boy's trembling back and Peter melts into the touch.

"Too much, sweetheart?" Tony asks. His voice is strained, his entire body is struggling not to just fall into instinct.

"'m okay," Peter whimpers, "m okay…"

Despite saying so, Tony gives him as much time to adjust as he can. It's only when the boy becomes restless once more that Tony starts to move.

When he does, he intentionally seeks out that sweet spot in Peter's body.

One of the reasons why he hates not being able to touch Peter is because he couldn't stimulate that spot inside him. He couldn't show Peter all those sensitive areas that could have pleasure bursting like fireworks.

He intends to do that now.

Every push in and every pull out threatens his control but he grits his teeth and bears it. Peter moves with him, clumsy and unrefined, just trying to fall into the rhythm that Tony sets. Tony guides him into it with a hand lightly set on his hip.

His fingers itch to press down but Tony focuses on his initial task.

Peter is just so receptive, so eager for this… He moans and cries out with every thrust but Tony knows when he finds his sweet spot. With his hips angled just right, Peter's entire body jolts when Tony's cock brushes right there where he needs it.

"Mm!" The boy cries out. His hips push back harshly, chasing after that shock of pleasure.

"There it is…" Tony groans and aims for it again and again. "Found your sweet spot, Pete."

"U-Uncle Tony…!" Peter cries out. More words try to come out but all he can manage is a jumble of moans and whimpers.

The moans that come out of the boy are on a whole other level. They're high pitched with shock and it melts into drawn out whines even as he pushes back desperately.

Tony gives it to him just like he wants, just like they both want. Their bodies fall into a perfect rhythm, Peter pushing back while Tony fucks forward.

Pleasure is shared between them in a continuous loop, strengthening with each pass. It's not sustainable though and Tony feels it the moment Peter comes from being fucked.

That tight, warm space he's made for himself in Peter's body just clenches down so viciously that Tony's thrusting aborts. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries not to blow his load right then and there.

"Oh– oh, fuck, Pete…" Tony grunts. "You coming, baby…? Fuck–"

Peter whimpers beneath him and when Tony's hand slips between his legs, he finds wetness on the sheets and dripping down his thighs.

"You, too–" Peter groans once he's regained speech, body clenching down and massaging Tony's cock. "Please, Uncle Tony… Want you to finish, too…"

Tony hissed but he starts up again with harsh thrusts that have his hips slapping against Peter's ass. He isn't going to last long, especially now that he knows Peter's already come.

Sweat drips down from his hairline and the older man grunts in exertion. Peter just lays there, his entire body willing and accepting every thrust.

And then, just like before, he reaches back and spreads his cheeks apart for his uncle. Tony gets the perfect view of his cock stretching that pink hole apart…

"Come in me, Uncle Tony," Peter begs softly. "Please, Uncle Tony, wanna feel it… Wanna feel you come inside…"

"Pete– Oh, fuck, Pete…!" It's enough to push Tony over the edge.

He buries his cock right to the root and his balls press tight as he starts to unload inside his sweet, begging nephew.

He groans in completion and it's accompanied by Peter's soft whimpers as he's being filled. The pleasure overwhelms him and it's so good that it almost hurts.

He doesn't know if it's intentional or not, but Peter's tight walls milking his cock becomes too much. He's too sensitive in the aftermath.

Tony pulls out with a hiss then groans when his cum comes spilling out and drips down in thick trails.

Immediately, Peter's fingers are there, so curious and tracing over his used hole and Tony's cum seeping out of it. The look in his eyes is full of wonder and somehow, still so hungry when he looks at Tony.

And God help him, Tony can't resist him. Doesn't even want to.

He's still panting and coming down from his high when he says, "C'mere, sweetheart."

Peter goes eagerly, arms wrapping around Tony's body and face tipped up with a pleased smile.

"Was that good, Uncle Tony?" Peter asks sweetly. There isn't even a hint of insecurity in his voice, he knows his uncle so well now.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter's waist, pulling him close and kissing those irresistible lips.

"The best, Pete, the best," Tony tells him. "You always take such good care of me…"

The boy nuzzles close, so affectionate, so perfect.

"Always will, Uncle Tony," Peter promises and Tony knows he means it.

There's no stopping what they have now.

#starker #starkercest #madstarker writes #coffee for mads #nff #uncle tony

[phantom-curve]

Mads I have to be annoying and send you another one of those prompts 😂 Platonic Alex & Reggie with "liberosis - the desire to care less about things"!

this was not the first prompt you sent in, but I had way too much fun exploring this dynamic and I couldn't resist doing this one before the others! set in the gimme a chance AU, please enjoy this deleted scene that takes place after chapter 4 ft. Alex and Reggie being completely Over It™️

liberosis - the desire to care less about things (Rated T+ for language and some slightly suggestive wording about Luke and Julie's relationship)

“Okay so like, we’re in agreement that this is just a weird thing we’re not gonna talk about, right?”

It was late. Alex had stumbled home from work completely drained and exhausted around 10 pm and Reggie had apparently been waiting up to have this conversation, work clothes still on, fingers restless as they twisted together in front of his body where he sat propped up against the couch, TV turned low and forgotten behind him. For a second, Alex wasn’t exactly sure what Reggie was talking about. And then he remembered it was Sunday. Which meant yesterday had been Saturday. And all of the stupid Luke drama he had been trying to ignore came flooding back.

“No, we’re not gonna talk about it,” Alex said firmly, meeting Reggie’s concerned gaze with a look that he hoped translated into I will literally talk about anything else but this right now. “Total radio silence as far as I’m concerned.”

“Cool, okay. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Reggie’s head dipped and bobbed as he nodded his agreement. Alex let out a sigh of relief as he hunched over to slip his work shoes off and stack them on the rack by the front door. Then, the air seemed to grow thick with some sort of unspoken tension. Alex felt it press against him like an old, uncomfortable sweater, itchy and oppressive against his chest. When he straightened once more, Reggie was waiting to meet his gaze head on. Clearly, they were gonna talk about it.

“I’m not alone in thinking it’s like...kinda weird, right?”

Alex sighed, the action bone deep and heavy in a way that only Luke’s shenanigans could make him feel. Reggie wasn’t wrong. It was kinda weird that Luke had been hiding this whole Julie thing from them. It was kinda weird that Luke had managed to pull it off at all, actually. The boy was not known for his subtlety. He had very clearly struck out with Julie the first time around, and yet somehow, he had managed to draw her back in. Alex could tell by the way Luke had stuttered and stammered over the whole thing the night before that he had been trying to keep it lowkey. As if that boy even knew the meaning of the word. Case in point: he hadn’t been able to play it cool for 5 seconds once she had started ignoring him.

“Yeah, Reg, it’s definitely kinda weird.”

“Oh, good, I’m really glad I’m not the only one who feels that way about it. Ya know, when I first figured it out, I was like, ‘okay maybe it’s just a one-time thing.’ But it’s not a one-time thing. Definitely not. And I just like...don’t understand why he isn’t talking about it? Why is he trying to pretend its no big deal? It’s obviously a big deal.”

Alex desperately wished he could go back in time and take Willie up on his offer to spend the night tonight if only to be able to avoid this uncomfortable word vomit that Reggie didn’t seem capable of stopping. If there was ever a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened, it was this one, focused on Luke’s love life and his interactions with Julie, and what all of that meant in the grand scheme of things. Alex did not have the time or patience to truly get into this right now, he really didn’t. Except Reggie was looking at him so expectantly, as if Alex would reach into his fanny pack and pull out a booklet of answers, and so he also couldn’t just leave the poor guy to obsess alone.

“Okay, so we’re gonna do this, yeah? We’re gonna talk about it? Lemme...lemme just like get some sweats on and make some dinner, okay?”

Reggie let out a deep breath that Alex hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you need, Lex.”

Alex didn’t dawdle. This was not a conversation that was going to go away or be dismissed. Reggie needed to talk it out, and honestly, now that he thought about it, Alex kind of did, too. And not to someone like Willie who would grin and say, “can’t stop true love hot dog, gotta let them ride that wave and figure out if they’re gonna sink or swim on their own” and act all blasé about it. He needed to talk about it with someone like Reggie who, just like Alex, was in the unique position of being friends with Flynn and Carrie (which meant knowing just enough about Julie to have an idea of exactly why she would be so appealing to Luke) as well as being one of Luke’s brothers (which meant knowing him better than he knew himself sometimes). Together, they might be able to figure out if the two would be like oil and water or more like fire and gasoline. Reggie was the only person who could have that kind of discussion with him, so yeah, they were doing this.

Alex made quick work of cleaning off in the shower and switching his work clothes for sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Reggie was still waiting on the couch, staring at the tv but not actually watching whatever was playing out on the 32-inch screen. He had managed to change out of his clothes and into some Star Wars themed pajamas though. Alex skirted around the couch edge so he could press a quick, reassuring hand against Reggie’s scalp as he made his way into the kitchen. Reggie’s eyes moved away from the screen to track his movements. Alex might be the one with anxiety, but Reggie needed more reassurance when it came to things that might end with his family falling apart in one way or another. Alex wasn’t about to let him get so worked up that he convinced himself this would be catalyst that ruined everything.

“Honestly, Reg, what are we even supposed to do here? You know he’s gonna keep seeing her no matter what we say.”

Alex tried to open the conversation gently, eyes fixed on his bowl as it revolved in circles inside the microwave. Reggie didn’t answer at first, not until the beep of Alex’s food being finished rang out in the small apartment. When he did speak, he sounded partly apologetic and partly resigned.

“I don’t know. I know I probably should have said something after last week but...he just seemed so happy. I didn’t wanna mess it up for him. But last night was weird and it didn’t feel good. I’m worried Luke’s on a one-way path to destruction and I don’t know if it’s gonna be because of Julie or because of Flynn.”

Alex tried not to let his face fall into his freshly warmed bowl of pasta as he pulled it from the microwave. He really, really did not want to think about the ways that Flynn would rip Luke to shreds when she found out what had been going on behind her back. He had learned two things about the pint-sized firecracker in the year or so that he had known her: don’t mess with Carrie and don’t mess with Julie. Luke had already kinda fucked up on one of those counts. He wasn’t super thrilled thinking about what her reaction might be when she discovered he had been messing around with the second one, and in a much bigger way, too. He turned to face Reggie, forced himself to soften his own anxiety when he caught sight of the nerves etched out in harsh lines across the bassist’s forehead. Deep breath in, deep breath out just like his therapist had taught him.

“Flynn is gonna react however she’s gonna react. We can’t control that. She’s gonna have Julie’s back no matter what so all we can do is watch out for Luke.”

Reggie was nodding along in agreement, features smoothing out now that there was something of a plan for him to follow. Alex swung himself onto a barstool, bowl in front of him as his mind turned over and over all the millions of ways this thing between Julie and Luke could go south. Reggie moved off of the couch, hesitating for just a moment before he walked over to lean against the island in the kitchen where Alex was doing his best not to spiral.

“I think he likes her. Like...like likes her.”

Reggie’s voice was quiet, like he was sharing some secret he had been sworn to silence over. Alex turned to look at him again, not entirely sure he wanted to believe it.

“Dude, we’re not in middle school. You hook up with people all the time and it never means more than a night of shared passion. Luke can do the same thing.”

The look Reggie leveled his way was nothing short of disbelieving, eyebrows raised so high they had practically disappeared into his hairline. Alex kinda had to hand it to him there. He didn’t really believe Luke actually could pull off a casual relationship, especially not with a girl like Julie who probably set every single one of his musical nerve endings on high alert. Reggie and Luke weren’t the same in that manner. Reggie wanted to give love and receive it in turn without any reservations or worries about the intent behind it. Just two people meeting in a mutually beneficial exchange and then moving on with their lives to find that again with someone else. Luke’s love was deliberate, a commitment. There was no way whatever he was doing was casual.

“Okay, okay. Put the eyebrows away already.”

Reggie’s face relaxed into something less concerned and more exhausted. Alex felt that all the way to the depths of his soul. Generally speaking, Luke was pretty exhausting. And he was even more exhausting when he wasn’t taking care of himself in order to take care of someone else, in this case: Julie. Alex scooped up his bowl of pasta and tucked an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, guiding both of them to the couch. The tv was still playing something Alex couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, but the low hum of voices in the background made the apartment feel a little less cold and quiet. Alex shoveled a bite of pasta into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately before he turned to face Reggie once more.

“Look, we don’t actually have any control over any of this shit. We know how Luke is, and we kinda know what’s up with Julie, but we can’t stop them from interacting or scare them off from each other. As much as it sucks, I think we gotta just ride this one out. And if Luke gets hurt, we’ll be here to patch him up and love him through it.”

Alex blinked in surprise, not actually sure those words had just come out of his mouth. By the way Reggie was studying him, he wasn’t sure the other boy could believe it either. Then, Reggie’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Willie’s been rubbing off on you. All that therapy and go with the flow shit. You’re like a whole new drummer boy.”

Alex guffawed and reached over to shove Reggie playfully, being sure to keep his now empty bowl clear of the scuffle. Reggie ducked around his outstretched arm, sneaking under to poke at Alex’s side in a way that had him twisting and nearly falling off the couch.

“Jeez, Uncle, Uncle! Fuckin hell, man, no need to go straight for the tickle spots.”

Reggie huffed out a laugh, collapsing back into the couch next to Alex. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the canned laughter and predictable lines of the tv show.

“Hey, Lex?”

Alex hummed and rolled his head to meet Reggie’s eyes.

“Do you ever wish you just like...didn’t care so much about everything?”

Alex’s laugh echoed above the sound of the tv. He leaned into Reggie’s side, letting the familiar comfort wash over him.

“All the time, Reg. Literally, all the fucking time.”

#I love these two so much #I also gave you a little more backstory on why Flynn hates Luke #look at me building up backstories and details literally who am I?? #mads writes #gimme a chance #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #reggie peters

[fearixfox]

jxjdskdnsk the gambling one shot you made was so cute! it reminded me of my mc sm. and cause of that can i request mammon with an mc whos parents regulate some of the biggest casinos? and mc is the next hier to a powerful mafia? pretty please :D

I had a lot of fun with this one and I’m sorry it took so long! It was a lot shorter but it just kept building so it took a while. https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLde0UQUs-l0KJ29TSCYYGjcrrGBkOjR7P  This is a playlist that I used for some scenes. Thank you for the ask <3

“Wanna go?” You tease as you poke Mammon’s cheek.  “I mean, I-” He lets out a sigh. “I should go to keep an eye on you. I am your first anyway.” “First pact,” you correct him with a giggle. “I know Lucifer said he would go with me and you can’t defy him but I can. So, let’s go?”

Lord Diavolo has given you an extremely special present for your birthday. A weekend out in the human world. The only regulation is that a demon brother has to accompany you. The demons jumped on the opportunity immediately but you already had your heart set on a little avatar of greed. 

You say your goodbyes to the other brothers and thank Diavolo. “Make sure you’re back before midnight on Sunday. You still have your lessons to take care of,” he says with a smile. You nod to him and look over to Mammon who was being scolded by Lucifer. He nods and gives you a nervous smile that makes your stomach jump. “Jump in when you’re ready. It will take you wherever you want to be.” Diavolo said gesturing towards the hole. 

You dash over to Mammon, taking his hand and diving headfirst into the hole. You end up in a penthouse, looking over the vast craziness of New York City. “Brings back memories!” You hum looking out the window. “Um…why’re we in New York?! Is this your place?! You mentioned you lived a quiet life but I would say this isn’t that.” Mammon says with an awestruck look. He was shocked completely.  

“Mammon,” you chuckle at his child-like gaze, “when this present was given to me I saw it more as a chance to have fun than to go back to normal life. I couldn’t think of anything more fun than spending a weekend in the Big Apple, gambling my life savings off with you.” You poke his nose and he blushes, looking away. “The penthouse is a friend’s and I already arranged this trip a while ago. Just for you and me. Is that okay?” You say with pleading eyes. “Y-yeah, I mean of course it’s fine! You have the best gambler in all of the Devildom on your side. Ya won’t lose.” He says with a wink. You squeeze his hand. “Good! Lemme drop my stuff and we can go have some fun.” 

“How’s this look?” You say spinning in an outfit that accentuated your every feature. His eyes went wide and his mind went to other places. “Y/n, we are gambling, not going to-” You put a finger to his lips. “Shush, you are in the land of y/n. Let’s go. ” Mammon was clearly not fond of your garment but little did he know how safe it would keep him.

(Poker Face- Lady Gaga)

You and Mammon enter a casino and walk around the various tables and games. “Oi y/n, are you even good at gambling? I mean you’ve beat me once by luck but you never play at home. Ya sure you’re up for it?” He was clearly trying to keep himself composed at your side but you could tell he was itching to play. You walk over to a  black jack table  “Care to find out?”. As if you said the magic words, Mammon sits down and asks the dealer to put you guys in.

“Oh, do my eyes deceive me or is that the most magnificent ever beautifully cruel y/n?” A man said to the left of you and Mammon. You’ve gotta be kidding me. I didn’t realize it would be this quick. Mammon was ready to retort but you hold his wrist. “Kuroo, it’s been a while. I didn’t realize I had the courtesy to see your smug face.” You give him a fake smile. “Oi y/n, who’s the rooster head? He looks shady.” Mammon says, clearly wary of your relationship with him. 

Well he is the Consigliere somehow but there’s no way you’re going to tell him that. He was your nanny for a good part of your life and your advisor for the rest. You are technically the underboss but in this line of work it's not the greatest. What if he knew. Would he tell? He’s an idiot of course he would. 

You were raised to scare and torture so when you were teleported to hell itself, you weren’t surprised. Living amongst the demons made you feel less corrupted, pure even. You could have a life there when it’s all said and done. You’ve realized how soft you’ve become around the brothers...around Mammon... but now wasn’t the time for that.

“He’s my father’s friend. Think of him as my uncle.” You reassure him. “Ah you wound me y/n, I’m not that old at all. Only two years older than you if I recall.” He states clearly teasing Mammon. You glare at Kuroo. “He’s only trying to get a raise out of you, Mams. You can relax. He’s actually five years older than me, not that it matters.” You give him a gentle smile. “Let’s win.” 

You play through the rounds and your skills are a little rusty but you manage. You bust and it’s now Kuroo against Mammon. Sadly you knew the game, Kuroo already bought the dealer out and within 30 minutes it was a loss. “Ugh y/n, he is your uncle right? Can we get our money back? I can’t believe me the Great Mammon lost to a simple human.” Mammon huffs. You giggle at him “No, we have more money to burn I bet you we can make double what you lost. Just give it some y/n magic.” You smile sweetly at him. Kuroo’s eyes lowered at the sight. 

“Y/n, a word? Your father wanted me to pass on a message.” He says with a tone you know you can’t object. You turn to Mammon, “Hey, I’m going to be a minute can you play roulette for me? I was never good at it and would love some Mammoney luck.” He gave a light laugh at this. “Sure thing but don’t take too long, I’ll drain ya.” He says with your card in hand. 

You move with Kuroo to a room away from prying eyes. Your expression turns cold as soon as you step into the room. “So, what’s Boss want?”  You say clearly not wasting any time. “Oh child is that any way to talk about your old man?” Kuroo teases, his eyes filled with malice. “He’s been worried sick about his second in command, but little did he know they were laying low fuckin around with some low life pretty boy.” 

Kuroo’s words made your blood boil. In a way, he was your own Lucifer, always caring for you with an iron fist. When the time came he did take a bullet for you, but it didn’t make him less irritating. “And? Is that all you had to tell me? You’re managing.” Your expression was as cold as ice. It felt like slipping into a different personality. You couldn’t tell which one you were more. The kind person you were around the brothers or the brutal underboss of this world you were forced into. “Well, I guess you’re right. You must be glad Akaashi is so capable. You disappeared for a few months and the money keeps flowing.” Kuroo sits down with a laugh. 

Now you knew why he was here. You asked Akaashi for the penthouse and he can’t deny Boss. “Still babysitting I see, even though I’m grown.” You give a light laugh. “Well, tell Boss I’ll be away for a while longer and Akaashi can take care of things until then. I’m busy working out some things.” Kuroo’s interest was piqued.

 “Ah I was wondering about the boy. He looks so exotic and youn-” ''You lay a finger on him, you’ll be filled with lead by morning. I don’t give a fuck who you are.” You cut Kuroo off. “I promise, you won’t even be safe in Hell.” Kuroo had never seen you so stern towards him before but enjoyed your wrath. “I’ll pass on the message.” 

You find your white haired demon kicking some ass at roulette and basking in his own glory. Your heart melts at the sight and Mammon notices you. “Y/n! Guess how much we won?” He says waving chips around, giving a goofy smile. “I tripled the amount on your card!” Wait, he bet all of it? “Mams do you know how much money was on the card?” You say in a serious tone. “I hav’ta tell ya I don’t sweat the small stuff. Just be grateful. For the Great Mammon has claimed victory.” He lifts you up and spins you around in glee. You can’t help but smile at him. 

You play a few more games and head out to an expensive restaurant. "Y/n, are you sure you can afford all of this?" He clearly wanted to order the whole menu. "You tripled my card somehow so might as well use it." You smile back at him.  His eyes light up as he looks at the menu, looking forward to the meal. 

(Nana triste-Natalia Lacunza)

A slow song was playing on the dance floor and Mammon looked at you with a want in his eyes. "Care for this dance, my avatar of greed?" You ask for his hand. He blushes and gives it to you. 

"Wait a minute that was backwar-'' You pull him close to you and start dancing. "It's okay Tiger. You're cuter this way." He wants to retort but can only focus on how close your bodies are. 

"Ya know, Lucifer asked me to take care of you. It's like he was handing off his child to a husband. He's so irritating at times. I mean I'm totally reliable. Don't you think Y/n?" He says softly in your ear. You let out a soft laugh. "I think you would make a wonderful husband Mams. Be careful or I may make you mine.” You whisper so close he can feel your breath on his neck. He immediately jumps back. “Like I would ever marry a human even if they’re...they’re...” He trails off. “They’re what Mammon?” You step closer to him again. “Ahhh look, foods here. Let’s eat.” He says immediately retreating. 

You both eat and drink to your heart's content. By the end of the meal, Mammon was a babbling child.  “Ya know you should be more prouda me. I went outta ma way for y/n.” He slurs. “I could’ve let Lucifer take the human like was planned but I secretly begged ta go. Don’t tell, y/n.” He whispers to you. And that’s enough of that. You take away his alcohol and start feeding him water shots. He couldn’t tell the difference. “Ya know, I told y/n I wouldn’t never marry a human but secretly if it was them it wouldn be bad. If it was, maybe I could be happy all the time.” He smiles before immediately falling over. You couldn’t help but look at him fondly. “Me too.” 

You help him into the penthouse and lay him down on your bed. I totally could. I should. No I shouldn’t. You stare at Mammon’s sleeping figure and start unbuttoning his shirt just enough for him to breathe. He was sleeping so soundly that you wish you could stay in that moment forever. “I love you, Mammon.” You whisper and kiss his head. “Always have.” 

You decide to go to the convenience store and get some things to ease his hangover. You see a couple around the sunglasses rack trying all sorts of glasses on, laughing at each other. You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at their simple life. Sadly, nothing ever came easy for you. You bring your supplies back to see an empty bed. “Mammon? Where’d you go buddy?” You examine the bed closely and find a symbol on a small piece of paper. You crumple it and walk briskly out the door.

(Riot - Hollywood Undead)

You were going to kill Kuroo. You meant what you said and did not have to think twice about seeing the floor spattered with his blood. He wanted you home. He didn’t care what it took to get you there. He will cage Mammon up and keep him as a pet and hang it over you if it meant you would take over. It was his job after all. You knew exactly where he would take him. Kuroo would take him to the only person you can’t deny. 

You bust the gates open to the old property to see only soldiers around. “Y/n, long time no see.” Your eyes lower at the sight of Tsukishima. “Where is he?” You sneer. “Oh, whoever are you talking about?” Tsukishima laughs at your angry expression. “Olala, you mean our new mutt. He’s chained up inside like the dog he is. However, you and I have some business.” Soldiers started to surround you. “Boss said to restrain you. As long as we don’t kill you, any way is fine.” You laugh at his statement. “As if, you can.” 

You immediately jump into action and dodge the knives that are flying towards you. Soldier after soldier comes at you with swinging fists and slicing knives. “It’s bad to ruin the merchandise,” you say dealing blow after blow, making sure not to fatally injure them. Tsukishima just watches as you pummel your way to the door not even bothering to stop you himself. “You must really care for this lousy mutt. Too bad you’ll never see him again.” You ignore him and head into the house and see Mammon gagged and chained to a chair. 

“Mmmm! MMMm!” Mammon desperately tried to call your name. He had a bruise on the left side of his face and tears in his eyes. You pay him no heed as you stare at the two men at the table with him. “Ah y/n, how nice of you to join us. I was just telling Boss what great work you’ve been doing and how your loyalty inspires the rest of us.” Kuroo hummed. 

(Body-mother mother)

“Boss, I apologize for not coming sooner. I have much to discuss with you. Beginning with letting that mutt go.” You say dropping on one knee. “I was worried about you, y/n. I expected better and ya let me down.” Boss says with a disappointed tone.

 “I know, but I want you to know I come with good news. I haven’t been goofin off I promise. I wouldn’t do ya that way.” You say desperately trying to sway the conversation. “Hear me out, Father. Please.”  You feel a grip on your head that turns soft as Boss speaks “I always liked ya, y/n. You’ve done good for this family so I’ll give ya a chance.” 

You explain yourself and what you have been doing for the past three months. You leave out parts and accentuate others. Your eyes flicker to Mammon who looks scared to death but continue to keep your cold demeanor. “So father, I hope to expand our casinos to the other realm and expand our influence. Consider it insurance for when you pass.” 

“What a load of shit,” Kuroo begins but Boss holds his hand up. “So why do you need mista pretty boy here?” You give your father a promising look. “He’s the sin of greed himself, we need him if we want the money to flow. Plus he can bleed us dry if we don’t let him go.” Your father looks at him with disgust. “This poser? I’m gonna need you to prove it, kid.” You nod. “Give me five minutes with him and I can prove it to ya.” “You have three.” Boss says motioning his underlings to release him. 

You take him to the bathroom and give him a crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry Mammon. I’m so fucking sorry.” Mammon wasn’t even processing what was going around him and pushed you away. “Who? Where? What in the livin hell is going on y/n?” You put your hands on his shoulders “Look we have a minute I need you to change to your demon form and mess up some dudes under my magic.” Mammon looked absolutely baffled.

 “What? No! I don’t wanna expose my form to roosterhead and that old guy. Plus you don’t have magic.” You push him up against the wall and he can’t help being a bit frightened but also other things.  “Listen Mams, they will kill you and me both if you don’t and Solomon gave me some of his.” You lift up a vial and down it immediately. “I need you to do this for me. I promise I’ll explain everything later.” He seems unsure but nods.  

You regain your cold composure and bring him before your father. You nod to Mammon who unleashes his demon form. Your father’s face remains neutral.  “That’s quite some get up he’s got there.” Kuroo laughs at Mammon's wings going up to touch them. “I wouldn’t if I were you. He’ll send you to where he came from.” You say giving Kuroo a cocky stare. 

“If you want a demonstration you can have one, Boss. Kuroo and I have some disputes and I would love to resolve them under your careful eye.” Your father smiles at your bloodlust. “Just leave him in tact.”  You smile with glee. “Mammon, attack him but leave his vitals alone.” 

Mammon couldn’t resist your order and went after him in hand to hand combat. Kuroo was one of the best fighters but against a demon he was a mere human. Mammon slashed him up and knocked him out cold within seconds. Mammon turned to you bloodied with glowing yellow-blue eyes. That’s hot. You knew Mammon was strong but he rarely used his demon strength. To see if fully utilized was like viewing a work of art.

 “You impress me, y/n.” Boss said, staring at Mammon’s wings. “Take care of the devildom or whatever ya call it. I want that place under our control by the time I get there.” You kneel down and nod your head. “Kid, I want ya to take care of my kin here while they’re carrying out my work. Can ya do that for me?” You can tell Mammon was blushing a little under the blood. “Yes I can, sir.” 

(Next to you-bigricepiano)

It was a few hours later and you both finally got to the penthouse exhausted and tense. You collapse falling asleep in each other's arms on the floor until morning. You wake up to the sound of Mammon snoring in your face. So beautifully irritating. You plant a kiss on his lips which causes him to jump up. “Who? What? Where?” He sees your laughing face. “Awww, y/n I was having the weirdest dream that you were a member of the mafia and I was forced ta beat up roosterhead and…” He slowly feels his face. “That wasn’t a dream was it.” 

“I wish it was and yes I know I owe you a lot of explanation but lemme clean you up first.” You say getting a rag and some hydrogen peroxide. You start cleaning his face and explaining your upbringing. Through this, Mammon’s face changed from frustrated to concerned. “I didn’t know you had it so rough, y/n. You never told us.” You smile and dab on his open wound. Mammon winces a little.

“You didn’t need to know. It’s not something I’m really proud of and I know you are all demons so sins don’t bother you as much but even so.” You laugh at your own silliness. “ I wanted to be your saving grace and live a happy life at least for the year we have.” Mammon holds onto your hand and kisses it. “Y/n, you’ve helped us so much.  It’s the least I coulda done for you.” Mammon wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you as if you were going to disappear that very minute. “If..If you had the option to stay with us forever...with me forever, would ya take it?” 

You were taken aback by his question. You loved your father and all the mafia had to offer but it could never measure up to the amount of love you felt from the demons in the short amount of time you’ve been with them. You melt into Mammon’s embrace and try to hold back tears. 

“Absolutely. Without a doubt.” 

Mammon looks at you and takes your face in the palm of his hand, wiping away your ever flowing tears. He kisses you softly, over and over until the tears are gone.

 “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Mammon.” 

Bonus:

“I’m telling ya, y/n is part of the mafia! They beat up so many guys and run all the major casinos.” Mammon pleads at the breakfast table. “That’s absurd. Y/n doesn’t even gamble.” Satan retorts. “Satan’s right now please shut up about this before I string you up.” Lucifer says going through today’s paper. Mammon looks on the verge of tears and shoots you a glance to which you heartily ignore. 

“Aww, well I want it to be true. A mafia y/n sends shivers up my spine. Ne, ne, are you part of the mafia?” Asmo hums. You let out a laugh. “Absolutely not. I don’t know what Mammon’s on today but I wish I had some.”  “You and me both,” Belphie says through his pillow. “It would make a good anime for sure. The whole double agent thing with a princess that has to be saved and it would be called I wanted to save a princess but turned out they were a mafia member and I had to be saved instead. AAH, Beel don’t touch my food.”  Leviathan says pushing Beel off his oatmeal. 

“I told you no one would believe you.” You whisper to Mammon. Mammon just pouts and looks away. You drag your hand up his thigh and he shivers. “Don’t worry, they don’t need to know everything.” 

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon avatar of greed #om mammon #mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #haikyuu mafia #avatar of greed #om! mammon #obey me! #fear's bits