#very very late weekly round up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 4 days

Text

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?”

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home.

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains.

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

1K notes · View notes

its-your-mind · 2 years

Text

Help I’m late to the party re: cryptic Rusty Quill Magnus Archives news and don’t know how to catch up!

You have come to the right place! Here I will summarize The Bullshit™️ with time stamps where able. I will also update this post when new things come to light.

Let’s go one day at a time!

10 October

Rusty Quill Twitter and Instagrams post UNPROMPTED, UNEXPLAINED eyes

On the same day, RQ patrons got a code in the weekly Patreon round up

12 October

RQ Twitter posts a tweet with an image of a cassette tape with the same code as had been given to the patrons: U3RhdGVtZW50IFJlbWFpbnMK

Using base64, the code comes out to “Statement Remains”

The RQ insta also posted this image to their story:

Which, if you take the image as binary code, comes out to “Are you still listening?”

A new code was also posted to RQ patrons, and will be added here if/when it is publicly released.

EDIT: There were strings of text added to the episode description of Goodbye for Now in the TMA feed, which when translated through Base32 and then Base64 read: "this one was an accident. sorry -_-"

Amazing, 11/10 work, RQ

(ty to @official-infinitea for the update on the pod description codes!)

EDIT: also on-going is like… every person associated with RQ being VERY MEAN and dropping hints that we’re all gonna lose our shit whenever whatever this is drops

13 October

Apparently the Patreon code from yesterday led people wildly off-course, because they gave another hint today to solve it. Again, going to keep the specifics of that off this post bc patreon, but know that in the end, it leads to the same place as what is below.

Also, Fay Roberts, who played Daisy Tonner in TMA, tweeted

The QR code translates to: WHR'TS ECAHXJ TCLKHX U AC JV Y

It was solved the rough four layers of translation and encryption, to read: “your guess is as good as mine.” Thank you, Mx. Roberts. Where would we be without your clues leading us.

The RQ Twitter and Instagram also posted

New episode:

I'll let you listen to that one on your own 😉

Code in the description is

7V?UOEdDb7B-9W`H>[n7AhG3$ATAo0@V?lrB6JQG+F/-BB6%F(@<=^@$<L\[@3B5q/0IH*G%G<0EbBM;6?$RHDfTD?+F/!?Aft`(H$CHLDdmBm+EhBM

Which translates via ascii to

"Statement Remains. Are you still listening?

Join us, Thirtieth October, lets talk about it."

4pm BST tweet:

Using a polybus code box, the numbers translate to:

The Magnus Archives Two

THAT’S RIGHT BITCHES WE GETTIN MORE TMA

#tma #the magnus archives #rusty quill #statement remains #tma spoilers #LISTEN I KNOW THIS SOUNDS SO PUT TOGETHER #BUT I AM LOSING MY ENTIRE MIND ATM #FEEL FREE TO SCREAM AT ME #BC I AM SCREAMING

8K notes · View notes

randxmthxughts · 1 year

Text

Human Stuff - Neteyam x Human! Reader (afab)

summary: the one where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period

warnings: menstruation talk, feeding food

wc: 2.3k

a/n: can you tell that i’m on my period and this is all i want rn

also, neteyam not knowing about periods can be canon? i just read that na’vi are non-placental, so they most likely don’t menstruate like primates. eywa be looking out for her girlies lol. but what do i know

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam walks into the science facility confidently, knowing every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. Growing up, he has spent countless hours here with his siblings, and especially lately, he has been here every other day. His eyes search for you through the glass windows of the labs where he knows he is not allowed to step a foot in, ears perked up for a sign of you, even though it’s awfully quiet. The facility is mostly empty, and he assumes that the rest of the group is probably in their avatar bodies, busy with research. But it’s you that he’s looking for.

Ever since you arrived at Pandora, Neteyam liked you right away. Roughly translated, the two of you were close in age, and had similar humor. Your father was the team lead of entomologists, and since you weren’t an actual scientist like the rest of the group, you had a lot of spare time to spend with Neteyam, exploring the forests. Your weekly meet ups with him became so familiar, that when you don’t show up at your regular meeting spot, Neteyam has to come and fetch you himself.

So here he is, walking through the labs, wondering if you had forgotten about your plans and were out with the others. It takes him some courage to sneak his head into the sleeping area, where he knew humans slept. Neteyam also knew very well that he wasn’t allowed back there because he could accidentally knock over things with his massive frame but he just needs to check. And his gut feeling isn’t wrong. You are laying in your bed, your back turned to him, completely unaware of his presence. Neteyam takes notice of how little you look with your body curled into a ball.

At first, he assumes you’re asleep. A small smile stretches his lips, as he sneaks up on you planning to scare you awake for abandoning your plans. But as he readies himself for the loud growl, a small whimper escapes from your lips.

Neteyam stops in his tracks, his ears perking up immediately at the sound. He thought he had imagined it, but that theory gets quickly disproven when he hears another whimper. Moving quickly, he rounds your bed to confirm his suspicions. You jerk up at the sight of his big frame looming over you.

“Neteyam, what the hell?” your heart starts racing.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, sorry,” he slowly crouches down in front of your bed, with a guilty expression on his face.

You throw an annoyed look at him before wrapping your arms around your middle again, and pressing your face into the pillow. You don’t want him to see your face. Neteyam doesn’t move, watching you.

“Go away,” you mumble, hoping that for once he will just comply.

“Did you forget about our plans?” he asks, ignoring your previous words, “Are you sleeping?”

“I am not sleeping,” you mutter angrily into the pillow.

Neteyam can’t quite put his finger on it but he knows that something strange is happening to you. Maybe it was the scent? Of course, he was used to your scent, he could sense you from a mile away because it always stood out to him. It wasn’t necessarily bad or good, it’s just the way he recognized you. But right now, for some reason, it was so intense, like somebody gathered it into a perfume bottle and sprayed it right into his nostrils.

He instinctively sniffs the air, and you cringe out of embarrassment, wishing you were dead right at this moment. Stupid periods, stupid cramps, stupid human bodies. If only you were back home right now, indulging in comfort food and taking your usual painkillers that could soothe the pain. Whatever you had found in the lab's aid kit was clearly not strong enough, and you suspect that the pressure on Pandora is making it even worse.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes as another painful cramp surges through your already sore muscles.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" Neteyam asks, attempting to turn you to your side so he can see your face. You grumble in annoyance, resisting his movements.

"Can you please just leave me alone?" you snap at him.

“But what about our plans?” Neteyam stares at you confused.

“I’m canceling them,” you huff, “I’m going through some human-stuff.”

It feels like your insides are being twisted and squeezed over and over again. You place a hand on your lower belly, hoping to suit the pain, but it only gets worse. Noticing the way your face grimaces, Neteyam stands up.

“You’re in pain,” he states, “I will go for Tsahik.”

“No!” you protest, “No Tsahik!”

“But you look unwell,” he hesitates, unsure of what to do.

“No Tsahik!” you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling another cramp, “It’s a human thing, the pain will pass soon.”

Something about Neteyam standing there and watching you, makes you feel embarrassed. You already felt weak in comparison to him, whenever you tried to keep up with his running through the forest or climbing trees. He loved teasing you about it, and you don’t need another reason for him to poke fun at you. Your hand clutches one of the pillows under your head, and you sit up to shoo him away.

“Go away, you’re not allowed to be here,” you threaten him, raising your pillow in the air.

Neteyam frowns, still not moving. Angry at his sudden stubbornness, you throw the pillow at him with as much force as you can.

“Go!” you shout at him again.

Neteyam easily dodges the pillow but finally backs away from your bed. He knows that when you get angry at him, it’s because you’re embarrassed about something. He just can’t grasp what this “human stuff” is and why is it making you so stressed. Neteyam thought he knew plenty about humans from his dad, but Jake had never mentioned anything like this.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam is so confused on his way out of the facility that he barely notices Norm and almost bumps into him. Fortunately, Norm was in his avatar body and wasn't trampled by the teenage Na'vi. He chuckles at the way Neteyam doesn’t even stop to acknowledge him and keeps walking.

“You okay, kid?” Norm calls out after Neteyam, finally catching his attention.

“Norm, you’re one of the sky people,” Neteyam turns around.

“I am,” Norm confirms with another chuckle, “Something bothering you?”

“Yeah… Can you tell me what is this ‘human stuff’ that you go through?”

Norm cocks his head, the question sounding so ridiculous, he assumes it’s a joke. But Neteyam looks serious.

“What ‘human stuff’?”

“I’m not sure but it looks like it is painful,” Neteyam shakes his head, “I just saw Y/N, and she was laying in her bed, and crying. It looked like something was hurting her, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Only said it was ‘human stuff’.”

“Maybe she’s just having a stomachache or something?” Norm shrugs.

“That’s what I thought. But when I wanted to get Tsahik for her, she got mad at me. Said that it will pass on its own.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t understand women sometimes,” Norm replies, then a sudden realization hits him, “Ooooh…”

“What?” Neteyam’s ears perk up, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but she might just be on her period.”

“Period?” it was an unfamiliar word.

“Yeah, women get it every month,” Norm explains but it only seems to confuse Neteyam further, “Okay, so I’m probably not the best person for this but sit down.”

After what seems like an hour passes, Neteyam gives up on the human biology lesson with Norm. He sort of gets the idea of menstruation but he can’t imagine what it feels like, no matter how hard he tries. All he gets from this conversation is that Y/N needs to rest to feel better, and that the food she craves can help ease the pain? He is an alien; he has no idea what she wants.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N?” Neteyam’s soft voice catches your attention.

The medicine you took earlier finally seems to work, and you feel slightly better. You prop yourself up on your elbows and see Neteyam walk into the room. A few colorful plastic bags in his hands catch your attention; these were usually hidden away in the very back of the kitchen cabinets for special occasions. Your mouth salivates at the sight of the chips and the cookies.

“Are you feeling better?” Neteyam asks, now crouching down next to your bed.

You nod, sitting up, feeling a little guilty for shooing him away earlier.

“I stole these from the secret stash,” he grimaces, laying out the bags on your blanket.

“My father is going to kill you for this,” you chuckle, reaching for the chips.

Neteyam smiles softly, as he watches you open the bag and fetch a few chips into your mouth. With a loud crunch, you munch on those with a giddy smile, then offer him some. Without much hesitation, Neteyam opens his mouth widely, letting you feed him a handful. You can’t help but chuckle at his blissful reaction to the taste; it was always fun for you to introduce Neteyam to human snacks. Your father got mad at you sometimes for it but you liked sneaking some for Neteyam, just to see him try it out. The sweets seemed to be too intense for him, but he liked salty things.

“Good?” you ask him. Neteyam hums, then opens his mouth again, signaling for more.

You chuckle before feeding him another handful. Though a teenager, Neteyam still required much more feeding than you did. So if you had a couple of chips at a time, Neteyam had to have a triple to fill his mouth.

“How did you know to bring these?” you ask him, now reaching for the bag of cookies.

From your previous tastings, you knew that Neteyam didn’t like chocolate chip cookies. Or anything with chocolate, to be fair. You did not hide your disappointment the first time he almost gagged at the chocolate kiss you gave him, offended by the way his eyes teared up.

“Norm told me that your favorite food can help,” he shrugged, watching you bite down on a cookie.

Your eyes closed in satisfaction as you chewed on it, savoring the taste that filled your mouth. You haven’t had those in a long time.

“Help with what?” you open your eyes again.

“Your human thing,” Neteyam gestures at your stomach.

“Did Norm tell you what it means?”

You feel heat flush to your cheeks, when Neteyam nods his head. You’re not sure why but the thought of Neteyam knowing makes you feel a little embarrassed. Not because there was anything embarrassing about getting a period. You just couldn’t imagine how weird it might be for him to know that you were bleeding out right at this moment, and he could probably smell it.

“Do you want to cuddle?” his voice catches your attention again. Where did he get that from?

You gulp down nervously, confused at how nonchalant he is. Maybe it’s not a big deal to him? He probably just wants to be supportive.

“Cuddle? Like, with you?” you clarify.

“Who else?” Neteyam chuckles, standing up.

He doesn’t wait for your response, instead gently nudging you to move to the middle of your bed. He was too big for it, so instead of laying down next to you, Neteyam decides to act like your headboard. You watch in confusion, as he slings his left foot over the bed and sits down, pressing his back against the wall, and setting down pillows on his lap.

“Come on,” Neteyam pats the pillows, encouraging you to lay down.

You hesitate for a second, before laying down, as Neteyam’s huge frame hangs over you. He smiles at how small you look, gently propping up the pillows under your head to make sure you’re comfortable.

“This is a little weird,” you sigh, looking up at his face.

Neteyam only chuckles and grabs the bag of cookies. He takes one out and offers it to you, bringing it to your mouth. As you open up to take a bite, Neteyam suddenly moves it out of your reach. You huff.

"Please, do not choke," he warns, before finally letting you bite into the cookie.

Eventually, you find yourself sitting up, leaning against his chest. As you swallow the bite, Neteyam feeds you again, listening to the satisfied sounds you make.

“Feel better about the human stuff?” he nudges your shoulder.

“Much better, thank you,” you turn a little to look at his face.

While you were spending a lot of time with him, you’ve never found yourself in such close proximity with him. It felt weird but comforting. Like he offered you some sort of protection, a shield.

“Can I ask what it feels like?” Neteyam breaks the silence, “Norm was sweating trying to explain it to me.”

You laugh at the thought of Norm trying to explain human biology to him. Nestling against Neteyam's chest, you make yourself comfortable and start talking. You both enjoy the snacks he brought, and occasionally he comforts you by rubbing small circles on your shoulders and arms. As the evening wears on, you start to feel tired and eventually doze off in his arms.

5K notes · View notes

valdomarx · 7 months

Text

It begins, innocently enough, with a carton of orange juice.

Roy has never cared for the stuff, but Jamie is round at his house at 6am every morning after training, and he loves it. Roy figures he might as well make breakfast for them both while they're there, so the next time he's at the supermarket he picks up a carton and shoves it into the fridge.

And there's really no point in Jamie going home to shower before team training, is there? That would be a waste of everyone's time, so he showers at Roy's. Soon enough Roy's bathroom is full of expensive hair conditioner and elaborate skincare products and the inevitable cans of Lynx which start to crowd his shelves, but whatever.

And then Jamie starts turning up for weekly Lust Conquers All watch parties, and it's not quite clear how that happened. Roy wouldn't admit it on pain of death, but he likes having an excuse to watch the show and having someone to bitch about the terrible contestants and the unfair eliminations with.

And Jamie is right there, so it would be rude not to offer him dinner, wouldn't it? Roy likes to cook, and it's just as easy to cook for two as for one. Then suddenly Roy's kitchen cupboards are full of Jamie's favourite brands of soy sauce and Tabasco and rice cakes, but that's okay because at least now Roy can keep an eye on his diet.

And when Jamie is round and it's getting late and they've got 4am training tomorrow, he might as well stay the night. So what was Roy's guest room becomes Jamie's room. And if, on occasion, when they're both knackered from a hard match and ready to pass out, Jamie collapses into Roy's bed, tucked up next to him, snuffling and cuddly and infuriatingly, wonderfully Jamie, then that's no one's business but theirs.

Roy keeps finding bright orange joggers and graffiti-covered hoodies in his laundry pile, but Jamie still complains of having nothing to wear, so Roy tosses him one of his old Chelsea shirts. Then somehow Roy's entire cupboard full of old kits becomes Jamie's wardrobe, and Roy gets kind of used to waking up to find Jamie in the kitchen, making coffee, with KENT printed across his back.

At some point it's been weeks since Jamie was at his place, and Roy caved ages ago and gave Jamie his own set of keys, and it would be odd, frankly, for him not to be here, in Roy's space, sprawling on Roy's sofa and eating Roy's leftovers, and dropping his feet into Roy's lap with that ridiculous grin that makes the corners of Roy's mouth twitch upwards involuntarily.

"Marry me." Roy blurts it out, some instinct rising up directly from the very centre of his chest and exiting via his mouth with no input whatsoever from his brain.

"The fuck?" Jamie blinks at him, slowly, like he's approaching a wounded animal.

"Oh." Roy thinks fast. "It's a joke. Because you're always here, right, and we spend all this time together, and we're practically married." He forces what he hopes is a jovial smile. "Haha?"

Jamie gives him an odd look. "Riiiight."

Roy fiddles with the TV remote, then glances over at Jamie, then looks away again, then looks back. Jamie is still staring at him, a look of utter bafflement on his face. "I mean." Roy's leg bounces anxiously. "Unless... ?"

#this week we are thinking about pining roy 🙏#he's not the most self aware but oh boy is he ever fond #royjamie #roy x jamie #ted lasso #my writing #roy kent #jamie tartt

526 notes · View notes

sturnsiolos0 · 5 months

Text

Study session-Chris Sturniolo

THEY SEEM LIKE SUCH NERDS IN THIS LIKE EWW idk i hate this

You had been sat in the library with your friends studying away together, the pinging of whispered questions and fluttering of book pages as each of you diligently searched for the correct answers a familiar and comforting pass-time. It was a fail-proof method of studying, and you had all gotten on by successfully for months with it.

Someone drilled you with questions, almost an hour in to the rigorous study session. You reel off answers, tapping your pencil absentmindedly against your notes.

"Wrong." An arrogant voice drawled, and you had jolted in surprise at the volume after conversing in only whispers for so long.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, shock painting your features as you whipped round to catch sight of Chris draped languidly across a library armchair.

One of his brows had arched as he tilted his head back, the arm propped up on the armrest of the chair reaching up to rest his chin on his pale knuckles. "I said, you're wrong."

You had flushed deeply at his sneer, momentarily lost for words before scrambling for a comeback. "I-I'm not." You still felt like crawling into a pit to die every time you recalled that response.

He had laughed, dropping his hand back down before leaning forward, completely ignoring your friends glaring at him. He corrects you, explaining it to you like you were a child. Sniffing indignantly, you had shuffled in your seat a little before muttering your thanks and turning back around to continue with your group, trying your very hardest to pretend that Chris's pale eyes were not carving identical holes into the back of your head.

He didn't interrupt for the short remainder of the session, and when you and friends had all finally left, you found that he had slipped out of the library unnoticed. You had dawdled behind your friends, the weight of the stacked books in your arms dragging you down and diverting all of your attention to the task of not dropping the pile, as opposed to your surroundings. Which was why you had let out a feeble yelp and dropped most of the books in a pitiful heap when suddenly you were dragged into a darkened nook of the wall.

You had clutched the remaining book in your hands like a weapon, ready to hit your captor over the head with the dusty volume, except you had frozen when your eyes locked with none other than those of Chris.

"You're terrible at this you know." He had commented dryly, to which you blinked. "Not as terrible as your idiot friends, but still terrible."

Another blink. There had been too much spite in his words for you to take his comment as a backhanded compliment, but part of you had wondered if that was what he was going for. "Uh, okay. Thanks for letting me know."

He rolled his eyes, and your brows had formed a deep furrow at his next words. "Meet me in the library tomorrow evening at eight o'clock. Don't be late."

And before you had even thought to formulate a reply, he had stalked off, leaving you gobsmacked and with a pile of books to pick up.

Ever since the following night, you had been meeting with Chris for weekly one-on-one study sessions. It wasn't something you outright enjoyed initially; in the beginning, he was snappy and outright degrading to the point that you'd rather have literally anyone else tutoring you instead, and you had asked yourself more than once why he had even bothered to offer - or demand - his time to tutor you. But as the weeks had worn on, he began to calm down, his snappiness mellowing out to a tolerable curtness which only presented itself when he felt particularly frustrated, and he no longer insulted you with every opportunity.

In fact, he had started to praise you. Sort of. He no longer called you an idiot, at least. And your time with him had started straying from the austere regimen of studying and even delving into casual conversation. You had even made him laugh a handful of times , you were certain that his laughter was completely genuine, no traces of arrogance or cruelty to tinge the altogether pleasant sound. Each time, you had fought to quell the sticky heat the light sound had filled you with, swallowing it down alongside the whisper in the back of your mind that hinted towards something more than doing just studying with Chris.

These days, much to your surprise, you actually found yourself looking forward to the weekly study sessions. (🤓)

Every Thursday night at eight o'clock, you would eagerly venture to the darkened corner of the library towards the restricted section to meet him. Which is exactly where you were headed now.

Slipping into the library hall, you scurry through the crammed tables, no more than half of them occupied by hunched groups of antsy students, and dart around stacks of precariously piled books until you come to a stop before your regular hidden table.

Chris is already there, lounging in his chair as he flicks lazily through the thick volume propped before him on the table. He doesn't bother to glance up at you - barely even raises an eyebrow - as he continues to turn pages, and you shuffle over to the chair opposite, only to pause in pulling it out when you find his feet propped up on the cushion of said chair.

"You're late." He announces, ignoring your huff as he remains in the same position. He reaches out his hand to draw the chair beside him out from under the table.

"Now sit." He demands, nodding down at the seat expectantly, and so with little room for argument you find yourself plopping into the chair next to him. You reach into your bag to rummage around for your book, but he reaches out to stop you, a pale hand wrapping around your wrist. You jolt, and his fingers tighten as he tugs your arm away from your bag before letting go and depositing it onto the table top. "No textbook, I'll be testing you today."

"Testing?" You echo, taken off guard. You glance at him curiously, but his face remains as cool and passive as ever.

"We'll start with something easy.“ He says before he begins to test you. Clearing your throat, you begin to answer, but your voice cuts out suddenly. A hand is resting on your knee, the same hand that had been latched around your wrist not all that long ago. Your eyes dart up to his face nervously, but he gives nothing away, continuing to gaze down at the book he was flicking through with his other hand.

"Keep going." Is all he says, and you shuffle in your seat for a moment before nodding, mostly to yourself.

You attempt to continue on with your answer but once again, your voice gives out; Chris's hand all the while had been creeping up your leg, until it had slipped under your skirt. Cool fingertips press faintly into the soft flesh of your bare inner thigh, and you squeak quietly.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks in the same blasè tone, and your mind stumbles to decipher the vague question. He had said it as if referring to studying, but the fingers on your flesh squeezed gently on 'stop', and you take a moment to ponder. You glance over to the boy beside you to find him already staring intently at your face, no trace of cruelty in his expression - only patience as he awaits your response. As if on it's own accord, your head slowly shakes in wordless disagreement. No, you realise you don't want to stop, and he nods once.

"Carry on, then."

Swallowing thickly, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing on with your answer, though your voice trembles with each word. The entire time, his fingers continue to skim up the sensitive flesh, and it's the moment before you almost finish your response that those cool digits finish their journey up your thigh to make contact with the edge of your panties. He’s then suddenly playing with the elasticated edge, rolling the hem between his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly, and your legs are parting in invitation.

Chris is toying with you, enjoying the way you stutter and stumble through your words, relishing at how your breathing hitches and jumps with every inch of skin his fingertips caress. He watches you from the corner of his eye, the crimson flooding the high points of your cheeks that he had admired from afar for so long, even before his first interaction with you in the library all those months ago. Your chest is already heaving with laboured breaths, lips parting as you huff quietly, and a faint smirk finds its way onto his lips as he continues on his exploration.

He's so close to you, his fingers so close to your core that they send jolts of blazing liquid desire coursing through you, and yet all he does is run those slender digits along the elasticated band, the soft pad of his finger brushing the fold of your flesh between the top of your thigh and what lay beyond the soft fabric of your panties. Squirming, you bite down on your lip, trying your best to control your breathing when you remember that you're sat in the library, and your eyes dart around anxiously, even though no one had ever interrupted you back in this corner ever since the first study session.

He asks the next question, but your throat feels bone dry, and you have to swallow several times before your voice successfully squeaks out, your response being littered with whimpers and cusses.

Chris’s fingers had abandoned their grazing of the crevice of your groin to brush a single digit through your folds. Both of his brows shoot up at your exclamation, and he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

"Didn't realise 'fuck' was part of that answer." He comments casually, hand shifting deftly to cup your pussy, fingertips pressing lightly. Your thighs clench in response to the pressure, and a breathless whine slips out of you. "Explain further?”

You bite out answers as he continues to touch you, gasping slightly as he pushes your panties aside to slide two fingers between your wet folds.

Fingertips find your clit, and your breath stutters at the contact. Chris brushes circles against your throbbing clit by nimble fingers before they return to running up and down the folds of your pussy.

"Very good." He murmurs, voice like honey and velvet as he praises you. "Next?"

You can barely think straight, his fingertips are paused at your entrance, and despite your hips desperately pushing forwards, he remains stubbornly still, and you whine, trying to recall the answer.

A single finger presses into you as soon as the answer comes to you, the digit long and sure as you take the first, then the second knuckle, until his entire finger is surrounded by your slick walls.

You moan loudly as he draws his finger out, quickly returning with two, and your hands scrabble with the edge of the table before you, nails biting into the aged wood at the sudden stretch.

He continues prompting you casually,head lulling forward as his fingers begin to move, pumping in and out at a languid pace.

Biting your lip, you fight against the drag of his fingertips and stretch of his knuckles.

Chris begins picking up the pace and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit. A startled moan escapes you, loud and breathy and high-pitched, and your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth in a desperate attempt to quell any similar noises that might betray what you were doing to the rest of the students in the library. Chris freezes, and your eyes, which you can't recall closing, snap open.

"That's cheating." He chides, pausing in his page-turning to tug your hand away from your mouth. His fingers linger on your heated cheek for a moment, eyes like molten silver as they connect with yours, before he turns back to his book. "Next answer?"

You grind out words, his fingers still pressed deep into your pussy.

"What was that?" He asks, and you blink, certain that you were correct.Your confusion is wiped away when he moves his hand, adding a third digit into the equation. Chris pushes them in slowly, and you can feel your stickiness dripping down as he stretches you deliciously.

He puts a pause on his relentless questioning, instead turning his full attention to your pleasure as he builds a slow rhythm, curling his fingers every time he plunges in deep. You whine and huff, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes at the intense pressure he was building within you, and when he returns to adding stimulation to your clit, you almost cover your mouth again to hold back your wanton moans before remembering that Chris had already told you not to.

And so your hand drops to clutch desperately at his forearm, fingers scrabbling with the cotton of his shirt sleeve as you try to ground yourself. He doesn't stop, nor does he push you away, and so you maintain your grip. Your tongue darts out to dampen your lip, and his eyes follow the movement. His facade starts to slip as he leans towards you, and you watch from behind lowered lids as his own lips part.

Suddenly, his fingers are withdrawing from inside your pussy, and a tear of sheer desperation and loss slips from your eye before Chris is swiftly twisting to grab you by the hips and dragging you towards him. Your knees clatter against his as he pulls you onto his lap, legs splaying onto either side as a pale hand snatches you by the hair and yanks you down for an open-mouthed kiss.

It's savage, hot and fast, with teeth colliding and breaths mingling, and your trembling fingers are eager mess up his platinum hair, clutching at the silken strands whilst his free hand fumbles desperately at your shirt to tug it free from its confines of your skirt's waistband. Chris grunts in frustration, redirecting his administrations to harsh biting kisses along your jawline and down your exposed throat, and you catch a glimpse of his furrowed brow before your eyes slip closed once more.

His grip slips from your hair to join his other momentarily, and with one sharp tug, he yanks your shirt off. Your gasp of surprise is immediately swallowed up by a low moan as his mouth works its way along your collar bones before leaving a sucking bite over your left breast. His tongue laves over the mark, soothing the tender flesh before your hiss can turn to one of discomfort, and he pulls back to study it for a second before once again grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the edge of the table, his book forgotten as you knock it away.

"Chris…" You murmur, his name a breathless whisper as you look down at his face. Blown pupils are surrounded by a ring of starlight as he stares up at you, the sharp contours of his usually-pale cheeks tinged with scarlet, and the lips that are so often stretched in a sneer are kiss-swollen and parted as quiet gasps of breath break free. Your fingers loosen their hold on his hair to study his face, tracing his temples, the hollows of his cheekbones, along the razor-sharp jawline. One delicate fingertip ghosts over his lower lip, and he shudders.

Cool hands slide from your hips, mirroring each other as they brush down your outer thighs, pausing to squeeze your knees, and he tugs them apart before trailing back up, fingers splayed to caress as much skin as possible. Your hands drop from his face to brace yourself against the table on either side of your hips. The pads of Chris's thumbs press against your inner thighs, and you tremble with anticipation as he tilts his head lower, gaze travelling over your face, your throat, your exposed chest, down your stomach, to pause on your skirt, half-hitched up your thighs and concealing his hands.

You wait with baited breath, frozen in the moment as you anticipate Chris’s next move. His eyes only flicker up to your face for a split-second before hiking your skirt up around your waist.

"Hold it."

You abide his instruction, one hand sliding further back on the table as you lean back whilst the other clenches the crumpled fabric into a fist. Your blush deepens as he stares down at your exposed panties, the white material soaked through from his attentive administrations on your dripping pussy, meanwhile his palms rest atop your thighs, fingers millimeters away from the sodden material.

"Good girl."

Whining at his hum of approval, you almost miss his smirk before he leans forward in his seat, tugging your panties aside in the same moment. He drags his fire-hot tongue through your folds without warning, lapping up your fluids with the tip, and you jolt forward, eyes clenching tight as you bite back the high-pitched moan he evoked.

"Eyes open." He commands, pulling back a fraction, and your bleary eyes snap open to meet his hyper-focused gaze. "On me."

Nodding desperately, your nails claw at the table surface as he resumes, burying his face in your pussy as he laves at your swollen clit, running the tip of his nose through your folds and teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Chris's hands grip your ass, holding you still as your hips threaten to buck against him.

You can only watch Chris for so long before the intense pleasure takes over. Head thrown back, you gasp and moan as quietly as you can, failing to catch sight of Chris staring up at you, watching as your flushed chest rises and falls with each jagged breath drawn, admiring the arch of your throat and the inviting curve of your parted lips.

You can feel your climax drawing near as Chris maintains his attentions, nose nudging your sensitive clit as his tongue fucks you, his pace languid yet the force brutal, and suddenly, that elastic tension drawing taut within your core snaps, and a stuttering moan comes tumbling out of you as you cum over Chris's face. Slumping forward, you bow over him, and it takes you several moments to notice that you had, at some point, grabbed at his hair with both hands to ride his face throughout your orgasm.

Fingers spasming, you slacken your grip on his hair and struggle to sit upright, a blush of mortification washing over you when the reality of the situation crashes down. "I-I-"

He interrupts your stuttering with the simple act of sitting up, and when his eyes meet yours, your voice dies in your throat. Reaching up, Chris absentmindedly wipes away at the lower half of his face with the back of his hand, wet with your arousal, before gripping you by the hips to slip you off of the table and back onto his lap. He leans back, the epitome of elegance despite your panting form draped across his chest, the chair once again his throne as he rights the book he had been reading and resumes flicking through it.

"You didn't finish going through that last question," He points out, voice tinged with accusation and completely contradictory to the gentle ghosting of his finger tips brushing the stray hair from your face. "We'll do it again next week."

should i write them shorter like what are y’all’s thoughts😋⁉️cuz this is kinda rlly long idk

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #matt sturniolo smut #smut #sturniolo fanfic

207 notes · View notes

hangmansgbaby · 1 year

Text

Three’s a Crowd, Unless its You

THIS IS 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: Jake and y/n wanted to spice things up in the bedroom so they brought Rooster in. And then the feelings started so Jake and y/n make a plan to permanently in Rooster to their everyday life.

Pairings: established jake x reader, bradley x reader, bradley x jake, bob x reader

Warnings: slight angst, threesome vibes, dom bob, mentions of subspace, swearing, smut, smut, and more smut, squirting, maybe cum play?, creampie, oral (f and m receiving), anxiety, basically lots of smut with some plot

Notes: A big thank you to @bobby-r2d2-floyd who practically wrote this for me cause I am not good at smut but wanted this to exist! Also thank you to @roosters-girl and @startrekfangirl2233 and @sarahsmi13s who bounced ideas around and read through it a million times with us!

word count: 5k

CassieMitchell Masterlist

You and Jake had been together for a while, you two were comfortable with each other and with the sex that you had been having, but lately you both had been noticing the lingering gaze from Rooster whenever the Dagger squad was together, or when Rooster came over to your place to hang out. You and Jake had talked about bringing Bradley into your relationship for a while as a third lover, only Rooster had fallen deeply for you; he came around more often and started staying longer after rolling around the bed with you and Jake for a few hours to hold you. Aftercare moments got sweeter and longer, and while you reciprocate those feelings, you will always feel more love for Jake.

Jake noticed these small things and grew worried that you were tired of him and that he was losing you, but after a long night of you two together, you had assured him that you’re still very much in love with him. Jake was the one who suggested bringing him in, officially, actually. You knew from prior wine nights with Bob and Phoenix that he was quite the Dom in the bedroom, at the time it was random information but now? You can use that to your advantage. This began a plan of action, a sex-posal if you will, that will come to a head tonight. You had discussed the situation with Bob beforehand and he was all for it since he was getting tired of hearing Rooster talk nonstop about you and Jake any chance he got.

When you suggested bringing Bob into your weekly tryst with Jake and Bradley, neither of them were really prepared for it. They knew it was going to happen, it was just the when that they were unaware of. So when you surprised Jake one night when he got home from work, with nothing but his Stetson and a sexy lingerie set peaking from beneath one of Rooster’s Hawaiian shirts, he had a sneaking suspicion as to what was about to happen. You led him up to the guest bedroom, his brain whirring and cock swelling at the thought of getting a round in before Rooster showed up and the plan taking action, but instead he was pushed into one of the two chairs in the room.

“Whatcha doin’ Honey?” Jake questions as you move around to the back of the chair, looping the rope around his hands and the bars of the chair, loosely, according to the plan.

“Nothing.” you smiled innocently, moving around to the front of him, straddling his still clothed lap. “Just got a surprise for you, baby.” you kiss him softly on the lips before standing up. “Now, take this,” you wrap one of his bandanas around his mouth to gag him and slip a blindfold over his head, resting at his brows and ready to be pulled down just as Rooster calls out.

“Hey Pretty? Jake? I’m here!” he calls from the foyer, kicking his boots off at the door.

“Up here, Roos!” you call out and you look back to Jake, “you’re still okay with all this?”, he nods and you smile, slipping the blindfold down over his eyes. “Okay. Be good. Love you.” You smirk before strutting out of the room. “Hey big guy.” You hold the smirk, leaning against the entrance to the hallway, his shirt slipping down off your shoulder since you don’t have it buttoned properly.

“Well hello to you, pretty. What’s the occasion?” he asks, reaching out for you and you talk half a step back to tease him.

“Just a little surprise… wear this for me?” you ask, holding up the blindfold.

“Are you in charge tonight?” Bradley chuckles, taking the blindfold from you.

“You could say that. Now please?” You smile sweetly at him.

“Alright.” slipping the blindfold on, you take his hand and lead him into the room, gently placing him to the other chair.

“Ya know Pretty, normally I’m putting those knots on you.” Bradley chuckles, as you start wrapping the rope around his wrists.

“If you didn’t want me to use them on you,” you finish the knot, securing him to the chair. “You shouldn’t have taught me how to do it.”

You smile at your knot work before reaching over to pull Jake’s gag from his mouth before continuing. “Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.”

“Honey, whatcha doin?” Jake questions, still playing along with the plan and you laugh before reaching over and ghosting your fingers across their laps.

“Havin’ some fun.”

“What are you doing to us, Pretty?” Bradley groans as you move to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Remember when I asked if we could include Bob one day?”

“Yea baby, we had our meetings with him. We just gotta set a date.” Bradley says and you bite your lip before looking behind them to the shut bathroom door across the hall.

“Well how about right now? Bobby!”

The bathroom door opens and Bradley’s pulse picks up, not prepared for this to be happening.

“Oh, Pretty… I don’t know.” Bradley sighs out and you just smirk. “Jake?” he asks and Jake shrugs, knowing that Bradley can’t see but doing it anyway.

“I don’t see why not. It’s just a little bit of fun, Brad.” he says and Bradley’s anxiety is sky high over the situation.

“You sure you still wanna do this, doll?” Bob asks, his soft demeanor still showing, towering over you. You nod softly before going to pull Bradley and Jake’s blindfolds down from their eyes and Jake nods softly to you and Bob.

Bob grabs your jaw bone between his thumb and ring fingers, his hand essentially cupping the lower half of your face, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I talk to you.” Bob says firmly.

“Hey woah Bob!” Bradley protests, “That's a little harsh, man.”

“You still wanna do this?” Bob asks and you nod, causing him to jerk your head again, “use your words.” Bob states, ignoring Bradley and his protests entirely.

“Yes.” you reply softly, receiving a light slap to your cheek. “Yes, sir.” you moan, skin tingling from the contact.

“Good girl.” Bob smiles. “What’s your color?”

“Green.” another slap, slightly harder. “Green, sir.”

“Bob, I don’t like this.” Bradley pulls against the ropes, trying to get to you, rescue you.

“It’s alright, Rooster. She asked for it.” Jake smiles at Bradley, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Plus, we’ve done worse.”

“And she’s not complaining. Are you, baby doll?” Bob drags his hand from your chin down your neck, thumb and middle fingers digging to the sides of your neck, just over your pulse points, dragging a whine as he gently chokes you. “What do you want, Doll?” his hands move to your chest, tugging on the lace cups of your bra. “You want me to touch you? Treat you like my little slut?”

You nod as he pinches your nipple, pulling slightly, a gasp sneaking past your lips.

“Ask them, doll.” Bob nods to Jake and Bradley, “Ask them if you can be my good little slut.”

Your eyes dart between Jake and Bradley as Bob’s lips begin an assault on your neck, “please-” you let a moan as Bob nips at your skin, “please let me be a good little slut for Bob.”

Jake nods and Bradley looks at Jake, adamant to let you go through with this but eventually he nods too. This causes Bob to smirk at the both of them.

“Enjoy the show ‘cause I know that your girl is really going to enjoy it.” Bob pushes you back into the bed with little care, rough but still respectful of the boundaries that you had set. “As much as I love this little number, doll, it’s gotta go.” he says before he rips the lingerie to shreds.

“Bobby!” He leans down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, gently nipping before swiping his tongue across to smooth it.

“And much as I love these beauties.” Bob smiles, long gone the shy backseater that Jake and Bradley were familiar with. “I’m more curious about how you taste.” he slides his left hand down your stomach, stopping momentarily to graze your clit before running his fingers through your slit.

“Shit, Babydoll, is this all for me?” Bob groans, feeling your warm slick. “Or is this because your boys are gonna watch me have my way with you?” he looks back at the two tied up aviators and smirks.

The moan that rips through your throat as he slowly slid one of his fingers into your wet hole was nothing short of beautiful to Bradley, who was trying to shake your knots free.

“Doll, these boys must not stretch you out very often if you’re squeezing me like this.” Bob groans as he feels just how tight your walls are around one of his fingers. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna remedy that right now.”

He pulls his hand away from you, slipping his slick soaked finger into his mouth and groaning at how sweet you taste. “Fuck babydoll, with as sweet of a pussy like you have, I don’t know how either of these boys don’t live between your thighs. Must be why Jake calls you Honey all the time, isn’t it?” he says as he adjusts his body so your thighs are thrown over his shoulders.

He gives you no warning before his lips are sucking your clit into his mouth. You let out a cry that nearly had Bradley breaking the chair to get to you, whereas Jake stays put, his cock rock hard in his service khakis.

Bob slips a finger back into your hole and immediately finds your g-spot, knowing enough about the female anatomy to get you screaming his name in a matter of seconds where with Jake or Bradley, it always took them a minute before they could really get you going.

“Fuck! Sir-please!” you cry out, fingers knotting in his short locks.

“Please what, babydoll?” he pulls away long enough to ask and you let out a sob.

“Pl-please let me cum!” you beg and he gets you right to the edge and then pulls away before you can fall into ecstasy.

“Robert!” you groan out and he slaps your pussy and you flinch, not in pain but in shock.

“What’s my name?” he says, teasing your hole with his fingers again.

“Sir.” you choke out as he gives a gentle stroke to your clit.

“What’s your color?”

“Green.” you barely finish the word before he’s slipping two fingers into you and massaging that special spot again, using this thumb to rub at your clit and you’re seeing stars as your orgasm builds.

Bob being the Dom he is, pulls away before you can come, again, and again, and again. You let out frustrated cry, tears running down your face out of pleasure and frustration as you nearly kick him in the ribs.

“Hey, do you want to be tied up, little girl?” he asks and you shake your head no.

“No, I’ll be good sir! Please.. Just let me cum I’ll be your good girl! I’ll be so good for you, please..” you beg and he kisses your inner thigh before sliding his fingers back into you for a final time, bringing your climax finally and you cry out as you soak the sheets below you and some of Bob’s neck, chest, and forearm.

“Fuck babydoll, you didn’t tell me you could do that.” he groans out, his accent prevalent and youre trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah I didn’t know that I could either.” you laugh a little and Bob kisses your clit before sitting up and looking at Jake and Bradley.

Jake is sitting there, wet patch gathering by this fly and Bradley is red in the face but also with a noticeable hardon. “Look at that, boys. I got your girl to do something that neither of you could. How does that feel?” he asks and Bradley struggles against the ropes again, cursing himself for teaching you how to tie these knots.

“You son of a-” he starts but is cut off when Jake kicks at him.

“Bradley, it’s okay. We agreed to this.” he tries to sound dejected but on the inside he is jealous as fuck. Bradley just huffs and sits back in his seat.

Bob slips out of his boxers before grabbing your hips and shifts you so you’re lying width-wise on the bed before he pulls you hips up so you’re on your knees, chest pressed against the bed as you look at Jake and Bradley. “Look at your boys, babydoll. I want them to see the look in your eyes when I split you open on my cock.” he says, running the head of his cock through your folds and you moan softly when he rubs against your clit.

You lock eyes with Bradley as Bob is pushing into you, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as he eases all of his cock into you, splitting you open into a way that was different than both Jake and Bradley. He doesn’t move, letting you adjust to his size for a second before slowly picking up the pace and he has you cock-dumb in seconds, the last look that you recognize on Bradley’s face is one of pain as he watches the woman he loves getting fucked by one of his best friends. His brain short circuiting in the worst of ways; maybe your love for him was all in his head, maybe you just wanted something fun for a while and you tired of him, maybe--

“Look at our girl.” Jake says, free of his bonds and running his fingers through Bradley’s hair. Bradley’s eyes snapback to your own unfocused pair, “look at how pretty she looks, all fucked out and cock-dumb from our best friend. “Think of how pretty she’ll look like this for you all the time.” Jake whispers in his ear and suddenly that’s all Bradly can think of.

Despite Bob being balls deep inside if you, fingers leaving marks on your hips, you're calling out Bradley’s name. It’s his name on your lips as you cum, not Bob’s.

The thought alone of you in subspace from another man, and calling out for him, makes his cock swell again. He was the only thing on your mind at the moment, not even your boyfriend who has untied Bradley and is pushing him towards the bed, peeling off both of their clothes in the meanwhile.

Bob smirks at him, having long since pulled out but his fingers slowly working in and out of you, “Come on Rooster, come get your girl.” Jake gives him another nudge forward and before Bradley knows it, he’s naked from the waist down and slipping inside of you, groaning at how tight you still are around him and your gentle little moans and chants fill the air once again as he fills you.

Bob takes a quiet leave once the three of you are all distracted, not minding that he didn’t get off from the situation, he wasn’t supposed to. It was for you and Jake and Bradley, he can always go find someone at the bar or call up any one of his subs in his contacts.

Jake sits near the head of the bed, stripped of his khakis and laying back in his boxers, watching Bradley fuck into you slowly and before he’s reaching forward and rubbing your clit. You cry out softly and despite Bradley not being inside of you for too long, they both know you’re going to be cumming soon.

Bradley picks up his pace, his hand replacing Jake’s on your clit so the other can leave to go warm up some towels for you, knowing that you’ll want to be clean after you finish. He swings by the kitchen to also grab easy to digest snacks, having gotten suggestions from Bob prior to the night's activities, as well as a bottle of water and your favorite flavor of gatorade before heading back to the bedroom.

Bradley has since picked up the pace, fucking both you and him to a fast completion. You go over the edge first, chanting nothing but “Bradley! Bradley! Bradley!” as you cum and he’s nearly falling on top of you from how tight your pussy squeezes around his cock. He finishes deep inside of you with a groan, a ‘fucking shit’ tumbling from his own lips as his hips stutter, trying to get as deep inside of you as he can, filling you to the brim with his cum.

Jake watches from the doorway, a smile on his lips as he watches the love of his life getting fucked by the new, partial, love of her life. Bradley looks up and the two men lock eyes, sharing a knowing smile before Jake makes his way to the bed, handing Bradley his own towel for when he pulls out and using the other one to clean you up, taking care with how sensitive you probably are.

As Bradley pulls out, you let out a whine, your body not ready to deal with the loss of his cock from between your walls. Jake is there as soon as Bradley is out to catch the other man’s falling cum in the towel. He folds it in and uses a clean side to gently wipe at your abused and puffy folds and thighs, he bends down and places a gentle kiss to the base of your spine before helping Bradley maneuver you into a laying position.

You curl up against Bradley’s chest after he gets settled down in the bed. One of his arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you tighter to him while Jake strips the top layer of bedding and tosses it off to the side. You trace absent shapes on Bradley’s pecs and he places soft kisses to the top of your head, murmuring softly into your hair.

“You did so well, pretty. You were such a good girl for all of us.” he says and you let out a whine.

“Wanna be a good girl… wanna be your good girl.” you mumble and Jake presses himself to your back after handing Bradley the gatorade for when you’re a little more coherent.

“You were such a good girl, honey.” Jake presses gentle kisses along your shoulder and you let out a gentle sigh, letting your weight press more into Bradley as Jake puts more weight into you to help you feel settled and safe.

After a few moments of gentle kiss and soft words spoken from both men, you start to come to. Stirring softly against Bradley as you try to sit up. Jake leans off of you just enough to allow you to prop up on your elbow and Bradley is handing you the gatorade. You drink almost half of it at once before handing it back to Bradley who caps it and sets it to the side.

“How’re you doing, pretty?” he asks, offering you a granola bar and you shake your head no.

“I’m… okay. How are you?” you ask and he smiles a little.

“Honestly? I was a little upset in the beginning. Thought that you were over me and moving on with Bob.” he says and you feel a little bad, but before you could open your mouth he’s talking again. “Jake helped me out, made me feel better when he called you our girl. Brought me back out of my head.”

You lean up and kiss him softly, “I could never be tired of you, Roos. Jake and I want you as a permanent member of our relationship. No more nights without you.. No more pretending that there isn’t something between us.”

Bradley smiles down at you softly before pulling you in for another kiss. Jake watches from his spot behind you with a smile before he’s reaching across you, fingers threading in Bradley’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss of his own, showing Bradley that he’s just as much Jake’s at this point as he is yours.

“We’ll figure the logistics of everything out tomorrow, let’s just get some sleep for now.” Jake says softly and Bradley nods, you’re already mostly asleep against his chest after the night's activities. The two aviators are asleep not long afterwards, smiles on their faces and their hearts full as everything feels like it's falling into place.

The golden rays from the morning sun are barely peeking through the crack in the blinds, illuminating the room in gentle yellow and pink tones as the sun rises. You awake naturally, having moved from your place on Bradley’s chest to Jake’s. His arm around your waist and while Bradley is curled up and facing away from you, not used to sharing his bed with someone else.

You place gentle kisses to Jake’s chest, eliciting a groan from the blond as you slowly shift out of his arms and off the bed, throwing on Bradley’s discarded Hawaiian shirt and making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up and brush your teeth.

Jake is used to you waking up earlier than him, so when he wakes up and he’s spooning Bradley and not you, he’s confused at first. His brain still fogged with sleep before his memories from last night kicked in. He smiles to himself, kissing Bradley’s shoulder before slipping out from the bed and following the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

“Good morning, honey.” he says, pressing a kiss to your neck as his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you back to him and you let out a small laugh as his lips assault your neck.

“Good morning.”

“Wanna taste you.” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder and you shake your head no.

“I wanna taste you.” you say and put your now empty cup on the counter before dragging him away to the living room and pushing him on the couch. You straddle his thighs and kiss him, tongue slipping easily between his lips before kissing a trail down his neck, sucking on that spot just behind his ear that really gets him going, but careful enough to not leave a mark there that’ll get him in trouble with the Navy.

His hands grip your hips and you rut down against his brief clad cock, feeling him swell against you. You pull away and look down at him as you rock your hips gently into his, “wanna thank you for last night and for letting Bradley into our relationship.”

You sink to your knees, the carpet of the living room rug rough against your skin but you don’t care. You sit eye level with Jake’s cock as you work him out of the last piece of clothes he was wearing. Once his cock is free you notice just how red the tip is, after all he hadn’t had the chance to cum last night, despite the scene that played in front of him.

He lets out a groan as you take him into your coffee warmed mouth, his fingers gripping the upholstery of the couch in one hand, the other lacing through your hair as your tongue swirls around his tip.

You moan at his taste, slightly salty, a little sweet, and 100% Jake. You work past the head of his cock, slowly moving your head up and down his shaft, growing wetter yourself as his groans, moans, and pants of your name fill the air of the living room. One of your hands is perched on his thigh, keeping yourself balanced as you lean over his cock, the other squeezing the base of him gently.

“Oh fuck, honey. I’m gonna cum embarrassingly fast if you keep doing that.” he breathes out as you suck softly at the skin just below the head of his cock.

“That’s the point, wanna taste you Jakey… always taste so good.” you say, letting spit drool from your mouth and down on to his tip before thumbing his slit. You squeeze your thighs together as he lets out a groan when you tongue at the hole.

You slowly work him into your throat, moaning around him as he stretches your mouth open past what you’re used to, having never taken him all the way in. His other hand shoots to your scalp, fingers knotting themselves in your roots as he tries not to cum down your throat just yet.

He opens his eyes and sees Bradley leaning against the wall, arms crossed and brown eyes dark as he takes in the way you’re sucking your boyfriend off. They lock eyes and Bradley smirks. That’s all it takes for Jake to barely choke out a “f-fuck I’m gonna cum, honey!” before his cock is pumping hot cum into your mouth and throat. You gag softly, the choking noise sending another wave of your lovers seed down your throat. You swallow around him and take everything that he gives you.

You pull off of him and catch your breath, while Jake sits there and works to catch his own breath, nearly eye fucking Bradley as he finally makes himself known.

“If I knew that’s how mornings went in this house I would have tried to have been the first one awake.” he teases and your head shoots over to him, eyes wide. He takes you in as he saunters over, commiting how thoroughly fucked you look to his memory. Mouth and chin sloppy with your drool, lips puffy from being wrapped around Jake’s cock, hair disheveled from Jake’s hands.

Bradley wastes no time pulling you up to the couch next to Jake. He’s on his knees for you faster than you were on your knees. “Fuck, pretty. You got this wet just from sucking off Jake?” he asks, running his fingers through your folds and you let out a whine. “What made your pussy this wet? Having your mouth full of cock? Gagging on him?” he asks, lips attacking your clit before you can answer and you let out a cry, fingers finding their way into his curls as his tongue laps up as much of your slick as it can before he’s having to swallow your taste.

Jake groans from beside you, watching as the brunet eats your cunt out like a man on death row having his last meal. Bradley doesn’t care as your juices cover his face, he slips his tongue into your leaking hole, his ring and middle fingers spreading you open so he can properly tongue fuck you and you’re seeing stars above him as his nose brushes repeatedly against your clit.

Your orgasm approaches fast, taking you by surprise as you clench down around his fingers and the tip of his tongue, Bradley just moans in response before pulling his mouth away, fingers staying put and beginning an assault to your g-spot. He quickly pulls another orgasm from you, your cry silent as your pussy squirts out his reward. He wastes no time cleaning you up with his tongue, gathering your slick in his mouth before he’s sitting up and sliding his tongue in Jake’s mouth. Sharing the wealth of your cunt with your boyfriend. Both men are reveling in the shared taste on their tongue while you lay next to them and try to catch your breath.

Jake pulls away from Bradley long enough to take his two longest fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, keeping the steady eye contact with Bradley as he does, causing Rooster’s erection to go from bearable to ‘I’m about to cum in my pants’.

You watch the two of them go through a power struggle only for Jake to come out on top, he looks over at you and smiles, “his face is looking mighty empty honey, why don’t you come take a seat?”

You just smirk and move from your place on the couch, crawling over to where Jake has Bradley pinned to the rug. You give Jake a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue and you let out a soft moan as you pull away, moving to straddle Bradleys face.

“I have died and gone to heaven..” he mumbles as he stares up at your glistening pussy before he’s pulling you down on his tongue. He groans into you as Jake takes the other man’s cock into his mouth.

Bradley doesn’t last long at all; between the taste of you on his tongue and the warmth of Jake’s mouth on his cock, he works to quickly make you cum again before he’s spilling into Jake’s hand.

You get released from Bradley and move to sit next to him, his head finding a home on your still quivering thigh. You reach out and take Jake’s hand, licking Bradleys cum from between his fingers and moaning at the taste.

Once you’ve cleaned Jake’s hand the best you could, he stands and pulls his boxer’s back up, a wet spot very visible against the gray fabric. He heads into the kitchen and grabs another rag, running the water so it’s warm before he’s tossing it at Bradley’s chest.

Bradley cleans up his face, your thighs, and then the cum that’s drying on his abdomen before setting it aside.

“I think it’s safe to say that, as a threesome, we work out pretty well.” you pant out and run your fingers through Bradley’s hair and he nods. Jake chuckles at this spot on the couch.

“As long as Bradley knows that he’s the extra in this relationship, not me.” Jake says, being gentle but firm as he reiterates that you’re his girlfriend first, not Bradley’s.

Bradley nods, “yeah, no I got it… As long as I’m allowed to take her out on two dates a month.”

“I think I can make that work.” Jake says, passing a bottle of water to Bradley who moves to sit on his knees, pulling up his boxers first before taking the bottle.

“Do I get a say in this?” you tease.

“Nope, sorry honey.”

“Yeah pretty, sorry. Besides, you got me out of this, didn’t you?”

905 notes · View notes

spidernerdsblog · 1 year

Text

It's always you

A/N : This lovely concept was @starlight-starks idea ❤️ Hope you guys like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : Peter has skipped your fourth weekly movie night and you aren't very happy about it.

Pairing : tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, mutual pining

Your phone pings with a text message, thinking it must be Peter you eagerly reach for it to let out a disappointed sigh when you read the text.

Gwen wants me to help her with the robotics project. Raincheck?

Sure. You type back.

Sorry, I know it was our weekly movie night.

Yeah the fourth movie night in a row to be exact as you look at the large popcorn bowl sitting on the coffee table you had prepared and he chose to ditch you again.

Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Goodluck with the project 👍 you reply.

I’ll make it up to you. I promise :)

You read his text and lock your phone before tossing it to the side on the couch. Grabbing the tv remote you scroll through the wide selection of movies, choosing one in random you press play. You then pick up the popcorn bowl and start munching on them all alone in your apartment. The sound of the movie playing drones in the background as you get lost in your own thoughts.

You and Peter were slowly growing apart, the niggling worry has been eating you up from the inside lately. And you knew if you had voiced your worries to Peter he would have clearly dismissed you saying you’re being silly.

But you needed that reassurance from him even more now because you were aware of the little crush he had on Gwen. You didn’t want to appear as a jealous friend but the more they got closer the more insecure you felt.

It is childish, you know, to cling to the pact you made when you were in middle school that whatever happens you will make time for each other. And these weekly movie nights were a sacred part of your friendship which you weren’t ready to give up for anyone. Hell you didn’t want to share him with anyone.

You stopped eating surprised at your own thoughts. Where did that come from? You wondered.

****

Saturday night there was a party at the Greek row. One of Harry’s frat brothers was celebrating his birthday so you and Peter were invited as well. After a few rounds of drinking and dancing you were all gathered around the couch playing truth or dare. Harry spins the bottle and it stops at you.

“Y/N it’s your turn. Truth or dare?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Truth.” You declare.

“Boo boring!”

“I’m too drunk and I don’t trust you so much with your dares Mr. Osborn.”

“You wound me Y/N.” Harry clutches his chest dramatically, appearing to be in pain. He then thinks for a second and asks. “Ok, the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“Hmmm well…” You think of an answer before replying. “Don’t worry about me, I'm fine.”

“Don’t we all say that?” Carin agrees sitting beside you.

“You know when we say I’m fine we're denying our true feelings and experiences; we're hoping to convince ourselves and others that everything really is okay.” Brody the tall and muscled quarterback of the football team adds in.

“Oh here we go.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, no it’s true we pretend to be fine to avoid conflicts.” Brody goes on. “Sharing our true feelings or opinions might cause someone to get angry with us and that's scary or at least uncomfortable.”

“Y/N this is your fault.” Harry scowls at you.

“What did I do?” You giggle.

“You know Brody turns into a psychology nerd when he is drunk.”

“Well I think you need it even more given the fact you’re always running away from your problems.” You snicker and Harry gives you the finger.

Amidst all of your banter Peter’s mind was stuck on what you said as he tried to recall the number of times you’ve said those exact words to him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when you snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Yo earth to Peter. You okay?”

“Yea..yeah.” Guilt washed over him anew as he looked at your smiling face. He had let you down but you never once complained or stayed mad at him. He had to make it up to you as soon as possible.

***

Next day after your classes ended for the day you are walking out of the university campus when you hear Peter call out your name.

“Y/N wait!” you turn around to see him running towards you. He stops in front of you panting, handing you a white envelope.

“What is this?” you frown pulling out a paper from inside it.

VALID FOR ONE

One Full Day of Fun with your BFF.

Redeem by : Anytime Expires : Never

You looked up at him cluelessly.

“This is a free coupon to a fun day with your best friend,” He explains, pointing a finger at himself.

“What?” You giggle with your brows raised in amusement.

“I know I’ve been a very bad friend lately.” Peter goes serious. “and I want to make it up to you.”

“That isn’t necessary Peter.” Your expression turns soft.

“Ah ah nothing of that. Tomorrow we do whatever you want.” He states.

“Well I’ve been meaning to visit this vintage bookstore I found online. We could go there I suppose.” You shrug.

“Ok done! Gotta go now, Psych class. See you tomorrow.” He drops a kiss on your cheek and runs back to the science building as you stand in your place trying to piece together everything that happened.

****

The doorbell chimes and you rush to open the door excitedly. Peter stands at the threshold with his hands in his pockets. His face lights up as soon as he sees you.

“Hey.”

“Hi..” You smile.

“You look pretty.” He observes.

“Thanks.” You blush, tucking your hair behind your ear. You had taken a considerable amount of time to decide what to wear today as if it was a date because honestly it felt like one. Finally you had chosen a pale pink knit sweater, blue jeans and ankle boots.

Together you walk towards the subway station and board a train. There are no empty seats so you stand at an empty corner. And like always Peter stands in front of you like a protective wall caging you with his body from the crowd of passengers. Your bodies pressed together as Peter peers down at you smiling and you smile back feeling a giddiness inside your stomach.

Twenty minutes later you get off the train and begin walking along the sidewalk. The map showed the shop was just around the corner of the street. So it was as you stood in front of a small antique bookstore.

The bell chimes overhead as you push the door open. The scent of old books hits you as your eyes take in the cozy interior of the shop. Tall wooden shelves lined with stacks of books illuminated by the soft glow of the yellow lights overhead and you thought you’ve gone to heaven.

You run your fingers through the spines of the books; some are leatherbound with their beautiful gold detailings still intact.

“OH MY GOD!! Look at this!” You hear Peter squeal excitedly from the other side. “This is the original Lord of the rings book set from the time it was first published and it has the author’s signature too!”

You laugh seeing Peter’s face light up like a child on a christmas morning.

“This place is so cool!” He announces.

“I know right?” you say smugly.

“You kids find anything you like?” An old man emerges from the back of the shop.

“Yes, how much for this book set?” Peter asks.

“That will be $130.” He answers. Peter’s face falls hearing the price.

“Oh I don’t have that much at the moment.”

You would have lent him a few bucks if you could but after paying rent and your monthly supplies you were as broke as him.

“It’s ok we can come back for it later.” You rub up and down his arm soothingly.

“I say what boy you give me $20 for now I’ll hold that book for you until you pay the full amount.” he proposes.

“You would do that?” Peter’s expression turns hopeful.

“Yeah why not? You seem to really want that.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Peter says bashfully.

After paying the old man you took a stroll through the central park eating your favorite ice creams before catching a subway back to your home.

As soon as you got into your apartment Peter had quickly changed into his spare clothes he kept at your place due to the amount of time he stays overnight.

You walk out of your room changing into your comfy pajamas and stop at the doorway to watch Peter in the kitchen heating some popcorn to eat while watching the movie you had chosen.

Peter feels your eyes on you and looks up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, it's just been awhile seeing you in my apartment.” You say plopping down on the couch as you lean forward to grab the remote from the coffee table to switch on the tv.

Peter carries the bowl of popcorn and places it on the table and sits down beside you. “Hey” He reaches to take your hands in his. “I’m sorry for bailing on you all those times. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It’s ok, Peter.” You lovingly cup the side of his face. “Besides being spiderman you’ve your own life too. I can't monopolize all your time.”

“Don’t you even think of that.” His expression turns serious as he holds your hand a little tighter. “You will always come first to me no matter what.”

“Aww I’m honored Parker.” You joke trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean it Y/N.” He says unamused.

“Ok, ok tiger calm down. You’re important to me too Peter now can we start watching the movie?” He nods and leans back, getting comfortable on the couch as you press play.

The movie starts and you sidle closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder putting a throw blanket around yourselves.

By the time the movie ends you were fast asleep all cuddled up against him. Peter looks down at your face so calm and beautiful. You let out a small sigh and snuggle closer to him.

Peter smiles and reaches to brush off a strand of your hair falling over your face. On many occasions during a movie night you both have ended up cuddling together but somehow today it feels a lot more intimate. You in his arms feel so right as if you belong to him and he belongs to you.

It feels like home.

He has been keeping a secret from you and that was one of the reasons he bailed out those few nights. He was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. And he was scared that if he were alone with you he would act out on those feelings. And what if you didn’t feel the same for him?

..................................................................................

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield smut #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter smut #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker oneshot

2K notes · View notes

megumimania · 8 months

Text

AOT LONDON BOY HCS PT 2

featuring: reiner, onyankopon, armin

a/n: this is part two of these hcs, part one is here! thanks for tuning in its kinda rushed my bad 😪, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

ARMIN

-armin would be from islington or finchley maybe even south, but I don’t see him living in like bougie areas such as kensington or chelsea or like richmond

- him and eren went to the same primary and secondary together

-armin was literally his get out of jail free card because of his stellar reputation in academics

-he always gets free stuff from the corner shop or the chicken and chip shop

-doesn’t own a car, he either bikes or takes the tube because he cares about the environment and doesn’t want to add onto the extra pollution in london

-his dress sense is very casual like a t shirt, a pair of loose fitted trousers and some trainers but when he cant be bothered he’ll wear a tech fleece

-he has a very good sense of direction, like he knows the fastest routes for anything, like when eren and connie dragged him to carni (if you went this year im saur jealous 😩 but anyways) and it was time to get home armin found a quicker route that got them back pretty fast

-knows all the best secret spots in london for anything! which makes hanging out with him more fun because you experience a new part of london when you’re together

-he isnt a fan of eren’s scamming ways but when eren asks for help he always answers as long as he’s not a part of it

-london men i feel like are terrible with their feelings but armin is the exception, he would be very open with you about his feelings and such

-reads so much, you’ll catch him at hyde park or greenwich park reading till the sun sets

-he smokes cigarettes but he’s trying to cut it out for you

-his playlist would be very diverse since he’s been brought up in a multicultural area, like it would go from bashment, to rnb, drill to pop

-unlike his unserious counterparts *cough cough* eren and connie, he’s very loyal!

ONYANKOPON

-my ghanaian king, shoutout to my ghanaians!!

-he speaks twi so well that people forget he was brought up in the uk

-he would be from peckham or lewisham for suree, he’s deffo been dragged around by his mum round rye lane market on a saturday morning carrying that trolley with him

-he goes to a pentecostal church, he’s always leading youth service and helping out at church events.

-the aunties love him for this because he’s the perfect son that they don’t have and they just love him in general

-ony can cook and im being for real, so you guys never eat out unless ony wants to show you to a new niche restaurant somewhere

-he has snap but doesn’t have a bitmoji because he thinks it’s immature 😕 but eventually he caves and makes one because you ask him too

-hes always promoting his boys stuff whether that be music,

-he deffo went to an all boys secondary and then he went to a mixed sixth form after, he gives me those vibes

-he used to go to the library to link girls after school 😭 he had a big playboy phase but hes calmed down

-he used to be one of those people at stratford westfield trying to sell you magazines before you enter

-hes not stingy with his money, hes always spoiling the people he loves

-he has a bunch of caps and grills that he likes to rotate out weekly, he has great style

-he works in corporate london so its rare that you dont see him outside of a suit and tie but he always makes time for you

-ony is always holding your bag for dear life when you go to bait areas like oxford street or westfields or like the tourist spots because people be getting their shit stolen loool

-he loves late night tesco trips anything that he can do at night i.e late night walks, drives etc

-bossman is always giving him discounts on stuff because ony is loyal customer.

REINER

-look at that man and tell me he wouldnt be from essex tell me!! like thats pure dagenham material right there

-if you search up a typical person from essex, he would come up

-he probably owns those skintight chinos with those ugly polos with the church shoes

-he tries to downplay his accent a bit since sometimes its hard to understand him but when hes upset his accent comes through in full force

-always at spoons or at the club till early hours

-reiner gives me bricklayer vibes so thats what im gonna roll with

-when he comes home from work in summer hes like hot and sweaty but it makes his biceps glow so its kinda sexy idk

-has a bunch of tattoos, most of them are birthdays of family members and a picture of his grandma who passed away

-has a british bulldog called belle, the dog is fucking scary but reiner thinks the world of her and thinks she can do no wrong

-listens to mainly dnb, garage, techno

-downs pints at the pub like it’s nothing, he has a high alcohol tolerance

-proper geezer that’s all i have to say tbh!

#aot x reader #armin x reader #onyankopon x reader #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #vina writes #aot reiner #aot x black!reader #black writblr #aot x black reader #armin attack on titan #armin arlert x reader #aot onyankopon #reiner braun #aot

216 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 9 months

Text

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”

Trish smacked him over the back of the head.

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled.

“To Ned!”

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?”

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.

At least, the only person you can see.

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked.

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.”

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.

Caravaggio, eat your heart out.

“Max, what the fuck was that?”

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you.

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.

It is dangerous, your feelings for him.

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

277 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 2 months

Text

Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. Most of these shows are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

Another great batch of episodes this week, as Kasuga and Nomoto settled into dating life, all the gals got together for various food related events, and Nagumo began seeking treatment for her eating disorder. This show is just always so compassionate with its characters, and manages to find interesting conflicts without going for high drama. I am very much enjoying seeing Kasuga and Nomoto figure out how their relationship should look now that they're dating and also how to communicate and respect each other as they make decisions. Kasuga's tendency to let Nomoto steamroll her feels harmless when it's about picking fruit or vegetables, but it won't be when it comes to making decisions about where they live and how to set up their home, so it's great they're addressing it early. It's also awesome to see them expand their circle of friends and deepen their bonds with Yako and Nagumo--I was high key jealous of the curry and s'mores parties. And Nagumo just has my whole heart. When she expressed profound relief at learning there is a name for her illness and ways to treat it, my mind immediately jumped to Rachel Bloom. Looking forward to her healing. I can't believe there is only one more batch of episodes coming, love and gratitude to @furritsubs!

Chaser Game W

I’ll keep this brief. This show was a mess, and not even in a fun way because unfortunately it was also extremely misogynistic. @twig-tea covered the major issues well in her post. Wild that this show aired simultaneously with TsukuTabe, what a dichotomy.

My Strawberry Film

This one is really not grabbing me. It feels kind of slow and muted and uncertain about what it's doing. I am not finding the mystery or the love rhombus compelling, and this week's focus on Hikaru's infatuation with Minami had me yawning and picking up my phone a lot. But it's early, I am hopeful it will pick up some steam.

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka

This was a cute episode about Sakae and Soga getting past their initial awkwardness, learning how to communicate with each other, and moving into a more intimate phase of their relationship, and I think I would have loved it if we'd gotten it two weeks ago. This should have been the episode that followed their initial confessions, but instead the show did a two week diversion into love triangle nonsense, and unfortunately, I think it really threw off the pacing and the connection to these characters for me. It just feels too late in the show for this relationship to still feel so new. We haven't had time to settle in with them as a couple, or for them to develop a strong foundation to make us root for them to overcome the coming obstacles in the final arc. Still, this episode had some delightful scenes--Soga finally paying a visit to the sauna was my personal fav, and I also enjoyed the metaphor of Sakae literally catching Soga's love (and knowing @bengiyo would lose it over another important SPORTS moment in bl). This is a show I really want to love, but something just isn't connecting.

Perfect Propose

I love this final episode and I love this show. Hiro quit his job, Kai resolved things with the shop owner and his son, and they finally got on the same page about their relationship and made out about it. 10/10 no notes for this finale. It was lovely to see Hiro finish his project and make a decision to quit the daily grind--I loved, too, that he is still in touch with his former colleagues--and we saw the change in him so quickly. He looked happier, lighter, brighter. His skin was cleared and his crops were watered! And Kai got to have his moment of catharsis too, sharing his fear that he is a burden on others and having Hiro affirm for him that he wants him in his life and he's a help, not a burden. And I loved that we got all that plus a great kiss, a bed scene (with a very cute leg cramp diversion) and a small peek at their new domestic life together. This show makes me happy and it will definitely be one I return to for rewatches.

Ossan's Love Returns

I'm of two minds on this finale. On the one hand, I really loved it as a single episode of the show, was happy with where all the resolutions landed, and was left with a very warm feeling toward the show overall. The cherry blossom scene especially really got me right in the feels; I've loved the progression of Maki and Haruta's relationship this season and I love the way they talk to each other. They have earned themselves a spot on my list of favorite drama couples who I actually believe are going to stay together. I also loved everything about the big chaotic group scene and all these characters coming together to pour love on Haruta; it felt earned after a season of him knocking himself out for all his loved ones. The end joke with Chief moving in next door, and getting a final Maki/Kurosawa battle, was *chef's kiss*. And Takegawa's perfect life partner being a cat? 10/10 no notes. I will be clutching my aroace Takegawa read tightly to my bosom.

On the other hand, the episode reinforced for me that the way we got to a lot of these resolutions didn't feel quite right. In particular, I don't think the way Kurosawa's health scare played out across the back half of the season worked, and I'm not too pleased about spending three episodes in a downbeat, tragic mode for the sake of a simple pun joke. I think the whole plot would have landed a lot better for me if the audience was let in on Kurosawa's mistake at the start and the tone of his overwrought goodbyes was farcical all the way through. Not only would that have maintained the comedic tone of the show, but we could have used that story time to better seed some of the themes of this episode with Haruta's crisis of confidence and yearning for family. I'm pretty much agnostic on Kiku and Izumi; they never sold me on that pairing but I wasn't mad about their ending.

Overall, I am very glad I jumped into this show and enjoyed the watch experience a lot, despite my quibbles with some of the overarching writing choices. The cast is amazing and all the characters make me smile. If they make another season, I'll be watching!

Bonus: Josi teki Saikatsu

I finally watched this drama this week--I held out for awhile hoping to find it in better quality, but no dice, it's 480p in the grey--and despite the potato lens I loved it so much. This is the story of Miki, a transfemme lesbian, just trying to live her life in the way she wants, and all the barriers she comes up against in that pursuit. Our story begins when her childhood friend, Goto, comes looking for his old pal in a moment of desperation and is stunned to see how she's changed. The show is only four short episodes, but they manage to paint a full picture of Miki's life at home, at work, with friends and lovers, and with her estranged family, and show us how she became who she is. Miki is whip smart and perceptive and generous, but also wary of trusting anyone after she's been let down by so many loved ones. I love her so much, and you will too. This story was written by a trans woman and it shows! Brave the 480p and check it out.

#japanese ql corner #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #chaser game w #my strawberry film #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #josi teki saikatsu #life as a girl #japanese bl #japanese gl #jdrama

83 notes · View notes

cpkd123 · 1 month

Text

Strap yourselves in ladies…… here is my MEGA biweekly roundup…….

Completely forgot to do last weeks so you’re in for a double whammy - what a treat

My last two weeks:

It was st Patrick’s day ☘️, which we celebrated at big jos (combined with her birthday celebrations) I made a Guinness cake which was DELECTABLE. We also went to the pub, went to Primrose Hill too. I took some cute pics of my cat and saw a dance show which was very good.

Went to brick lane bagel, need to go back IMMEDIATELY so let’s get a date in the diary ladies. Had a GORG day on Saturday for this girl called clara’s birthday. Awesome chai, pasta, pizza and cake. Then a lovely game of mini golf, it was tres fun.

I’ve had quite a lovely couple weeks tbh, definitely not to do with the fact that I’ve seen you guys quite a bit.

Added a pic of storm in because I don’t think I’ve introduced him on our tumblr account yet.

Media of the week: Ibiza weekender (almost finished it) 😢

Hope you enjoyed this, hope you all have a GORG Easter weekend 🐣 and I will see you very soon.

Bye for now….. big love.

DULCIE 🥰

#girlies #live laugh love #very very late weekly round up #tumblr 2014 #charlibaby #Spotify

1 note · View note

ichigoromi · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧| 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Hiii, it's been a long time since I've posted! I am back briefly, just to post a little gift that I have been keeping for some time😅 I hope y'all are doing fine!

Work has been busy, but I am taking time to write again...and it has not been going well.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi (timeskip) x Y/n (she/her)

Genre(s): Romance, some light angst(?)

Warning(s): mentions of drinking, y/n being drunk

Enjoy!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Recently, your relationship with Sakusa has been going through a rough patch where you would start fighting over minor things.

You started going on more business trips, and he travelled more often due to his activities as a national athlete.

Today was the worst. He just woke you up abruptly and started a fight about you never keeping the house clean, and it all blew out from there.

So, instead of sitting down and talking about the problems you two have, you went to the company’s weekly dinner, which you rarely did, and now going for the third round.

Your subordinates are scared as you down the tenth(?) pint of beer at this place.

And it was time for you to head home after seeing your drunken state.

They haul a taxi for you, and soon, you are returning home to your place.

Somehow, you managed to haul your drunken ass back to the apartment in one piece. You fumbled with the door lock, finally got the pin right, and entered your home. Sakusa was sleeping soundly on the sofa, waiting for you because it was unlike you to return home so late.

You shrug off your heels and are about to leave it sprawled on the floor, but then your boyfriend hates it like that. In the darkness, you put your heels back in the shoe closet and walk into the living room.

“Hmm? Why are you outside~? You should sleep inside, and where’s yer blanket?” He was asleep on the sofa without a blanket, and you knew he might catch a cold if he continued to sleep outside without the thick duvet.

It was hard to walk straight while drunk, but you dragged out your heavy duvet and lay it over your sleeping boyfriend.

“Night night, Mimi. I’m sorry, too~.” You leaned over and kissed his forehead, cheeks and lips before collapsing on the warm wooden floor, falling asleep almost immediately.

[The following day…]

Sakusa woke up to you holding his hand and sleeping on the floor, curled up to your golden retriever, who casually becomes your bolster. He saw that you were still wearing the clothes from yesterday and the duvet over him.

He carefully moved your arms away and carried you back into the bedroom. Sakusa then proceeds to change you out of your clothes into a shirt of his because you love sleeping in his shirt, which he loves and hates because you look cute, but he is always running out of clothes.

When he makes sure you are clean and comfortable, he heads to the kitchen to make breakfast and prepare a hangover cure when you wake up.

You woke up with a splitting headache and dragged your feet to the bathroom to freshen up, but that did not help your hangover.

“Jin? Mama is not in the mood to play now. Go find papa.” But your loyal companion continued to stay by your side.

And you feel it.

Sakusa could hear you emptying your guts in the bathroom; he turned off the gas cooker and rushed to you. He held your hair back while rubbing your back soothingly as you puked into the toilet bowl.

Even though Sakusa is very uncomfortable with this, his precious girlfriend is very sick and needs him by her side.

“I’m sorry, Mimi. I know it’s disgusting-” You were going to apologise to him, but he cuts you off immediately.

“Don’t apologise. I’m the one who should be apologising. Are you feeling better?” Before you could answer him, you were puking again.

He helps you up from the floor and passes your rinsing glass to rinse your mouth before getting your toothbrush. You brush your teeth thoroughly before gurgling mouthwash. Sakusa holds you close to him as you two walk towards the living room.

After all that puking, you were exhausted and famished. Sakusa, he holds you close to him, and you lean on to him.

“I think we should go on a date later tonight. I’ll reserve at that restaurant and get you-” You shushed him with a kiss. He instinctively holds your waist, eagerly bringing you closer to him.

When you pull away, you start laughing.

“I don’t need no high-class restaurant. Let’s catch a movie and go to the arcade, then have oden by the roadside stall and have a night walk with Jin, just like old times. That’s what I’ll like. I feel like because we are not spending enough time together or having talks like a couple, it causes us to drift apart. So, what do you think?” You suggested while looping your arms around his neck and straddling him on his lap.

“I love it.” He leans in and pulls you into another deep kiss.

🍓's taglist — @wolffmaiden @mysterypotatoink @notamazinglizzy @daydreaming-bao @freaknerdanfie @coconut-dreamz @slurp-slurp-slurp @ushygushybaby @Gukksen @gukksldp @chloee0x0 @eclairia-monarch @lynvshuji @yurirhsk

Wanna join my taglist? Join here~!

It's not long, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! This is my last post of 2022, and I wish everyone a good year ahead and stay safe and healthy!

I miss you guys, and I will come back soon!

With lots of love,

Rosalie🍓

Reblogs are appreciated!

563 notes · View notes

alexiswritingstuff · 10 months

Text

Saved by the unexpected.

Pairing: Frank Castle x teen! reader (Gender Neutral)

Other appearances: Micro, aka David Lieberman.

Summary: Your run to the grocery store goes sideways on the way back home that leads you to being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and with a fresh gunshot wound. Upon waking up you find yourself somewhere unknown with people you had never seen... Or so you thought.

Warnings: gun fights, murder, gun shot wound, mentions of other injuries like cuts and bruises, implied parent loss.

Be aware of possible spelling mistakes or sentences that are worded wrong. I read over my writing before posting but stuff still manages to slip under my radar!

A/n: Bro I really am bad at creating titles for fics. Anyway, I watched The Punisher a few months ago, and previously finished DareDevil, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about a certain Mr. Castle. That man in general already activated my daddy issues and then I watched season 2, and... Yeah, that was a lot, but this is what my brain created!

Like I say whenever I write for new characters, because this is my first attempt, the way portray them and the characteristics may not be a 100% accurate, so bear with me while I find my footing.

Either way, I hope you enjoy reading!

It was supposed a morning like any other. Started with a bright sky and chirping birds before slowly melding into the warm afternoon.

You had just done the weekly shop, collecting everyday items, things that would give the most important nutrients, with basically the same amount in snacks and drinks.

I mean, what else could they mean by a balanced diet.

The main route you would usually take had been closed off by the time you had finished with the store, the road cracked from something unknown, and that meant that you had to take a detour.

It was one that you had walked through many times before, leading you almost directly towards where your trailer was stationed without having to wind round block after block of apartments.

So, the decision to choose it was simple.

You took of down the pathway, that was slowly becoming overgrown, between two very large buildings which almost looked as if they could reach the sky from your angle.

This part was more commonly known as the run down area.

The complexes on either side of you were empty. Most had the windows boarded up, due to the lack of ability to get them repaired, and the walls themselves were stained from a plethora of things, parts even looking like they were about to crack and crumble.

It was a lot harder to get funding for these buildings as the further you walked down the path, the further you got a way from the main street. For the occasional tourist, or people who had a stuffed schedule, they wouldn’t know what was down here. Which usually meant that they wouldn’t even try to find out.

And soon, it took its toll. Most, if not all, had been abandoned unless someone was able to turn something into an apartment of some kind.

You moved under the overhang section created by a walkway that connected the two opposing buildings, and honestly it sort of felt like a tunnel due to its width. But eventually, you arrived back in the open and by god the area was massive.

To the left, behind a wall that separated a descending pathway from the ground levelled with your own feet, was a car park.

The size of it would give the implication that there was a mass of vehicles coming in and out during the week, easy access for people working in the surrounding buildings.

But now, it was always empty.

… Or it was supposed to be.

In the furthest corner of the parking lot was this very specific looking handful of cars. A sight that should have been acknowledge as the first sign. Your first warning.

It was too late.

All of a sudden, there was this echo that felt like it drilled through your ear. It was violent through the air, one that rung for almost a full minute through the complex to your right.

It wasn’t something you really questioned off the bat. I mean, the building was old. It could’ve been a loose panel finally deciding to break free from the ceiling, or a cracked wall weighing in on itself. Or even someone trying to fix up the building?

And all of those assumptions weren’t exactly bad... They were just the wrong ones.

Something you realised the moment the sound appeared once again.

Whatever it was reverberated from the broken windows in a way that properly allowed the ability to hear in its entirety. It was closer this time, more full. “What the...”

It was a series of bassy pops, collectively almost imitating the blast of fireworks, but within the sounds was this sort of clinking like something had fallen to the floor.

And though it was a very muffled detail that took a moment for your brain to register, it didn’t stop the cogs from making their final turn.

“Oh, shit.”

Within the same moment that you made the decision to practically slide to the side, trying not to completely slam into the wall that you ended up behind, the doors of the building burst open with such force that it echoed around for ages.

There was chorus of yelling, even more shots, and heavy boots that practically skid against the concrete as they moved. It was as if you just stumbled upon a damn army.

You were sat on the ground, one leg stretched out from your hurried movements while the other was still bent at the knee, ready to move if necessary. The backpack was still strapped around your shoulders meaning that the further you tried to press against the brick wall, the more certain items began to stab into your back.

Your heart was hammering, chest heaving, as you continuously looked up and down the path you sat on. It was the only thing you could see. Everything was happening on the other side of the wall, so pretty much all you could do was just sit and listen for people that might decide to come your way.

You fought the urge to cry out when bullets skimmed the top of the wall, causing little clumps of rubble and dust to hit the top of your head. “Why me, why me, why me!” you hissed through a whisper, trying to ruffle the stuff out of your hair.

Hurried shouts were passing back and forth across the huge car park like a game of tennis, though it seemed that due to the other sounds that followed, and the panicked state of your mind, all of them were unintelligible.

It sounded like they were coming from everywhere.

The multiple objects in your bag had started to make your spine ache so, at the same time as yet another shot, you leaned forward. Quick enough so that the sound of items unsquashing themselves would ring at the same time as the bullet.

You reached back, making sure that your bag wasn’t going to hit any surface, and then took it off of yourself one arm at a time.

Soon the bag was placed in front of you, your fingers immediately unzipping it, before you began to search through. You wanted some kind of weapon, or if not that then at least some form of protection... But you had just gone shopping.

I doubt a banana would be useful in a gun fight.

You moved onto the pockets on either side of the bag when the main compartment made too much noise. It wasn’t like it was going to do any justice anyway because it was all just a bunch of food, a carton of juice and other little things for your trailer.

This wasn’t a planned situation.

When you woke up this morning and picked up your bag to go grocery shopping, you weren’t exactly imagining that you would need to bring something to fight with.

A huff of air passed through your lips while your fingers began searching through the left pocket. You felt around, following the lining of stitches for at least something, but the most found was a wrapper from some sweet or chewing gum.

So, it was on to the next.

This time to do the same routine was a bit more difficult as this pocket was where you kept your water bottle. You were trying to be more careful when you started to comb through the compartment, even if you had to move a bit faster to properly squeeze around the lack of space.

And then, finally, you felt something.

In that moment it was hard to tell what it was. It felt long enough to at least administer some form of damage, or maybe only be needed to threaten someone from a distance, so your stressed mind just chose it. You began pulling your hand out.

But, despite what you wanted, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Right as the item had been tugged vertically, making it easier to pull it out, the movement had caused the bone of your wrist to hit into the bottle.

Ordinarily, it was something that you wouldn’t think twice about. You were just trying to get an item out of a pocket, surely you could do that without something bad happening...

Half of whatever you were trying to grab had been stuck under the bottle in a way that already had it tilting. And then the impact landed. Your wrist hit near the top of the bottle and that was all it needed.

It started to tip out of the pocket.

A sharp breath sucked into your lungs at the feeling, but with no ability to catch it in time, the metal cylinder simply fell to the floor from a very unfortunate height for you.

And that apparently wasn’t all.

In fact, even after the sound echoed in a way that most definitely had already blown your cover, the world seemed to have other plans for you as after yet another bounce and a few more smaller ones, it was starting to roll.

You leaned to the side as fast as you could, reaching your arm out to its full extent with your hand wide open. But it was like trying to catch a fly, and soon, it just rolled right passed your fingers, moving even faster the more the water sloshed inside of it.

The only thing you could do was watch in utter horror as the bottle travelled right passed the edge of a wall for the whole world to see.

Eventually, about halfway through the path, it ran into a rock or a crack in the ground. The bottle bounced about one more time before it finally stalled. Though, at this point I don’t think it really mattered. The damage was still done.

The shots had placated a bit, the only ones being fired sounding far away, as the confusion dispersed the men on the other side of the wall. Murmurs were passing back and forth.

“What was that?

“Did you hear that?

“Where did that come from?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting into the skin of your bottom lip as your body just purely froze no matter how much your brain was telling you to make a run for it.

“Okay, okay, all of you keep moving! Spread out more while I check it out. We’re not alone out here!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Okay, sir!”

However many people were on the other side of the wall scattered within the next beat of your heart. More shots and shouts began to ring out with the same loudness, now joined by the heavy smacking of boots as they moved further away...

But a pair of footsteps still remained.

Now, your heart was purely thumping in your ears. It was by far the most prominent thing you could hear in that moment, though the sound of those harsh shoes kicking up stones without care was an active competitor.

Especially when they started getting louder.

Your eyes flicked to the open backpack in front of you, an ache beginning to pulse through your forehead while you stared at the contents. There was this sort of desperation, and almost disappointment, that built in your system at the thought of losing the freshly bought items.

Though, what was the point in trying to save the food if you wouldn’t be alive to eat it.

Within the next second, and after a very deep breath, you propped your hands firmly against the path beneath on either side of your body. You pushed your strength into your unstretched leg until it was folded under you.

By now you looked like some kind of runner getting ready to do race, and honestly it was pretty much how you felt. The thought was the only thing suppress the panic active in your chest, so you indulged.

There was this internal count down as you moved your other leg to stretch behind you, even if there wasn’t that much space to do so.

And then the timer went off.

You were about to push yourself onto your feet. About to ready to get up, adopt a sort of hunched over posture so that no part of your body could peak over the wall, and run like hell.

But again. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

The movement was caught from the corner of your eye.

You had barely even started carrying out your wanted movements when a man suddenly appeared round the corner of the wall, slow and intense.

He was pretty decked out from what your panicked mind could comprehend. There were a multitude of weapons that clung to his belt, and he was in fact holding this massive gun.

Initially, his focus was on your bottle. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at the object of confusion, as it didn’t really look like the standard water bottle from afar, with his finger hovering over the trigger. Ready to fire at any moment.

At this point you had resumed this sort of weird crouched position, stuck between wanting to stand up and finally run away or stay frozen to the ground as if you could just meld into it.

Either way, it was a kind of stance that didn’t provide a sense of balance. And soon, despite how much the dread utterly pooled at the bottom of your stomach like it did on a rollercoaster, you fell. Right on your ass.

The gun, that you had pretty much only seen in movies or on the news, was pointed right in your direction before you could even blink once.

You attempted to crawl backwards, winding round your backpack, eyes wide and fully open as they trained on the man who in turn had started to follow your movements. And then you stopped, knowing full and well what was coming even if you got to your feet.

Your breathing was erratic, arms moving stiff and slow as you raised them above your head with your palms open, facing the man who made no implications that he was going to put that gun down. “Listen,” You gulped, “I didn’t see anything, I swear-- Look, there. My bag is there-- Take it. Take anything.”

“Anything you want.”

It was no use. No matter what way the words tumbled from your mouth, that finger never tried to move away from that trigger.

You closed your eyes, feeling the way your body heaved with every breath, the way your hands shook. Your ears listened out for the wind, the wildlife that had most definitely moved on from here already, or just something that wasn’t from guns.

And then a shot rung out.

It was an indistinctive reaction when your body jolted at the sound as it echoed through the large area, pinging within the windows of the abandoned buildings. You had almost fallen, your arms springing down even if you thought there was no time to protect...

You could still move?

Your eyes snapped open, the ability to take in full breaths yet to come, and you looked down at yourself. You tried to scan across what you could see on your body, that was somehow still alive, and leant on a hand to further support yourself.

However, just as your brain attempted to register a lack of a gunshot wound, the sound of something hitting the ground stopped your investigation.

Your head sort of bobbed for a moment, the want to continue your search fierce in your veins, but then you finally looked away. Your gaze rose.

The man before you had tumbled to his knees.

His hands moved around for a few seconds, desperately trying to grab apart of his chest as if in disbelief of what just happened. And then another shot fired again.

Like before, your body had jolted in response, still having no idea which gun it was coming from.

However, when a particular part of you scrunched, the shock in your system decided to completely drain. Your pain receptors activated in a way that you weren’t ready for.

It was hard to pin point exactly where the feeling had originated as it spread like a wildfire, but it was intense enough that the arm you were leant against almost buckled.

Sharp burning. A sensation that made it feel like you had been bitten by hundreds of thousands of fire hands over and over again.

Or, when you finally managed to get yourself to look down again, it was because you in fact had gotten shot. “Oh...”

He got you.

“Oh, shit.”

There was this hurried voice that bounced through the walls. Your head attempted to snap up like it had previously done, but this time it was just unsteady. Almost like it was moving in points.

By the next blink, that practically didn’t even feel like one, another man had made his way round the corner. He also had a gun raised... but, it seemed different.

His general stance, the way he carried the weapon, the expression on his face even if you could only see half of it. It was clear that he had a lot more experience than the last guy.

They weren’t from the same group.

The man lowered himself onto one knee beside the body, head still raised cautiously to make sure to keep full awareness of his surroundings while he searched over any pockets he could see.

And then he stilled.

You didn’t have to move, or even make a sound, for this guy to spot you.

Within about a millisecond the man had the gun back in both of his hands in a way that had you immediately raising your own despite the pins and needles that ached at all of your muscles.

The world around you was starting to spin, making it more difficult to pay attention to the mans movements. “Don’t... Don’t kill.” Your lips were heavy, the ability to even part them becoming some kind of workout.

And then, like someone just flicked a switch, it was like all the strength and power in your body decided to dissipate.

For the second time now, you fell. Though, in this instance, it was your back that collided with ground in a way that had your head smacking into the concrete path afterwards.

Your skin felt hot all over your body, but it also felt cold at the same time.

You were trying to move, wanting nothing more than to get back up, go home, curl up in bed and forget this ever happened. But the ability to budge any limb had faded from your brain until you couldn’t even feel if your arms were lifted in the air or not.

So, you just laid there, eyes staring blankly up in the sky while your eyelids acted like they had forgotten their main function. “Hey!”

Right before you gave into that nagging want to sleep, something blocked whatever view you had left, “Kid? Hey, kid, are you... Oh, no-- Kid, can you hear me?” You could feel hands on your arms, and soon, one had pressed onto the wound in a way that had a sound gurgling out of your mouth.

“Kid!”

~~~

It took your brain a significant amount of time to realise that you had awoken when the time eventually came.

The sensations within your body were either mild or piercingly intense. There was no in between.

Every muscle in your face was rigid, aching in a way that made the want to move diminish within seconds. You were trying to blink, your eyelids remaining heavy and ignorant no matter how many attempts were made.

It hurt to breathe. Any movement within your torso would stretch the skin closest to your armpit and immediately sent a crackle of fire spreading through it like a shock of electricity.

Your muscles flinched, almost spasming, as you slowly reached back, trying to grip onto some part of whatever lay beneath you so that you could push yourself up.

There was no attention aimed at any sound that spilt through your lips and it was only when a harsh pain erupted, engulfing your shoulder, that you had realised how loudly a sort of strained yelp had burst from your throat.

You fell back onto the pillow, the agony in your body burning so hot that it had you light headed.

If it wasn’t for your current state the sudden echo of quick footsteps would’ve registered a lot faster through your ears, and in your mind.

There was words passing across the air, some may have been aimed at you for a response, but this was the first time you had fully managed to open your eyes since you had actually woken up.

Your head slowly turned as voices continued to echo, muffled no matter how many times it rung in your ears, until your right cheek met with the pillowcase. Your eyes cast through a metal wall, more so the frame of one, which looked as if it previously had some sort of murky glass within.

The place was massive.

This dim lightly spread throughout most sections as the source above couldn’t reflect on any surface due to the fact that everything around was either a form of black or a gloomy grey. The lights themselves were also the kind of ones that aimed straight down, meaning that it would only cover what was directly beneath.

“Hey.”

In the centre of the main area was this sort of ring. There was a walkway that cut through the middle so that people could get from one side to the other, and on either side were desks that followed the rim, a plethora of monitors and electronic devices cluttering the surface.

Some you hadn’t even seen before.

“Hey, uh, kid?”

Your head snapped back into its previous position in a speed that felt like it shook your brain. You squeezes your eyes shut for a good minute before they opened again.

And after blinking a few times, your vision came back into focus.

There was this dude stood to your side. He was tall, slim in width with curled mid length hair and a beard that wasn’t connected to the moustache covering his lip.

“Oh, yeah-- Must be pretty disorienting to wake up in a place like this.” The way he sounded matched almost exactly like you had guessed. It was nice. Not harsh and not too soft.

He held your gaze in such a way that made it seem as if he could see right through you, even taking a slight step back when he noticed how wide and cautious your eyes were set on him, “It might take some time for you to believe us, but I assure you that we don’t want to harm you. You’re all good... Well, I mean, apart-- apart from your injuries.”

“Generally, you’re good-- Or like... Yeah.”

Your hand lifted from where it had previously flopped and you reached it to your left shoulder, slow and steady.

Your fingers travelled lower, gliding across the exposed skin before it reached the edge of tank top arm slot. Your movements halted in the space between the end of your shoulder bone and the beginning of your chest.

Finally, you realised where the source of pain was coming from.

Somehow, the shot taken at you had landed right above your first rib. And from the uncomfortable feeling, constantly there, from what you were guessing was another bandage on your back. It had gone all the way through.

The dude that had been previously talking cleared his throat after a moment. He was sort of shifting the weight back and forth from one foot to another, unsure of what to do or say which then ended up with him looking away.

Your attention landed back on him, your arm happily moving back to lay by your side. Though, your eyebrows then furrowed, realising that the guys eyes had settled on something, and it even looked like he was asking a question.

So, after allowing yourself to give into your curiosity, you followed the direction he was looking in.

You almost jumped out of your skin.

There, leaning against the thing you could barely call a wall, to your right was a guy stood perfectly still with his arms tight across his chest.

It was that man from earlier. The one that found you. Saved you?

His eyes were already on your own which left the questioning gaze from the other dude unanswered. At first the muscles in his face were visibly tense, crinkled eyebrows, slightly narrowed gaze, jaw clenched tightly.

And then you looked at him.

In an instant it was like everything taking over his features eased. He raised his head a single time before it lowered back to where it was usually held. A greeting.

“I’ll bet your hungry, huh?”

Your attention snapped back to the other dude once again to find that there was this gentle smile pressing into his lips once your eyes met his.

The question circled round your mind for a good few seconds before it fully processed. It had you thinking, a silence falling within the little room while the hum of electricity barely caught your ears.

In all honesty hunger had been the last thing on your mind. To solve the sudden mystery was even more difficult since you couldn’t even remember the last thing that passed through your body, other than a bullet.

Though, right before you could even try to figure out the wanted response was to be, it seemed like your stomach decided to do it for you as it suddenly rumbled through the quiet.

It may have not exactly sounded like some kind of missile, but considering the building was very echoey and your lack of answer had created a pause within the people stood in the room, it was louder than any other sound at that moment. You were horrified.

The man with his arms crossed dared to huff a quiet laugh through his nose and before you could even send him a look, or give any sort of reaction for that matter, the other guy took a step back with this expression on his face.

He was practically beaming as he clasped his hands together, “Good answer.”

Your eyebrows furrowed once again, gaze now following the man as he moved round of what you now realised was a cot underneath you and out through the doorway a moment later.

You were going to attempt to continue watching him, wanting to know where he was walking despite the context clues, but after trying to look through the empty frames in the wall, the figure of the quiet dude blocked your view.

And for the first times since your initial meeting, if you could even call it that, your eyes properly took him in.

Regardless of the position of his spine from the leaned pose, his posture was sharp. Straight like he had to practice it many times. He was tall too, though a little shorter than the other guy.

The hair on his head looked like it was just growing out from being shaved, the sides a lot shorter than the top. It looked like a marine cut.

Admittedly, he could’ve done his hair that way cause he simply wanted to. But you saw him earlier.

He knew the ins and outs, every little detail, of the gun he held strong in his arms. You saw his stance, one that could more commonly only be from having to do it 24/7.

And where was the most known place where you had to stand at attention almost every day?

Any item of clothing that covered his body was full black, including the shoes and his belt, which was a drastic contrast to any skin that was exposed. It also meant that you could spot any cut or bruise he had very easily.

There was a good few on his face. Some had become scabs already, looking like they had been there for some time, while others almost looked fresh. The most noticeable appeared like it followed his cheekbone.

Your eyes immediately snapped away upon realised that you had been looking at him for so long that he had in fact noticed it. I mean, there wasn’t really anything else to occupy his mind.

You tried to shift your body against the cot, a mixture of wanting to distract yourself and a test to see how much you could move without it hurting.

But either way, it was hard to do anything without being able to properly use a side of your body.

So, ultimately, you were stuck. Trapped under a blanket which forced you to lay flat on your back, against something that you wished had the same feeling as your bed, while sounds started to echo from what you were guessing was the kitchen.

“Hey, kid.”

The voice that hit your ears was a lot gruffer than expected, gravelly enough that it almost sounded like it was hurting his throat. The way the words passed through his lips were clear, but also hushed as if he was trying not to be loud for an unknown benefit. “What were you doing out there, hmm?”

With his stance, you half expected that whatever he wanted to say was going to come out harsh. That he was going to yell and tell you off for something. But he didn’t. He was... actually concerned?

“It’s a decent walk from the store you went to.” he then added on, and now that seemed to get your attention.

Your head rolled to the side, narrowed gaze finding him with a newfound cautiousness.

The man in turn must’ve realised the suspicion his wording caused, so he simply gestured to the side with his head, “I got your bag.”

Sure enough, as you moved your lower against the pillow, it was in fact there. The first familiar thing you had seen all day was sat on the ground beside the guy. It may have had some slight rips, some of the material had even been scuffed enough that it was visible.

But it was there. Zipped up and everything.

Your favourite backpack.

Despite your distance, the bag looked plump with some of the contents clearly poking against the sides of it. All of the items were still in it. Hell, even the water bottle was back in the same side pocket you always put it in.

“We couldn’t find your name in the system,” the man spoke again, and honestly you had forgotten that he was there regardless of the fact that he stood next to where you eyes were aimed. “Did your parents know where you were?”

You looked at him within seconds of the question catching your ears and that dread from earlier began to pool at the bottom of your stomach all over again.

I mean, you should’ve expected the question at some point.

It was common for you to forget that other people could look at you and see a child, ask the whole ‘where are you parents’ when you had to buy stuff that apparently didn’t seem normal for a child to get, even if it was just household items.

You will never forget the time you tried to buy scissors.

But the question still stung. It would make all of the memories of countless things flood right back until it was fresh in your mind, creating a wave of nostalgia that you hated at this point.

Your head slowly rolled back to its previous position, your gaze now cast up at the rotting, grey ceiling while a deep breath seeped through your nose. Your body practically deflated when it went back out.

Like before, you didn’t need to say anything for the guy to understand the situation.

Obviously, from your position, you couldn’t clearly see him as anything more than a blurred blob from the corner of your eye, but he had sort of loosened his crossed arms. Was the look of loss that clear on you?

How could he even notice it that quick?

Your body almost jolted when he cleared his throat and pain shot through your shoulder that had you biting back a grunt.

“Listen, we’re not-- We’re not going to hurt you... all right?” His tone was different this time. Lighter in a way that reduced the grumble of his voice, even if it didn’t sound unpleasant. “You’ve been here for a few days so that the, uh, big guy could fix up your shoulder.”

“That’s all.”

From the feeling of his gaze aimed in your direction, you could tell that he was doing what you had done, except he was more so trying to analyse your movement no matter how miniscule.

It made you nervous enough that your mind was trying to zone in on the sounds coming from the kitchen, fiddling with the fabric of the blanket. But that just meant that a silence had started to layer.

“Can you speak?”

Your body stiffened within a matter of seconds.

At this point there was no reason for you to remain quiet. It was unclear as to why it had even been done in the first place. Was it to conceal your voice? Hide your identity?

Even then, they had already ready seen your face and might possibly have looked through your backpack. The things they’ve could’ve known about you were unknown.

Maybe it was that thing you were told as a kid that kept you holding your tongue. You know, the whole stranger danger thing? Do not interact with people that you don’t know unless absolutely necessary.

People seemed to get stuck on specific moments in the past regardless of it directly links to a moment of stress, or trauma, if you remembered correctly what that article said. Maybe that was your thing?

Your contemplative eyes flickered over the ceiling above for another moment before they finally made the decision to move, and so did your head. Once again, it rolled to the side until your right cheek touched the pillow.

You met his eyes. His gaze anything but harsh no matter how long a silence remained.

This guys wasn’t strange.

I mean, the concept of waking up in some massive building that you didn’t recognise with two other dudes that you had never met before was in fact a little, sure.

But there was no reason given beyond that as to why you should fear either of them. Be scared of them.

After all the dude talking to you had in fact saved your life.

You sniffed, that same feeling of nervousness making a comeback the longer the eye contact was held. It had you needing to look away for a few seconds before your eyes went right back. You stiffly nodded your head.

The man straightened his back against the metal, his spine probably tired of the frame digging into it. His gaze sort of narrowed for a moment. Maybe a few questions sprung into his mind? Maybe he was judging you, or needed to sneeze? Who knows.

“You just won’t.” He nodded his head once, the look in his eyes switching to something unreadable as he got the message despite the lack of words, “That’s... No. No, I get it.”

“Well, I’m Frank. Uh,” he began, dragging out the last sound for a little bit as he tried to locate something through the wall behind you, “Dude in the kitchens name is David. I usually call him Lieberman, that’s... It’s his last name-- He’s the big guy I was talking about. Dude who fixed up your arm.”

“I tried to help too, but, uh... Not exactly my field of expertise.”

You were about to figure out some kind of gesture to make in response so that you wouldn’t leave him hanging again. And had even started to move your arm.

But then that name cycled through your head once more.

Frank... Castle.

Frank Castle.

It seemed that the cogs had made their final turn once again. His face found their link to certain memories in your mind.

Holy shit.

He was the guy on the news a while back. The dude had been deemed a vigilante as he had been running around and killing bad people-- Well, it was practically only you and a few other people that thought they were the bad guys.

Either way, after that trial thing, the man that was currently stood to the side of you had supposedly died. Killed in an explosion on some kind of boat, if you remembered correctly.

I mean, it could be that you were the one who died and this was just what came after. And honestly if you were still as delirious as you were before it might have been believable, but that pulsing burning in your shoulder said otherwise.

So, it was true. He really was here in the flesh, and all in one piece.

Frank Castle was alive.

Your expression, and maybe how intensely you had been staring at him, must’ve given away your thought pattern as he sort of tilted his head when he noticed the shift in your eyes, “You know me?” This time your gaze remained unfleeting in the line of attention.

Frank didn’t seem at all worried about the realisation of his identity. In fact the only change in his expression was done to display his curiosity to the new information.

Sure, worst comes to worst, he has the upper hand at this moment and it would probably be the same at any other. He could do whatever he needs to do to make sure that you wouldn’t blab before you blinked even once.

But from his worn out state, and the way he interacted with you, it was visible that he wasn’t going to do that. He must’ve been fighting for quite some time before he had stumbled upon you.

Why the hell was he even there? Out in the open in a place like that?

Who were those other guys?

Regardless of the want to let your mind flow down that rabbit hole, you were fronted with your previous realisation as your eyes actually focused on Frank again.

You were right. Frank Castle wasn’t the bad guy.

Without paying attention to it, there seemed to be this smile that began to curl at the corners of your mouth. You moved your head began to move back to its your previous position, your eyes wanting to find the discoloured ceiling to zone out on in a way that further made you forget about your pain--

Shoes suddenly scuffed against the hard ground in a way that stilled all over your movements. Your gaze flickered to whatever had joined you in the room as apparently you had missed the approaching footstep.

It was David, the height difference between the two guys now a lot clearer as he had stopped beside the man whose arms were yet to uncross. “Can you hold this for a second?” Until now.

Frank sort of looked at the man for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again before he complied to the request. And the moment the plate had been taken into his hands, David moved as if on autopilot. “All right,”

He wound round the foot of your cot, taking back the same position he stood in when you woke up, “Gonna need to sit up so you can actually digest this shit.”

He felt a little bad when he saw the look on your face, though he remained still while you prepared yourself, starting to fidget with his hands. He didn’t want to touch you without permission, but it appeared that your eyes were already closed.

You slowly but surely moved the arm of your injured shoulder to sling across your torso, hoping the position would stop it from moving about too much. And then you braced yourself, awaiting whatever sensations were about to come.

By the time a hand had been placed on your body, your teeth were already gritted. One was placed on your back, a way to properly bring guide you into the needed position, while the other gently cupped the back of your head so that everything would move in unison.

“Deep breath.”

The pain was immediate. It was such a thing that purely seared up a side of your body. Engulfed everything in its path.

It was impossible to see from your closed eyes, but there was a reaction from the man stood to the side when a slight whine escaped your throat. He had stepped forward, looking as if he was about to reach out if he didn’t have something in one of his hands.

It was thoughtless. A movement that he had undone the moment he had realised by pressing back against the wall. But it happened nonetheless.

David was muttering stuff of assurance, many forms of sentences letting lose into the air. You couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t catch onto a singular word.

All you could think about was the pain. How stupid it was that you made the decision to take that route. How you didn’t run back the way you came after that first shot. Or how you didn’t even end up trying run until it was too late.

Your legs bent at the knees the more your torso raised, as if trying to protect it of something, which slightly kicked up your blanket and made the heels of your feet dig into the cot below. “There you go, there you go!”

It was like a ripping of a band aid.

At first, it was the stage of holding onto the edge, trying to hype yourself to get it over and done with. And then it was off. It may give a twinge of pain that lingered more than wanted, but overall the act had been complete.

“Right on, that’s you done.”

And so had yours.

The biggest breath of relief huffed out of your mouth in a way that had David wanting to lightly pat your back, but it could accidently hurt you. So, instead, he resorted to turning his attention Frank, hurriedly gesturing towards the thing he held.

The man in question seemed to shake his head as if trying stifle his amusement, though he took a step forward to hand over the plate either way.

And then, by the next time you had blinked, it was held out in your direction. You just looked at it for a moment.

It was a sandwich. One that may have been made with the most simple ingredients, and was probably the exact replica of what you would picture in your head upon hearing the name, but for some reason your whole body yearned for it.

The plate was in your hands within seconds.

David took a step back, a slight smile reappearing on his lips at the progress. He gestured to the plate you held in the same position and then towards your mouth, seeming like he couldn’t get himself to stand still, “Eat up.”

You were.

Oh, a thousand percent, you were getting ready to chow down on something, since the last time solid food had been eaten was probably the day you had gotten shot. And even then, you had no clue as to when that was.

However, right as you were about to bring the plate onto your lap, grab onto the sandwich and consume it with the upmost excitement... You paused. Stopped right in your tracks. Eating by yourself felt a little weird.

You looked back at David.

It took him a moment to realise that your eyes were on him again. But when he did, he sort of rocked on his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he sent a look towards Frank, “What, um... Is it-- Is it bad, or something?”

There was a mixture of confusion and almost offence tugging at certain features and it had your head shaking immediately.

Within the next minute, it was almost like a game of charades as you attempted to relay the words in your mind.

The plate remained in the hand it did before. You bent your left arm at the elbow, trying to avoid any movement that would attack the area surrounding your wound, and you gestured.

The first time you pointed your index finger at him and then at the plate, but he merely blinked. So, you then did it in reverse, directing the line of attention to the plate and then him.

Frank even seemed confused as he watched with narrowed eyes, apparently unable to deduced the situation himself which still left David with nothing. “Kid, I don’t... I can’t understand what you’re trying to say, are you-- are you allergic to something?”

“Are you asking me what’s in it? If I made it, what--”

Biting back the biggest sigh of your life, and in the fastest way that you could in that moment, you restored to just holding out the whole plate towards him. Even repeated the previous gesture one final time to make your point.

“Oh,” David dragged out the sound as he began to nod. Finally, he understood, “Yeah, man, I’m boutta make my own.”

He remained for only a moment more, watching as your plate slowly lowered to your lap so that it wouldn’t drop. And then he started walking again, moving back around the edge of the cot before making his way through the doorway.

Franks eyes were already on your own by the time your head turned in his direction, as if he expected it to happen.

This time without accompanying the movement with gestures, you simply held out the plated food towards him. Franks head shook instantly, he even waved a hand, “It’s for you, kid. Need to get that strength back.”

His eyes directed towards the kitchen almost immediately after. He was either counting on David possibly making him one or waiting for him to leave the kitchen so that he could do it himself.

Thing is though, he only gave you a reason as to why you should keep the sandwich held for yourself.

He didn’t say no.

The plate was brought back to your legs, flat against your thighs, and then you began looking around. Your eyes scanned across any close surface for something that could be used as a cloth, something to wipe your hands with, but there was no luck.

You resorted to just scrubbing your palms, and more importantly your finger tips, against the cleanest clothing you had under the blanket. And then you grabbed the sandwich.

Despite what Frank thought was going to happen by the time his attention was once again redirected towards you, when the sandwich was held horizontally in your grasp, instead of bring it to your mouth and taking a bite. You began... pulling at it each side?

It started to rip.

“What are you doing?” he questioned pretty much immediately, his face and voice both riddle with confusion. And maybe even a little disturbance. But that didn’t stop your movements at all.

In fact the only time you had stopped was when the entire thing had been torn through the middle, completely halved. However, even after that, you reached for one of the parts. You took it from the plate, stuffing it into the hand of your unmoving arm.

And then you held out the plate all over again to the man with very furrowed eyebrows.

He just looked at the poorly halved sandwich for a moment, a part of it being more of the contents that the bread, and then his eyes found yours. There was an unreadable expression within them.

When he still didn’t take it, and due to the fact that your arm was starting to get tired, you redid your act of holding it out towards him.

And this time he couldn’t withhold a response.

Frank scoffed, shaking his head in the same amusement from earlier while he stared at the plate calling his name, “You’re very persistent, aren’t ya.”

Despite his point still standing, the consistent want for you to get the nutrients needed to fully recover, it was like he couldn’t say no to you. At least to your face. So. Frank took the plate.

The next few minutes were spent by the two of you choosing the perfect side of the sandwich and then going to town, chowing down on it like it was the first one either of you had ever had.

And man, that David could sure make a meal, even if it was just slapping ingredients between slices of bread.

“Damn!”

Seemed like someone else agreed with you.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing all this time, huh, Lieberman? Cookin’” Franks words were incredibly muffled despite his constant chewing, but either way the sound still echoed. A laugh soon followed while something poured, “What else would I do, man? Wasn’t just gonna do nothing.”

“Well, you can add cooking to your... I don’t know, list of talents or something.” Every time that man spoke, his head lowered right back down so that he could see the plate, taking another massive bite that you were just waiting for him to start choke on.

“Why did you... Why did you say it like that?” David's voice was more monotonous than usual, either playing fake offence or he was too preoccupied with arranging the order of his sandwich ingredients.

You took another bite, a piece of lettuce almost falling onto the blanket without you knowing. Frank turned towards the kitchen again, speaking midway through putting a part of the sandwich in his mouth, “Like what?” A plethora of crumbs fell onto the plate in a way that made your nose crinkle.

“Like... Are you lying to me? Lying isn’t very nice, Frank.”

“Nah, come on, man, I wouldn’t-- I wouldn’t say that If I didn’t mean it, you know that-- You could put these in a-- a-- a sandwich shop--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay,” David practically grumbled at this point, placing down what sounded like a butter knife on the counter before he sniffed, “That at least mean that our little friend likes it too?”

Frank turned to you, placing the little chunk of sandwich he had left onto his plate before he rubbed the fingers that touched it together.

You swallowed down your bites, the act proving to be a little harder to from the lack of eating solid food, and noted the fact that he was awaiting some form of answer to relay to David.

Your sandwich was finished by now. It wasn’t a contest but it was almost wild how fast it had been consumed. And now you sat there, wiping your hand against your trousers while attempting to get any food stuck between your teeth.

And then you cleared your throat, your nose scrunching for a second when the action ended up shaking your chest a little too much, “Y/n.”

Frank had turned his towards the kitchen moments prior. He had parted his lips, even slightly leaned back against the wall to get a proper view of the man awaiting an answer through the empty frames.

Now his head snapped in your direction, eyebrows raising more than you had even seen, “What was that?”

You may have made the ultimate decision to use your voice in the first place, however, having that gaze of his on you once again caused this overwhelming feeling to surge through your body.

Your spine had straightened, this time managing to ignore the shock of pain that hit your system, while your eyes widened just a smidge.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The echo of David's voice had caused you to turn to where he stood in the kitchen, still busied with making another one of his masterpieces. It was something done half out of anxiousness and just wanting to distract yourself.

And then it made you think.

Surrounding you was this big, more empty than full, abandoned building. The only other people there was Frank, a man who was supposed to be dead, and David... who you presumed was also most likely to be the same due to their team up.

If they were going to kill you, or hurt you, they would have done so already.

But even then, when you woke up this morning you hadn’t been restrained or anything. There was nothing keeping you there other than the fact that they wanted to treat your wounds.

A deep breath filtered through your nose as your eyes slowly met with Franks again.

His expression was practically the same as it was before you had looked away, giving you a patience no one ever had. The gaze he held was warm. Encouraging.

Thus, you swallowed once again.

“My... name.” Your voice was hoarse from waking up not that long ago, but also from it’s lack of use. There was always this feeling in your throat as if something was stuck in it, and you coughed, the urge to squeeze your eyes shut presenting itself yet again when it shifted your shoulder.

But you composed yourself, sucking in another breath and rubbing your hands against your legs while David was still left with no answer, “It’s Y/n.”

Franks head had already been nodding before you had finished saying your set of words. He pursed his lips, finally swallowing down the bite he had previously taken.

Frank sniffed, turning his head towards the kitchen yet again. Though this time it seemed like he did so to conceal the change of his facial expression more than to get David's attention. “You hear that, Lieberman?”

Regardless of his attempts to hide his reaction, the smile was clear on his lips. Such a one that it had even reached the skin around his eyes as they started to crinkle.

He looked back at you. There was this emotion on his face that remained unchanging. It seemed like a fondness, but at the same time he almost looked... proud?

“Y/n likes it.”

#frank castle #the punisher #teen!reader #mcu #mcu x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x gender neutral reader #david lieberman #micro

175 notes · View notes