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ghost-with-a-teacup · 10 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?

Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3

A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3

The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.

“W-WHAT?!”

“Married? No way,” Hobie says.

“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.

“I can’t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.

Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.

“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.

“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”

“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.

“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.

“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.

“Not by choice,” he mutters.

“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”

“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.

“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.

“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.

“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.

Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.

“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.

“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.

“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.

“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.

Gwen gasps, “Really?”

“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.

“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.

“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.

“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.

“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.

“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.

“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.

He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”

“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”

At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.

“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.

Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.

“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”

You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”

“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.

“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.

“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.

“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.

“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”

“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.

He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”

“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.

“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.

“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.

“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.

“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.

“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.

“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.

There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.

Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.

“Hi!” Gwen starts.

“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”

“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.

You just find yourself laughing at it all though.

“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.

“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”

“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”

Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.

“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”

“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.

“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.

“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”

You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.

As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.

No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.

“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.

Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.

“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.

“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.

“One question,” he says simply with a nod.

“How long have you two been together?”

“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.

“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.

“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.

“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.

“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.

“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”

“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.

On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.

You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.

“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.

“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.

“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.

“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.

“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.

“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.

“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.

Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.

“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.

“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.

“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.

With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.

Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.

Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.

“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.

There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.

“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.

“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.

“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.

You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.

Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.

“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.

You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.

“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.

“I know,” you whisper.

“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.

You can’t do anything but laugh.

Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #marvel

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ozzgin · 4 months

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Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere fic #yandere lawyer #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work

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kyber-crystal · 4 months

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i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…”

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.

Everything seems to fall into place.

IV. for you, i’d cross the line

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.

You’re never letting go, and neither is he.

epilogue—soul ties

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.

You shake your head.

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly.

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.

And you were most certainly right about that now.

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

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burnthatbridge · 3 days

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if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know)

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious. “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all.

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed.

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled.

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress.

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul.

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it.

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t.

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission.

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else.

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to.

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him.

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie.

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.”

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it.

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them.

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.”

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

#do we need to see where this goes next?#or is it good as is?#these are the questions that haunt me #(also i am totally avoiding writing chapter 5 of my wip please don't kill me)#buddie #bucktommy #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911 abc #myfic

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months

Note

please please i’d like to request a carmy blurb with the dialogue prompt “Don't go on that date” ❤️

Divine Timing.

carmy berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here. inbox here.

He’s in a bad mood.

Technically, he’s always in a bad mood. But this is the worst you’ve seen him in a long time.

He’s screamed at Richie, belittled Marcus and pissed off Tina in the span of approximately five minutes, and everyone is tired. So, they enlist your help.

You speak fluent Carmy, Syd had said once. You’re the only one he listens to.

So, the next time he shouts, you shout back. Louder.

“Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?” he yells bitterly.

“Carmen, if you don’t stop fucking screaming, I’ll smack you so hard in front of everyone - I swear to fucking God.”

You yell back at a volume that shocks even Richie. The Beef stands still, everyone too afraid to move. Carmy is startled, stuck in place.

“We’re taking five,” you tell him, linking your fingers into his. “Come on.”

You drag him outside, sitting him down in his usual spot. You grab a water bottle and throw it at him, raising your eyebrows in a gesture that says drink it or else. He does as he’s told.

You let him wallow in the silence for a while, calming down slowly but surely. You look over, expecting to see him still angry, or frustrated. Instead, he just looks sad.

You move to sit next to him, turning your body so you can see his face clearly.

“What’s the matter, Carm? What’s got you so riled up today, hmm?”

“Nothin’” he replies, kicking his shoe into the ground. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Does matter. You can’t take your feelings out on everyone in the kitchen, you know. It isn’t fair.”

“I know.”

Your phone make a noise, and you check the screen quickly before shoving it back in your pocket.

“Anyone important?”

“Nah. Just the guy I’m meant to be seeing later, checking in to see if I’m still good.”

Carmy tenses, whole body going rigid beside you. You feel it, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Listen, Carm. If you don’t wanna tell me what’s bothering you, then fine. But you’ve got to work it out in your own time - not in the fucking kitchen. Got it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he speaks.

“Don’t go on that date.”

Your head whips around in disbelief.

“What?”

He ducks his head, willing the ground to swallow him whole.

“Don’t go on that date. Please.”

“Is that… is that what’s got you all upset?”

He scoffs and immediately regrets it, looking at you with softness in his eyes that’s rare as diamonds.

“Yeah.”

“Carmen… why?”

He takes a deep breath, gaze never leaving yours.

“It’s been eating me up, the idea of you going out with some guy. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but… I didn’t want it to be awkward, when you didn’t feel the same way. We work together, we see each other every day, and I didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship.”

“So… you took your anger out on everyone else?”

“Yeah, fuck. I didn’t mean to. Think I just bottled up my feelings too much.”

“Who says I don’t feel the same way?”

Carmy chokes on his breath, staring at you in disbelief.

“You… wait- what?”

“Anyone can see that I like you, Carm. I have since the day I met you and you flashed me one of those million dollar smiles of yours.”

He gives you one now, all bright and bashful.

“This is the last time anything like this happens, you hear me? From now on, you talk to me. And I’ll talk to you. It goes both ways.”

He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Here’s the deal, Berzatto. You go in there and apologise individually to each and every person you’ve been a dick towards today, and I’ll cancel my date with the douchebag I didn’t wanna see anyway.”

“And you’ll date me instead.”

You laugh, head thrown back and eyes crinkling.

“Fine. But only if the apologies are super heartfelt.”

He shakes his head, chuckling from deep within his chest. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For yelling at me back there. I needed it.”

You smile, leaning into him.

“You’re so welcome.”

“It was super hot, too.”

“Shut up, Berzatto,” you chide, but you can’t fight the grin that etches itself on your face.

782 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 30 days

Note

It's movie night but they can't use the home cinema, what do they do?

[week 1]

Bruce: Thanks for letting us use your place for movie night while we fix that leak at home.

Dick: No problem. Besides, I have plenty of snacks and the director's cut of Dumbo.

Everyone: *gathers around*

Dick: *puts on the movie*

~ 10 minutes in ~

*beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*

Tim: My crime alert's going off.

Harper: Mine too.

Duke: Must be big.

Bruce: Suit up and rendezvous in three.

Dick: *sighs and pauses the movie*

Dick: Can't get one night in this damn city.

———————

[week 2]

Tim: Steph, why are we at a karaoke lounge?

Steph: I know the owner's cousin's hairdresser's dog walker's sister's girlfriend and I convinced them to let us use the party room. Don't worry, it's just like a TV screen.

Steph: *puts on Pitch Perfect*

Steph: Ooh, I love this part.

Steph: *grabs a mic and starts singing*

Everyone:

Damian: *stuffs napkins in his ears*

———————

[week 3]

Jason: Since we decided on Pride and Prejudice, I thought I could play it at my safehouse.

Dick: Sweet, thanks!

Jason: *unlocks the door*

Dick: *tries to step in*

Jason: *stops him*

Jason: I said I could play it. I never said you could come in. I don't want your you-ness all over my new stuff.

Bruce: Jason, be reasonable.

Harper: Yeah, you got this junk off the side of the road.

Jason: My junk, my rules.

Tim: Then what are we supposed to do?

Jason: Fire escape's around the back. You'll get a decent glance.

~ 20 minutes later ~

Dick: *leans his head in to hear better*

Jason: My air, my rules.

Jason: *closes the window*

———————

[week 4]

Bruce: Cass, it's your turn. Got the movie?

Cass: *nods and plays Rambo on her computer*

Barbara: Uh, why isn't there any sound?

Cass: Volume button broke. Just read lips.

Jason: Kinda hard to do that with the brightness at zero. Did that stop working too?

Duke: Looks fine to me.

Jason: Shut up, Flashlight.

———————

[week 5]

Tim: I brought my entire Star Wars collection.

Bruce, dodging a space laser: Not the time.

Tim: Okay.

Bruce: *punches an alien robot*

Tim: How about now?

———————

[week 6]

Barbara: Sorry I got a cold, but at least we can still have movie night on Zoom. I torrented a copy of The Matrix.

Barbara: *shares her screen*

*movie plays*

Barbara: *leaves herself unmuted*

Barbara: *starts crinkling Sun Chips*

———————

[week 7]

Everyone: *crowd around Damian's phone watching My Neighbor Totoro*

Bette: Why is your phone so small?

Damian: I have tiny hands.

———————

[week 8]

Harper: Because we're watching Cars this week, I thought I could put together an all-immersive experience.

Bruce: BY LOCKING US IN A RUNAWAY SEMI-TRUCK?!?

———————

[week 9]

Duke: I called this company and since we're heroes, they're letting us use their electronic billboard for this week's movie at a huge discount. Kill Bill should be coming on right about...

*movie starts playing*

Jason: Not bad, Narrows.

*billboard switches to an ad*

———————

[week 10]

Carrie: Since Steamboat Willie is now public domain, I thought we could do something different tonight.

Carrie: *pulls out a flipbook*

———————

[week 11]

Everyone: *watching Love, Simon in a dark living room*

*lights flick on*

Apollo and Midnighter: *standing there in date night outfits*

Steph: Um, Cullen, who are these guys?

Cullen: *laughs nervously*

Cullen: Everyone, meet Apollo and Midnighter. They're kinda-sorta my gay uncles and we're kinda-sorta in their apartment and I kinda-sorta didn't expect them to come back early.

Midnighter: Remind me why we gave you a spare key?

———————

[week 12]

Kate: *sets up a projector and plays Glass Onion*

Bruce: Kate, this is a crime scene.

Kate: The fun part's already done, let Gordon do cleanup this time.

———————

[week 13]

Alfred: Back in my day, we did not rely on scrupulous use of technology. Which is why I propose watching a classic Sherlock Holmes tale on a classic instrument.

Alfred: *pulls out a zoetrope*

Steph: Anyone know what that is?

Dick: Not a clue.

———————

[week 14]

Luke: Nothing like a good ol' drive-in movie. Great idea, Helena.

Helena: I know, and the Godfather is perfect for this.

*Batmobile crashes through the screen*

Steph: Sorry we're late.

Duke: I'm still figuring out the PRINDL.

———————

[week 15]

*TV playing the Aristocats*

Bruce, trying to flirt: I like what you've done with the curtains.

Selina: Thanks, but it was Snowball's after-dinner surprise.

*TV blinks off*

Tim: Hey, what gives?

Selina: *takes a chewed-up cord out of a cat's mouth*

Selina, sighing: This is why I married rich.

———————

[week 16]

Luke: May I present the ultimate Snakes On A Plane drone show!

*phone rings*

Luke: Hello? ... Yes, this is he. ... Mhm. ... Yep. ... Okay.

Luke: Never mind, the FAA says I can't.

———————

[week 17]

Everyone: *watching Legally Blonde at Bette's place*

*dogs barking*

*sirens*

*loud music*

*car honk*

*neighbors shouting*

Bette: Sorry, we have thin walls.

Bruce, shrugging: Eh, still not as bad as HOA.

———————

[week 18]

Damian: Where is movie night this time, Father?

Barbara: My money's on another crime scene.

Bruce: Actually, I rented out the theater just for us and they're playing a special edition of The Mark of Zorro. Everyone got their snacks?

Duke: Popcorn, check.

Cass: Licorice, check.

Steph: M&Ms are obviously the right answer by the way.

Dick: I got a slushee.

Jason: I got the slushee machine.

Bruce: Alright then, take your seats. The movie's about to begin.

*movie plays*

*Rogues break in, make a mess, and leave*

Bruce:

Bruce: I miss my parents.

495 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 8 months

Text

Dick’s

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: the only good part of your job at Dick’s Sporting Goods is how often Peter comes in to buy repairs for his suit

Masterlist

“Back so soon?”

“What?” Peter looked up and pulled his earbud out when he heard you say something. You chuckled when you heard the music coming through his earbuds and continued scanning the spandex shirt he was buying.

“You were here two nights ago.” You reminded him. “And four days before that. You’re here all the time, actually.”

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know that?” Peter blushed as you handed him the bag of his stuff. You looked around for anyone who might be listening before motioning for Peter to come closer. His blush deepened and he leaned across the register.

“I work here.” You whispered in his ear. You cracked a smile as you leaned back and pointed to the Dick’s Sporting Goods logo on your uniform shirt.

“Right.” He laughed shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all cool. I’m sorry that I work here too.” You shrugged, making Peter laugh again.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“The name of the store is Dick’s.” You said flatly. “And apparently, that’s the only kind of people they hire here.”

“Yeah. I asked someone for help finding the nuts and bolts and he asked if I looked in my mouth.” Peter admitted. Your jaw dropped in surprise before you burst out laughing.

“Who was it?” You asked him. “Did he have red hair?”

“Yeah. In the hardware section.”

“Fucking Jeremy. I’ll kick his ass for you, okay? I’m pretty sure he’s like 13 or something but I’ll still do it.” You said, and Peter couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

“That’s really not necessary.” He laughed shyly.

“All right.” You nodded. “Just know that I would. I’ve been looking for a reason to kick his ass anyway.”

“Why?” Peter wondered.

“Didn’t you see his face? It’s so punchable. Plus, he watches videos in the break room at full volume with no earbuds in. And if he thinks the video is funny, he’ll rewatch it multiple times. So then we all have to hear this loud, unfunny video multiple times. It drives me crazy. He deserves to get his ass kicked. I might do it just for fun now.”

“His face was pretty punchable.” Peter admitted.

“Can we hurry this up? This is taking way too long.” A man behind Peter complained, making your smile fall.

“That’s what she said.” You mumbled as you grabbed Peters receipt.

“To him.” Peter replied. You looked up at him and smiled in surprise.

“Because he’s probably bad at sex.” Peter explained in a weak voice.

“No, I got it. And I appreciated it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Peter laughed shyly.

“One last question for you. Then I have to help Mr. Clean with his very important purchase of golf ball cleaner.” You said as you nodded towards the guy behind Peter.

“Oh, sure. Ask away.”

“Are you listening to Judas by Lady Gaga?” You asked and pointed to Peters earbuds. He turned red in embarrassment and thought about lying, but you clearly already knew.

“It’s her best song.” He said simply.

“Oh, I know that.” You assured him. “I just wanted to make sure that you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He matched your tone, making you smile.

“Well all right then. Have a good night. See you really soon probably.” You teased him.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Peter smiled at you as he took his receipt.

Peter practically skipped out of Dicks that night. He frequented the store every time his suit needed a repair and had seen you working there a few times, forever looking miserable behind the cash register. He just never thought you’d notice him too.

A few nights later, Peter busted the eye on his mask while on patrol. He dropped his suit off at home and when to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get something to replace it. When he brought it up to the register to buy and smiled when he saw you.

“Hey.” You smirked at him and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Hey.” He smiled softly at you.

“Gum?”

“What?” He asked. You wordlessly held up a pack of Big League Chew and blew another bubble.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving.” He replied without thinking. He felt embarrassed for malign a stupid joke but you cracked up over it.

“I use that joke all the time.” You laughed. “Except I usually say “no thanks, I’m trying to quit.” I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I like yours better.” Peter tried to flirt.

“You can steal it. I won’t mind.” You winked at him and blew another big pink bubble. Peter gulped as you handed him his bag.

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You called after him as he left the store.

He returned a few days later, not that he needed anything. He was here for you this time. He came into the store at night with a plan to learn your name. It wasn’t much, but it was a step towards getting to know you better.

“Hey, Judas Boy.” You waved to Peter from behind the register.

“Hey, Dick’s girl.” He waved back and grabbed some spandex before heading to the register.

“Oh, thank God.” You said sarcastically. “You haven’t bough red and blue spandex shirts in almost a week. I was worried you were going to run out.”

“I almost did. This week has not been easy.” Peter humored you. You smiled when he played along and put his stuff into a bag.

“How come you guys don’t wear name tags?” Peter asked you as he put his plan into action.

“We’re supposed to. We’re also supposed to wear hard shoes and khaki pants.” You said behind your hand and pointed your foot out from behind the register to show him your leggings and crocs.

“I see. Not much of a rule follower?”

“I can be. But not for Dicks. Nothing for Dicks.” You said with such passion he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not.

“But where else can you find a spandex section like this?” Peter joked and held up his bag.

“Models. Target. Walmart. Patagonia.“ You started to list off.

“Okay, sure.” Peter agreed. “But Dicks is the only one that carries red and blue.”

“Oh, I see. And red is blue is the only kind you can buy?” You chuckled.

“Obviously. What am I supposed to wear? Black?” Peter grimaced, making you laugh again.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? I’ve always wondered that. Why could you possibly be doing that you need all this red and blue spandex clothing?”

“Cause I’m Spiderman.” Peter said with a simply shrug. He held his breath and hoped you take that as a joke, which of course, you did.

“That’s hot.” You smirked and handed him his receipt.

“Have a good night.” He told you.

“Night.”

Peter was back just a few nights later. He never actually learned your name, so he technically had an excuse to return. He brought a spandex shirt up to the register and you laughed when you saw it.

“I think you’re single handedly funding our red and blue spandex supply.”

“Really? I’m the only one who buys it?”

“Just you.” You nodded. “My boss said he wasn’t gonna order anymore but I told him that would be making one special customer very unhappy.”

“You told him to order more just for me?” Peter smiled shyly and felt his blush go all the way to his ears.

“Duh.” You scoffed. “I gotta earn that sweet, sweet $15 an hour somehow. Pleasing one specific customer is how I choose to do it.”

“$15 an hour to work by yourself every night is insane. But I don’t even get paid for my job, so I’m not one to talk.”

“What is your job?” You wondered.

“I told you. I’m Spiderman.”

“No, but really.” You laughed. Peter looked down at the spandex and tried to think of any other profession that could explain why he was always buying it.

“I’m a male ballerina.” He said finally.

“For real?” Your eyes widened. “That’s way cooler.”

“Cooler than Spiderman?”

“Hell yeah.” You scoffed. “I’ve never seen Spiderman do a pas de deux.”

“I’ve never seen anyone do a pack de- um…”

“Pas de deux.” You chuckled when he couldn’t say the word.

“Yeah. That.” He blushed again.

“Have a good night then, nutcracker.” You said with a wink.

“Night, Dick‘s girls.”

The next time Peter came into the store, he had to stay away from the spandex section. May was getting suspicious about why he was buying so much when his suit didn’t have any visible damage, so he had to think of something else.

“Gummy worms?” You asked as Peter dropped a bag of sour gummy worms on the counter.

“You sell them. So I’m buying them.” He shrugged. You laughed as you scanned it and looked up at him.

“Do you live around here?”

“About 4 blocks away.” He answered. “Why?”

“Because this is New York. Which means you had to have passed, at the very least, 4 corner stores to get here. All of which sell gummy worms. And yet, you chose to walk all the way to a sporting goods store to get them. Why is that?” You asked as you leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t need spandex tonight.” He admitted as a blush painted his cheeks.

“Then why’d you come out here?” You smirked.

“Because I’m a stalker. And I’m learning your schedule so I can smite you and wear your skin.” He replied without thinking. He held his breath again but was sure you would not find a joke about him killing you to be funny. But to his surprise, you smirked in amusement.

“That’s hot.” You said replied. “Can you cover my shifts for me once you start wearing my skin?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“Cool. Enjoy your worms.” You chuckled and handed him his candy. Peter was about to leave when he decided to rip open the bag and hand you a worm.

“For your troubles, madam.” He said, then made a dash for the door. He heard you laughing as he walked out into the street, making it all worth while.

Peter returned to the store the next day but felt his heart sink in disappointment when he didn’t see you behind the register. He turned to leave and jumped when you were standing right behind him.

“Have you ever seen Black Swan?” You asked him.

“What? Jesus Christ. You scared me.” He said and put his hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re a male ballerina, right? You must’ve seen Black Swan.”

“No. I’ve never heard of it.” Peter answered as his eyes darted to the side.

“That was the face of a man who has 100% seen lezzy wet dream scene from Black Swan.” You laughed and pointed to him.

“Maybe once or twice.” His whispered.

“Well I’m going on break now and I was gonna go watch it in the storage room.”

“Oh. That sounds fun.”

“You wanna come?” You asked him like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. Peter looked around to see if any customers or employees were watching before following you into the back. He knew he shouldn’t be walking through a door that said “employees only”, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to hang out with you.

“Am I allowed back here?” Peter whispered and stayed close behind you.

“Probably not.” You shrugged and led him to the storage room. You shut the door behind the two of you and sat down on one of the shelves.

“Will you get in trouble?” Peter asked as he took a seat beside you.

“Maybe.” You shrugged again and pulled the movie up on your phone.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your manager. I’d feel horrible.”

“Dude, my manger is 17 and high as a kite right now.” You snorted. “He won’t care as long as we don’t interrupt his vape session.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall. You shoulders were touching and he realized this was the closest you’d ever been.

“Here. I didn’t want to subject you to using a strangers earbuds so I stole this from the front.” You said as you pulled new earbuds out of your pocket. You tore them out of the plastic casing and plugged them into your phone before offering Peter one.

“They’re your favorite colors, right?” You asked in a soft voice. The earbuds were red and blue, the only colors Peter ever bought. They weren’t actually his favorite colors, just the color of his suit, but he thought it was cute that you specifically got this pair thinking he’d like the colors.

“Yeah. Red and blue are great.” He smiled softly and put his earbud in. You put the other in and started the movie. Peter couldn’t pay attention to a single second because the smell of your perfume was triggering all his senses. He stared at you instead of the screen until his eyes landed on the earbuds connecting you.

“I can’t believe you stole for me.” He said with a smug grin.

“Relax. I don’t do it often. But I did also steal these for you.” You said and pulled a pack of gummy worms out of your other pocket. Peters face lit up and he opened the worms before handing you one. Your fingers touched at one point when you both reached for a word and he gulped.

“When did you take these anyway?” He wondered.

“A couple hours ago when I first clocked in.” You replied. “I made sure to wait until I was on the company’s time before I took them. I don’t do anything here until I’m on the company’s time.”

“So you knew you were going to ask me to watch this with you when you first got here?” He asked as a smile crossed his face. You looked up from the movie and sheepishly turned to face him.

“You always come in at this time. And I’ve always wanted to see this movie. I figured you’d like it because you like ballet. Is that weird?” You asked, sounding nervous for the first time.

“No. It’s not weird.” Peter shook his head to assure you. You smiled in appreciation and nodded before turning back to the movie. Peter was able to focus on it now, but couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

“I love getting paid to watch gay movies.” You sighed happily as the movie neared its end.

“You need to make money somehow. God, I need a job. I’m gonna go broke from this store alone.”

“You’ve never looked at your receipt, have you?” You chuckled and looked over at him.

“No. Why?”

“Every time you come in here, I only charge you for tic tacs.” You admitted. “No matter what you buy, I just remove the tag and then scan a pack of wintergreen tic tacs.”

“Wait, seriously? Why?” He smiled curiously and turned to face you.

“Because then I can eat the tic tacs without feeling bad about stealing since you paid for them.” You shrugged. “And so that you don’t give all your money to Dick’s Sporting Goods just to fuel your spandex fetish. You only ever spend a dollar or so when you come here. I can’t believe you never realized that.”

“So you’ve been saving me money this whole time? Those shirts are like $15 each.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” You chuckled. “An hour of my work is worth a single, thin shirt. That makes me feel less guilty about never making you pay.”

“You’re really cool for that. Thanks.” Peter said sincerely.

“Yeah, well. I think you’re cool too.” You shrugged and looked down so he couldn’t see your smile. Peter stared at you with a dreamy smile on his face until he noticed the clock behind you.

“How long is your break?” He wondered.

“15 minutes.” You shrugged.

“15 minutes?! We’ve been back for over an hour.” Peter whispered harshly.

“Jeremys got it.” You waved your hand. “I cover for him all the time. He owes me.”

“Okay, good.” Peter sighed. “As long as you won’t get in trouble.”

“Will you stop worrying about me? I’ll be fine. You need to start breaking a few rules every now and then. Do you always do exactly what you’re expected to?”

“You’d be surprised.” Peter mumbled and debated telling you the reason he was always buying red and blue spandex. You noticed he had a far off look in his eyes and moved his chin to make him look at you.

“You never told me your name, by the way.” You said in a soft voice.

“It’s Peter.” He replied as his eyes dropped to your lips. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N!” Jeremey came barging into the m storage room, making you and Peter jump away from each other.

“Oh, there you are.” Jeremy smiled calmly. “Can you help me ring this guy up? He has a coupon but it’s expired.”

“So then he doesn’t have a coupon.”

“I know but he’s being really annoying about it and told me to get the manger but Kyle is vaping and said not to disturb him.” Jeremy whined.

“Damn, still? How long has this kid been vaping for? Are we even sure he’s alive?” Peter asked.

“Wait, who’s that?” Jeremy frowned and pointed to Peter. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look.

“That’s Peter. He works the night shift.” You said quickly.

“I’m Peter. I work the night shift.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t really care. You could’ve been back here smocking crack and sucking dick with a total stranger and I would not have batted an eye. Lord knows I’ve done it. But I do really need your help with the coupon.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You grumbled and got up to go follow Jeremy. Peter got up as well to let himself out.

“See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm before heading back to the register. Peter touched the part of his arm where you’d hand had been and smiled softly.

“See you later.”

Peter walked out of the store with a huge smile on his face. But loud noises coming from dumpster behind the store caught Peters attention. He climbed up the wall and walked along the roof so he could scope out what was going on. When Peter saw two guys trying to pick the lock to the back door, he quickly pulled his suit out of his backpack and put it on. He dropped down behind the two guys and cleared his throat when they didn’t hear him.

“Hey guys. I guess you didn’t see the front door. It’s right around the block under the huge, glowing sign that says Dick’s.” Peter said sarcastically. The guys stopped what they were doing and wiped around.

“Woah. It’s the Spiderman.” One of the guys gasped.

“Why do people always say “the” Spiderman?” Peter wondered. “It’s just Spiderman. I was very clear about that when I first started.”

“Let’s get this freak.” The other guy said and started walking towards Peter.

“Before we fight, I should let you guys know that two against one isn’t really fair when the one has web shooters.” Peter said as he raised his fists. His cocky smile disappeared when three more guys came out of the shadows and closed in on him. The five guys took turns punching and kicking Peter until he laid on the ground in a ball. He struggled to catch his breath and coughed up some blood as one of the guys delivered another kick to his stomach. One of them rolled him over and climbed on top of him with his fist raised in the air. Peter accepted his fate and was about to shut his eyes when a hammer, still in its package, came flying through the air and hit the guy in the head. The man grunted in pain and fell off of Peter. This gave Peter enough time to crawl away as more hammers were thrown in the direction of the men. Peter weakly looked up and saw you standing in the doorway with a bunch of hammers in your arms that you were haphazardly throwing at the men.

“Eat my hammer!” You yelled and threw another hammer at the head of one of the guys. Peter let out a weak laugh and clutched his side in pain.

“Dick’s girl?” He asked groggily.

“It’s Y/n.” You reminded him and threw another hammer. This time, one of the guys caught the hammer and started running towards you. Before Peter could get up to protect you, you pulled a bowling ball out from the floor beneath you and threw it at the guy. He was knocked to the ground as you pulled something else behind your bat. When you stepped under a streetlight, Peter as able to see you had taken a lacrosse stick from the store. You whacked one of the guys across the face so hard that he fell to the ground. You swept the leg of another guy, leaving only one standing. Peter held his aching body as you fearlessly walked up to the final goon.

“Spiderman over here is my friend. He’s one of the much, much friendlier Avengers. But not me. I’m fucking mental. I was trained in kung fu for the moment I could walk. I was raised to be a weapon. You don’t want to mess with me.” You said to the man as your rung the lacrosse stick in your hands.

“Oh please. I’ve taken shits bigger than you.” The man sneered and pointed to you. You smirked and caught his finger between your thumb and index finger while keeping your pinky upright.

“You see this? This is called the Wuxi Finger hold. If I bend my pinky, your chi is gonna be so fucked that all the bones in your body will break and half this block will be decimated.” You told him

“You’re bluffing.” He scoffed. “That’s not possible.”

“You wanna find out?” You asked and tightened your grip on his finger. The man’s eyes flicked between your face and his finger as he debated whether or not he believed you.

“This chick is crazy. Let’s get out of here.” The guys finally decided and took off running. The four others groaned as the got up and ran away as well. You sighed and threw the bloody lacrosse stick into the dumpster before looking down at Peter.

“So you’re not a male ballerina?”

“No. I’m Spiderman.”

“That’s not as cool.” You mumbled and bent down to help him sit up fully.

“Can you really break all his bones with one finger?” Peter asked you.

“Huh? Oh, no.” You chuckled. “I stole that shit from Kung Fu Panda. Those ska-douches clearly don’t have good taste in movies so they didn’t even realize.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled weakly. “Well, thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Come on.” You winked at him and carefully helped him stand up. You wrapped his arm around you and helped him limp his way into the break room. You raided the sports injury aisle before helped Peter up onto a table.

“Am I allowed to be back here?” Peter asked as he pulled his mask off.

“No one’s gonna know. Kyles vaping in the baseball aisle and Jeremy went home.” You said and set the supplies you had taken down on the table beside him.

“Are you allowed to take those?”

“You are quite a rule follower for the face of illegal vigilanteism, you know that?” You chuckled and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m actually not a vigilante. I’m on Mr. Starks roster. We have government clearance.”

“Okay. So just tell yourself I have government clearance to steal these supplies.” You told him, making him laugh. You laughed as well and started to clean him up. Peter stared at you fondly as you patched up his wounds.

“I really appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m in charge of filling out the inventory catalogues when we get shipments. I can easily make it look like these supplies never existed. Don’t worry, okay? And even if I do get in trouble, it’ll be worth it.” You said without looking at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Peter asked softly. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because I like you.” You shrugged. “I think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

“Is that shocking?” You laughed and cleaned a cut above his eyebrow.

“Kinda. I’m kinda a loser.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see any losers out there tonight. You know, other than those five losers trying to break into a Dick’s sporting goods. I’m really glad all the golf pencils and eye paint are safe.” You said sarcastically. Peter laughed and rested his hands on your hips.

“I like you too, by the way.”

“You do?” You asked skeptically.

“A lot, actually. Sometimes, I don’t even need anything. I just come here and hope you’re working.”

“Well I asked my boss to only schedule me at night because you never come in during the day.” You playfully one upped him.

“Really? You did that because of me?” He smiled fondly.

“You coming in here is the only good thing about this place.” You answered honestly.

“You’re the only reason I come.” Peter told you.

“Ayo.” You snickered.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It was funny.”

“No you know why I’m always in here buying spandex and random things. I bust up my suit a lot and the guy who made it for me isn’t around anymore.”

“It’s a pretty cool suit. I can’t even tell where you’ve patched it up. I guess our spandex is just really high quality.”

“You got some pretty cool clothes yourself. Not everyone can pull off Hunter green.”

“Wanna see something?” You asked and unzipped the green Dick’s zip up on had on to reveal a black T- shirt underneath that read “I heart Dick’s” with the stores logo in the heart.

“I heart dicks? No way that’s a real uniform.” Peter laughed and pulled on your shirt to read it better.

“Yep. I couldn’t believe it either. I guess the Boomers that make our uniforms don’t see penis humor in everything like our generation does. I tried to tell my boss that these shirts were ridiculous but he said he’d fire me if I didn’t wear it. Even though I literally hate Dick’s.”

“You do?”

“Not that kind of dick.” You laughed. “I meant the store. If this place burned down, I wouldn’t pee on it to put it out. In fact, I probably started the fire.”

“Then why don’t you quit?”

“I need a job.” You shrugged. “And they’re super understaffed so they give me a lot of hours. Plus, if I left, how would I see you?”

“We could hang out. Preferably not in a Dick’s sporting goods.” Peter suggested.

“That’s my favorite place to hang out.” You smiled. “Can I give you my number?”

“I mean, if you want.” Peter joked as he handed you his phone. You put his number in and handed it back to him.

“There. That’s my number.”

“It’s hot.” He said as he looked at it. He gulped and looked up at you, thinking you’d find that weird.

“You’re such a weirdo.” You chuckled. “You better text me.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” You said and poked his chest. Peter stared at you for a moment as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Would it be weird if we kissed right now?” He asked you.

“Yes.” You scoffed. “You’re covered in blood and gravel.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” He blushed in embarrassment and nodded his head. You cracked a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. Peter felt love in that Dick’s Sporting Goods that night. It was all around him. The kiss ended sooner than he would’ve liked, but it was still perfect.

“Hey, you did it anyway.” He smiled in surprise.

“Yeah, well. I wanted to.” You laughed shyly and kept your arms around his neck.

“And then she kissed me anyway. And she got Neosporin all over her face. And my blood! It was insane, Ned. I wish you could’ve seen her with the lacrosse stick. She destroyed so much store property. It was incredible.” Peter jumped in excitement as he recanted the story to Ned the next day.

“You had your first kiss in Dicks sporting goods?” Ned whispered in awe.

“Uh huh.” Peter nodded.

“What are you guys talking about?” Flash asked as he stuck his head between Peter and Ned.

“Nothing.” Peter said quickly and gave Ned a look.

“Peter kissed the hot Dicks cashier.” Ned blurted.

“Ned!” Peter whispered harshly. “Why would you tell him that?”

“You kissed Alejandro?” Flash gasped and looked jealous.

“What? No. Who even is that?”

“I know all the Dicks sporting goods employees by name. I’m in there all the time buying golf and tennis and bad mitten shit because I’m rich as fuck. If it wasn’t Alejandro, then who was it?” Flash questioned.

“Her name is Y/n. She works the closing shift.” Peter told him.

“Wait, the one with the rebellious gleam in her eyes? No way you kissed her.” Flash snorted. “I’ve been trying to get her number for months.”

“Really? Because I got it last night.” Peter replied with a shrug.

“And a smooch.” Ned added. “On the mouth.”

“He knows where, Ned.” Peter whispered without taking his eyes off Flash.

“There is no way in hell that Penis Parker was macking on a hot cashier. And at Dick’s sporting goods no less.” Flash laughed loudly, drawing the attention of students passing by.

“It’s true.” Peter insisted. “And I don’t care if you believe me or not. Because I know it’s real.”

“Wow. You hear that, everybody? Penis Parker has a fake girlfriend!” Flash shouted in the hallway. People stopped to laugh and point at Peter, making him turn red.

“What? No I don’t.”

“He’s pretending he had a girlfriend who works at Dicks Sporting Goods to make up for the fact that no one will ever touch his dicks sporting goods.” Flash said even louder.

“Oh my God. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Peter grumbled and Ned followed after him as he left. Once they were out of the crowd, Peter pulled his phone out and looked over your last conversation.

“Do you think it’s weird she hasn’t texted me back in a while?” He asked Ned.

“Well what was the last thing you guys talked about?”

“We were in the middle of a conversation about the best Adam Sandler movie and she ghosted me.” Peter said as he checked the time. Your shift had definitely started by now and he knew you texted on company time.

“Is she working tonight?”

“Yeah. Closing shift.”

“So go visit her.” Ned shrugged.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Peter worried.

“She wouldn’t have kissed you if she didn’t like you.” Ned reminded him.

“I guess so. Okay. I’ll go see her after class.”

Once Peters last class ended, he pulled out his phone to call you as he walked in the direction of your store. You answered the phone but didn’t say anything.

“Hey. I was just thinking of you.” Peter said into the phone.

“Peter.” You whispered in a shaky voice. He could tell you were crying and froze in his tracks.

“I was planning on stopping by. Is everything okay?” He asked and quickened his pace in the direction of the store.

“No. I don’t think you should come in.” You said quietly. Peter stopped walking and felt his heart sink. You must’ve lost feelings after the kiss and didn’t want to hang out anymore.

“Oh. Oh, okay. No problem. I won’t come by.” He said and tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

“But maybe your friend can come in?” You asked, making his senses tingle.

“My friend?” He asked and started towards the store again.

“Yeah. The ballerina.” You replied and he knew exactly what you meant. Peter stopped in an alleyway to throw on his suit before running towards the store.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You said with a forced laugh.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Who are you talking to? Is that a phone? I said all phones in the bag.” Peter heard from your end of the phone. You hung up after that and Peter raced to the store. When he got there, he snuck in through the back and quietly made his way to the front. He found you behind the register with your hands up in the air as a man in a hulk mask stood in front of you.

“Hey, buddy. Let me guess. The last jock strap you bought was too loose you’re back for another one?” Peter said, making the guy whip around. That’s when Peter saw the gun in his hand and froze.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see the gun from behind.” Peter said and put his hands in the air. He made eye contact with you from behind the register and you mouthed that you were sorry.

“Why don’t you walk out of here and pretend you didn’t see anything, okay pal?” The man said as he pointed the gun back at you.

“Sorry sir, but I can’t do that. You see, I’m quite taken with the cashier you’re holding at gunpoint here.” Peter said and pointed to you. You let out a short laugh as tears fell down your face.

“Good. Then you can watch me blow her head to bits.” The man said and took a step towards you. You let out a little squeak in fear and shut your eyes.

“Can I convince you to reconsider? She’s got a great head. I’d hate to see it get blown off.” Peter said calmly and slowly made his way towards the man.

“I said you could take the money. Just take it and leave.” You pleaded with the man.

“There was only $36.62 in there. I didn’t rob store for less than 40 bucks.” The man shouted at you.

“No one uses cash anymore.” You whimpered. “It’s all Apple Pay.”

“Then tell me the combination to the safe.” He yelled and tightened his grip on the gun.

“I don’t remember it.” You cried. “I don’t listen when my boss talks to me.”

“You’re lying! I know you know.”

“Why would I lie? You think I’d risk my life to protect this store? I hate this store. It’s so stupid. Why is it called Dick’s? Who is Dick?”

“She’s making some excellent points.” Peter agreed.

“Both of you shut up! Give me the combination to the safe now or I’ll shoot you both.”

“I don’t know it!” You exclaimed. “I don’t even know the address to this place.”

“You think this is funny?” The man asked and took a step closer to you to the gun was pressed against your forehead.

“Not right now but I probably will later.” You answered honestly.

“That’s it. You’re dead.” The man said and cocked his gun.

“No!” Peter exclaimed as he dove towards you. He knocked you safely onto the ground while the man shot him three times in the chest. You screamed as Peter fell to the ground in a thud. You were about to reach for him when he jumped back up on his feet.

“Just kidding! It’s bulletproof.” Peter said cheerfully as he shot a web at the man’s gun. He yanked it out of his hand and threw it to the side before shooting two more webs that stuck the man’s arms to his sides and glued his legs to together. The man fell to the ground and tried to break free, but was unsuccessful. Peter shot one last web at the man’s face before pulling his mask off. He turned around to ask you if you were okay and was immediately met by you throwing your arms around him. He pulled his mask off before hugging you back tightly until your breathing calmed down.

“How did you know you were bullet proof?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “I just knew that you weren’t.”

You pulled away to stare at him in disbelief, almost looking angry with him for risking his life for you. Your angry expression melted into a look of awe.

“Thats hot.” You said and threw your arms around him to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and held you tighter, only breaking apart when you needed to catch your breath.

“Do you kiss all your local cashiers like that?” You asked him.

“Nope.” He chuckled. “Just you.”

“Good. You better keep it that way.”

Peter smiled and pressed his forehead against yours as you both calmed down from all the excitement when a thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really not know the combination to the safe or were you protecting the store?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Are you accusing me of risking my life to protect Dick’s Sporting Goods from a robbery?” You pretended to be offended and put your hand over your heart.

“No. But I am accusing you not telling that guy the safe combination just to mess with him.” Peter replied. A smirk crossed your face as you went over to the safe and put in the combination.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for a bit.” You said as you pulled the safe open.

“I knew it.” Peter laughed and shook his head.

“I was planning on telling you something tonight. You know, before I got held at gunpoint by a man shorter than I am.” You said as you walked back over to Peter.

“Oh really? What?”

“They’re making me store manager. That means you can get all the free spandex and gummy worms you want.”

“No way.” Peter grinned. “They promoted you?”

“Kinda.” You waved your hand. “The last store manger went to jail for insider trading and I’m the only other employee over 18.”

“But still! I’m so proud of you.” He said and scooped you into a hug.

“You know, when they promoted me, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” You admitted. Peter pulled away to cup your face and smile at you.

“I’m honored. No one in this shamble of a store deserved it more than you.”

“I can make my own hours now because it’s my job to make the schedule. So let me know when you want to go on our first date that isn’t in a Dick’s sporting goods.” You smiled teasingly.

“I will.” He smiled back before getting serious. He blew out a breath and looked you in the eye.

“Dick’s girl, I have so enjoyed our time together. Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend maybe?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe I would.” You shrugged. “But only if you never call me “Dick’s girl” again.”

“I can definitely do that.” Peter nodded and kissed you again. The kiss was interrupted by the sound of cops pulling up in front of the store.

“Cops are here. I gotta go.” Peter said apologetically and pulled his mask back on.

“Bye, Spiderman!” You waved at him as he walked towards the front door.

“Bye, Dick’s girl!” He shouted back before swinging off into the night.

“What did Spiderman just call you?” The police officer as he walked into the store.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure

@a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23

@geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow

@thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe

@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174

@unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl

@marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke @thestylestour

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @parkerlovebot

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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remi-thirsts · 5 days

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❝ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 ❞

pairing: r. suna x fem!reader summary: Headcanons abt ur man who loves to record his fav girl ! content: very suggestive, established relationship, (p -> v), oral (f + m receiving), fingering, pet names (baby), cursing, filming (consensual for both parties), teasing (when is suna not teasing?), lmk if I missed anything. (kind of a soft smut release since i'm not confident)

✧ bf!suna who whips out his phone anytime you wear anything that's tight around your curves.

"Okay Rin, I'm coming out tell me what you think of this dress." He lets out an uninterested hum, because you've been in the store for at least two hours. You need a new dress for your cousin's birthday party.

When you walk out and give him a little twirl he immediately exits whatever game he was playing to pass the time and opens the camera app.

"Holy shit, look at that ass baby. Mmm and those pretty tits."

"Can you focus for like one second?

✧ bf!suna who sends you horny videos throughout the day, because he misses you.

dookie butt 😝💖 [1 video attachment] look what u do to me

you -boyyyy i'm at work rn -but holy fuck... you moan so loud that i had to turn my volume down and i think i got looks from people

dookie butt 😝💖 so.... no titties ?

you ding ding ding ! you win blue balls

dookie butt 😝💖 at least send me some ass 😒

✧ bf!suna has a whole ALBUM on his phone of videos of you two fucking.

✧ bf!suna loves watching that one video where it's so shaky and you can barely tell what's going on, but he knows. He was eating you out so good, he had you back arching off of the bed, and your toes curling. You couldn't even hold the phone properly like he asked you too. Being the meanie he is he continued to harshly suck on your clit and hit your g-spot with his, long, experienced, rough fingers even after you came. You ended up squirting all over his face..

✧ bf!suna LOVES to record his dick bulging in your belly. That's how he knows he's hitting it good.

✧ bf!suna comes up with all these ridiculous scenarios/roleplays that you always seem to agree to do with him. He records ALL of them.

✧ bf!suna saves every single nude you send him, because despite what you say he thinks you're beautiful all day everyday.

✧ bf!suna sends you Twitter links asking if you wanna recreate them. Anytime he watches them he can only think about you and himself.

✧ bf!suna has no shame and will watch your homemade videos even with his friends around.

"Damn, Rin whatever yer watching must be really interestin'!" Atsumu spits sarcasm at the EJP middle blocker.

"Way more interesting than you by a long shot." Suna calmly replies which pisses his friend off even more. The blond snatches Suna's phone. Only to hand it back seconds later with a flushed face, "Gosh yer a pervert, Sunarin, a pervert."

✧ bf!suna is like a photographer when you get a new lingerie set. He'll ask you to make different poses and stand at different angles so he can get "the best possible picture"

✧ bf!suna sends you audios of him moaning because he knows you love it.

dookie butt 😝💖 [1 audio attachment] :3

you RIN. I'M MELTING WTF U SOUND SO HOT

dookie butt 😝💖 u should send something back to show ur appreciation

you 🫡

✧ bf!suna never posts or shares your videos unless you ask him too, and the ones he does share with the internet are the ones where no one can see your faces.

✧ bf!suna all in all loves you and your beauty. Every single video he's recorded is proof of that. When you watch them, you notice the little things, like how he'll prop up a pillow for you, or how he'll quietly ask if it's okay for him to keep going and whatnot. Many would think that he's just horny all the time and doesn't care about you, but he does care. Way more than haters will realize.

#𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 #✩ hq post #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #suna x reader #suna smut #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #rintaro suna #suna rintaro smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna #haikyuu suna

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hapinesbuterfiy · 2 months

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. ୨🪩୧ ₊˚ 🍒 ʚ ♡ ˚ 🎀 +

lets talk about rafe x fangirl!reader...

you love being a fangirl and all of the late release nights, hundreds of dollars spent in merch and concert tickets, and the constant hours of waiting in ticketmaster queues that came with it. having an insanely rich and obsessive boyfriend who would spend millions to make you happy had it's perks!

it took rafe a while to get used to your antics, never did he ever think he would be waking up at 2am to queue for a concert, but who else would be accompanying his girl? certainly not anyone else, he wouldn't have it. at first, he attempted to persuade you to buy actual seats instead of pit tickets with the "proactive person" approach. "are you fuckin' crazy? you're meanin' to tell me that you would rather sleep on the filthy fuckin' streets outside the venue waiting for hours when i could just buy you an entire box of seats? you're fuckin' insane." he stomps around your bedroom while standing above you, unable to fathom the lengths that you're willing to go to for a good view at a show. "rafe it's not the same you just don't get it! i need to be at the barricade there is literally no point in going if lana del rey can't watch me sob in front of her while singing pretty when you cry." he rolls his eyes at your remark, shaking his head in disbelief while sucking in his bottom lip. "yea—yea fuckin' barricade my ass, you shithead. lucky i wouldn't fuckin' make you go alone." you perk up, kissing his cheek in excitement. "thank you!" you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

you're passionate, to say the least! why would you spent countless nights sobbing to grainy eras tour live streams after taylor swift plays your favorite songs without you there alone when you could be doing it with rafe by your side? he thinks you're insane for crying over a song, giving you his best fake sympathy act each time it happens, which is practically every time she has a concert because her entire discography is yours. you try your best to make out words through your sniffles and sobs, "i hate taylor swift so much. why would she bring gracie abrams out to play i miss you i'm sorry without me there?" you continue to choke on your sobs and manage to pull yourself even close into his chest. "she's so mean i hate her rafe." he tries his best to console you but can't help but laugh at your disheveled state and the snot coming out of your nose over a song, he is rafe, after all. "baby— i don't know what to tell you. maybe she'll like play it again when you see her, i don't fuckin' know." he wipes your face with his thumbs, as he continues to laugh at you reaching out for his phone to take a video of you so he can make fun of you later for it.

you practically control the aux cord in his jeep, as his girlfriend it's basically your job to make sure he has good music taste! plus the same future songs that he plays over and over again are starting to become unbearable. "so this is thank u, next, it's literally ariana's best single like i swear i would not be the same person without this song it's so me core." he parts his lips in frustration, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "the fuck do you mean that's so me core? are you tryin' to say somethin' here?" he tries to pretend that he isn't enjoying it but you can hear him mumble "thank u, next m' im so fuckin' grateful for my ex." your eyes light up as you land a playful slap to his shoulder "see i told you it was a good song, you're too stubborn!" he completely disregards you, turning the volume up even higher so that you stop chirping in his ear.

you're a handful and a tad bit loud, but rafe secretly enjoys putting with your shit. you're his princess and if that meant he had to book an entire trip to italy just so you could go see harry styles for the last show on love on tour just to make you happy, he would be doing so!

#dividers by @plutism #this is the most self serving thing i have ever written #𓂃 ꔫ 💌 hapinesbuterfiy #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron fanfiction #fangirl #taylor swift #lana del rey #harry styles #ariana grande #gracie abrams

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doobean · 7 months

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FAMILY AFFAIRS - ISAGI YOICHI

synopsis: You've got everything in life. A happy marriage with the love of your life, a new job, and you have enough savings to buy a new house! Luckily enough, your kind stepbrother offers to come with you to the open house tour while your husband is busy and away. Nothing can go possibly wrong, right?

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, stepbro!isagi, reader is married to sae, reader also wears a dress hehe, cheating, manipulation, dub-con, step cest, isagi is jealous and is a bully, kinda borderline yandere!isagi, hickeys, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, pet names/name-calling, dumbification, doggy/missionary/mating press, ass slapping, dacryphilia, light choking, having sex while on a phone call (oral), mirror sex, mdni word count: 3.9K a/n: part 1 of my kinktober event! idk probably the filthiest thing I've ever written in my life idk what to make of it but enjoy (im sorry sae whoops) and i swear im a good girl

Compared to how most remarriages go, you have to say that your family is part of the lucky ones.

It happened back in high school, where all the weird emotions and hormones of a teenager are at its high but, surprisingly, your stepbrother and stepfather were extremely easy-going people. And they still are. Your stepfather treats your mom with utmost care and grace, something you haven't seen in a while since your biological father stepped out of your life.

Your stepbrother, now a pro football player, is almost a carbon copy. Growing up, Isagi has always been willing to help out around the house, staying up to help you study for exams throughout undergrad and, even now, he's offering to come with you to do something that'll take up half of his off day.

"Hey," You shut your phone after sending a brief message to your husband as Isagi hops into the driver’s seat, hair slightly damp and wearing an oversized hoodie with a pair of sweats as he had just gotten out of the shower. "Thanks for coming with me, you didn’t have to."

Your stepbrother shrugs his shoulders in response as he adjusts the side and rearview mirrors before starting the ignition. "I’ve got nothing going on today. Besides," Isagi eyes you playfully and pinches your exposed thighs between your dress leg slits. "Who knows what might happen if I let you go off by yourself?"

You return the favor with a light slap over his head, earning a loud yelp from the male. "It’s just an open house tour, not like I’m going off to war."

He scoffs cheekily, fixing his hair. "Yeah, but the realtor could be a serial killer or worse—" Isagi leans towards you and lowers his voice. "—an undercover clown."

You shrink, back pressing against the car door, and laugh. "The only undercover clown I see here is you.”

"You’re so lame." Isagi huffs before stepping on the gas pedal.

After a quick game of rock, paper, and scissors over who gets possession of the aux, he begrudgingly accepts defeat and allows you to play everything but country. When he manages to get on the highway, he speaks again, turning down the music volume just slightly. "What’s Sae up to these days? I hardly see him come to our family functions anymore."

You stop humming to the current song and break your gaze from the window. There's a small frown that forms, without you realizing it, and you bite your lips. "You know how his schedule usually is. Campaigns and interviews got him busier nowadays. But he should be landing home later."

"Later today?" Isagi quirks a brow.

You nod, shifting in your seat. "Mhm, he said he’ll call me once the flight lands. Why?"

There’s a long pause before Isagi answers, shrugging his shoulders, and turns at the exit. "No reason."

The drive there is relatively smooth. You guys pass the time with quick snippets of what's going on in your lives since Isagi had just returned overseas from a match and, despite not really knowing the ins and outs of football that much, you're still willing to listen to whatever he's rambling on about. It's one of the small things that you adore about Isagi, he's shamelessly passionate about his career, and oddly enough, the conversation gives you a burst of energy.

You shoot back with your own life updates, though a bit more mild and mundane to his travels and exciting goals. You briefly mention a new job promotion, your closest friends announcing their pregnancy, Sae's new ad campaigns, and all the other houses you've toured within the past three months. The current house you're viewing today seems promising and within Sae's expected pay range.

From what you've seen online, it's a three-story house built near the edge of a hill with an attached infinity pool, a masterchef-styled kitchen, and a private built-in gym. You don't really need all of that, but who are you to deny your husband's generosity?

Isagi lets out a long whistle when he pulls up next to the realtor's car on the long, winding driveway. "You're seriously gonna be living here?" He seems to be in disbelief at the size and so are you. It's a lot bigger in person than what the pictures offer.

"Maybe," You hop out of the car, brushing off any sort of dust collecting to your dress, and adjust your purse straps. "Hopefully, this will be the one."

While you didn’t think the realtor would be a creep, Isagi wasn’t wrong when he suggested tagging along. Upon entering the house, the realtor immediately makes an unwarranted comment about your figure, commenting on how nicely the dress hugs your body before offering his hand. Isagi intercepts smoothly by introducing himself as your boyfriend, which honestly came out of left field, but at least the realtor backed off for the remainder of the tour. After an hour of showcasing, the agent hands his business card to Isagi and nearly stumbles over his feet when leaving the property.

"Is he gone?"

Isagi pulls one of the curtains aside and nods. "Yeah, his car isn’t in the driveway anymore."

"Ugh, it’s a shame but at least the place is nice." You briefly snap a couple of photos of the living room and kitchen. "I think we might put in an offer by the end of the week."

"It's not too far from my place either," Isagi adds. He wanders around the kitchen some more, pulling the cabinet drawers open and playing with the faucets carefree now that the agent is out of sight. "Think I could crash here sometime?" He jokes.

"As much as I love having your annoying ass around, I think not." You giggle when a cute pout forms on his lips. "Okay, maybe like once a month." It's hard to say no to your stepbrother sometimes.

You meet up with him in the kitchen, hands gently gliding across the marble kitchen countertop and stopping when Isagi manages to pull out an unopened champagne bottle from the fridge. He waves it around for a bit before signaling at the glasses in the cupboards.

Isagi bites his lips thoughtfully. "You wanna?"

Why not? It's been quite the ride to get here and you like to think of this as an early celebration. You pull out two glasses and eagerly watch as Isagi opens the bottle. He fumbles a bit with the top and a good amount of the liquid starts spilling out, dripping over the countertop and onto the floor.

"Shit, wait let me clean that up—" He rushes to grab a nearby towel though you beat him to it with your own pair of napkins from your purse.

"It's okay, I've got it, Yoichi." You start to bend down but he grabs a hold of your wrist, forcing you back up.

"No," His tone is firm and you could've sworn there's something fleeting that flashes across his eyes for a moment. "Let me take care of it."

And for whatever reason, you let him. "Alright..."

Isagi takes his time cleaning up the spill. He's careful like that, maybe because he knows you're insistent on buying this property. Knowing him, he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

His hands stop when it reaches your shoes and you feel your breath catching in your throat. The sight of him on his knees triggers a reaction you can't quite understand. You shove the thoughts away and cough loud enough once you notice him hesitating.

"Is there something wrong?" Your voice comes out faint, almost breathy.

"It got on your dress," Isagi states casually, lifting his head to meet your confused gaze. "Mind if I get that for you?" He whispers the last part as if there's a hidden intention behind his words.

You're not sure if your dress got wet. You're positive that nothing spilled on it. But, according to your kinder-spirited stepbrother, there are a few spots and you suppose it'll be bad to leave it unattended.

"Sure," You answer on instinct.

"That's good," Isagi begins dabbing the cloth gently against the fabric, slowly making his way up until he's hovering over your pelvis.

You have no idea why you're starting to feel yourself burn all over the place. It feels like Isagi is taking mental pictures of your figure, storing them all in his head as you feel his eyes trace your skin. Goosebumps start trailing down your arms and you shift your legs together. "Yoichi—"

Isagi stops his motions and tips his head down, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. He lets the towel fall to the floor and you twitch when you begin to feel his callous palms hiking all the way up your legs. It's strangely hypnotic, watching your stepbrother do this and you're not sure why you're allowing it to happen. Everything begins to feel hazy, surreal, and wrong.

Your gut twists on itself inside out when his fingers toy with the waistband of your panties. Surely, there are some champagne spills there? Right? Maybe that's why you feel comfortable spreading your legs for him to clean it up. The two of you silently exchange dazed glances when you guide his hands, brushing the panties to the side of your legs as your heat gains exposure to the air.

"Gotta clean this one too," He rasps out. And you take a deep, shuddering breath when Isagi's lips latch onto your folds, wasting no time with his tongue. You feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest.

A thousand questions flood through your mind. Has he always viewed you this way? How are you going to present this to Sae? Should you even say anything to your husband at this point? They're the wrong questions to be focusing on, you know that better than anyone. In a split second, your healthy relationship with Isagi has opened so many cracks around its edges that it's now something completely irreparable.

And you're ashamed of just how goddamn good this feels.

"You're so sweet down here." Isagi's eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, already seemingly drunk off of you.

Your eyes threaten to flutter shut as his tongue traces around, larping up your intoxicating slick. Isagi lets out a low groan when your fingers run through his hair, gripping it just slightly forward enough to allow his nose to brush against your aching nerve.

All of this comes crashing down when a familiar ringtone goes off. You nearly jump at the rapid vibrations from your purse and hastily fish out your phone, heart dropping at the contact that's on the screen.

"Pick it up, I'll be quiet." The way that easily comes out of his mouth makes you want to throw up.

You swallow back a moan and clench the phone tight in your hands. "Yoichi, I'm being serious...! If he finds out we're both dead!"

"Then make me."

His hot breath hovers over your clit as he looks up, masking his ill intentions behind his seemingly big, innocent eyes. Those very same eyes that would comfort you after a bad day, the same eyes that shine whenever you told him about an achievement—no matter how big or small—, and the very same eyes that are now clouded with something more sinister as he searches for an answer in your own pair.

"If you don't want it then push me away. Make up your mind or else Sae's gonna be worried." Isagi mocks your voice when attempting to say your husband's name. The way it rolls off his tongue makes your stomach churn and the wedding band on your hand suddenly feels unbearably tight.

You shouldn't. You know better. You're in love with Sae Itoshi and this—whatever this is—needs to stop.

"You're turning into a mess down here, sis." You attempt to close your legs together but his grip is like iron. Isagi tilts his head to the side and huffs over your nub. "I said push me, baby."

"Y-Yoi—" Your words get stuck in your throat as he 'accidentally' brushes his lips against your heat. Another dark glint flashes across his eyes and he grins.

You pick up the call and clear your throat, but your free hand wanders to your stepbrother's head, giving him the slightest nudge so that his nose brushes against your slick heat.

"Hi babe, how is everything?" You're trying so hard to level your voice.

"Just landed," Sae replies. There are muffled voices in the background, which you assume are his bodyguards and paparazzi. After some awkward shuffling, he asks, "Are you at the property right now?"

"Yeah," You continue to tug at Isagi's hair, suppressing a moan when he flicks his tongue a bit too hard over your sensitive nub. "It's spacious and has a nice backyard, I—I think you'll like it." You're beginning to pant, almost whining, under your stepbrother's touch.

"Mhm, send over pictures when you can. Is Isagi with you right now?"

You nearly choke out a sob as his fingers begin to edge their way inside. "Y-Yes!" You sputter out, launching forward as your knees begin to grow weak.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You can't stop the twitching and bucking of your legs. Isagi notices and wraps a free arm around the back of your legs, keeping you upright and pressed against his face. "I-I'm fine, why?" You breathe out.

"You sound like you're sick." Sae is concerned. Concerned for your well-being while you are currently getting fingered by your stepbrother.

You almost cry when you feel Isagi’s fingers slip out of your sloppy folds. He gets up from his knees, gripping your waist as you stumble forward from the loss in pleasure, and grabs a hold of your phone. As if he's playing a game, Isagi holds up a finger to his lips, silently asking you to keep quiet. It’s almost scary how fast you see him transition from being an absolute monster to back to being your loving stepbrother all in a second.

Even with his mouth covered in your slick, he clears his throat and speaks with confidence to Sae. "She's feeling a bit down now but I'll drive her back once we're done."

"Is that so?" Sae lets out a heavy sigh. "Thanks, Isagi. I should be back before dinner so keep me updated."

"Anytime, we'll see you later!" Isagi grins over the line before twisting his head down at you. "Sis, do you have anything else to say?" There is it. That look again. His smile sends shivers down your legs as he presses the device to your ear, rubbing it firmly against the side of your face.

You can't find the power within you to break free from Isagi's taunting gaze. The way his lips grow wider as fear washes over yours makes you only fall for his touch just more. It's almost addicting as much as it's wrong.

"I love you, Sae." You force out the words and your stepbrother has the audacity to laugh.

Thankfully, Sae doesn't hear it. "I love you too. I'll talk to you guys later." And the line drops.

Isagi doesn't give you time to recollect your thoughts as he plunges his fingers back into your warmth. Your body staggers under him, hips matching his feverous rhythm, throwing the last of your morals out the window.

"Oh my god—!"

"You love him, yeah?" He hums in the crook of your neck and presses his hardened length against your plush thighs. "Love him more than me?" Isagi coos.

You throw your head into his chest, eyes shut tight, and inhale his stimulating scent. "I love him, y-yes I do...!" You fumble over the words and make a mournful sound.

"Is that so? Well, it doesn't matter either way—" Isagi drags you easily in his arms to the bedroom and positions himself behind you while facing the full-body mirror by the closet. "—because you're going to be screaming out my name." He pulls down your dress straps and starts leaving hungry, sloppy kisses across your neck and shoulder blades.

A shaky breath escapes your lips and you shut your eyes, tilting your head to the side, allowing him even more access. "Yoi..."

"Look at yourself, sis." His sudden sharp tone makes your eyes shoot up. His sweatpants fall down around his thighs and you see him stroking his thick length in the mirror. Isagi presses it against your increasingly wet folds, groaning from how easily your body accepts him, and gives your ass a harsh slap. "Watch how I fuck you."

You can barely recognize yourself in the mirror. Lipstick smeared, tears pooling at your eyes from a mixture of pleasure and guilt, dress straps slipping off your flushed shoulders, and the numerous amounts of hickeys from your stepbrother marred against your skin. And you still have that damn wedding ring on.

Isagi sucks his teeth in as he watches your chest rise and fall when he slowly enters you. The feeling is different compared to Sae's.

Your stepbrother's cock is thicker and angled more to the right, hitting and stretching out spots that you didn't know existed. Once you bottom him out, Isagi pulls back his hips before snapping them back into place. Just one thrust from him is enough to knock the air out of you. He keeps repeating the motion until you're a writhing mess and a puddle from your heat collects onto the hardwood floor.

"A-Ah—w-wait fuckfuckfuck...!"

Isagi snatches your face in his hand and pulls you up against his chest, making his cock nest deeper into your velvety walls. "Visit me often, yeah? It's not fair that he gets to fuck this pretty pussy every day."

You let out a muffled moan when Isagi collides his lips against yours, his tongue immediately seeking refuge in your mouth. Everything feels so hazy, so intense, nothing like this reminds you of how sweet and gentle Isagi usually treats you.

"Baby," He breathes, relocating his hand on your face to your neck, he gives it a tender squeeze. "I'm better, aren't I?" Isagi lets out a whine when he feels your insides tightening up around him.

Your eyes are glossed over, drool seeping out from the edge of your mouth as you mumble, "I—I don’t know… I’m—aaah…”

"Huh? What was that?" He pulls back, keeping the tip in, and chuckles when he watches your face twist in disappointment at the loss of feeling. "Say it and I'll give you what you want."

Isagi watches your reflection, paying close attention to the way your lips quiver at your next words. It's almost as if he's getting off at seeing your internal conflict with tears sticking hot against your lashes. Finally, you give in. "Y-You're better, Yoichi... you fill me up more than Sae..."

His eyes widen with glee. "That's what I fucking thought." Within seconds, he adjusts his grip on your hips and snaps back into your puffy folds. "If he ever makes you cry, you know your big brother is going to take care of you, right? No one can take care of you like I can."

You catch your breath when his toned biceps lift you in his arms. The second your back meets the mattress, his length stretches your hot entrance again.

"Shit, it's like you're made for me," Your legs hang limp over his shoulders as he presses deeper. "You take me in so good."

You pant uncontrollably under him, wanting to start sentences but being unable to finish as his thrusts and the lewd wet sounds from your heat bounce off the walls. You can tell by the dark look in Isagi's eyes that he relishes in the feeling of making you feel overwhelmed and stimulated. Every time when you call out his name, when your moans are forced out by his animalistic thrusts, he clenches his grip harder around you.

"Get on your knees, baby," Isagi coos and he lets out a dark chuckle when you obediently nod.

You struggle to get on all fours, lower body shaken to its core from the intense raw pleasure. You’re taken aback when you see the sheer amount of sweat and other bodily fluids that stain the mattress sheets beneath you. While you're brain is trying to process how on earth you guys are going to clean this up, Isagi has taken hostage your hips again, lifts your dress up, and is already repositioning himself from behind. With a swift swipe of his tip, he claims his territory once again.

"Fuck," He hisses, watching the plump of your ass jiggle at every thrust he makes. His other hand twists underneath you, digits finding their home on your clit. "You make the sweetest sounds, you know that?"

A familiar coil builds in your stomach. A feeling that has brought you and Sae closer dozens of times before. Only, this time, you feel yourself about to come undone by the hands of a different man. As his fingers work their final motion around your throbbing clit, your vision turns foggy, and your body slumps onto the mattress as your orgasm washes over you. Isagi groans as your walls fluctuate and squeeze desperately around his length, sending him close to his own ending.

His fingers dig deep into the flesh of your ass, leaving half-crescent moons, as he pumps streaks of white inside and pulls out immediately, allowing some to finish dribbling out on your back. The sight of you spasming with the combination of both your and his fluids spewing out causes him to moan in delight.

"Once a month, right?" He repeats your earlier promise, hot breath ticking your wet skin. When he realizes that you're too dumb-fucked to respond back, he reaches over and attempts to wipe the sweat collecting on your face. His normal bright smile comes back and it's like nothing has changed. "Let's get ready to meet up with Sae."

There's a heavy shift in the air when dinner arrives.

Isagi had graciously offered his hoodie to cover up the hickeys, knowing damn well that your husband is going to see them regardless when you return to your shared apartment. Still, Isagi believes he's still doing his due diligence as a good stepbrother.

You're sitting across from Sae and have been avoiding both males' gazes throughout the evening. From the second you sat down, to the moment Sae kissed your cheek, it felt so hard to breathe. You're not sure if Isagi is helping or making the situation worse by rubbing his hand back and forth on your thigh.

It's almost an hour into dinner and you've only taken three bites and are on your third glass of wine. Being the attentive husband he is, Sae picks up on your uneasiness and sets down his fork.

"Everything alright?" Sae eyes the two of you across the table.

"Yeah," Isagi speaks for you and curls an arm around your shoulder. "She's just feeling under the weather, remember?"

You're too overwhelmed by everything going on, so you lean into his touch, hands gripping your thighs in the process like you're trying to crush something, knuckles white and fingertips bruising.

You hate how going back to your husband's arms after this, talking about your future together, and potentially starting a family—all of it seems like it's the most daunting feeling in the world.

KINKTOBER TAGLIST (PART I)

@milkistoshi @mareonyan @saenora @blissblossom @wowonamo

#doobean:kinktober23 #bllk smut #bllk #blue lock smut #blue lock #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #whoops sorry my fingers slipped #cw: cheating #im sorry sae ...#i love u #cw: stepcest #doobean writes

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beansprean · 1 year

Text

Izzyhuahua is the most insanely accurate characterization yet. Thank you @batsarebetterthanpeople for your post.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Ed, in a modern black tee shirt and jeans, walks in a door that dings when he opens it. He has a square shaped cloth shoulder bag strapped over his chest that is decorated with skulls and embroidered with "Izzy" at the top. Popping up from inside is a dark brown long haired Chihuahua with white on his muzzle, spots on his head that look like angry eyebrows, and a spot on his cheek that looks like an x. 1b. Ed from the back as he holds up dog Izzy with both hands, saying, "you're gonna have to sedate him." Lucius, dressed as a vet tech in peach scrubs and a red kerchief, holds out his hands to take him with a smirk, responding dismissively, "Haha, don't worry! Dr. Bonnet can handle this little guy." Izzy growls softly. 1c. 10 minutes later. Lucius reappears, hair missed, clothes torn, and a bloody bandage around his left pointer finger. He holds out a form on a clipboard and says, "Yeah, we're gonna need to sedate him."

2a. Close up on Stede, dressed in teal scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, on a bubbly yellow background. He looks up, eyes widening and cheeks turning red, mouth soft as he fumbles through an introduction, "Hello, I'm Dr. ...uh.... Stede..." 2b. Reverse close up of Ed in a similar state, staring lovestruck and blushing as he responds dazedly, "...Ed..." 2c. Close up on Izzy as he furiously launches himself upwards, growling and snarling! Offscreen, Ed screams, "Ahh, fuck, Izzy, no!!" and Stede shrieks, "Oh God!!" and calls for Lucius.

3a. Later, Izzy is now out cold on an examination table, snoring and tongue sticking out but somehow still looking angry. Text nearby points to him and says "extra extra drugs". Ed and Stede stand on either side of the table, Ed gently petting Izzy's back with a smile as he explains, "He has a lot of separation anxiety... I'd just like him to stop biting people, haha." Stede, arms crossed, looks down skeptically at the dog and just replies, "Right." He thinks to himself, 'Diagnosis: complete asshole.' 3b. Ed looks down, blushing a bit, and continues, "Makes dating kinda tough, heh." Stede immediately perks up but tries to keep it casual, looking everywhere but Ed and sweating at his temple. "oh?" he ventures carefully. "You're single, then?" Ed sighs, replying, "Yeah. Iz here has run off my last two boyfriends." 3c. Ed looks up at the ceiling, playing ignorance, and taps his chin facetiously, wondering aloud, "But maybe if I found someone good with animals...who understood-" Stede, looking sweaty and panicked, interrupts him at top volume with "Do you want to have dinner with me?!" 3d. Stede drops his tomato red face into his hands, mumbling, "I'm sorry, that was so unprofessional..." Ed just beams at him from the other side of the table, clearly having gotten the invite he was fishing for. On the table, Izzy starts to twitch and wake, one angry eye cracking open.

4a. Stede and Ed on a black leather loveseat in Ed's home, mismatched candles the only source of light on either side of them and music drifting sensuously from a speaker. Both are clearly dressed for a date, Stede in a button up and khakis and Ed in a purple henley and gray trousers. They are leaning close, knees interlaced, Ed's hand on Stede's thigh and the other cupping his cheek, Stede with one hand stretched on the back of the couch and the other expertly cupping a wine glass. Their faces are an inch apart, eyes closed, about to have their first kiss. 4b. There is a happy "yip!" as Izzy suddenly jumps up into Ed's lap and places his little paws on his chest, breaking the moment and causing Ed and Stede to jerk back from each other in surprise. 4c. Ed laughs and wraps his hands around the little dog, hearts floating up as he coos, "Aww, Izzy! Did you need some attention?" Unnoticed by Ed, Izzy turns to look at Stede over his shoulder to aim what can only be called a triumphant smirk at him. Stede jerks in surprise and looks immediately offended and angry. /end ID

#ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #mlm #Izzy hands #izzyhuahua #our flag means death #my art #fanart #image described

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companionjones · 5 months

Text

Thank You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x FemPresenting!Reader

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie)

Summary: You're Abby's babysitter. Mike comes home one night. Things ensue.

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing, Mommy kink, Choking kink, a smidgen of spit kink, enjoy

*******

He would really only ever say those two words to you. You were a light sleeper, so him opening the door would always wake you. Once he noticed that you were awake, he would bid you "Thank you," and you would leave.

That night, however, when he came home, he walked straight over to the dining room table and set down his things without uttering a word. He leaned on the piece of furniture and his head dipped down, seemingly in defeat.

"I still can't pay you," he informed, his voice strained. Something told you he was holding back tears.

It wasn't much, but at least it wasn't two words. "What made you think I was ever in this for the money?"

"Then why would you do this?!" Mike suddenly turned to you and whisper-yelled. You knew he didn't want to wake up his sister.

In response to him taking out his frustration on you, you just tilted your head. You had the most sympathetic look on your face. You didn't say any words, you merely walked over to him.

Mike tried backing away from you, but he ran into the table.

You simply put your hands on his arms. Your face was serene.

He could scarcely breathe.

"Why do you think I do this?"

You leaned in, but , surprisingly, Mike met you halfway. He seemed so eager to finally kiss you.

The two of you stood there for some time, making out in the dimly lit main room of the Schmidt residence. You wrapped your arms around his neck while Mike's hands held a white-knuckle grip on the table.

It didn't surprise you when Mike pulled back. "We-we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why's that?"

"Because Abby's asleep right down the hall!" he whispered, "Plus, you're like-like my-"

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Your what? Employee? We've just established that you don't pay me, so I think we're good on that front, and as for your sister..." you paused and leaned in close to his ear.

Mike had a sharp intake of breath as you did that.

"I guess we'll just need to be quiet, huh?"

With that, you took him by the hand and started leading him back to his bedroom. Mike followed you like the good boy he was.

In no time, you had Mike stripped down and in bed with you seated on top of him, naked as well.

There was a sound, and Mike shot up, thinking it was his sister.

"It was just the house settling, okay?" You looked at him with dreamy eyes. "Relax."

Slowly, Mike nodded and laid back down.

"You ready?"

Again, all you got was a nod.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that, if we're going to do this," you only half-joked.

Surprising you, Mike felt up your legs as his eyes slowly trailed up your body. "I want you...so bad." He announced every word with emphasis.

You gave a breathy chuckle at his compliance, lifted yourself, then lowered yourself down on his hard length.

While you just sighed, Mike whimpered, the quiet sound getting loudest when you fully sat on him. He took handfuls of your thighs for support.

"Remember what we said about the volume?" you teased.

"Sorry." The words came out strained as his eyelids were shut.

"Ah, ah, ah." You gave a light slap to his cheek. "Be a good boy and keep your eyes on Mommy."

"Fuck," Mike gasped. You also felt his cock jump at your words.

Smirking at his reaction, you leaned over him and started slightly riding his dick. "What? You like that?"

"Oh, god." Mike's body tensed as you started to ride him and struggled to keep his eyes open.

"You like me calling you good boy? Or was it the part about...Mommy?"

"Mommy!" Mike shuddered as your hole squeezed him.

"That's my good boy," you smiled. You took some time to enjoy the ride yourself as you placed your hands on your feet and leaned back. Some time later, you returned your posture to find that Michael's eyes had slid shut again. "What did I say?" You fell forward and caught yourself with one hand on the bed and the other around Mike's throat.

The shock surely opened his eyes for good. "Sorry! I'm sorry...sorry...sorry."

"You better be," you spat. Quite literally. Into his mouth. Well, most of it the corner of his mouth.

That didn't seem to matter to Mike. He licked the remaining spit into his mouth while keeping full eye contact with you.

"Good boy..." you smirked again, and, with one final squeeze, started to let go of Mike's throat.

However, he disagreed with that action. "No!" he whisper-yelled, and grabbed your wrist to keep you in place. "I-fuck-I love this."

Your smirk grew teeth as you smiled down at Michael Schmidt, submissive and pliant to your touch.

"Shit. I think I'm...close," Mike informed between breaths.

You raised an eyebrow. "Well then, you'll have to hold on 'cause I'm not there yet. Anything you want to do about that?"

Those words had Mike frantically nodding. Suddenly, he was rolling on top of you. You took your hand off his neck. Mike was determined to get you to cum before he did, and my god was he good.

Your eyes lulled back as he pounded into you. Another smile appeared on your lips. When you returned to look at him, you realized Mike had kept his gaze steady on you the whole time. Quickly, however, his facade broke and his head fell down onto your shoulder. "Mommy..." he whined out.

You decided to forgive the transgression as you threaded fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear. "I'm close now, too, baby."

That seemed to renew his vigor because he moved to face you again. Mike also put your hand back around his throat.

You squeezed him for good measure. Up top and down under. His reaction got you to smile, but that smile faded as you felt the pressure building up inside you. You flipped you and Mike so you were back on top.

There, you kept your faces close, but launched your head back when you came. Eventually, you fell back down onto Mike's shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment until--

"Mom-my-?" came the broken up voice of Mike.

"Did Mommy forget to let her good boy cum?" You returned to your spot above him.

Again, Mike was nodding frantically.

You leaned back down to whisper in his ear, "Go ahead. You've more than earned it."

Immediately, Mike sped up his thrusts. His breathing got faster, too. He grabbed your arm that was supporting your weight, and your wrist whose hand was squeezing his neck and Mike came with a shout. Both you and Mike covered his mouth after the loud sound. He thrusted a few more times into you as he completed his orgasm.

You and Mike stayed still for a minute or so after that; half relishing in the post-sex atmosphere, and half praying that Abby didn't walk in.

Thank god, she didn't.

So, you pulled off of Mike, and the two of you got yourselves cleaned up.

"You can stay, if you want to," Mike offered, standing next to his bed.

You walked up to him, put your hand on his chest, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I would love that."

Somehow, the two of you made it work on Mike's twin bed. You were halfway on top of him, but you weren't complaining.

Finally, as you and Mike were falling asleep, you heard two words, mumbled out by Mike, "Thank you."

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

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