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heart4gyu · 1 year

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teach you pt.2 || heeseung x reader

note: 18+ minors dni!! very suggestive && wayyy more than just kissing in this one!! [pt.1] so i took some advice from the last part hope you all like it !! i started this off and i rly liked it but towards the end idkk (i also haven’t proofread but i’m so tired Zzz)… lmk what you think anything is appreciated ^_^ enjoyyy & gn <33

wc: 2,361 words

you aren’t really sure why you left so abruptly that night. you could’ve kept going, just like heeseung wanted you to. you could’ve made him forget all about her, all about that date. but you didn’t, you couldn’t. you couldn’t stand the thought of ruining him.

but now you kind of regretted it. you couldn’t stand the thought of her having him all to herself even more. she didn’t deserve him. he was sweet and gentle, always looking out for others. she didn’t know that, all she knew was that he could help her get a good grade.

but maybe the real reason you left him there that night was because you don’t deserve him either. he didn’t call or text you the rest of the weekend so you just assumed his date went well. as mush as you hoped it didn’t…

you and heeseung had a psychology project that you were working on together. so he texted you to meet up with him at his dorm to work on it after class. he wasn’t really much of a texter, so you figured you’d just ask him about his date when you got there.

once your last class ended, you made your way to his dorm. it was around 4 pm when you got there, and he was prepared. he had all his supplies laid out on the small coffee table in front of the couch and a bag full of snacks for you to share.

“so i’m guessing you plan on finishing the whole project tonight,” you said. the project wasn’t due for another week or so but if you knew anything about heeseung, it’s that he hates procrastinating.

“yup, so you might want to make yourself comfortable,” he said, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him.

about two hours had passed of you two really getting a lot of work done. you divided the work into two and discussed anything you needed help on. if it was anyone else, you wouldn’t have done a thing but he was a really great project partner so you didn’t want to let him down.

“alright i finished the third slide, i’m taking a break,” you said, getting up to throw away some of the trash that had piled up on the table.

when you came back heeseung’s computer was no longer on his lap and he was sitting back watching whatever movie had been playing in the background. “you never told me how your date went,” you said, as you walked back in the room and sat beside him on the couch.

“well it honestly didn’t go as i expected,” he said, laughing humorlessly. “what do you mean? what happened?” you said, turning to face him and giving your undivided attention.

“we went to the movies so we didn’t have to talk much but afterwards when i walked her home, i realized we had nothing in common,” he said, looking down at his hands that were fidgeting, of course. you felt relieved but you tried not to let it show too much. “and she did try to kiss me, but i couldn’t,” he said, looking over at you only for a second.

“what? why? you did really good when we practiced,” you said, wanting to encourage him in case he felt disappointed. “i- i know, i actually felt really confident after you helped me but… i don’t know, i-,” he stopped, a flush beginning to dust his cheeks.

“it’s okay, you can tell me,” you said, knowing he had something he wanted to get off his chest. you could always tell when he had something on his mind.

“i just- i couldn’t… i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, looking over at you, hesitantly.

you swear your heart skipped a beat. “why me? you’ve been crushing on her since the moment she first talked to you,” you said, really not expecting this at all.

“i don’t know, i was just as confused as you are. but the more i thought of it, the more it made sense,” he said, scooting just a couple inches closer to you.

“y/n, you’re the one that’s always there for me when i need encouragement or advice on anything. you’re always nice to me and looking out for me when i don’t make the best decisions. it’s always you. so i couldn’t kiss her because all i could think about is how much i wanted it to be you,” he said, leaving you speechless.

never had a guy made you feel like this just from telling you how he felt. your heart was beating fast and you almost felt like you wanted to cry. you felt such relief that you couldn’t contain it as you smiled down at your lap, touching over your cheeks with your cool hands.

“and if you don’t mind, i’d really like for you to kiss me again,” he said, his puppy eyes pulling you in just like last time. how could you ever say no to him.

“okay but if i do this won’t be practice anymore,” you said, leaning into his space. you weren’t as good with your words as him but you hoped he understood that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“i don’t want it to be,” he said, sitting back on the couch as you climbed over his lap. you smiled at his words but he was already too far gone to return it as you hovered over him.

he was breathing heavy and his hands dug into the couch as if he was scared to touch you. you kissed the corner of his mouth as you took his hands and placed them on your waist.

he gulped when you finally leaned in to kiss him. and it was perfect, feeling his lips on yours again.

you didn’t go slowly this time, when he parted his lips you immediately let your tongue push into his mouth. just like last time, he gasped, but this time it was somehow a bit more desperate.

he moved his tongue with yours right away as you kissed him. you placed a hand on his chest as the other combed through his hair.

you gave the hair at the back of his head a tug and sucked on his tongue making him moan. and it was the best thing you’d ever heard, you’d never heard anything like it.

you noticed his hands gripping onto your shirt tightly and he was shifting his hips beneath you. you could see the growing bulge in his sweats and from his heavy breathing you could tell he needed some friction.

you kissed him some more, really enjoying how good he was getting at it.

you knew he probably wouldn’t be able to handle it but you also really needed to feel something in between your legs.

so you sat yourself down on his bulge and through the thin layers of both your sweatpants, it was pure ecstasy.

he broke away from the kiss just to gasp and hiss at the feeling. you figured he’s just never felt anything like this. it was cute.

you placed a hand on his cheek, making him look you in your eyes as you continued to grind down on him. he shut his eyes tightly as he kept moaning, when you suddenly came to a stop.

“y/n no please, i can’t,” he whined, trying to thrust his hips up into you but you pulled away further.

“what? you can’t what baby?” you said, kissing him again, making him moan into your mouth at the pet name.

“i can’t take it, i need you to keep going,” he said, and he already looked so fucked out. he was sweating, his lips were so red and swollen, and his chest was heaving.

you smirked, thinking about how you could probably make him come in his pants right now, untouched. but that’s too mean, and you couldn’t stand teasing him anymore.

you attached your lips to his and sat back down gently this time. you moved your hips back and forth slowly, letting him whine into your mouth.

he was trying his best to move his tongue against yours but he was completely overwhelmed. all he could do was moan into your mouth and try to match the pace of your hips grinding against his.

when you picked up the pace, he sobbed into your mouth and you pulled away to see tears at the corners of his eyes. you leaned down and kissed the tears away then kissed down to his neck, sucking and marking the skin there.

finally you felt his hands grip onto your waist but what you didn’t expect was for him to push you further down onto his clothed cock.

and now it was your turn to moan for him as he moved your hips in a circular motion over him. you kissed him again as you felt a knot begin to form in your stomach.

the kiss was messy as he bucked his hips up into you. your hands began to wander down his chest, and he flinched when your fingers came into contact with the skin under his shirt.

you continued to kiss him as you felt him up, he didn’t really have defined abs but you honestly preferred it. you felt all the way up to his chest and he let out a groan when your fingers brushed past his nipples.

you smiled into the kiss, and pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. he looked at you curiously before you dropped your hands back down to the hem of his sweatpants.

“can i?” you asked, and his eyes went wide. “y-yes, please,” he said, nodding his head. so cute.

he watched, nervously, as you slid your hand into his pants and past his underwear. you took hold of his cock and stroked it a few times, getting a feel of his size.

it honestly made you shiver how nice his size was, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. he definitely wasn’t ready for everything that you had in mind so you stuck to jerking him off in his pants.

his whines and moans were really indescribable, they were breathy and pretty high pitched. and you found that you liked kissing him while he made those pretty sounds because it only amplified them.

so you kissed him as you continued to stroke his cock and he kept whining into your mouth. but his head fell back onto the cushions when you swiped your thumb over his slit, spreading the precum all over his cock. he groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. the grip his hands had on your thighs was sure to leave bruises.

“fuck,” he breathed out, “please don’t stop, i’m gonna come.” you were starting to get the appeal of guys begging.

with his head still leaned back, you started sucking a couple more bruises onto his neck and collar bones. you took the tip of his cock out of his sweatpants and rubbed circles at the tip while grinding your hips against his again.

his head shot up and landed on your shoulder at the new sensation. he just let out moan after moan, gradually becoming louder.

you knew he was close by the way his cock twitched and his stomach was contracting. his cock leaking more and more as the seconds passed.

“please, i’m- uhhh god i’m gonna come-,” he said, barely able to get the sentence out with how much he was crying and moaning.

just as you were about to pick up your pace for the final time, you heard it. a key being pushed into the lock of the front door and you both scattered.

you got up off of him quickly and adjusted your clothes and hair. and heeseung put himself back into his pants, both breathing heavily as the door opened and his roommate walked in.

“oh hey guys,” he said, turning his back to shut the door, “hope i wasn’t interrupting anything.” he was only teasing but the longer he stood there with no response from the two of you the more evident it became.

he laughed loudly as he stared at the two of you, blushing on the couch. “jake get out! go! go to your room!” heeseung yelled, throwing a pillow at the back of his head as he ran away, still giggling like a teenager.

heeseung threw his head back onto the couch and covered his face with his hands after jake’s door was shut. “oh my goddd, i hate him,” he said, into his hands.

and you laughed, lightheartedly, at probably the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you in a while.

“on the bright side, at least he didn’t technically see anything,” you said, and he out his hands down with a sigh. “but he probably could hear you down the hall with how loud you were,” you said, teasingly.

heeseung groaned loudly, the embarrassment being too much for him. you laughed again and reached over for his hand. you intertwined your fingers and kissed his knuckles.

“you wanna walk me out this time?” you asked, and he nodded, defeatedly. he got up and walked you to the door, still holding your hand.

as you were about to step out of the door, he pulled you back in quickly by the waist. “wait, just one more kiss? i’ve been through so much tonight,” he said, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

“oh my poor baby,” you said, the nickname making him weak in the knees. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him just one more time.

one more kiss. just one that lasted a little well over a minute. when you pulled away, he groaned and complained but you were already walking away.

“text me hee,” you said over your shoulder, as you walked down the hall.

“of course, and hey, maybe you can come over and study or practice again tomorrow,” he said, shrugging his shoulders when you turned to roll your eyes at him.

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bittenbyyou · 11 months

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Inferior Flames (2)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: angst, some comedy, e2l (rivals to lovers really)

description: Your father asks you for another favor: keep an eye on Peter. Yup, this definitely can’t go wrong considering you two aren’t even friends.

word count: 7.4k

warnings: OC has superpowers, OC is a temporary Avenger, references to Spider-Man: Homecoming, MJ, Betty, and Ned are here, fake IDs, clubbing, fight scenes/battle scenes, muscle “enhancers” (dr*gs), burn wounds (nothing too graphic), angst, mentions of death, tension

a/n: Part 2 was highly requested! Please let me know what you think, it really motivates me and all writers. :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Mom said you needed me?”

“Yup. I need another favor, Firefly.”

You stepped into your father’s workshop, admiring the random contraptions cluttered on the work tables.

“If you want me to build something,” —you picked up a bizarre piece of machinery— “hard pass.”

Tony set down the soldering iron and swiftly plucked the metal from your sticky fingers. A pout formed on your lips when your beloved toy was taken away. “Yeah, no. Last time you nearly blew up the compound.”

“Sorry that I can’t carry on your legacy, pops,” you said, only half-joking. He put down the device and immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into an affectionate side hug.

“I don’t expect you to, Flameling.” He gave you a smooch on the top of your head. “It’s too much work and your mom’s got it. I would never pressure you to do something you don’t want to.”

You embraced him tightly, closing your eyes to savor the moment. A mix of emotions swirled within you, and the weight of potentially letting him down added heaviness to your heart. His words meant a lot to you and gave you the assurance he would love you no matter what.

“You pressured me to beat Peter,” you joked, breaking the tension. He let you go but kept you at arm’s length, an amused smile spread across his face.

“I think deep down you enjoyed beating the arachnid.”

“Eh. I do hate spiders.”

A mischievous smirk spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but catch a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Well, don’t hate them too much. I’m going to need you to get close to one. The Spiderling to be exact.”

You pushed him off you, shaking your head and firmly crossing your arms in front of your chest, forming an ‘x” shape as a gesture of refusal. “No.”

Your father put on an innocent facade, lifting both of his palms upward as if to say, ‘What?’

“Whatever you want me to do with Peter, I refuse. He hates me.”

“Oh, he does not hate you,” your old man assured, waving his hands sideways in a dismissive manner. “The Avengers and I will be out of town for a while. Your mom’s also busy with her business meetings abroad, but I know the authorities will be okay handling things here with Spider-Man’s help.”

“But…?” You pulled up a nearby swivel chair, anticipating this conversation would take longer than expected. Your father copied your actions and sat across from you.

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Stay close by. You know, just in case he needs help. Be friends.”

“Friends? He’s depressed every time he sees me. All because he thinks I’m an Avenger, which I’m not. If people found out I have powers, I can’t live a normal life.”

“Pfft, you’re my daughter. Your life will never be normal.” You didn’t laugh at his remark, so he leaned back in the chair and let out a ‘hmm’ sound. “You’re not happy. Is that it?”

“I am happy. I love being here. But if people find out I have powers let alone that I’m your daughter, I can’t go to a normal school.”

He started listing reasons to counteract your statement and used his fingers to keep track.

“1) No one’s going to find out you’re my daughter unless you want them to. 2) You have a suit.” Leaning in closer, he playfully flicked his fingers against the shiny metal bracelet adorning your wrist, creating a delightful tinkling sound that danced through the air. “3) I need you near Peter. 4) If all else fails, you can get your GED.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, putting two and two together. “Wait… is that why Peter’s in so many of my classes? Did you do that?”

Tony simply shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“Dad, I’m not an Avenger. Stop trying to make me one.”

“I’m not. I’m basically asking you to babysit. But I am curious…” His voice took on a more grave tone. “What’s the real reason why you don’t want to be an Avenger? Don’t say school. Don’t say normal life. What is it?”

You casted your gaze downward, your hands fidgeting in your lap while your leg anxiously tapped the ground. The softening of your father’s gaze mirrored the festering guilt within his heart as he saw the evident disappointment on your face. Yes, he may be your father, but there was still so much he didn’t know about you.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it,” he said, patting your thigh. You looked up to see him getting up out of his chair. “But I am asking you to help Spider-Boy. So will you? How’s school?”

“It’s good. The American TV shows you made me watch were pretty accurate. Except the kids actually look like kids and not adults. Most of them are nice with the exception of some jerks. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“See? You’re perfect for the job. Who else would be mighty enough to tackle the horrors of high school?”

You let out a laugh. “Alright, I’ll do it. But you promise me you’ll come back safe from the mission.”

“You know I break promises often.”

“Promise me you’ll try to come back.”

“That I can do.”

You hopped out of your chair and hugged your father again. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Firefly. Remember, don't do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

It’s been a few weeks since you kept your word about leaving Peter alone. Now were you successful? You’d say about 80% of the time. It’s not like you were completely off his radar as much as you’d try to be.

Chemistry

“Peter, you got a 99 on your chemistry test. Congratulations.” Peter held the test paper in his hands, a proud smile gracing his features. The teacher walked past him and handed your test to you next. “And you got a 100, Ms. [Y/N]. Impressive.”

You saw Peter's intense grip on his test paper, causing it to crinkle right before your eyes.

Gym

“Does she smell nice? I bet she smells nice.” Ned lent his support to Peter by resting his hands at the juncture of Peter's thighs and the undersides of his knees, providing the stability needed for him to execute each sit-up with precision.

“Shut up.”

“Do you know if she has a boyfriend?”

“Shh.”

“Can I help you beat her?”

“What?”

“I’ll be your guy in the chair telling you where to go. Like where to find the most dangerous criminals. I’d be better than K.A.R.E.N. That way Mr. Stark has to recognize your talent and realize his mistake. You can beat her.”

“Ned, no, shut up.” Peter was speeding up his reps without realizing it, annoyance laced in his tone. “I don’t need to beat her.”

“Looking good, Parker,” Coach Wilson said, pointing a finger at him. Peter immediately slowed down, easing himself down onto the mat with an expression of exertion etched across his face. “You too, [Y/N]. Look at her go!”

“Thanks Coach!” you exclaimed from afar.

Peter's gaze shifted to his left while Ned looked to the right, catching sight of you perched atop the climbing ropes suspended from the ceiling. Flash, who was on the rope beside you, pointed an accusatory finger at you for cheating, suggesting that you started climbing before he did and demanded a rematch. Peter and Ned gave each other a knowing glance.

“You/I need to beat her,” the boys chorused.

Pre-Calculus

Peter’s mind raced as he calculated and strategized, determined to outpace his opponent, which in this case was you. Both of you gripped the marker tightly as you two meticulously scribbled numbers, your hands dancing across the whiteboard.

There was an electric energy in the air, a palpable tension as you and him worked through the problem. Occasionally, a competitive glare would be exchanged, fueled by the desire to come out on top. As the final calculations fell into place, a triumphant grin from Peter marked the completion of his work.

“Done!” he cried, slamming the marker down into its holder. You continued working diligently, unable to leave a problem unfinished.

The teacher took a look at the board and shook her head. “Nope. [Y/N]?”

Peter’s face contorted with a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a touch of disappointment as the realization of the incorrect math answer settled in.

You got your final answer and set your marker down. “Is this right?”

“Excellent work!” your teacher praised you. “Can you explain why Peter’s answer was incorrect?”

You pointed at the error in his work on the board, giving him a shy smile. “Um… you forgot to factor the 6. Here.”

“Thanks,” Peter grumbled.

“See Parker, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong,” Flash called out from the back of the class. Everyone (including the teacher) rolled their eyes at his hypocritical remark, but it affected Peter more than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, you’ve done an excellent job leaving Peter alone. However, with your dad’s latest request, you weren’t sure how to keep an eye on him now without being creepy.

“What’s your deal, [Y/N]?”

You looked over at the other end of the cafeteria table to see MJ staring at you. Despite her poker face, the intensity of her narrowed eyes left you feeling exposed, as if she possessed the power to unravel your defenses layer by layer.

“Didn’t see you there, MJ…” you said, taking a sip of your water bottle. “I don’t understand your question.”

“You’re staring at Parker. Like, a lot.”

Your eyes darted over to the table that was on the opposite end of the cafeteria from you, hoping MJ’s voice didn’t carry far enough for Peter to hear. Once you saw milk shooting out of Ned’s nostrils and Peter laughing his head off, you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m not,” you lied. “Are you into him or something?” MJ scooted down until she was seated across from you, effectively blocking Peter’s face with her own.

“I’m not obsessed with him; I’m just very observant. If you’re not staring at him, you have no problem sitting with him, right?”

“No!” you shrieked. “Okay, I was staring.”

“I know,” she said, smirking at your easy confession. “You like him?”

“No. I mean, he’s cute, but it’s not like that. Why do you even care?”

“You’re my friend. Aren’t friends supposed to talk about their crushes or whatever?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the declaration. “We’re friends?”

“You’re the only girl that isn’t tone deaf our section. Or are we only friends in choir class?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m honored.”

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, what are you going to do about Parker?”

“I’m not going to do anything.”

“Aren’t you two friends? Ned announced that pretty clearly on your first day here.”

You groaned while taking a bite of your food, swallowing before replying, “We’re more so… acquaintances. Maybe even rivals.”

“Oh?” MJ leaned forward, curiosity brightening her features. “I love rivalry. Spill.”

“Uh…” You had to come up with something on the fly. “Well, you know how he has the Stark internship?”

“Yeah. He leaves a lot because of it. Dude’s always busy.”

“I might’ve gotten it too. Might’ve even taken it away from him in a way.”

MJ clasped her gaping mouth with her hand, shocked. “No way!”

“Keep it down,” you urged, seeing some students in your vicinity glaring at you both.

“Sorry, but I’m confused. Can’t Mr. Stark have both of you as interns?”

“I mean, he didn’t kick Peter out. It’s more like I got assigned a higher position than him.”

“So he feels inferior.”

“I suppose…”

“Has he been mean to you?”

“No!” you said with your hands up. “Never.”

“Hmm…” MJ said while rubbing her chin in thought. “I’m going to ask again. Why were you staring at him then?”

You bit your lip. “I want to be his friend, but he sorta hates me? I guess.”

She clapped her hands together. “Got it. Get up. Come with me.”

“MJ no,” you hissed, flailing your hands around for her to stop moving.

“Trust me.”

Reluctant, you grabbed your lunch box and followed her, your heart rate beating so loudly like it was battering around in your chest wanting to pop out.

“Sup losers,” MJ said, taking the seat in front of Ned. You sat next to her, which meant you were in front of Peter. He pressed his lips together tightly, the silent sign of unease not escaping your observant gaze. “[Y/N] has no friends, so we’ll be sitting here from now on.”

“MJ,” you said through gritted teeth. “I have you.”

“I’m sorry, was I hallucinating when you said you wanted to be friends with Parker or…?”

“MJ!”

“Of course we’ll be friends,” Ned said happily. Peter grabbed Ned by wrapping an arm around his shoulder, facing away from you and MJ to whisper-yell at him in private.

“What are you doing?”

“Keep your friends close and enemies closer. She can’t be as perfect as she seems.”

Peter groaned. “Dude, even her lunch is better than mine. How can she even beat me at lunch?”

“... Because you can’t cook.”

The death glare Peter shot him shut him up real quick. The two of them turned around the same time you and MJ were done talking. He gave you his brightest smile, hands placed on the table with his fingers intertwined like this was a business meeting.

“Yup. We’d love to be friends,” Peter said. Ned copied his body language and smiled just as brightly.

“With no ulterior motives,” he added. Peter stomped on his best friend’s foot beneath the table. “Ow!”

“Shut up,” he said in a low voice. You smiled to yourself and high-fived MJ under the table.

Having lunch with you was bearable for the most part. Sometimes MJ would probe him about the Stark Internship and feelings of inferiority would resurface, but at least you didn’t rub it in Peter’s face. You even offered to share your food with him, which he had to admit was delicious. Especially those orange chocolate cookies, ugh. He hated how tasty they were.

Meanwhile, keeping an eye on Peter proved to be easier than you had thought. He usually went straight home after school or sometimes stopped at his favorite food spot to get some gummy worms and a sandwich. If there was crime going on, it’d be the typical theft or car chase. Nothing you had to personally get involved in.

However, you noticed an unusual pattern in Peter’s behavior a week later and the AI your father gifted you, D.A.W.N (Digital Assistant with Navigational Intelligence) aided in helping you figure out what was going on. You rarely used the AI unless you deemed it to be necessary, wanting to give Peter some privacy because come on, you were already invading it.

You put on the glasses and pressed a button on the side of the frames.

“D.A.W.N, what’s Peter doing with Betty Brant?” you said quietly to yourself while sitting on the football field. The AI zoomed in on Betty and Peter sitting far too close to each other on the bleachers.

“You sound jealous,” your AI remarked.

“Can you focus?”

“Certainly. It appears Betty has given Peter a false identification card in exchange for some money.”

“What on earth would Peter need a fake ID for? Is he trying to get alcohol?”

“Would you like me to replay a conversation he and Ned had two days ago? A fake ID was mentioned.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything, D.A.W.N?”

“You told me not to invade his privacy too much. This conversation took place when they were in the boys’ bathroom.”

You sighed. “I meant unless he’s doing something dangerous. I’m definitely telling Dad you need an upgrade. Please replay the conversation.”

“Ned, guess what?”

“What?”

“I caught this thug destroying city property for no reason and he kept on shouting ‘I’m the best! I’m the champion!’ over and over. He was jacked, like even more than Captain America.”

“No way!”

“Yeah, he definitely was on something because those muscles looked unnatural. I got him to confess that there's an illegal fighting ring going on at this club on the other side of town. Everyone there uses muscle enhancers and it’s killing them. I gotta go take them down before it gets more out of hand.”

“But dude, you’re not old enough. You would need a fake ID.”

“Shoot. Do you know how I would get one?”

“Leave it to me, your guy in the chair at your service.”

“Conversation over,” D.A.W.N stated.

“Oh my god, he’s crazy! D.A.W.N?”

“Yes?”

“Find me the nearest clothing store. I’m going to need a new outfit.”

Peter kept checking the time on his watch every five minutes, unable to contain his excitement. This mission would be huge because no one knew about it except him. Of course he cared about the innocent lives of people being under the influence and wanting to save them, naturally. But getting credit on something you knew nothing about was the cherry on top.

Once it hit midnight, he opened his window and snuck out, shooting one of his webs at the nearest building. Swinging allowed him to get to the other side of town in no time and he landed in a dark alleyway to fix his hair back into place, making sure his clothes weren’t too wrinkled.

When he stepped out of the alleyway and made it to the entrance of the club, he noticed there wasn’t a line. The only people outside were two bouncers adorned in black suits. He gulped, singing words of encouragement under his breath.

“Spider-Man, Spider-Man, will he die tonight, yes he might. No, no that’s not right. I can do this.”

Just as he was about to talk to the bouncers, you tapped on his shoulder from behind. He whipped around, his eyes widening to the size of marbles.

“[Y/N]? Whoa, what—you look gorg—what are you doing here?!”

You gave him a once over in his outfit, trying your best not to ogle. He wore a slim-fitting, black button-down shirt that accentuated his lean physique. His shirt was tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged his frame comfortably paired with black leather boots. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, giving off a laid-back vibe but all you could see were the veins on his forearms. And his hair? Styled with a casual yet intentional tousled look, making his stupidly handsome face more handsome.

If his goal was to look slightly older, he accomplished it and you had to try your best not to drool.

“What am I doing here? What about you? You shouldn’t be here!” You leaned in closer, causing his breath to hitch and whispered, “I know about the enhancers.”

Peter leaned back and stared at you, taking in your outfit first and words second. You had chosen a form-fitting sleeveless black jumpsuit paired with a cropped leather jacket in a fiery red shade, symbolizing your powers. For footwear you opted for ankle boots in stiletto heels, which were a pain to wear, but you’d manage. You also did your makeup, making sure to not overdo it and still show off your natural features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter bluffed once he snapped out of his daze. He pivoted on his heels, coming face to face with the bouncers whose figures resembled towering boulders but with scowls on their faces. “Hey fellas, I know what you’re thinking. This baby face fools a ton of people, but you’re smart enough to know I’m 18, right?”

The men gave a skeptical look to one another, his lie painfully obvious, but before they could apprehend Peter, he whipped out his fake ID from his pocket and showed it to them.

“We good now?” he asked them, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. While they didn't appear entirely convinced, a sigh escaped them as they motioned for him to proceed. “Thank you. And oh, the girl behind me? She’s basically my stalker and is super crazy obsessed with me.”

“What?!” you shrieked, hands on your hips and fuming.

“Yeah, she’s kinda in love with me, but I don’t date minors,” he teased, sticking his tongue out a bit at you, relishing in your ire. “She’s a feisty one, so keep an eye on her for me?”

The bouncers apprehended each of your arms, which triggered your fight or flight response. With precision, you targeted specific acupuncture points on their shoulders and chest using your index and middle fingers. Instantly, a wave of paralysis surged through their body, rendering them immobile. They staggered and ultimately collapsed to the ground. Peter blew a small raspberry from his lips.

“Oof… sorry fellas. Told ya she was feisty.” Peter flashed you a mischievous grin before entering the club, not bothering to hold the door open for you. As you stepped into the club's chaotic atmosphere, your senses were immediately overwhelmed by a cascade of stimulation.

“I’m not in love with you!” you said, shouting over the blaring music.

“What did you say?!”

“I said I’m not in love with you!”

“I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Peter left your side and dived into the dense crowd. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, hating how the place reeked of weed and smoke. It was difficult to navigate through the swarm of sweaty bodies and just as you were about to be engulfed fully, Peter reached out and firmly clasped your hand, swiftly pulling you into his embrace. Time seemed to slow down in that moment, each passing second passing feeling like eternity, as he delicately guided your arms to rest around his neck while his hands gently found their place on your waist.

“Bodyguards,” he whispered, his voice serious and husky. “They’re looking at us. Gotta blend in.”

“Right. Blending in… oh boy.” His cologne had your head swimming. You stared into his eyes while swaying to the music, gulping from the intensity of his longing gaze. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Isn’t that what Avengers do? Dangerous things?”

You scoffed at the audacity of this boy. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“How did you even know I’d be here?”

“... Mr. Stark told me to keep an eye on you while he’s out of town.”

Peter poked his tongue against his cheek in disbelief. “So he doesn’t trust me.”

“He just wants to make sure you’re not in over your head.”

“Yeah. By babysitting me through you. And here I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“I do…” you said earnestly.

“So you were stalking me.”

“Not like I enjoyed it.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Probably betrayed. Now can we please get out of here? I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“You can leave. I’m staying. There are people dying because of those enhancers and I’m going to put a stop to it.” He let go of your waist once y’all reached the bar, where it was barely quieter than the rest of the club.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Pfft. Yeah. Of course. Um…” His eyes settled on an unoccupied beer glass, thinking of ways to create a diversion. His plan was to shoot a web at the glass and propel it at a random dude’s head. However, the webbing took an unexpected turn, adhering onto an innocent woman’s shirt instead. “Uh oh…” Once Peter pulled on the web, the shirt was ripped off, leaving the girl’s boyfriend seething with anger, misdirecting his fury towards the nearest male presence. The unfortunate consequence led to a brawl.

Peter watched in horror and awe as the whole club erupted into chaos. But hey, at least the bodyguards were occupied. He ran to the back of the club and you followed along.

You both ended up in a dimly lit hallway, walking side by side in matching tandem. You let out a couple of chortles, trying your best to contain your laughter.

“Don’t say it,” Peter warned.

“Is your aim always that bad?” you teased.

“I was distracted.”

“By what, the woman’s breasts? At least ask a girl out before you start taking her clothes off. If you’ve ever made it that far, that is.”

Peter’s cheeks reddened. “I’ve asked girls out before.”

“Was that before or after the stripping started?”

“What, are you jealous?”

“No. I don’t date perverts.”

“And I don’t date stalkers.”

You two exchanged friendly smiles before laughing out loud. At the end of the hallway was a door, but you intercepted before Peter could open it, placing your hand on top of his.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“We should go back.”

“Why? We’re so close.”

“What are you going to do exactly? If there really is an illegal fighting ring here, how will you find the goods?”

“Easy. You participate in the illegal fighting while I find them.”

“What?!”

“Listen, I want to prove to Mr. Stark I’m ready for more. This is it. Something bigger than petty bicycle thieves or bank robberies. And you’re stronger than I am. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“And what if I can’t?”

He held you by the shoulders. “Look at me. You can. You’re… pretty incredible. Annoyingly incredible, actually.”

His voice was sincere, eyes shimmering with sweetness. “Had to add in the annoying part, huh?”

“I could’ve left out the incredible part.”

“Then you’d be calling me pretty.”

“You are pretty.” You blinked twice, wondering if you were the only one who heard what he said. When Peter’s face switched to one of realization (which was quite adorable), he let out an awkward cough later. “So will you help me?”

“You’re going to do this even if I say no.”

“Yup. And you’re the one who said it. Mr. Stark wants you to keep an eye on me.”

Peter gave you a toothy grin as he opened the door. Unlike him, you didn’t have a Spider Sense, but your gut was screaming for you to go back. However, he already entered and you knew you had to follow. You tapped on your metal bracelet in a specific way to activate your suit and helmet, letting the magical material envelope your body.

As you entered, boisterous shouts and jeers from a large crowd of people confirmed that you had found the right location. Their hands were gripping wads of cash, flailing it about like lightsticks at a K-Pop concert, all while a chaotic brawl unfurled at the heart of the room.

Once you ventured deeper into the scene, you got a better glimpse at the two challengers, who were almost as big as the Hulk, going at each other relentlessly. Their grunts were arrogant and feral, their eyes blazed with a rage that wasn’t human.

“Okay Peter… what do I do exactly?” When he didn’t reply, you did a full 360 to confirm he was indeed absent. “I’m going to kill him.”

With the ding of the bell, the brawl had finally come to an end as one challenger collapsed onto the floor. An employee rushed out to drag the loser’s body out of the ring. Up on the second floor was an announcer who had a microphone headset. His upbeat voice boomed throughout the room when he said, “Our undefeated champion!!! Will the next challenger be able to defeat him? Is there anyone out there daring enough to fight him?!”

“Me!” you called out, launching yourself into the fighting ring with a front flip and landing gracefully. Murmurs from the crowd were heard as confusion spread. You ignored remarks about your gender, using it to fuel your determination to show off your skills.

The announcer tilted his head in confusion. “And who are you, Miss?”

“You can call me Ember.”

An employee rushed over to the announcer, whispering something in his ear. You noticed him nodding in understanding and flashing you a huge grin. “Alrighty! We’re going to have Ember challenge our unbeatable champion tonight!”

You got into a low forward lunge, extending your arm to the side with your palm facing out. One second later, your trusty kung fu spear appeared out of nowhere. If the club didn’t allow weapons, they didn’t say anything. You figured they cared too much about the hype of betting on blood to do something about it.

“Begin!” The bell dinged and you immediately went on the offensive, giving it all you got.

Meanwhile, Peter ditched his prior outfit so he was only in his suit and mask. He found a vent he could sneak into, navigating his way to finding a hidden room. Through the slits of the vent cover, he spotted a tall man wearing some form of mystical clothing that glowed purple. And the dude had a cape, so Peter inferred that had to be the big bossman.

There were some bodyguards with the tall man, so Peter waited patiently for you to do your part before he could intervene. He spotted the silver briefcase on the table and noticed glass vials inside containing a powder of sorts.

“Boss. Ember defeated the champion,” one of the henchmen informed. The boss grinned like he expected that outcome.

“Excellent. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”

What? Ember? Is that [Y/N]? Does she know this guy? Peter thought to himself. He had to put his questions on hold because now with the boss gone, he could easily take down the remaining guards and snag the briefcase. Carefully lifting the vent cover, he crawled around on the ceiling, strategically ensnaring each henchmen with intricate webs, one by one. Every move carried purpose and he made sure to time it right to ensure nearby men remained oblivious to his presence. It wasn’t until there was one man left that Peter used a web to descend into the room upside-down.

“Hey man.” The guard whipped around and Peter waved hi. “I’ll be taking that.”

He launched a web at the briefcase and yanked it hard, resulting in it slamming right into the last guy’s face, effectively knocking him unconscious. Peter landed rightside up and held the briefcase close.

“That was easier than expected.”

It was then he heard people screaming outside when he dashed out to see the commotion. At this point, the crowd of people had diminished and there in the middle of the ring was a girl in a shiny red suit and helmet similar to that of a Power Ranger. Peter sensed it was you, but his sixth sense was more focused on the threat before you. The tall man from earlier transformed into his true self, which was a man with three dragon heads.

“You’re all grown up now, Ember.”

You pointed your spear at him, prepared to slice him in half. “You ate that man.”

“Yes. And I’m about to devour you next.”

“No, you won’t. That’d be a stupid move on your part.”

The man’s snarl echoed through the air as his three heads snapped toward you, moving in a sinuous and serpentine pattern. You took a defensive stance, twirling your spear with a propeller-like motion to keep your distance from his elongated necks. In that moment, your helmet opened partially and you took a deep breath, feeling the flames ignite in your lungs. You held your spear steady and unleashed a mighty blast of fire, causing the man to cry out in pain from the scorching attack. However, the fire soon dissipated, revealing that the cunning dragon heads had managed to swallow your fire. They were prepared to unleash your own flames back upon you until Peter reacted, swinging into action, his grip tightening around your body as he swiftly whisked you away from the clutches of the menacing demon.

“Spider-Man,” you breathed, stunned by his perfect timing.

“I got you.”

You quickly took notice of the briefcase. “No. Take the case somewhere safe. He’s mine.”

You wriggled free from Peter’s grasp, propelling yourself backward towards the villain, determined to finish the fierce battle. The sharpness in your words, dripping with venom, unsettled him. As he landed near the exit, he made a choice to disregard your request.

Carelessly discarding the briefcase, his attention was immediately drawn to the sight of you suspended in a mesmerizing electrical orb, hovering midair.

“Oh Ember… it’s cute you think you can defeat me,” the man taunted. You stabbed the orb repeatedly but to no avail. Each poke only unleashed a surge of electricity throughout your body, making you scream in pain. Seizing the opportunity, Spider-Man executed a flying super kick at one of the dragon’s heads. The blow infuriated the creature, causing it to release its grip on you and you crashed heavily onto the ground with a resounding thud.

“Ow…”

You pushed yourself off the ground to see Peter effortlessly swinging around, pretty much playing a game of tetherball with the dragon—except Peter was the ball in this unconventional match.

"Hey Mr. Dragon, three heads are better than one, but not when they're all after me!"

“Spider-Man, be careful!” you warned.

As Peter swung around the 3 headed dragon, narrowly avoiding its fiery breath, one of the heads caught him off-guard with a lightning-fast swipe. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby wall, leaving him momentarily disoriented and with a throbbing pain in his side. You rushed over and kneeled on the ground by his side.

“I told you to go!”

“Well, you know,” he said, groaning from trying to sit up. “I have a habit of sticking around.”

The man was growing impatient. His three heads parted their jaws wide, erupting with vivid purple flames as he launched a devastating attack toward both of you. Peter reacted quickly and shielded your body with his own, hugging you in a protective embrace. The searing pain coursed through your bodies, but as the initial shock subsided, you summoned the strength to put up a temporary barrier shield. Peter’s weight pressed upon you as he collapsed and you knew that retreating was necessary.

You watched as the man withdrew his three dragon heads, assuming his original face once more. “You know what I want, Ember. Give me the pearl.”

“Never.”

With a commanding gesture, you used your hands to bend the earth, causing chunks of concrete to rise from the ground. You hurled the makeshift projectiles at the man with precision. In that fleeting moment, you seized the opportunity to carry Peter to safety. You initially believed he had lost consciousness, but he had enough strength to shoot a web to secure the briefcase, ensuring the mission wasn’t for nothing.

“Are you the Avatar?” he joked in a weak voice.

“Shut up and let’s get out of here.”

You carried Peter back to the Avengers Compound, where there was a dedicated medical facility. However, you were aware whatever was causing Peter pain wasn’t something that could be solved by science. You laid him on his stomach on a medical bed, examining the burn marks all over his back. The heat singed his suit, leaving a patch of reddened skin and irritation. Tender patches of skin glistened with a subtle sheen, evidence of the residual heat that had seared his flesh.

“Well, I guess my superpower is now officially 'Extra Crispy Spider-Man.' I should probably trademark that before KFC steals it.”

You had half a mind to press your thumb on his burn wounds. “How can you be joking at a time like this?! You’re lucky it’s not more severe.”

You began rummaging through various drawers to find an ointment until Peter interjected with, “But you can heal me. Right?”

You slammed the drawers shut, taking in deep breaths to calm yourself down. He’s right. You could. You hoped you could.

“You idiot. I can only heal minor wounds. These flames aren’t normal,” you informed him. “But I’ll try.”

You extended your hand over Peter’s back, channeling all your energy into a healing aura. The radiant glow from your palm casted a spotlight-like illumination on his injured area. With precise movements, you guided the healing energy around to alleviate his pain. Unfortunately, it only healed a part of the pain and required further care. Not that Peter could tell, he was too busy ahh-ing at the temporary respite.

“That feels nice.”

“It’s not enough, I have to use something else. Wait here while I find it.”

You ran to your designated room at the compound, unlocking your safe to grab a black velvet box. With it in hand, you hurriedly made your way back to Peter.

“What’s that?”

“Something to heal you with.” You opened the box to reveal a luminous pearl the size of a large marble. With it in your palm, you could amplify your powers and fully heal his back.

“What does that do—oh—OH!—Oh, that’s nice.” He melted into the mattress of the bed and shut his eyes in bliss at the cooling sensation of your healing powers. With the treatment complete, you delicately returned the shimmering pearl to its designated box, taking a moment to regain your composure by sitting down. Peter, now revitalized, got up and instinctively reached back, his hand grazing over the spot where his injury used to be, a look of relief evident on his face. “It even fixed my suit! Wow. What is that?”

“It’s mine,” was all you said, holding it close to your chest.

“Right. Well, thanks, I feel so much better. Oh my god, that was so amazing!” he exclaimed, taking off his mask. “I fought a 3-headed dragon and secured the enhancers. Mr. Stark is going to flip out when I tell him.”

Your helmet vanished with the snap of your fingers. “Peter…”

The boy kept pacing around the room, rambling nonstop. It was as if he had never been injured at all. “You were all like ahhh with your fire breathing and then he slurped it all up like,” —he demonstrated a sucking motion as if he was sipping from a straw—“You’re lucky I was there.”

“Peter look—”

“That was the best mission ever. I get the credit though. Oh, we have to hunt him down and come up with a plan to catch him! We’d probably need a sword, right?”

“Peter!” you shouted, fists clenched. He finally stopped pacing around and stared at you with curious eyes.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?”

“That’s a weird way of saying ‘thanks for saving my life Peter’, but okay. Um… I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

His smile was so sweet, yet it pained you greatly. “I could’ve handled it. It was reckless of us to even be there tonight. What’s worse is you got hurt. ”

“Yeah… but you healed me. We did it,” he said, lifting up the briefcase from where he had left it. “I’m fine. We make a pretty good team.”

“No. No we don’t,” you countered. “You got hurt and next time it could be worse. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t risk it.”

You held your head in your hands, hunched over in the chair.

“You’re grounded. Mr. Stark was right, you’re not ready to be an Avenger.”

He lowered the briefcase and let out a half-hearted laugh. “What?”

You stood up, mustering enough strength to continue. “This mission was too reckless.”

“I don’t understand. The mission was a success. Are you really so against me being an Avenger? Are you threatened by me?”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Will you get it through your head that this isn’t about some competition?”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way to me. You’re already an Avenger and that’s all I want right now. Were you sent to watch me or sabotage my chances?”

Your face twisted into one of hurt. “No!”

“Then why are you being like this?” he asked, pointing his hand at you with his palm facing upward. “God, it must be nice being all perfect. Sorry that I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a chance.”

“I’m not as perfect as you think I am.”

“Yeah. Because I saved your life.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me! You should’ve left!”

“What, do you have a death wish?!”

“No! But I don’t need you to go after him. Stay down. You did great tonight, yes. But it stops here.”

“It’s because you want the credit, huh? I guess me getting the enhancers is one thing but stopping the big boss man is another. Of course. Little Ms. Perfect has to have it all.”

You winced at the impact of his words, feeling a sharp pang of hurt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I just wanted to be like you,” he said, desperate and sincere. His defeat was palpable, and witnessing it shattered your heart."

“Why?” you breathed. “You don’t want to be like me.”

“Because you have it all. You’re strong. Your powers are far better than anything I can do. I mean, I have to make my own webs. You are your own webs. Which doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean.”

“Peter…”

“You’re smart,” he continued. “You can cook. You treat others well. Mr. Stark is clearly impressed by you. I’m so jealous and I know I shouldn’t be. But I am. Everyday when I see you, I understand more and more why Mr. Stark chose you. And it hurts. You’re so perfect.”

“Please stop. I’m not perfect.”

“You are.”

You turned your back towards him. “Stop.”

“Why? Why should I? It’s true!”

“Because I’m not an Avenger!” you confessed, hanging your head low while resting your hands on the medical bed.

“What do you mean? Mr. Stark said—”

“It was a test. He asked me to beat you in our battle so that you’d stop asking about becoming an Avenger. Just until he feels like you’re ready.”

Surprise washes over him as the realization sinks in, followed by a hint of disappointment and perhaps a touch of betrayal.

“Wow… Mr. Stark really went the extra mile this time. And you agreed to it?”

“Yeah… I did.”

“But if you’re not an Avenger, who are you?” You didn’t know if you should tell him the truth. Peter thought about what the dragon man said to you, how his flames were similar to yours except they were purple while yours were red. “Wait… that guy back there called you ‘Ember.’ Like he knew you. Are you related to him? Is he… your father?”

You spun around to face him, battling your desire to shout at him. “He’s not my father. He killed my birth parents when they sacrificed themselves to save me.”

Realization hit Peter like a tidal wave. This was personal for you. And he said quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve at this point.

“[Y/N]... I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt tonight. I can’t deal with anyone sacrificing themselves for me. Not like this.”

“I wasn’t going to let you get burned to a crisp.”

“And I can’t stand the thought of losing you!”

You two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. “... or losing anyone. I can’t stand the thought of someone dying for me. Not again,” you added quietly.

Peter reached his hand out towards you, but you shied away. “[Y/N], please. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You’ve done enough. Just leave me alone. And don’t go after him or I promise I will tell Mr. Stark to never consider you for the team.”

“Okay,” he said, retracting his hand back. “But I’d do it all over again.”

“Do what?” you asked, captivated by the sincerity in his eyes.

"I would save you," he declared, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "As many times as it took.”

“I know. Because you’re Spider-Man.”

With a heavy heart, Peter reluctantly put on his mask and silently made his way out of the compound.

Extra a/n: If anyone’s curious, OC’s powers are based on a drama I watched when I was little called The Red Kid (2005) as well as the villain. I also based this chapter Dekaranger episode 26.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated so, so much! Hope you love this couple as much as I do. ₍˶ˆ꒳ˆ˶₎✼:♡*ﾟ✿

Tagging: @elicheel | @mininjageek |

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #peter parker mcu #peter parker x you #peter parker e2l #peter parker x oc #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #stark!reader #avenger!reader #tom holland peter parker #inferior flames #my writing

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petermorwood · 5 months

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Crisps / Chips again

Associated with this post, here's an artefact, two anecdotes and an opinion.

The artefact is a slightly dented but still remarkably airtight "Charles Chips" tin.

It was bought, full, many years ago from the Vermont Country Store, from whom we subsequently bought reflll packs - given their size, "sacks" would be more accurate - which were shipped to Ireland in sturdy cardboard boxes.

VCS no longer carry Charles Chips in either tin or refill. I know. I checked. BUT...

The Charles Chips company, which per Wikipedia was doing just fine in 1990 then got sold and went bankrupt twice in less than three years (gosh!) is Back In Business, and note has been taken, with considerable interest - oh, you bet - that they do international shipping...

*****

Anecdote No. 1 is from when @dduane lived in Bala Cynwyd near Philadelphia, in what was known as "The House of Dangerously Single Women" (ahem). She tells me that the household used to get Charles Chips delivered to the door about twice a week, by the company's own vans.

Speaking as a long-time crisp fan, I found that both very neat and a source of mild envy. :->

Anecdote No. 2 is from 30-ish years ago, when we were in New York for something or other and, being rather jetlagged with our internal food clocks out of whack, did our usual thing and went out for a walk.

Curiously enough, this involved visiting several food stores and supermarkets where we bought a lot of Interesting Foreign or Much Missed (i.e. American, in both instances) junk food for grazing on back in our hotel room.

In one of them DD was about to lay claim to a huge bag of Wise potato chips (its bag would have been the design in the middle)...

...while nattering to one of the shop staff how much she missed them. He told her that a new delivery was expected in about 20 minutes and if she wanted to wait, she'd get much fresher chips.

And So It Came To Pass.

Well done, that guy!

*****

Finally, while Saratoga Springs may have been where potato crisps / chips were popularised, standardised, commercialised or whatever, it's definitely not where they were invented.

Even the oft-repeated "creation myth" frequently has its hard-to-please celebrity demanding to have his potatoes sliced and fried really thin "The Way I Had Them In France" - which kinda sorta suggests they were, um, being made there just like that well before the Saratoga thing happened.

Myths are okay, even marketing myths - so long as they're recognised as myths and not shilled as true by places with reputations like the Smithsonian.

*****

It's a bit like the still-current nonsense about spices being used in medieval kitchens to disguise bad meat. As far as I've been able to find out, this originated with a historian called J. C. Drummond in the late 1930s - yup, just before World War Two - simply because he didn't know his period terminology.

"Green" meant fresh - even nowadays, an inexperienced or immature person is "green" - so green cheese was newly made, and green meat was newly slaughtered, unaged and consequently tough and flavourless.

Just ask any steak fan the difference between a fresh steak and a 30-day dry aged one.

Drummond, in his overspecialised-scholarship wisdom, assumed that "green venison" meant meat which had gone off, and that a recipe to improve it with spices was to cover the bad smell and taste.

In fact it was somewhere between a marinade and a rub, meant to improve the tenderness and flavour of fresh meat as if it had aged for a while, thus shortening the waiting time between killing a beast and getting it to the table of a hungry court.

As I've said before, it's always easier for no-proofs-given pop history to dismiss medieval people as (insert derogatory observation here) than take the time needed to explain why and how they in their time were not that different to us in ours.

*****

PS: when looking for that previously posted stuff about green meat I found a post where, with even less evidence than Saratoga Springs inventing crisps, a Brit poster claimed Brits invented curry.

Snrk.

Among other more or less pertinent observations, I mentioned that what Brits invented was BRITISH curry, and anyone who has read "Nanny Ogg's Cookbook" will know what I meant by that... :->

#food and drink #snack foods #nostalgia #anecdotage #Charles Chips #Wise Potato Chips #Nanny Ogg's Cookbook #GNU Terry Pratchett

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joannaliceevans-fanficblog · 2 months

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Evermore: Part. 2: Chapter. One

A/N: And here we are! The second half of this series! I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to everyone who has loved and reblogged this story! I truly love it! SO thank you so much!

I also wanted to thank @hollybee8917 for this beautiful mood board and for editing this chapter! Thank you babe!

A cold winter morning as you drove down this familiar route. Looking outside always reminds you of a snow globe. You peeked behind you to see your baby girl in her car seat, humming to the song in the car.

“Chloe bug, do you know where we are going?” You asked. You saw as she placed her little index finger on her chin and giggled.

“Papa?” Chloe askedwith excitement. You smiled as you turned into the Massachusetts National Cemetery. You found the section and parked on the side. You then got out of the car and went back, to get Chloe out of her seat. You told her to stay by your side as you grabbed the flowers from the passenger seat.

“Come on, hold onto mommy’s hand.” You say and Chloe reaches for your hand.

You then proceeded to walk toward the middle of the cemetery. It took a few minutes and you pause in the middle of the large headstone.

Ari David Levinson

June 14, 1981- April 16th, 2023

Captain US Army, West Point

Beloved Son, Husband, and Father

You then bent down to your daughter and handed her the bouquet. Her little hands held on to them and she looked toward you.

“Momma is for Papa?” She asked.

You smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Yes, baby. Papa always gave me flowers too. He would love it; would you like to give it to him?”

Chloe smiled. With her tiny hands, she held onto him and placed them down next to him.

“Hi Papa, Mommy says you like flowers. I went to the zoo yesterday! I see lots of animals! Ands Uncles DeeDee calls! He says I get smart!” Chloe said as she placed the flowers down.

It's been 5 years since Ari left you and this world. Those 5 years were the hardest that you went through. Even if you had your friends, coworkers, and families. It just wasn’t the same. You did your best, going on with your life. Andy hasn’t returned, but he kept in touch with you every day or when he got the chance.

You even went on dates, nothing special. You didn’t want to move on, but you knew that Ari wanted to live your life. Explore, see places, and just be happy. That’s all that he wanted from you.

Chloe learned how to walk when she was a year and a half. It was caught on camera while face timing Andy and even learning mama and Papa, Grammy, and Pawpaw.

You bent down and placed your hand on his gravestone and placed your head down. Even though it’s been long, you still feel his presence.

“Oh, Ari Bear.” You said and kissed the top.

You felt your tears fall, and you felt Chloe wipe them away with her tiny hands. You smiled and turned towards her.

“Mommy don’t cry. Papa no want you sad. Papa makes you happy right?”

Chloe said and turned towards her. You smiled and placed a hand on her cheek.

“Yes, Papa made me very happy. Did Grammy or Pawpaw tell you that?” You asked.

With pride, Chloe nodded, “Yup! And Pawpaw saids that he’s a big hero!”

More tears slipped down your cheeks and you hugged your daughter.

“Yes, baby bug. Your Papa was a hero. Now come on, Grammy and Pawpaw are waiting for us!” You said, getting up.

“Bye Papa! I wue you!” You heard Chloe say.

You laughed and let out a sigh, “Love you Mr. Levinson. I’ll see you next week.”

You said, kissing his headstone one last time, taking your daughter's hand, and headed back down to your car.

Boston Logan International Airport

After a long 8-hour flight from Germany newly promoted General Andy Barber entered US soil, after living in Frankfurt for 5 years. He meant to come home, but from the cases he took, it took longer than he expected. But now that it is all over, he is happy to be home. But what drove him to come back was a letter that he received over 5 years ago, but only really had the heart to open it 4 months ago.

4 months ago…

Andy was in the process of closing a case with his team when a box he was looking through fell on the ground, and its contents spilled. Cursing, he bent down and began to pick them up. But as he did, he saw the familiar handwriting and he knew who it was from. He tried to put it to the side, but something in him had told him to now open it.

He excused himself from his team and headed outside to his balcony. He closed the door behind him and stared at the envelope. He studied the familiar writing and how he writes in all caps. He took a seat for a moment, to collect his thoughts.

Andy didn’t know why; he was afraid or feeling sad. Taking one last sigh, Andy began to slowly open the flaps.

There were bits of sand inside meaning that he was in the desert as he wrote this. Andy placed the envelope down. And he opened the letter.

Dear Lieutenant General Andrew Steven Barber,

Wow, that sounds very professional. Anyways, I feel like I’m doing this the old-fashioned way, but this would be the best way. Before I end this letter Andy, I’m writing this before I call Y/N and I’m about to leave on a high-stakes mission.

This mission is extremely dangerous, and there is a VERY slim chance that I would survive. It hurts to think about it, but this is what I signed up to do. I can’t give you All the information, because you know the rules. The reason I’m writing this to you is that I have something to ask of you.

What I’m asking is to take care of my angel and my little munchkin. They mean the world to me, and you know that. I know that Y/N would be sad if I didn’t make home to her and Chloe. We took care of each other, but I have a feeling that I won’t make it. I know I’m hurting you and my family. But I know that it will be okay.

All I ask, once again, is to take care of her. Be there for her, and just be the friend that you have always been. If you fall for her? Then I’m not stopping you, dude. But if you break her heart, then I’ll seriously punch you in your sleep.

I’m sorry that it’s going to be this way, I’m sad that I won’t be able to see my baby girl grow up to be a wonderful sassy girl, and I’m heartbroken that I won’t be able to live for the rest of my life with my beautiful Y/N.

Oh, and to see you grow old, Lieutenant General Andy Barber. Don’t fuck anything up sir. OKAY!

I got to go. I need to make that phone call to my wife.

Your best friend since 1st grade,

Captain Ari David Levinson.

Andy placed the letter back into its envelope and kept it close to him. He just wanted to pack up and go back home. But he can’t, not right at this moment. As he went back in, his friend Joanne looked up towards him and gave him a concerned look. He tried to brush it off, as he sat back down. But of course, she wouldn’t let it pass by.

“Andy, what’s wrong?” Joanne asked him. Again, Andy brushed it off, and proceeded to go on. Joanne looked at Andy and sighed.

“Andy Barber, I know you. What’s wrong?” Joanne asked once more. Andy sighed and placed the envelope down.

“I finally opened it.” Andy said, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, that one. How are you feeling?” Joanne asked. Andy laid his head into his hands.

“Home, I need to get back home,” Andy said.

Andy was asked to take over the Washington DC office, but he politely declined and asked to take over the office in Boston and it’s close to home for him. As he walked out of the terminal, Y/N’s cousin pulled up and parked to the side. Andy smiled and hugged him.

“Welcome home bro!” Mark said. Andy let go and patted him on his back and then placed his luggage into the back seat. He got in and Mark drove off.

“My mom called and Y/N just pulled up.” Andy smiled and let out a giggle.

“She has no clue does she?” Andy asked and Mark chuckled as he drove onto the highway.

“No clue at all. It’s why Ari was good at hiding surprises from her.” Mark said, smiling, making Andy laugh even more.

It wasn’t long before Mark pulled up into Y/N's family home. He told Andy to stay outside the door so he could make sure that you were busy. Andy leaned back against the wall and Mark went inside the house. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Mark gave him the clear.

Once he walked in, Andy could hear her laughter from the kitchen. That familiar laugh that always brought Ari and him such joy. Especially Ari. It was too long, and the nerves were getting to him, but he quickly brushed them away, letting out a breath, and made his way in. As he made his way in, your mom looked up and he quickly hushed her. Your mom just winked and continued the conversation with the others around her. It was then Andy who gave Mark a signal and he nodded.

“You know Y/N I got a surprise for you,” Mark said.

You tilted your head and asked, “What?”

Your cousin smirked, “Close your eyes and turn around three times.”

“I’m not doing that, the last time you did that…a fucking spider was involved! Just tell me.”

Mark laughed, “Just close your eyes.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “but it better not be anything disgusting.”

Mark grew quiet and Andy stepped into the spot he previously occupied and spoke, “It’s not.”

You were confused, “Mark, what happened to your voice? That sounded like-”

Y/N opened her eyes and they widened, “ANDY!”

You yelled as you turned around to face your best friend. You stared at Andy for a moment, thinking that it was a dream. The last time you saw him was 5 years ago. FaceTime doesn’t count. You kept thinking to yourself that it was all a dream and that you would wake up, and he was not there in front of you.

“Y/N?” Andy asked, laughing.

“NO, this isn’t. No, I can't-” you stuttered, trying to comprehend what is going on.

“Y/N, it’s true,” Andy said, smiling at you.

And that’s what gave it away. That genuine smile that he’s known for. The smile that brings joy to you.

“Oh my god- “You yelled and jumped onto him. Andy caught you and you held onto him tight. You felt your tears, as Andy held onto you.

“I can’t believe you are here.” You said, jumping off him and giving him a look over. He still looks the same, apart from having a thick beard.

“Christ, Andy!” You said, giving him a friendly shove.

Andy laughed and you hugged him once more.

“Are you here for good? No leaving for long periods?” You asked with hope.

“No, I’m here for good this time,” Andy told you.

“You know who else would be happy to see you?” You asked.

Andy knew and smiled. You then took his hand and dragged him outside, where Chloe was with her cousins playing. You then spotted her at the mini playground playing in the sand. You then turned to Andy and smiled.

“Stay here and I’ll bring her to you.” You said and walked over to the playground.

“Chloe!” You yelled for her, as you got there. Chloe then sat up from the sand, and who was covered in moist dusty dirt. You laughed and bent down to her as she ran to you.

“Mommy! I made a pretty castle!” Chloe proclaimed with excitement. You smiled and cleaned off the sand off her hair, hands, and her dress.

“That’s an amazing baby! But there’s something that I need to tell you.” You said tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Okay. Are you okay mommy?” Chloe asked, with concern.

You smiled again and marveled at how much your daughter takes after Ari. Always concerned, always knows if something is wrong. But this time, there wasn’t anything wrong.

“Mommy is okay, baby. But there is something that I need to tell you. You remember Uncle Andy, right? Papa’s best friend?” You asked.

Her little green eyes lit up and she smiled.

“Umcle DeeDee?” Chloe asked and you laughed.

“Yes, baby.” You replied.

You placed her in front of you and pointed straight ahead. Chloe's eyes widened and ran towards Andy.

“Umcle DeeDee!” Chloe shouted running towards Andy.

Andy smiled and scooped her into his arms.

“Oh, my Chloe!” Andy said as he held on to her.

Chloe wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, and she burst into tears. Andy hugged her softly and rubbed her back, “Chloe, what’s wrong?”

She lifted her head and wiped her tears, and started to hiccup from crying, “Umcle you went away. Please don’t go away?”

Andy wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. You then stood by his side as your daughter cried.

“Don’t worry, Chloe bug. Uncle Andy isn’t leaving. I’ll be here forever,” Andy whispered and Chloe looked at him again.

You wiped away her tears and tucked some of her hair behind her ears.

“You prowmis?” Chloe asked, still hiccupping.

Andy smiled and kissed her cheek again, “I promise Chloe Bug. Uncle Andy isn’t leaving anymore.”

Andy put her down. You and Andy watched as she ran back to the playground and continued with her sandcastle.

It was late in the night when you arrived home. Andy went home with you so that you wouldn’t have to drive home by yourself. Even if you have done so before. Chloe fell asleep in the back the moment you buckled her in her car seat. The drive home was spent in a comfortable silence. Except for the music playing in the background. As Andy pulled up, you got out and took your sleeping daughter into your arms.

“Andy, I’m going to put her to bed, and I’ll show you your bedroom.” You said, heading towards the front doorway. As you opened the door, you headed upstairs and went to Chloe's bedroom. With her moaning in protest, you laughed as you placed her in her Hello Kitty tee-shirt and her pink Pj pants.

Normally, you would read her a story before bed, but it was late, and your daughter was tired. So you tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

“Good night baby. Sleep tight, Mommy loves you and Papa too.” You said and sat up.

As you did, you looked at her nightstand to see a picture of Ari in his combat uniform and with his dog tags hanging on the edge of the frame. You smiled and headed out of her bedroom. Once you closed the door, you headed back downstairs and saw the kitchen lights on. You headed towards there, to see that he had a glass of water in his hands.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Andy said, feeling rather embarrassed.

You giggled and leaned against the island table.

“Oh Andy, you should know you can take anything. Your family.”

Andy laughed, “I know, but you know I just had to ask anyway.”

He chugged down the rest of the water. He placed the glass into the sink, and you went to show him his room. With his luggage in his hands, Andy followed you and led him down the hallway.

“Looks like nothing has changed,” Andy said.

You sighed and opened the door at the end of the hallway. You turned on the lights and Andy walked in. You were about to show him where the towels and other things were, but Andy had beaten you to it.

“Y/N, I know where the towels are. Unless you put them in another place.” Andy said.

Again, you laughed. “Sorry Andy, it's just been a long time since I had company here.”

Silence filled in and you cleared your throat. It was then you suddenly remembered something, and you knew that your neighbor and your parents were going to be busy.

“Andy, I know that you just got here. But I was just wondering if you could watch Chloe tomorrow night?” You asked. Andy looked up from where he was sitting on the bed.

“Uh, sure. Was there a reason?” Andy asked.

You felt your cheeks blush and you sighed, “Yea, I um-I have a date with someone.”

Andy looked at you for a moment and raised an eyebrow.

“A date? Do I know this person?” Andy asked and you sighed.

“No, but he is from the Army. He’s a sergeant general.” You spoke and Andy continued to look at you.

“His name is Jake Jensen.” You spoke. Andy sat up and placed his hands on his hips.

“What is it with you and the army men?” Andy asked and you laughed.

“Hey, shut up, okay? I met him at a party that one of my coworkers held, okay? It’s just a date Andy, nothing too serious. I’m not ready for that commitment,” you said. Andy sighed and pulled you into a hug.

“I know, idiot, and I want you to be happy and I can see that.”

You smiled and held Andy tight, “I know and I thank you for that. So can you watch Chloe?” You asked. Andy laughed, pulled away from you and looked down at you.

“Yes, I can. It gives me the chance to catch up with her and to spoil her too!” Andy said.

You laughed and playfully pushed him, “God, you are the worst.”

You walked out of the bedroom.

#andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson angst

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 1 year

Text

The One I've Been Waiting For {Part 01 of 13}

Billy Hargrove X Older!Reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: Billy Hargrove is just one of the many students you're supposed to help. The last thing you expect from your interaction is that he'll start flirting with you... Much less than Billy would stir up feelings you'd rather keep hidden. Despite the mutual sentiments that soon enough start to grow, there are a lot of reasons for whatever it is to be left alone, and one of them is your age...

Next part (02) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

A/N: In this story, the reader is 5 years older than Billy, who's 18.

The Exact Opposite

The wind is cold against your skin as you move against the sea of students. It has a weird feeling to be in a High School again, even though you left it not so long ago. But still, it feels like a whole different world now.

“This school is tiny,” Tanya says, walking beside you. “Mine had three buildings and the parking lot was twice the size of this one.”

“Mine was big too.” There are a lot of eyes on both of you, but you got used to it. It's a small town, and you're both newcomers, walking inside the school while everyone is walking out. They must be curious.

“Sometimes I wonder if transferring here was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“I'm from New York, the city that never sleeps. This town is... Way too slow for me.” You break apart to let a couple holding hands pass before going to the side again. “Indianapolis was bad already. Hawkins...” She sighs, shaking her head.

“You can always transfer back. I'll miss you, but don't let that stop you.” Linking arms with her, you smile.

“You better do.”

Giggling, you push the school officer's door, feeling the cold air-conditioning air. You and Tanya make your way to the receptionist, an old lady who immediately looks up at you. “Good afternoon. We're here for the tutoring.”

“Good afternoon, my dears.” She greets and smiles, searching for something on her table. A couple of seconds later, she finds it. “Who's Tanya and who's (Y/N)?”

“I'm (Y/N).” You say, taking the paper she gives you.

“On these files, you have information about the students you'll be helping. Those set for today must be arriving anytime now, the classes just ended.” She smiles again. “If you need anything, I'm Mrs. Duford and I'll be here to help.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Duford,” Tanya says and you nod at her, moving to sit on the chairs placed by the wall. “You know I'm only doing this for the trip, right? Dealing with teenagers and kids isn't my thing.”

“Oh, you got some from the elementary school too?”

“Yes. But I'm rethinking it. Teenagers are bad enough and-” Someone opens the door and gets your attention. The blonde girl speaks to Mrs. Duford, who gestures at you. “Guess that's my cue?” She asks, glancing at your paper.

“Yup. I got a boy.”

Sighing, she stands up. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” You mutter and she smiles. She's not really into it, but she's smart, and the kids will benefit from her teaching.

So, left alone, you wait for your student. Ten minutes pass by, and ten more. Maybe he didn't come today or forgot the whole thing. But since you don't have anything to do today, you decide to wait a while longer.

“My dear.” Mrs. Duford calls and you look up at her. “If the student isn't here you're free to go. I will write a report that he didn't show and-” She's cut off by a guy pushing the door open. He goes straight to her desk and you look down, getting a glimpse of his jeans jacket.

“Guess I'm off then.” You tell yourself, taking your bag from the chair beside you and folding the papers in half.

“Are you my tutor?” A strong voice asks, quite rudely, as you get to your feet. Looking up, you find a man staring down at you. Did he just say something about a tutor? Is this man a student here? You were expecting a teenager, not... This.

“Yes?” It sounds like a question, and you quickly unfold the paper, reading the name. “Are you William Hargrove?”

When you look at him again, you see his expression change. It's fast, and it happens suddenly. It shifts from anger and annoyance to what seems like surprise, right before going back to annoyance.

“Just Billy.” He says, awkwardly glancing at Mrs. Duford before turning his attention back to you. “Are you really my tutor?”

“Yes, why?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders and look away. You've been staring at his eyes, light blue eyes, for a little too long.

“Nothing.” He steps back, clearing his throat. “What now?”

“They have a classroom set for us.”

Billy nods, gesturing at the door and smiling. “Lead the way, teacher.”

---

Billy had to drive like crazy, leave his dipshit sister home and drive back to school. He failed one single test. It's not like he couldn't recover from an F. He did it before, but now the school has this partnership with Indianapolis University, and he has put in it, with a lot of other students.

The truth is that Billy can't stand school anymore. When he turned 18 last year, he thought he'd take his car and go back to California. Go back home. But adult life needs a freaking High School diploma, so he had to stay.

Pushing the car door close, he walks fast inside, cursing himself, the teachers, and everyone else he can name. He can't wait for this to be over, to leave Neil behind, leave that hell of a house behind. Billy wants a life for himself, away from all these stupid, shitty people. High School is just a tiny thing compared to what he wants. Billy wants more. He wants to <be> more. But for that, he needs to graduate.

“I'm here for some tutor they assigned me.” He spits at the old woman behind the desk, the door banging loudly behind him.

“She's over there, Mr. Hargrove.” The woman says, and he follows her gesture, finding a girl on the set of chairs near the wall.

Rolling his eyes and sighing, he walks over to her. “Are you my tutor?” He spits the words, impatient, watching as she stands up, fixing the strap of the bag on her shoulder. The girl looks up, and Billy is taken aback. Of course, he was expecting some ugly nerd with a messed-up face. But this? This girl is a sight for sore eyes, and Billy Hargrove is sore from everything.

“Yes?” She asks her voice as soft as silk. She also seems a little shocked, opening her papers before raising her eyes to meet his again. “William Hargrove?”

Ugh, not Willian. He should be mad about it, but for some reason, he feels compelled to forgive her for calling him like that. “Just Billy. Are you really my tutor?” He has to be sure, just in case this is some stupid joke on him.

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing.” Moving away a little, Billy clears his throat. At least he'll have a pretty face to look at while he endures this. And what a face she has. Prettier than all the girls of Hawkings. “What now?”

“They have a classroom set for us.”

Just for the two of them?

The thought crosses his mind like a lightning bolt, making him hold back a smile. Maybe he could try something with her, why not? Even though she doesn't give him the feeling that she'd be down for that. The least he could do is try. So he gestures at the door, offering her a smile. “Lead the way, teacher.”

---

You enter the classroom first, quickly acknowledging the other three pairs. There's a free table in the back, far enough from the others not to bother them. “Is that table alright?” You ask him, and when he nods, you make your way there, take a seat, waiting for him to do the same.

“What's your name?” He asks just as he takes his place across from you, cupping his hands over the table and leaning forward.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you, Will... Billy.” Correcting yourself, you smile. “Can we start?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to go through the test you failed? Or focus on what's coming next?”

“The past is in the past. Let's move on.”

“Alright.” Checking the papers, you read the class planner. “Immune System.” You say. “What exactly do you know about it?”

“Mmm...” Billy mumbles, and it's clear that he's not very interested in this. But you don't blame him. You weren't very excited about High School yourself, and you didn't care much about the subjects you didn't like. You're sure he'd rather be hanging out with his friends, and honestly, so would you. “Something about protecting the body from infections or sickness.”

“You're right. Do you have any books with you?” You know he doesn't since he didn't bring any bags, but you decide to ask.

“In my locker.” He jerks his head to the door. “Want me to get it for you?”

“That would be good.” Nodding, you watch as he smirks again and stands up.

“I'll be right back.”

“You better be.” It comes out more in a joking tone and in a warning one. If Billy uses this as an excuse to leave, you don't mind. It's his future, so this is completely up to him.

But he comes back a couple of minutes later.

On the next day though, he shows up late again. And on the next one, you find him on your way out, more than thirty minutes late. Now, you have only two other meetings with him, he'll have a quiz, and if he goes well, you'll be assigned to someone else. But you think he'll do just fine because it seems like he's paying attention...

Until you noticed he wasn't. Billy was just staring, glaring at you... And you were keeping cool, ignoring it as long as he answered the questions, but today, at the last meeting, you decided to ask, mostly out of curiosity, and because you think he'll do well enough on the quiz, even if just to be free from your tutoring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You inquire, tapping the table with your pen.

Billy chuckles, pushing his notebook away. “Because I like looking at pretty girls.”

What the hell? You regret asking when you feel your cheeks heating up. You surely weren't expecting that. But now you know his strategy. Billy is the town's bad boy, you've heard a lot about him. And you won't fall for his games. “Is that what you usually say to make girls go out with you?”

He giggles, eyes still fixed on you. “No. I only have to ask. The answer is always yes. No need to sugarcoat it with compliments.” He sounds serious this time, leaning closer. “So when I compliment a girl, I mean it.”

“Mhmm.” You mutter, raising an eyebrow and leaning back on your chair. “I'm not your type of girl, Billy. You like them easy and pretty.”

“And you're the exact opposite.” He bursts out, closing his notebook at the same moment you close the book. Today's class is over.

“Make up your mind, Billy. You can't compliment me and then take it back.” Pushing the book over to him, you shrug your shoulders. “Say what you mean and stick to it.”

“You didn't get me.” Billy laughs, taking both the book and notebook with a hand. That's when you notice how big his hands are... But why are you even noticing that? You've seen handsome guys before... No big deal.

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” You both stand up, and you start walking to the door as he follows you from up close. “I meant you're not easy to get like those sluts and...” He makes a pause when you cross the door, long enough to make you look at him, waiting for further explanation. Is that also part of his strategy? “And, no, you're not pretty. It didn't take more than a second to get to the conclusion that pretty isn't enough to describe you.”

“Dear God.” You exclaim, laughing. “Are you seriously doing that?” Walking side by side with him, you reach the parking lot. The setting sun casts a beautiful, warm light, that makes you wish you had a Polaroid camera with you.

“Doing what?”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you hitting on me, Billy Hargrove?” You stop by your car, turning to look at him.

“What if I am?” He gives you that smirk again, the ice-melting one. “Would you have a problem with that?”

“I'm older than you, in case you haven't noticed.” With a bright smile on your face, you state the obvious, because you know it'll send him off. Wipe this stupid idea off his head.

“How old are you? Thirty?” The sarcasm is mixed with an eye-roll, and the way he keeps staring down at you makes you feel a little anxious.

“I may be.” Stepping back you glance at your car. You just want to drive home and forget this embarrassing conversation.

“You look my age, Princess. People here thought you were a new student.” Billy chuckles, and your face starts to burn at the pet name. He probably calls everyone that, so it's plain stupid to let it sink. “But tell me, how old are you?”

“I'll be twenty-four in a couple of months.” Your voice sounds weaker now because you don't feel so triumphant anymore. But you still hope the five years it'll be enough.

“So? I'm eighteen. We're both adults.” He shrugs his shoulders, and you sigh. “If it makes you feel better, I'm closer to nineteen than I am to seventeen so...”

Taking a deep breath, you step back again, wondering what you could possibly say in a situation like this. “Look, Billy, I gotta go. I hope I helped you somehow and that you'll do better from now on.” Walking backwards, you wave at him. “Good luck and remember everything we studied.” Turning around, you get into your car, thanking God for being away from Billy.

Through the review mirror, you watch as he gets inside his car, a dark blue Camaro. You wait for a while, but he doesn't even start the car. Rolling your eyes, you decide not to think about it. Turning the ignition, you leave the parking lot and hit the streets, relieved that this is all over.

Taglist: @multific

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things billy x reader #stranger things fanfic #billy stranger things fanfiction

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strangerthingslover69 · 1 year

Text

The birthday present

18+ minors do not read!

Warnings ~ swearing and smut ~

This isn’t what you imagined life for yourself. Unhappily married. Your parents said you got married too young, you were naive and thought nothing of it. Of course they were right. Today ended up being a the worse day ever. However a knock at the door was about to make it a hell of a lot better

‘Jason!’ You shout your husband as he’s still getting ready upstairs. ‘Honestly you take longer than me!’ You huff walking into the kitchen. ‘Well Y/N it takes a long time to look this good’ he says walking into the kitchen behind you. Jason Carver. Yup he was your sweetheart from high school. After him and Chrissy broke up it didn’t take him long to worm his way to you, you fell for it of course. He was a jock, good looking, smart, all that. Only a year after you started going out he proposed. You said yes and we’re so excited. However your family were not. ‘You’re too young to be married!’ Your mother would say on a daily basis as the days got closer to your actual wedding. Your parents chose not to come. That’s the day you lost them pretty much. You hadn’t seen them since marrying Jason and that was six years ago. Six long years. You couldn’t leave him even though you wanted to, you had no one else. Jason had managed to trap you, it felt like anyway. You had no family. No friends of your own. Just him. All the time

You roll your eyes before turning around. ‘You ready to go?’ You ask grabbing your bag. He looks at you with confusion. ‘Go? Go where?’ He asks putting on his jacket. You huff again. ‘Seriously?’ You say putting your hands on your hips. The doorbell goes, ‘Whose that?’ You ask not expecting anyone. ‘Babe now are you being for real? C’mon it’s guys night. We’re going out and I’m crashing at Patrick’s.’ He says walking away to answer his school jock friends. Yup he’s forget. You don’t know why you even got dressed up you should have known he’d forget. You put down your bag and slide off you heels pouring a large glass of wine. You hear Jason leading the others through. You turn and welcome them putting on a ‘good wife show’ it wasn’t worth Jason’s melt downs when you weren’t one. ‘Andy. Patrick. Trey. Always a pleasure. Beer?’ You offer walking to the fridge. ‘They’re good babe we’re going now. Oh almost forgot I had to call an emergency mechanic out. My cars been playing up’ Jason says looking at his watch. ‘They should be here in an hour. I used your card, couldn’t find mine. Will pay you back next week.’ He says like it’s nothing. You bite down on your inner lip hard trying to keep composed. ‘No problem honey. Have a great time out’ you say with a fake smile. He comes over and kisses your cheek and smacks your ass, the others all make animalistic noises and laugh. Just like that they leave. ‘Prick’ you mutter finishing you wine. You take the bottle upstairs and begin to run a bath, knowing you had at least an hour to relax before someone turns up to look at your charming husbands car. You take off your new dress, which you look amazing in by the way, a black strapped dress with some black sequins running along the bottom. You sigh as you throw it on the floor. You put your hair up so it wouldn’t get wet in the bath. You add some ‘calming’ bubbles and start to relax. The hot water already making you feel slightly better. You wash away your freshly make upped face when you hear the doorbell. ‘Fuck sake. He’s forgot his pissing keys again.’ You sigh leaving your bath and grabbing you towel wrapping it around your body. The doorbell goes again. ‘I’m coming!’ You shout making your way down the stairs, you swipe Jason’s keys from the bowl unlocking the door, ‘here Ja-’ you sentence is cut short when you realise it’s not Jason who is in the other side of the door

‘Eddie?’ You say feeling very surprised, he was the last person you’d expect to show up and yours and Jason’s house. The look on his face matches your too as he most definitely didn’t expect to see you either, especially just answering the door in a towel. ‘Shit Y/N is that really you?’ He asks clearly checking out your barely covered body. You and Eddie were close at school, believe it or not. Well you were before you and Jason were together. Then he just took you away and you let it happen. You feel yourself turning bright red as you see Eddies eye nearly pop from his skull. You pull the towel tighter across your body and clear your throat, ‘what, what are you doing here?’ You ask feeling flustered. He still looks the same but more tattoos, facial hair and most definitely more toned. He looks good. Very good. ‘Emergency mechanic?’ He gestures to his uniform and tools. You hadn’t even noticed the overalls that say ‘EM Mechanics.’ ‘Wait, Jason called you?’ You ask surprised. Eddie can’t help but chuckle. ‘Well not directly me. My company yes. I do not think he realised I owned it. The receptionist answered it and I was on call out for today’ he says scratching the back of his neck. ‘Impressive Munson, own company. Always knew you’d do well’ you say with a small smile. Eddie blushes at your compliment. ‘Thanks very much, so erm, the car?’ He gestured to Jason’s car outside. ‘Oh shit yeah, I’ll get the keys. Please come in’ you say walking off to find Jason’s keys. Eddie steps into yours and Jason house closing the door. He looks around as sees Jason’s basketball trophies smack bang in the middle in a display cabinet. Eddie rolls his eyes, ‘Still an obnoxious asshole’ Eddie mutters to himself. As he walks further into your living room he can see many things definitely owned by Jason, it just screams him. He stops at the fireplace when he sees your prom photo and wedding photo next to one another. You looked so happy. Smile reaching up to your eyes. Now you seemed different, even a small conversation and Eddie can tell your not as happy. He still knows you like the back of his hand. He hears you opening draws and closing them. ‘God damn it! Where are they?!’ You say slamming the last draw. Eddie comes into the kitchen seeing you rubbing your eyes clearly stressed. ‘Everything okay?’ He asks slowly walking to you. Your shoulders slump and you sigh. ‘No Eds. Far from fucking okay’ you say with tears welling up in your eyes. He can’t help but smile as your you say your nickname for him. His smile soon drops when he sees your tears coming down your face. He rushes to your side. ‘Hey sweetheart what’s wrong?’ Eddie asks worryingly. You bury your head in your hands and cry. Without hesitating Eddie brings you in to his chest and hugs you. He soothingly runs his hands up and down your back to help you calm. You cry into your old friends chest for a good five minute before calming down. Eddie just let’s you cry, you clearly need to

Once he can’t hear your tears he moves you, he places his hands on your shoulders. You lift your head up and meet his eyes. ‘Sweetheart tell me what’s wrong’ Eddie says using his old nickname for you. You sigh. ‘What’s the date?’ You ask in a sad voice. Eddie looks confused but answers. ‘September 6th?’ ‘Exactly. September 6th. Do you remember anything significant about this date?’ You ask him. Eddie thinks for a minute before it clicks. ‘Your birthday. Shit. Happy birthday! Wait. Where’s Jason?’ Eddie asks confused. ‘Exactly. Where is my so called husband? He’s gone out with his friends and staying out the night. The asshole forgot my goddamn birthday. Even you remembered! After all these years you remembered.’ You say feeling teary again. Eddie brings his hands to your cheeks, ‘He’s not worth your tears Y/N’ Eddie says in a kind voice. ‘I’ve cried for him too many times Ed’s. I, I don’t love him. I haven’t got a long time but how can I leave him? I have nothing of my own.’ You say your eyes filling yet again. ‘Hey, no more crying. We can’t have a beautiful girl like you crying. Especially in your birthday’ Eddie says wiping a single tear that’s fallen down. You give a small smile. ‘How can you be so nice to me after all this time? I, I left you. You were the one person who was there for me and, I. I fucking left. I’m so sorry Ed’s. I wish I never left you. Fuck I wish I never said yes to that asshole’ you say as the tears fall down again. Seeing you after all these years in such a broken way it is breaking Eddies heart. He never hated you even when you did leave him. Even when Jason was still a dick to him. You weren’t. He couldn’t never hate you. ‘Princess. I could never hate you. Ever’ Eddie says resting his forehead on yours, he closes his eyes and it’s like you’ve gone back in time. Your touch. Your smell. You. He was really here with you.

You’re not sure what came over you but as Eddie rested his forehead on yours you leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips. Eddies eyes open as he feels your lips. He doesn’t kiss you back. You move away feeling stupid. ‘I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was inappropriate’ you say stepping back from him. Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just moves closer to you and pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips connect once again but both kissing one another this time. When growing up with one another you never crossed the line but little did you both know how much you wanted to and all these years later here you are. The kiss quickly deepens as Eddie moves his hand down your waist pulling you in closer. You fingers desperately grab any part of him you can. It happens to be his overalls that are tied around his waist. You undo them and pull at the bottom of his vest hinting for him to take it off. The kiss breaks as Eddie lifts the vest over his head. You quickly find each others lip again, a hotter needier kiss. It had been months, possibly years since Jason kissed you like this and when he did it never felt this good. Your hands reach into his hair pulling at his curls. He moans into your lips. ‘You like that?’ You say smiling into his mouth. Eddie takes the opportunity and pulls your lips into this biting down on your bottom one causing you to moan. ‘You like that?’ He says teasingly just like you did. You move him off and take his hand leading him to the sofa. You push him down and he sits down legs open. You drop your towel and bare you naked body in front of your old friend. Eddie licks his lips as his eyes wonder up and down your body, he wipes his palms on his overalls. ‘Fuck Y/N, your beautiful. Come here’ he says pulling you onto his lap. His lips latch onto yours and he kisses you hungrily, you open you mouth and let out a moan as you feel his growing erection on your bare pussy. With your mouth open Eddie invites his tongue into your mouth as you start to grind on him. Eddie disconnects from your mouth and your about to complain but he starts to kiss down your jaw slowly to your neck, kissing that special place under your ear. ‘Fuck Eddie’ you moan as his hands come to your chest and tenderly palm your breasts. His calloused hands rubbing across your nipple making you moan. ‘Ed’s. Need to to fuck me’ you moan as you feel yourself getting more wet on his overalls. His lips leave your neck and he looks up at you with those big brown eyes. ‘Fuck princess, are you sure?’ He asks. You smile at him and grind again on his clothed dick. ‘I’m sure’ you say biting your lip

You move off Eddie slightly so he can take off his overalls and boxers, as he does this you begin to kiss his neck like he was doing to you. He moans as he feels your teeth sink into his neck sucking it hard. ‘Fuck Y/N’ he says pulling your by your hair off his neck so your lips can meet again. With Eddies overalls and boxers off you climb back onto his lap, lips never leaving. You move down and wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. ‘Fuck Eddie, your big’ you say into his lips as you begin to pump him slowly up and down. ‘Bigger than Jason?’ Eddie says with a wicked smile. You smile back and lean next to his ear. ‘Much fucking bigger’ you whisper as you line his cock to your entrance and slowly push him into you. You both moan together as he stretches you out a lot, it stings but Eddies words make you feel better. ‘Such a good girl, taking me so well’ You finally fit Eddies cock into your pussy, you begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth getting into a steady rhythm. Eddies hands hold onto your waist as he moves with you. ‘Fuck Y/N your pussys so fucking good’ he moans into your chest. ‘You fill me up so good daddy!’ You moan loudly picking up the pace. Eddies cock twitches at his new name. He takes your breast and brings your nipple into your mouth as he slowly starts to suck it. His tongue swirls all around it making it harder and even more wet on his cock. You move faster back and forth as you feel yourself getting close. ‘Eddie, fuck!’ You moan pulling him by his hair bringing him in for a messy kiss, tongues and teeth bashing into each other but either of you care. You bounce up and down in Eddie cock as he moves down slightly changing the angle and hitting you in a new place you didn’t know existed. Eddie takes control as he holds onto the back of your legs and pumps himself in and out of you fast and hard. ‘Ed, Eddie fuck’ you moan out as you feel your orgasm coming, Eddie does too. ‘Fuck Y/N, need, to c-cum’ he says digging his fingers into your legs hard enough to leave bruises. ‘Eddie in me. Cum in me!’ You scream out as your orgasm comes crashing around and you cum all over Eddies cock, you feel his cum shooting up into you. Eddie slows down the pace as you both finish cumming together. Both breathing heavy catching your breathes, you rest your head on Eddies chest and he draws patterns around your back. Eddie says your name name making you look up. ‘Happy birthday’ Eddie says bringing you in for a kiss. By far this was the best birthday present you could of asked for

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson imagines #stranger things #stranger things smut

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tickle-minion · 8 months

Text

The Photo Shoot

Pretty safe for work tickling story. Ended up a bit longer than I expected, but what can you do?

------

Ryan always knew he was going to make it big. Ever since he was in high school he’d always gotten the lead parts in the school plays, and now that he was in university he was showing success in independent student productions. Of course he didn’t make any money off of any of those, and tuition for his school was expensive, which meant he had to work and had thousands in student loans to look forward to once he was done. He took this all in stride since he knew there was a pot of gold at the end of this very expensive rainbow.

One thing Ryan knew he needed if he was going to continue trying to be an actor was to get some professional pictures taken for auditions. So far he’d gotten free head shots taken by photography students. The problem is you get what you pay for, and some of the shots were clearly student work.

Luckily for Ryan, there were other photographers in town who were willing to work with students to get them some professional shots at a reduced rate. After a few days of searching, Ryan came across a photographer named Jay. He liked what he saw on Jay’s website (and liked his student discount even more) so he made an appointment to meet him. The two met for a consultation and Ryan booked a time slot to come to Jay’s studio.

On the day of the shoot, Jay brought several pairs of clothes to wear. Something formal, something casual, some streetwear, etc. When it came to the casual look, Jay instructed Ryan to take off his shoes and socks.

“Take them off? Why?”

“Shows vulnerability. Most people don’t show their feet at all, so it exposes a little bit more of you.”

Ryan wasn’t entirely convinced, but he still pulled off his shoes and socks and continued with the session.

It may have been his imagination, but Ryan felt that Jay kept glancing down at his bare feet. It wasn’t super obvious, and as far as Ryan could tell his feet were never the focus of any shots, but Jay’s eyes kept trailing down to them. Strange, yes, but Ryan didn’t want to cause a scene when he felt there was so much on the line.

Finally, with that last shot, they were done.

“Alright Ryan, that just about wraps it up. I think we got some good shots, but it will take me a few days to go through and clean them up.”

“Wow, alright, thanks. I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to see how they turn out.”

Ryan started to put his socks back on.

“Hey, kid, before you go any further, I have a business proposition for you. That is, if you’re looking to make a few bucks.”

Ryan stopped and looked over at the photographer. Extra money was never a bad thing.

“I mean, money is money, I guess. What are you looking for? This isn’t something dirty, is it? Because I’m not taking off my clothes.”

“Don’t worry, you’re already as undressed as you’d need to be. I just want to make a little video to post on my website.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve seen your website. You don’t have videos.”

The photographer gave a large toothy grin.

“Not that website, a different one. Here, come and take a look.”

Jay motioned for Ryan to follow him to the back of the studio where he had a large computer setup. Camera equipment and props were everywhere.

“Alright, just better not be anything too freaky.”

Ryan walked over to the far end of Jay’s studio on bare feet. When he got to the computer he was shocked by what he saw on the screen.

“Are those guys getting… tickled?”

Jay nodded and scrolled down the page a bit, showing Ryan more videos. Each one showed a young man (around Ryan’s age) being tickled. Some were tied up, some had their feet in stocks, and some just had their ankles being held down. Most were dressed like Ryan (which is to say fully dressed except for the shoes and socks), but others were in various states of undress. No one looked naked, though.

“Yup. Tickling sells well, you know. Lots of guys, and hell, women too, love seeing guys getting tickled. And it pays.”

Ryan’s ears perked up.

“People are willing to pay?”

“Oh sure. People are willing to pay for these videos if the model is cute and ticklish enough. And I have to say kid, you’re the exact type of guy they like to see.”

Ryan didn’t have much to say. His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“I’ll make you a deal. You let me tickle you a little bit, just your feet so you don’t have to take anything else off, and not only will I not charge you for the shots, but I’ll actually give you a bit of what the video makes. What do you say?”

Ryan wanted to say no right away, but he hesitated. Not only would he get his shots for free, but he’d also get some cash for it, too? It seemed too good to be true.

“I mean… alright. I guess. As long as this is just tickling. I’m not doing anything else.”

“Alright, sounds good. And don’t worry, all I do is tickle guys, nothing else.”

Jay explained what would happen: Ryan would lay face down on a couch in the studio, so no one could see his face, and hang his bare feet over the side of the couch. Jay would sit on his legs and tickle his feet. It sounded easy enough. Ryan lay down, letting Jay move his body a little bit for the camera, and let himself relax (as much as he could). Once he was in place, Jay set up the camera and started recording.

Ryan was laying down on his stomach, bare feet on the arm of the couch, when he felt Jay straddle his ankles.

“Alright folks, this is our new tickle toy Brad. This is his first time with us, so let’s see how ticklish he is.”

Ryan (apparently going by the name Brad) tensed his whole body, waiting for whatever was supposed to come. Suddenly, he felt one finger on his right sole. It started up near his heel and trailed down towards his toes. Ryan flexed and curled his foot at the light ticklish sensation. No one had ever touched his feet (not that he could remember, anyways) so it was a strange feeling. The finger repeated the same movement on his left sole. This time Ryan wiggled a little bit under Jay, his foot waving side to side.

“Got some squirming going on it looks like. Let’s try something a little more ticklish”

One finger, one at a time, on each sole was suddenly replaced with five fingers on each sole. Those fingers dug into the insteps of his feet, scratching the soft sensitive skin there. Ryan jumped (though stayed pinned down by Jay’s weight) and started to kick his feet.

“Oh shit, what the fuck?!”

“Oh yeah, we got a ticklish one here.”

The fingers really worked their way in there, kneading the flesh of his feet. Ryan kept trying to kick those tickling fingers away, but Jay’s grip was just too strong. There was nothing that Ryan could do to make it stop. He could, of course, always say stop, but then he’d have to pay for his headshots. That was a huge motivation to stay here on the couch.

Several minutes after just assaulting the center of his feet, the hands started roaming over the real estate that was Ryan’s soft size 12 soles. The fingers came up to Ryan’s heels and attacked. Ryan jumped, and was suddenly barking out with laughter when Jay found an especially ticklish spot: the part of his sole right before his heel.

“Oh, sounds like we got a live one here!”

“NOO! PLEEEEASE!”

Fingers descended on that spot on each foot. It wasn’t just fingers working their way into the foot, but now nails were scraping and scratching too. The only thing Ryan’s over stimulated mind could think of was that this was like ringing a doorbell. It was loud, it was intense, and it was beyond annoying that Jay found this spot that reduced him to a laughing mess.

“Holy crap is he sensitive right here. How are you doing Brad? Want me to stop?”

“Y-Y-YES PL-PL-PLEEEEASE!”

“No? You’re all good? Sounds great to me!”

“NOOO!”

Jay continued to exploit the sensitive spot, attacking viciously with his fingers. Ryan was sure he was going to pass out when the tickling mercifully ended.

“Th-thank God…”

“He thought that was bad, wait till he gets a load of this…”

“Wait, what?!”

“Here comes the brush!”

Ryan’s entire body jolted when a broad hairbrush started attacking that same sensitive spot. The brush moved violently back and forth with cruel abandon. This was the worst feeling yet. Ryan was in absolute hysterics, thrashing as much as he could, trying to buck Jay off his legs. His feet kicked and squirmed to get away, one foot trying to cover the other for protection. His face and throat were starting to get sore from the laughter.

“Oh yeah, we got him right here.”

Not even able to say anything, Ryan continued to cackle. The brush alternated between feet, and each time it switched feet it was like the first time all over again. Tears were starting to stream from his tightly shut eyes. This was the first time he truly regretted his decision, and despite the promise of free shots and money, he found the urge to call out stop was right on the tip of his tongue. He bit it back though, he wasn’t going to give up.

The tickling changed, and now the brush was going up and down his soles. Again, Ryan tried curling his foot up to avoid the tickling, but Jay grabbed Ryan’s toes and flexed them back, stretching his sole out. Jay’s grip was too strong and Ryan wasn’t able to escape. He laughed and giggled, unable to stop as the brush scrubbed up and down his flexed sole. People got off on this? Ryan figured they must all be sadists.

“Let’s see how ticklish Brad’s toes are.”

The brush stopped for just a second (giving Ryan exactly one second of peace) before attacking the toes that Jay was holding back. Oh god. This was bad. This was worse than the spot hear his heels. This was like fire. Ryan didn’t just laugh, he was screaming. Tears were flowing so freely that he could taste them on his lips. He wanted to yell stop, he wanted this tickling to end, but he couldn’t form the words.

Jay continued tickling those toes, holding them tightly, even as the feet started to become slick with sweat. This of course made the brush slide and glide all the more easily. The brush scrubbed the tips of the toes all the way down to the sensitive little gap under each toe.

The tickling continued for a few minutes until finally, mercifully, it stopped.

“There we go, that was Brad. I think he did pretty well. Let me know if you want to see more of this boy.”

Jay concluded by slapping both of Ryan’s sensitive soles, making him jump and squeak.

Jay got up off of Ryan and turned off the camera.

“There we go kid, that’s it. You did good, I have to say, I think you’re going to be pretty popular.”

“Holy shit that was bad. Like… holy shit. You were torturing me.”

Jay laughed.

“That’s why they call it tickle torture. People love it.”

Ryan didn’t want to stick around much longer. He got up off the couch (his clothes were sticking to his body from all the sweat), put his shoes and socks back on (which was hard since his feet were so sensitive after the tickling), thanked Jay and left.

Several days later two things dropped in Ryan’s email. The first was a set of edited photographs. Ryan was happy to see that they looked professional and much better than any of the student work he’d had done so far. The second was much more interesting. It was an e-transfer for a couple of hundred dollars.

Ryan stared at the screen for a few minutes before he decided to call Jay.

“Hello?”

“Hey man, It’s Ryan. Thanks for the pictures, I just got them. They’re really good”

“No worries, I’m happy you’re happy.”

“So… what was the money you sent?”

“I told you that you’d get a bit of the money from the tickle video. It was pretty popular right off the bat, so that’s your share.”

“All that for just letting you tickle my feet?”

“Oh yeah. And if you’re ever interested we could do it again. You could maybe even make some more next time.”

“Like… how much more?”

“Depends on how far you’re willing to go. There’s some bondage, there’s some upper body tickling, there’s even some foot worship and tickling that drives some people wild. You interested?”

Ryan looked at the e-transfer again.

“Yeah, maybe. Tell me more.”

#malefeet #feet #gayfeet #male tickling #guy feet #male feet story #tickling #gay tickling #gay foot play #male foot story #tickle community #sfw tickling community #tickle kink #male tickling story #tickle content #m/m tickling

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lilith-little-world · 1 year

Note

Hello, it's me again ^^ Since Wukong dislikes going out in public, why not have a date indoors?

For their date, they could try out popular beauty products like facial masks and lip scrubs together.

Nice to see you back, and that is so cute. This shy mf would be the one to set it up. Getting the products and knowing how to use them. I can already see Wukong and the reader just having fun and chilling.

Also sorry for this to be late, just got a little more busy than usual. I'm trying really hard to do daily updates, but my mind is finally reaching that writing limit. I will update the majority of the week so don't worry too much.

This is kind of rushed and I didn't look through it properly. So there might be some grammar errors or things not flowing correctly.

The Oracle|| Concept Oneshot 5||

You went up the stairs, Almond following behind. Today was tiring, you had to run around the city trying to prevent the Lady Bone Demon from getting a certain lantern that you're currently holding. You have been hiding this item for a while, it honestly surprised you that this was their first time trying to steal it away. Expecting them to hunt you down the moment they caught wind of you having the item. At least you got the lantern back.

You reached the door ready to end the exhausting day. Glancing at the keypad lock, you put in your code and walk into your current abode. Ready to see the huge mess that those two left, you came face to face with Wukong- well a few of his clones.

Almond barks and goes up to one of them, trying to bite their tail.

“Shoo, get away you, mutt.” The clone says, nudging the small dog with his foot.

“Heeey, you came back a lot sooner than we thought.” The other clone says nervously. Like if he was a little kid that got caught by their mother, making a mess.

“Okay, so what's going on exactly?”

“Are we even allowed to say anything? We did want to surprise her.” The clone was holding Almond, staring at the other.

“I knew this was going to take more than 2 clones, just great.”

“You two better start answering if not I'm not letting Wukong in here.”

“Alright, alright, cool it, we both know he will cry and stay by the door all night.” The clone grabs the folded clothes that were on the bed and places them in the wardrobe drawer.

“Then come on, tell me, I'm really tired.”

“Yeah, we know, that's why he wanted to help you relax and not worry about anything else. So he sent us to clean and fix up the room.” The clone places Almond on the bed, going back to sweeping.

“That's- is so very sweet, but what is he getting?”

“That we can't tell you peaches, he really wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Ah, right, I can wait for him then.”

You close the door and watch the two pick up. They were nearly done with their tasks before you came. Soon the room was back to its original state.

“Well, I'm guessing you two are going to disappear soon?”

“Yup, that's how it works. Don't worry we’ll just leave a few hairs so it won't be a mess.” The clone says, trying to reassure you.

“After what you guys did, you can leave a mess here anytime.”

“Don’t tell him you said that, he might get jealous.” The other clone said. They both chuckled before saying their goodbyes and went up in a cloud of smoke. Like they said a few hair strands fell.

You sigh and go to the back of the room where a large safe sat. You open it and place the lantern in there. Taking the bracelet off, you took a deep breath and focused. Your hands softly brush the metal door, and sparks of gold and white light flash. A circle with a lotus appeared before disappearing. The barrier won't keep them out for much longer but as long as you buy enough time for your friends then that's all it matters.

You went back to lie on the bed. Almond slowly made her way and snuggled on top of your stomach. It was quiet and calm, you like it after a hectic day. There was a soft knock on the door before it opened. The sound of bags straining to hold whatever items were in them broke the serenity of the room.

“Welcome home honey, thank you for cleaning up! Why it's no problem, don't even mention it!” Wukong says while trying to mimic your voice.

You however just whine and mumble out a thank you.

You're tired, not rude.

He went off to the table and started to take things out.

“So what's the surprise?”

“Hmmm, let's call this a date.”

“Oh?”

You finally sat up and noticed how he was lighting a scented candle.

“Remember today was date night and it was my turn to plan it. I'll be honest here, had no idea what to do but then LBD came out of nowhere. Like I was gonna let the demon ruin this day for you.”

He set up the table with a platter of cheese, ham, crackers, grapes, and a bottle of wine. You get up and walk towards him, extremely curious about what exactly he has planned.

“I know this isn't on the same level as our usual dates, but I thought it would be fun, I guess.”

He doesn't look at you. Wukong kept his eyes on a random corner, nervous about your reaction. While you go through a plastic bag filled with skincare products. A mix between expensive and cheap. It caught you by surprise, and you couldn't help but laugh. You pull out what was obviously a cheap fox facial mask that definitively shouldn't go on the skin, let alone on the face.

“I'm calling dibs on this. I'll go get a small bowl of water and a small towel ready. Finish setting up the table.”

You went to the ‘kitchen’, and grabbed a foam bowl and filled it with water. Quickly popping into the bathroom to grab a towel before heading to the table. In a short time, Wukong set out the products and moved the Tv to the table. Chairs on the other side from it, giving it a perfect view as he put on a show. You sat down across from him ready for a ‘homemade spa treatment.’ Wukong hands you a sky-blue headband that has clouds scattered around, with a big bow. Matching his buttermilk yellow headband with suns, and also has a bow at the center like yours.

“Alright let’s start with the cleanser.”

“Wukong, you have done this before, haven't you?” You took a grape from the platter.

“Just some basic stuff, after all, how do you think I get to look this good 24/7?” He says with a smirk.

“I thought it was immortality.”

“That too.”

“Hey, let me see that real quick.”

You took the bottle from him and squirted some on your hands. It had an obvious scent of peaches. Without hesitation, you put your hands on his cheek. He yelps as you rub in the cleanser, quickly dipping your hands in the bowl of water before going back on your onslaught of rubbing. Moving his head around harshly. The cleanser foamed up from being activated by the water, it didn't take long for his face to be covered.

“And done! Sunshine, have I told you how beautiful you're looking right now?”

He didn't say anything, instead just wetting his hands and pouring the cleanser. However, he rubs your face with a lot of force, unlike your ‘delicate’ touch. You let out a small scream as he manhandles your head around.

“Ahhh, Wukong! I'm sorry, okay, I thought it was funny.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just helping you apply it just as you did it to me.”

After a few more seconds, he stops and you both stare at each other. The only sound coming from the tv. You whine pretending to be hurt, exaggerating your sad mood.

“So mean…” You mumbled.

“I could say the same thing.” He states, damping the hand towel.

“Hmph, I was trying to help you put it on.”

“Your little pouts won't work on me this time.”

Wukong wipes away the foam, leaving his skin wet and ready for the next step. You took the towel away from him when he handed it. Wiping away the cleanser, your skin feels refreshed. It had been a good while since you did anything for your skin.

“Okay here, we have a few choices. We can do a clay mask, a safer but boring paper facial mask, or cheap animal facial masks that can possibly burn our faces?”

“Sunshine, sweetie, I think we both know what the right choice is here.” You said as you grabbed the fox mask.

“I know but I just wanted to ask.” He said, grabbing a cat mask.

The masks were cold and slimy but you both looked so funny to the other. You grabbed your phone and took a few pictures of the moment. Sending a few to Mk and Mei.

“This is quite nice, we should do this more often.” You took a sip from the wine bottle before handing it to Wukong. He takes off the mask and chugs the bottle down.

“I'm glad you liked it, peaches. Though I am sorry I couldn't come up with anything nice for our date.” His speech slurred slightly.

You grabbed the small jar that holds the clay. You dab your fingers in it, you slowly and softly smear it on Wukong's face. He didn't yelp, instead he hums and smiles. Leaning into your touch.

“Nah it's fine, I'm happy how our date night turned out. Anyways it doesn't matter what we are doing, as long as I can spend it with you, I'm fine with anything.”

“Awww, you can be so sweet sometimes.”

“I'm sweet every day and second, excuse you.”

Wukong laughs loudly, finding your reaction hilarious. You, however, did not.

“Alright no more alcohol, you're getting drunk. That's the last thing, the celestial and the mortal realms want.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing and I am not drunk.”

“Your slurring of speech says otherwise, here.”

You grabbed a grape and fed him to him. However, he was annoyed but kept his mouth shut.

“Come on, don't give me that face. Remember this is a relaxing date night.”

“And how can I relax without some alcohol?”

“Oh I see, I’m guessing I’m not enough huh? I don’t make you relax?”

You have never seen him panic so fast.

“You know that's not what I meant! Of course, you are more than enough! You just like to get under my skin.”

You ignore him as you take off the mask and glance at the remaining things on the table. Eating a cracker with cheese and ham one last time before focusing on the items.

“Honey, I won't drink any more wine and eat more to sober up a bit.” He takes a few more grapes and pops them in his mouth. Trying to show off. You didn't even peek at him, not once.

A few whines escape from him before he grabs the damped towel and wipes his face off.

You took the under-eye patches and the paper facial mask. It stuck to your face, clinging onto the skin. Feeling a little weird but nothing too crazy. You really need some sort of skincare routine after this.

“You know, I love you! Please don't ignore me.” He said, whining.

You glance at him and smirk.

“I love you too, now let's watch the show, you put it on for a reason.”

“Don't scare me like that, I thought you were actually upset.” Wukong tears up to your surprise.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that.” You cupped his cheeks, messing with his fur.

“That clay mask did wonders, on your skin. It looks so soft and smooth, truly worthy of the title, Handsome Monkey King.” You gave him a soft smile.

“So you're finally admitting I'm handsome huh?” He smirks, getting rid of any traces of tears. You roll your eyes.

“Yes I am, I find you very attractive, very handsome, and charming.”

“Good, 'cause I was getting worried for a second.”

You laugh and lean back in your chair. Some scenes play on the tv, from Monkey Cop. You always wondered what the show was about before you transmigrated, since it appeared so much in the background. It wasn’t too bad, a good show to kill time with.

“I’m the ‘fated oracle’, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“That means I need to worry ten times more.”

You stay silent, not knowing what to say. In a way he was right, and worse of all you have no idea what you are doing.

“I’ll be fine, everyone's future is bright and happy. That's what I know for sure.”

“We just have to get there.”

“We can worry about that later, right now at this moment. We are relaxing.”

“Heh, yeah.”

You take off the mask and patches. Feeling your skin reaching its limit. The cold air slaps your sensitive skin.

“Ah, man, my skin never felt better.” You grab the last item, a lip scrub.

“You know, how much money have people given you? Cause from what I figured out, there's DBK, Princess Iron Fan, dragon pony girl, and me. I also know for sure that it's a lot of money, at anytime you can always buy these certain items so why haven't you?”

“You see, my dear sunshine, I am lazy and after being thrown on the streets, I didn't want to waste money on expensive and unnecessary things.”

“Babe, I can buy you a literal house with electricity, water, food, and actual good wifi. You don't have to worry about that kind of stuff. Anyways you are not alone anymore, there is no need to do everything by yourself.”

“I know, and I'm very lucky and happy to have all of you guys. It means a lot to me, thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for anything. I want to help you because you're someone important to me.”

“Aww Wukong, you can be so soft and sweet sometimes.”

“-And I take back everything.”

“Nooo, sunshine, come on.”

“Nope.”

“Will a kiss make it better?”

He stays quiet, raising an eyebrow.

“So you don't want a kiss? Alright then, usually you jump on any opportunity for one.” You smile, while behind your back, you open the lip scrub and smear it on your index finger.

“Will I actually get a kiss?” He questions, trying to see if you were joking or not.

“Yup a nice kiss for my significant other.”

“Then a kiss will make everything better.”

“Good.”

You lean forward and grasp his cheek. Wukong eyebrows furrowed, sniffing the air. The sweetness of the lip scrub was intense. Not knowing what you have planned, you spread the scrub on his lips.

“What the fuck?” He tries to pull back, confused about what was happening. You took your chance and gave him a quick peck. Only lasting for a few seconds, too fast for him to register the kiss.

“Wait a moment, that's it? That doesn't count.”

“It does count.” You lick your lip tasting the scrub, it was sweet as its smell.

“That did not make me feel any better. It made me feel worse. Come on, peaches, give me a good kiss.”

“Nah. Not my fault you weren't paying attention.”

“Yes, it was!”

“I remember it differently.”

Wukong rolls his eyes and groans. You laugh at his act.

“This date was lovely, Wukong.”

You finally gave him a better kiss. Lips touching, making it last a while. Pulling away, not before licking his lips. Wukong yelps from the sensation of your tongue.

“The scrub tastes so good.”

“I don’t think you should be eating that.”

“Then they shouldn't have made it taste so sweet.”

He licks his lips.

“Oh your right, very sweet.” His eyes narrows at you.

“I'm pretty sure I licked most of the scrub...” Your face turning red.

“Correction, you taste very sweet.”

“WUKONG!”

_______________________________

And then they fucked-

As if, alright I'm gonna pass out now. Remember you can always send in questions about the story or request something.

Love you, guys!

“Oh-”

“I don’t think you should be eating that.”

“Then they shouldn't have made it taste so sweet.”

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goodluckclove · 1 month

Note

I'm almost done with a short story of mines, which is rare because this is the first time ever that I've written long enough to actually finish the piece. Now that I'm on the finish line I've... slowed down. I don't know why, I already know how I want to end it, for the first time it's not writer's block, but physically writing it has gone at a snail pace, one or two lines in the span of a week, still not done. It's like the ending itself doesn't want to be written.

First off - fucking congrats for getting this close to finishing a full short story! I am historically terrible at short-form media as I honed my craft doing NaNoWriMo like four or five times, so now I can only produce in quantities ranging form wow to please stop. It's no small feat to be concise in your storytelling and create an experience that you can digest in a short time and potentially think about for years to come. Impressive work!

But endings are tricky, aren't they? I was tickled by your question and the way you phrased it, so much so that I jumped to answer it now. It's like the ending itself doesn't want to be written. I think about that kind of shit a lot and even though I feel weird talking about it to non-writers I really do think you and I are onto something.

Writing for me has always been a somewhat autonomous process. I hear writers who see themselves as the cruel or benevolent gods of the universes they create, and though I'm sure their viewpoints have backing I have never and will never relate to that mindset. I am not the god of my universe. I am the attendant to a roomful of dogs, all different breeds and sizes, and I am very much at the mercy of a majority of their whims.

Oh, you don't actually want to keep the secret I was planning on having you keep for another two chapters? Uh, okay. You actually have a completely different emotional reaction to this new character than I expected or wanted? Yup. Sure. I can say I have a plan, but a big pillar of my process is being able to see when my characters disagree with my plan and instead insist on pissing all over the floor.

Blind Trust, my novel coming out this Summer, was supposed to be one book. It's now going to be four. My reaction to this is best described as a furrowed brow and a resigned sigh.

What I mean to say is that, if you're struggling with the ending - even just to the extent that it bores you to write, it might be time to check in with the story itself and the people it follows. Maybe the ending isn't exactly what you think it is. Maybe it's not even the ending yet.

Wouldn't it be hilarious if the reason why you got so far with this short story is because it's actually a novella, or even a full-length novel? Maybe even just a longer short story than you originally imagined?

I welcome you to give yourself and your cast of characters a little more creative freedom. The way a story forms in the head is often a lot different from what you actually end up with on paper.

I welcome you to DM me directly if you want to keep talking. I'd love to work with you on this!

#writing asks #writing inspiration #writeblr #writing community #writing resources #writers supporting writers #writers of tumblr

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usermischief · 8 months

Text

♜Pairing: Briles ♜Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Brett Talbot, Kira Yukimura, Lori Rohr ♜Tags/Warnings: getting together, explicit sexual content ♜Words: 8217 ♜Kinktober 2023: Reluctant Sex

ao3

---

this funny feeling

“And, here you go.” The hotel employee pushes the door to the dining room open.

Stiles smiles at her. “Thank you so much. I’m terrible with directions.” And he’s a bit too tired after having to catch a fight at 3 am to navigate a hotel he’s never been to.

“That’s absolutely no problem, darlin’.” The woman smiles before returning to the reception. Luckily, it’s early enough that not too many people are out and about yet.

So, Stiles isn’t surprised when the only people he spots in the dining room are Satomi, Morrell, Brett and Lori, as well as two couples with newborns. He’d have preferred for Kira to be up as well, but he also can’t expect her to crawl out of bed at 7 am during her vacation.

Stiles’ heart jumps when Brett turns to look at him — and a smile blossoms on his lips. Fuck. This is the worst. He thought he’d be over him, still, every time he sees Brett again, his crush on the guy all but punches him in the face. Going to the same university for two years brought them a lot closer together. They were friends, surely. In the beginning out of convenience, but that changed later. They hung out daily, and Stiles’ heart did what it did best — it got attached. He did date other people during and after college, but it didn’t fucking matter. Every time he sees Brett again, he’s right back where he started.

Stiles takes a deep breath and crosses the room. “Good morning.” With a little awkward wave, he drops his bags on a chair next to Brett. “And thank you so much for the invitation. I know this is a pack thing…” A two week long vacation is exactly what he needs after the year he’s had, but he’s still a bit unsure about the whole thing. Part of him feels like he’s intruding on something private.

“Kira and Brett insisted to have you join us.” Satomi smiles up at him.

Brett too?

Surprised, Stiles glances at the werewolf, who jumps to his feet. “Let’s get you some breakfast. You must be starving.” He ushers Stiles away from his snickering sister and towards the buffet without waiting for a reply.

Stiles doesn’t have it in him to tell Brett that he already had breakfast, that usually ended in a very long discussion of his terrible eating habits. During college, Brett had made it his mission to make sure Stiles eats three times a day — even when he was stuck in one of his terrible relationships. Plus, Stiles doesn’t mind to spend as less time as possible with Morrell, who told him she’d kill him the last time they spoke, and Satomi, who still kind of scares him. He doesn’t get a read on her, and he’s not a fan of that.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Stiles asks as Brett pushes an empty tray into his hands. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glances back towards the table and catches Satomi’s eye. Great. Grinning awkwardly, he turns back to Brett. They’ve been close during college, but never meet-the-parents close.

“She likes you,” Brett tells him as he puts a bowl of scrambled eggs and two slices of toast onto Stiles’ tray.

Does she? “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her.”

Contemplating the options, Brett merely shrugs. “You saved my life. She’d marry me off to you if that were still acceptable in today’s society.”

Stiles squints at the French toasts that are added to his tray. “That’s been a thing?”

“Yup,” Brett says, reaching for a bagel before he continues, “provide and protect are the most important features of a future mate.” Deciding against the bagel, Brett adds a couple of waffles before Stiles even has the chance to move away — who the hell is supposed to eat all of that? “It’s a stupid tradition. Nobody cares about that any longer.”

“I’m good.” Stiles grabs Brett’s arm, stopping him from adding anything else to his plate. “You provided me with enough food. More than enough, actually.”

Brett stares at him.

Stiles tries not to laugh.

“Asshole,” the werewolf mutters eventually, flicking Stiles’ forehead. “Keep that up and you’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Sleep on the—" Stiles isn’t entirely sure if he heard that right. That’s a joke. It has to be. “Are we sharing a bed?” Hopefully, that’s not the case. Stiles hardly survived sleeping on a pull-out couch with Brett after a party, how the fuck is he supposed to get through two weeks of not only sharing a room but also a bed?

“Yup,” Brett confirms as if that’s the most normal thing in the whole wide world. “Don't hog the blanket.”

Oh god.

———

Sighing, Stiles sits up and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t exactly fall asleep on the beach often. To be honest, the last time he did that was when his mum was still alive. The fact that basically passed out in public says a lot about how desperately he needs sleep. This vacation has barely started, and Stiles already misses this freedom. But there won’t be a lot of time to sleep once work is starting again.

Stiles crosses his arms over his knees and scans the beach for Brett. He’s not too far away, entertaining a group of the youngest werewolves with a girl Stiles has never seen before. They look awfully… domestic. Like this is a thing that is happening all the time. It hurts watching them. It hurts in a way Stiles didn’t expect. Feeling like this is fucking stupid. He shouldn’t. After all, he threw himself in every relationship he could find. He stayed in every relationship that was convenient enough, no matter how terrible it ended up being, just to keep his heart occupied because he was too afraid to get his heart broken by losing Brett if he told him he loved him.

The girl brushes her hand over Brett’s arm, something Brett doesn’t react to — either because it’s a too common occurrence or because he doesn’t care.

Please, don’t care.

“That bitch.”

“Lori!” Kira is sitting up on her own towel, staring at her friend in shock.

But Lori doesn’t react. She crouches down next to Stiles, arms crossed over her thighs. “You know I’m right.”

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “Who is that?” He can’t deny the pang of jealousy, or the frustration gnawing at him — and he can’t help but wonder, however briefly, if he’s missed an opening, he’s never been aware of.

“It’s Finch’s daughter,” Kira informs him, propping her chin on her left knee.

Finch’s kid? So, she probably knows Brett well. They must be close with each other since Finch and Satomi have decided to go on vacation together. Maybe they’re close in a way that— Stiles shakes his head and curls his hands into his towel. Best not to think about that right now.

Lori looks as if she’s smelling something rotten. “Quinn thinks she and Brett will bring the packs together one day,” Lori drawls, her voice teetering somewhere between annoyance and disgust, “through marriage.” At that, Lori shoots him an exasperated look.

“Marriage?” Stiles laughs because if he didn’t do that, he might end up screaming. “Brett?” he keeps going, going, going, trying so hard not to let the fear creep in. “He’s never going to marry.” Every time they as much as scratched the topic of marriage, Brett instantly changed it.

Lori stands up. “Not her, at least. Come on.”

“What?” Stiles looks up at her, drawing his brows together.

“We’re going to go swimming.” Clearly not in the mood for discussions, Lori grabs him by the upper arm and quite unceremoniously yanks him to his feet. The Talbots’ bossy nature really is fucking exhausting. “Drop the shirt. Kira, let’s go.” Lori doesn’t wait for either of them to follow them.

Knowing a little too well that any discussion is pointless, Stiles yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it onto his towel. If Lori wants him to go swimming, he will go swimming with her. Kira seems to have come to the same conclusion since she’s joining him on his way to the sea.

That Quinn girl spots them first, her features darkening almost at once. Mrs. Finch disliked him ever since Stiles corrected her once during AP Biology. Clearly, she didn’t speak fondly about him in front of her daughter.

Fantastic.

“Lori, hold on.” To his surprise, she stops dead in her tracks — causing him to almost crash into her — and stares at him with the same intensity remembers very well from Brett. “I don’t want to cause trouble, okay?” For one, it’s the first day of his vacation, he doesn’t need thirteen tense days. His anxiety is going to kill him. For another, Stiles doesn’t need to make shit any more complicated between the two packs.

But Lori merely waves a hand. “You’re here to resolve some issues, trust me.” And with that, the discussion seems to be over for her. Instead, she turns around. “Quinn, the girls want to play mermaid, not sea witch. Feel free to leave.”

Kira covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Clearly nobody like Quinn.

“Yukimura!” Brett bellows from somewhere to their right. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, shit.” Without warning, Kira grabs Stiles’ hand and yanks him around, hightailing it in the opposite direction. Her grip around his fingers is tight, unrelenting, almost as if she expected him to take a moment to tap into his fox again. He’s never been the biggest fan of the remains of the nogitsune still deeply anchored in his DNA.

But his body does remember its powers a lot quicker than he expected. “What’s going on?”

Kira lets go of his hand, probably realizing that Stiles can keep up with her, and scrunches up her face. “I may have made a bet with Brett,” she admits, glancing over her shoulder, “saying that there’s no way they could capture us.”

Us as in kitsunes, Stiles assumes, but before he can dwell on it too long, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. “A little warning would’ve been nice.” He grabs her around the waist and stops both of them in their tracks. Tierney and Jiang have cut off their path now that the beach has gotten a lot emptier. Both of them are brimming with excitement.

Stiles twists around, so he’s standing back to back with Kira.

And Brett is right there.

Fuck.

Stiles steps away from Kira, watching as Brett comes running at him fast. There’s an almost predatory grin on his lips. Heart hammering in his chest, Stiles chances a glance over his shoulder, hating that he can’t see Jiang and Tierney without looking away from Brett. The two of them, however, seem to be focused on Kira. Good. But going up against Brett isn’t exactly the outcome he would’ve preferred.

“Split up,” he says, and Kira doesn’t hesitate a second. She spins on around and dashes back the way she came from. Stiles does the same thing, rushing past Tierney in the opposite direction of Kira. They’re faster than wolves, for the most part, but running in sand is a fucking nightmare for Stiles. He’s more stumbling than running. Finding every fucking hole in the world is really on brand, meaning Stiles’ advantage is dwindling fast— because Brett is not a goddamn klutz while running.

Stiles glances over his shoulder, and instantly regrets his decision. He misses a quite deep hole and steps right into it. His shin smacks against the edge, and all he can do is trying not to eat sand. Cursing under his breath, Stiles pulls himself out. Before he has the chance to get his feet back under him, Brett’s arm is around his waist, and he spins him around, pushing him into the sand.

The grin on his lips is more than predatory. “You can’t run from me, little fox,” Brett whispers as he’s leaning down until their noses almost brush.

Stiles’ heart all but skyrockets. “Is that a threat or a promise,” he asks, and he hates how breathless he sounds, hates that his body wants to stay right here and not move whatsoever. He’s not exhausted, not in the slightest, and he’s here to win a bet.

“A bit of both,” Brett replies, sounding just as breathless. He doesn’t move either and remains kneeling over Stiles’ legs, fingers digging into the sand next to Stiles’ head.

Stiles licks his lips, breath catching in his throat when Brett’s gaze drops down to follow the movement. Despite himself, Stiles holds his breath for a moment, too scared to move a single muscle. What is going on? Why is he looking at his mouth like that? He sucks in a breath. “What’s going to happen now?”

Brett blinks and locks eyes with him again. “Ocean,” he mutters, brows slightly furrowed. It almost seems as if he’s not sure himself if that’s really what’s going to happen. He certainly doesn’t move to get Stiles any closer to the ocean. Instead, his gaze darts back to his mouth again. Brett swallows, licks his lips, and his gaze flicks up to meet Stiles’ again. “I—" Brett cuts off, and he cups his cheek.

Something clicks into place.

Oh god.

Brett is trying to kiss him. Brett wants to kiss him.

And for a second, Stiles considers letting it happen. Because why not? This is everything he wants. Kissing Brett has been on his mind since meeting him again in college. Stiles swallows, parts his lips. But he’s going to leave, and Brett is going to return to Beacon Hills — and he can’t do that to himself. He fucking can’t.

“Ocean,” Stiles repeats softly, but Brett doesn’t even react. His thumb is tracing his jaw, and Stiles’ heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest. Bad. Bad. “Shark!” Stiles yells, ripping his hand out of the sand.

Brett pulls away, staring at him as if he’s lost his mind. Which is fair. It’s not like sharks are usually hanging out in the sand, but it’s really the only thing he manages to come up with to distract the werewolf — and open up a chance to push him off.

Something he does instantly, forcing a grin on his face and pretending as if Brett didn’t hear his heartbeat or pick on his chemo signals. “I’m not going to be captured by a wolf.” Twisting away, he gets to his feet surprisingly quickly and doesn’t hesitate to dash back in the direction of the others — in the direction of safety.

———

“You’re up early.”

“Look who’s talking.” Stiles grins up at Kira and pets the blanket next to him.

She plops down, body warm and sweaty from what’s very clearly been a morning workout. Her dedication is admirable. He didn’t make it a week, and he’d especially not do it on vacation. Kira yawns and pulls her legs to her chest. “What got you out of bed? Insomnia?”

Stiles wishes insomnia was the issue for once.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Aside from spooning him and giving Stiles the worst and most awkward morning boner, he’s had since fucking high school.

Kira cocks her head. “But he drove you out of bed at 5am?”

Stiles falls back and crosses his arms over is stomach. Only a second later, Kira does the same. They haven’t been able to do this in years. He’s been so busy working on getting the FBI’s supernatural division up and running, he hardly had time to even miss his friends. But right now, he hates being so far away, hates how occupied he is with travelling everywhere, sitting in hour-long meetings, trying to make supernatural creatures understand that he’s with them instead of against them.

And then he goes home alone, or crashes into a strange hotel bed in a strange town with no one to keep him company.

If everything goes well, Stiles will have another 12 months of this.

Stiles lets out a breath. “I can’t do this.”

“You still love him.” It’s not a question. It never has been a question.

“I can’t sleep in a bed with him for two weeks and walk away with my heart in one piece.” At this point, Stiles can’t even tell if he’s not too far down the rabbit hole already. How the fuck is he supposed to be this close to Brett and then act like nothing at all happened?

Kira turns onto her side, brushing strands out of her face. Her eyes are heavy on him, searching. “What if you tell him?”

“That I’ve been in love with him since college?” Stiles barks out a laugh, cold and humorless, a sound that hurts in his throat.

Kira gently pokes his side. “You’re not unlovable.”

Huffing out a breath, Stiles rolls onto his side too, facing her, and instantly, he’s transported back to college. How many nights have they spent exactly like this? More than he can count, that’s for sure. He’s never felt more peaceful. “But it’s Brett. Do you remember him ever being even remotely interested in a relationship?”

“But what if he is interested in you?” Kira urges, raising her brows in question.

Stiles pinches his. “Do you know anything?” It’s not necessarily unlike her to be this pushy, but it’s still a little unusual.

“No.” She shakes her head a little before propping herself up onto her elbow. “But Brett wouldn’t give away his right to a single room for just anyone.” That’s phrased very kindly. They both know Kira means that he wouldn’t give up his chance to have sex with various hot people hanging out at the hotel. “When I talked to him about inviting you, he instantly offered.” It’s not hard to see where she’s coming from. Brett wasting two weeks of sex with strangers without a second of hesitation isn’t exactly like him.

Stiles lets out a breath. “Okay, but even if he just so happens to like me back romantically…” he scowls a bit, but he cannot bring himself to say love. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous. “What good is it going to do? I’ll leave in two weeks, and there’s nothing I have to offer in terms of a relationship. I can’t even say when I’ve got the time to see him again. Do you know how hard it was to get these two weeks off?” He knows he’s being unfair by making it sound like this is some type of hardship. He wants to be here, but he’s a one-man-team at the moment. It’s a fucking nightmare. “Please, don’t get me wrong—"

“Oh, I know.” Kira sits up, smiling down at him over her shoulder. “But maybe things are easier than you think. You know how a different perspective can help.”

“So what?” Stiles its up too, bumping against her shoulder. “I should just tell him?” There’s no way that’s going to lead anywhere, not when Brett is Satomi’s second in command, and Stiles is the leader of the supernatural division. Maybe things will be calmer when everything is established.

Stiles squints at the storm in the distance, watching it creep closer minute by minute.

That’s a big fucking maybe.

“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t knock it till you try it.” She bumps into him with a chuckle.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ll think about it.” But he’ll doubt he’s ever going to admit to his feelings. He doesn’t want to allow himself the type of hope that will eat him alive.

“And if it gets too much for you, I’ve got room in my bed too.” Kira wraps an arm around him and scoots closer, so she can prop her head on his shoulder.

The first rumble of thunder is audible when Stiles leans his head against hers. It won’t take much longer until the storm is right above their heads. But neither of them moves.

———

Instead, they ran inside through the rain, laughing and cursing and probably being a menace for the hotel staff. Stiles does feel a little bad in retrospect. They did leave behind a few tracks, but Stiles only cared about getting into the shower, and now he desperately needs to get some food into him.

But the moment he reaches the dining hall, Quinn steps in his way. “So, you’re this year’s conquest.” She leans against the wall right next to the door. As she shifts in front of him, Stiles has the weird feeling that she’s been waiting for him.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles glances from her to the rest of the room and back again. “Sorry?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Quinn’s smirk is about as pleasant as nails on a chalk board. “Every year, Brett finds someone, makes them feel special, fucks them, and then doesn’t even look at them the next day. Didn’t peg you as one to fall for that.”

Stiles stares at her, trying his best not to let his feelings get to him. It’s not like there’s a relationship in the cards; they’re living at opposite ends of this country. Stiles’ schedule with the FBI is a nightmare, and Brett, well, he’s supposed to be Satomi’s successor. He can hardly leave the pack. Stiles doubts he’d— why is the even thinking about this again? Only an hour ago, he’s talked this through with Kira, and as much as he’s trying to find it in himself to look for something positive, he can only focus on the negative. Probably because there are so much more arguments for keeping quiet.

Stiles shakes his head, deciding that not deigning this with a response is probably the best idea, and moves to walk away.

Quinn steps in his way.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

“An apology.”

Stiles blinks. “For what?” They haven’t spoken a single word since he’s arrived. All she did was glaring at him from a distance.

“You’re ruining this,” Quinn tells him, stepping closer. Her eyes burn yellow, reminding Stiles that he should bring a weapon the next time he joins this type of fun. She looks ready to jump him. “Brett and I are supposed to—.”

“Bring the packs together?” Despite everything, Stiles has never been afraid of most werewolves. He whacked the fucking twins with a baseball bat when they were morphed into one weird as hell abomination, and he very colorfully told one of them what he’d do with a branch of mistletoe. He’s not going to be intimidated by Quinn. Raising his brows, Stiles leans forward a little. “I don’t care about your future plans, so back off before I forget that I’m with the FBI.” Stiles is really good at picking fights with people he doesn’t know. But this time, it’s at least not his fault.

Not entirely at least.

Quinn steps closer again, but before she has the chance to do anything, Brett appears out of nowhere and fits easily into the space between them. “Hey.” His voice is light and charming, but his rigid body speaks a different language. “Is there a problem?”

Stiles lets out a breath. Part of him wants to push Brett out of the way and deal with Quinn himself. He doesn’t need protection.

“You should find a different bitch, that one bites.” Quinn spits, stepping away from Brett with a sneer.

Stiles lunges forward, but Brett is faster than him. Grabbing his waist, he pulls him flat against his side, holding him back with no effort whatsoever. “Call him a bitch again,” Brett says in a low voice that’s so much more threatening than any growl could ever be. “I dare you. See what happens.”

For a moment, Quinn stands stock-still, staring at Brett as if she’s trying to figure out what the right thing to do is. She flares his nostrils as she takes a breath then gives Stiles a nasty smile. “We’ll continue this conversation probably much sooner than later,” she drawls, shooting Brett a look before stepping away. “Have fun.” Turning his back on them, Quinn walks into the dining hall.

Does she think Stiles is afraid of facing her alone? Because if that’s the case, she’s dead wrong. If Brett weren’t having an iron grip on him, Stiles would show her exactly what he thinks of her.

Fucker.

Brett doesn’t let go of him, holding him flush against his side, fingers digging into his waist, probably sensing that Stiles is very much itching to jump the other werewolf. “Let’s go outside.” It’s not a request, and he’s not waiting for a response anyway. Instead, Brett grabs him by the back of his shirt and yanks him around so fast, he almost lost this footing. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he informs him in a hushed tone.

Once through the door, Brett lets go of him with a shake of his head.

It’s stormy outside. Rain is pounding on the canopy of glass. The conversations from inside barely reach them here, even less when Brett pulls the door shut behind them. Stiles nudges a chair with his foot, barely repressing the urge to kick it across the patio and into the pool or turn around and snap at Brett as well. Just for good measure. He can’t believe the guy had the nerve to drag him around like a rag doll. Instead, Stiles takes a deep breath and directs his gaze to the dark horizon. “There’s a beach ten feet from here,” he mutters, pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “why the fuck would they have a pool?” Stepping right up to its edge, Stiles contemplates throwing himself into the cool water. Maybe that would drown the anger.

Stiles gets the feeling this whole vacation was a terrible idea.

“Sharks.” Brett doesn’t hesitate to reply and comes to stand next to him, so close their arms are almost touching. “But I bet you don’t fear those either.”

Stiles shoots him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Humming softly, Brett shrugs. “Not many people would talk to a werewolf like that. You’d probably punch a shark in the nose before it got too close.”

“That’s how you lose a hand,” Stiles replies, fixing his gaze on the thunderstorm in the distance. “You want to hit the gills or eyes. Preferably the gills.”

“And threatening a werewolf is how you lose your head.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but Brett is probably right. “Noted.”

“Can we go back inside without you trying to kill her?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Stiles keeps staring towards the horizon.

Brett huffs out a breath. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the dark clouds as if they’re to blame for this. “She came at me.” He doesn’t even understand why she’s so upset at him. After all, Quinn said herself that Brett is always hooking up with random people. Besides, if she knows him even a little, she’s fully aware that Brett isn’t at all interested in anything that’s even remotely like a relationship. The guy has serious commitment issues. If Quinn really believes Brett will settle down with her, she absolutely has to rethink her world view.

Sighing, Brett wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulls him close. “I know.”

Stiles hates how his body instantly melts against Brett’s. At this point, the guy doesn’t even have to be a werewolf to notice that something’s up. But waking up next to him, missing him since graduating from college — part of him is tired of hiding his feelings. Maybe Kira is right. Maybe he should say something. If Brett doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he might be able to finally move on. “She believes you’ll settle down with her.” Stiles knows he sounds jealous, but perhaps this is another way to figure out what’s what without serving his heart on a silver platter.

“And?” Brett cups Stiles’ jaw, easily moving his head so Stiles has to look up at him. “What do you believe?”

That’s not the answer he hoped for.

Stiles swallows around a lump in his throat. “I can’t see you settling down,” he whispers, suddenly hit with an awful déjà vu.

“Not with her, at least,” Brett mutters, a smirk curling around his lips, and just like that, he leans down.

Slowly.

Giving Stiles time to react.

Panic floods his veins. The moment he kisses Brett, the moment he allows this to happen, there is no going back. There’s no way to stop his heart from free-falling. But he can’t be Brett’s hook-up for this vacation. He can’t do it. So, Stiles jerks backwards — and loses his footing completely. The pool, he realizes belatedly.

Fuck.

Stiles flails, knowing very well that there’s only Brett to hold onto, but Brett merely watches him, hand now pushes in the pockets of his jeans.

Asshole.

He crashes into the water, deciding that breakfast can very much be happening without him. There’s no way in hell he’s leaving his room today.

———

“Well,” Brett says, kicking the door shut behind him, “that day is going swimmingly, isn’t it?” With the most annoying grin this side of the universe, he sets down a box filled with various breakfast foods on the bet next to Stiles. The guy really makes it hard to be annoyed with him. Then again, it’s hard to blame Brett for letting him fall into the pool after pulling away from a kiss twice.

If not for his stupid heart, Stiles would jump at the chance to hook up with Brett fucking Talbot for two weeks straight. But he can’t do that to himself.

Shooting the werewolf a narrow-eyed look, Stiles pulls the box towards him. “Can’t wait for your full routine, Mulaney.”

“At least I’m not holing myself up in my hotel room to mope.” Brett toes off his shoes and collapses into bed next to him, his mood unbearably good.

“I’m not holing myself up,” Stiles shoots back, ignoring the pointed look towards the drawn curtains. Yes, he went straight to his room after falling into the pool. No, he did not come out to eat breakfast — and he will not leave it for lunch or dinner either. This day is very much over for him. “I hate thunderstorms, you know that.” He hates how accusatory he sounds. The storm is hardly Brett’s fault.

Quinn’s bratty behavior isn’t either.

For a moment, Brett doesn’t reply and instead watches him nibble on a waffle with near uncomfortable intensity. “You got up pretty early today,” he says then. It sounds like he’s been meaning to talk about this for a while now.

Stiles isn’t entirely sure what that has to do with anything, so he merely hums in agreement and hopes that’s the end of it. He’d love to watch IT since he, for one, paid money for it — ha — and for another, he really doesn’t want to go into any details of anything that may or may not have happened.

Not even in the slightest.

“Why? Nightmares?”

Stiles gestures towards the TV with his waffle. It’s not like he needs to watch it, he knows the movie inside out. He still very much prefers it over this conversation.

But Brett keeps pushing, “insomnia?”

Once again, Stiles doesn’t reply. Mostly because he has no idea what to say to get out of this. Because the truth is a terrible start.

“Or the fact that we cuddled, and you woke up horny?” Brett snatches the remote and turns the TV off without hesitation. “You know I noticed, right?”

Know would be a bit much, but Stiles somewhat suspected it. Shit like this is just his luck. “Listen,” he says as his cheeks grow uncomfortable warm, “I just…” what? What could he possibly say to get out of this? “Haven’t been close to anyone in a while.” Aside from sounding absolutely pathetic, it’s at least the truth. “Can I please get the remote back now?”

The gin curling around Brett’s lips is positively wolfish. “I’ll trade it.”

Stiles puts the waffle down and pushes the box of food towards Brett, raising his brows expectantly. Of course, that’s not what Brett meant at all. “I’m so not in the mood for this.” But Brett is a shithead, and there’s absolutely no way for Stiles to get out of this. He’s too drained to try and out-stubborn a Talbot. “What do you want?” For some awful reason, the question tasted bad in his mouth, as if part of him new he is making a huge mistake giving Brett’s stupid idea even a second of consideration.

“A kiss.”

His breath catches in his throat. “What?” Sure, Stiles probably should’ve expected it since Brett tried to kiss him twice already. Hearing it this bluntly, however, is a very different story. “The fuck is this coming from?” It’s also not technically a lie. Brett has never tried kissing him before.

A flash of surprise cuts through Brett’s expression of confidence. For all but a second, it seems as if he questions his calculations — no matter how quickly the grin returns. “You kissed Kira and Lydia.”

“That’s different.” Stiles regrets those words the second they leave his mouth. Why can’t he think before he speaks? Sure, technically, the situations have been a bit different; mostly because they haven’t been alone in a hotel room. He kissed them during a stupid game. It’s never been serious. Besides, he also didn’t have feelings for either of them when it happened.

Brett’s on his case like a fucking bloodhound. “Oh, is it? We’re friends too, aren’t we? Or is it because—"

Before Stiles can think any better of it, he leans over and presses their mouths together. The very second their lips touch, he pulls back again, not allowing himself to give this any thought at all because if he does, throwing himself out of the window might be the more painless option. “There,” he mutters, not daring to meet Brett’s eyes.

The laugh filling the room is surprisingly breathless. “You call that a kiss?”

“You didn’t specify—"

“A real kiss, Stiles. I thought that’s obvious.”

But it’s not. Nothing is obvious right now. Stiles is two seconds from running away; this time not into a relationship but into Kira’s room. Maybe he should’ve taken her up on the offer the second she made it. “This is fucking stupid.” Stiles sits back on his heels, still staring anywhere that’s not Brett. That, however, is stupid too. Setting his jaw, he locks eyes with the werewolf. “Are people falling for this shit?” He’s angry and defensive, and Stiles knows Brett is more than aware of it — of everything, even the feelings Stiles harbors for him. How could he not? “It’s so stupid.” And it’s certainly not funny.

Brett laughs, tapping the remote against his thigh. “You mentioned that.”

Stiles makes a grab for it. Unsurprisingly, he’s unsuccessful. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“You mentioned that too.”

Stiles wants to smother this asshole with a pillow. It certainly would solved absolutely all of his problems in one go. “Seriously, if you want to kiss me that bad—" stupid, stupid, stop talking “— just do it. Don’t act like a fucking middle schooler.” Stiles snaps his mouth shut entirely too late. With Brett, there’s always a risk that he might do it.

And, of course, Brett doesn’t hesitate.

He tosses the remote aside; because it’s never been about this fucking remote, because Stiles could tell things have been different since the moment he arrived, because Brett attempted to kiss him twice already. He would have, too, if Stiles hadn’t pulled away to protect what’s left of his heart.

But Brett doesn’t allow that this time. He pulls him in by the front of his shirt and crashes their mouths together.

The collar of his shirt digs into the nape of his neck, and Brett’s lips glide over his. He holds him there, doesn’t allow him to pull away again in any shape or form. He wants to, and he doesn’t want to. His body screams for Brett, begs for his hands and his mouth everywhere on him.

But he can’t do that to himself. He’ll have a night, if everything goes well, he has two weeks with Brett, two weeks of living his heart’s desire — and then reality comes crashing down on him.

Brett’s tongue traces Stiles’ lips, and his thoughts evaporate. Stiles cups the back of Brett’s head, holding him close. Brett wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer. His eyes flutter shut, and his heart pounds in his chest.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Stiles sighs softly into the kiss, giving Brett the chance to deepen it. His tongue flicks Stiles’ teasingly. His whole body tingles, and Stiles shudders as the werewolf grabs his ass shamelessly. This fucking guy has a way to consume him entirely too easily. It’s not fair.

Before Stiles knows it, he’s on his back, Brett above him, his body warm and heavy. His kiss is desperate and bruising and eager for more.

So much more.

For something Stiles would rather not give.

Fuck.

Stiles let’s go of Brett and pulls away. “Wait,” he whispers breathlessly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Their relationship is meant to remain strictly platonic. There’s too much risk to ruin it, too much risk to ruin himself.

And he can’t.

Not this time.

But Brett clearly doesn’t get the memo. He kisses him again, and Stiles kisses him back because he really, really wants everything that’s happening so, so fucking bad; the way Brett tastes like orange juice, his nose bumps against Stiles’ and his hands are roaming his body, and the way he bites his bottom lip.

It makes him dizzy.

Stiles curls and uncurls his fingers then grabs Brett’s shoulders. “Stop,” he mutters into the kiss. Wait doesn’t set the right signals. “Stop.” And he finally manages to turn his head to the side. “Brett—" He really needs him to fucking stop.

Instead, Brett drags his lips down to his jaw, trails them further down to his throat.

Stiles leans his head back, gasping when Brett sucks on his sensitive skin. It’s so easy to just give in.

No.

“I said, stop!” Stiles gives Brett’s shoulders a shove and finally, finally, the werewolf raises his head, but he’s not moving off him. “I don’t— I don’t want this.”

Brett quirks a brow, clearly not buying it — not when Stiles’ body sends a very different signal. “I beg to differ.”

The amusement rubs him the wrong way, and he gives Brett another push. “I’m not going to sleep with you just because you offered me to stay in your room.”

Brett sits up as if Stiles slapped him in the face. “Is that what you think?” His voice is icy, his muscles rigid, and suddenly, the way he towers over him now is terrifying. It’s easy to forget how dangerous Brett can be — and he’s got every right to be pissed. “Do you believe Quinn? Do you really think I’d treat you that way?” They both know the answer to that question — and that’s most likely why Brett hasn’t kicked him out of the room yet.

Shaking his head, Stiles props himself onto his elbows.

Brett collapses onto the bed next to him. “Are you going to tell me the real reason?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t.”

Stiles drops onto his back and squints at the ceiling. “A bit of both, I guess.”

To his surprise, Brett laughs. It’s breathless and soft and everything but angry. “Can I tell you something then?” He rolls onto his side and props his head on his hand, studying Stiles’ face with sparkling blue eyes. He’s so pretty it hurts. “Something only Satomi knows?”

Stiles licks his lips and nods. Slowly. He’s not entirely sure what he might hear. “Sure.”

“I love you,” Brett tells him as bluntly as always. He chuckles when Stiles bolts upright — not entirely sure if his heart is going to stay inside his body in the foreseeable future. But Brett continues talking as he scoots behind him and wraps both arms around his waist, “and I can’t stand another year of being away from you.” His left hand slips under Stiles’ shirt.

A shudder runs down his spine, and Stiles grabs his wrist. He doesn’t stop him, not yet, merely holds on for dear life.

With ease, Brett pulls him closer, running his fingers over Stiles’ lower abs. “I wanted to take my time and try to figure out how you felt.” His lips are so close, every word is painted against the shell of his ear. All the while, his hand creeps lower at a snail’s pace. “But the bed is still drenched in your scent from this morning, and… I overheard you talking to Kira”

“Oh god,” Stiles breathes, not sure if it’s because of the admission or because Brett pushes two fingers past the waistband of his sweatpants.

The soft chuckle paves its way straight to Stiles’ dick. He wishes he could say it’s because he hasn’t been close to anyone in forever, but that’s not true — it’s Brett, all of this is fucking Brett.

“And I just can’t help myself,” the werewolf whispers, grabbing Stiles’ chin to turn his head just enough to brush their lips together. “I want your scent all over me.” He hooks a finger under the waistband of Stiles’ boxer briefs, tugging once, twice. A question. ‘Stop me’, it seems to offer.

Stiles lets go of Brett’s waist and curls his fingers into the sweatpants instead, blood rushing in his ears.

And Brett continues; he keeps talking, allows his hand to slip further into Stiles’ boxer briefs. “I hated seeing you with others. I hate how they treated you.” Just like that, Brett curls his long fingers around Stiles’ dick — the touch alone makes him almost jump out of his own body. “I knew I could treat you so much better. I will treat you better.”

Stiles groans and lets his head fall back.

Another chuckle.

Stiles tugs on Brett’s sweatpants.

“You smell so good,” Brett whispers, free and sliding from his chin to Stiles’ throat. His thumb rests right above his pule. He hums, sounding so smug, so fucking happy with himself.

It should be embarrassing that all it took were a few choice words to change Stiles’ mind, but it’s hard to feel bad with a hand wrapped around his dick. “Brett,” he breathes.

Brett hums again and kisses his temple. “Want me to make you feel good?”

“Please.”

Brett makes a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a grow. Everything after that is rushed. They’re moving, getting rid of clothes. Brett’s shoe refuses to cooperate. It’s fun to see Mr. Smooth getting frustrated enough over such a small thing. A moment later, the shoe is gone, and Brett is on top of him again, kissing him with a hunger that leaves Stiles lightheaded and painfully hard.

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles watches as Brett rummages through his backpack. He’s hard lines and muscle where Stiles is skin and bones, lack of training and time to eat carving their marks into his body. His dick is long and hard and, apparently, now exclusively for Stiles’ pleasure — well, and Brett’s, but that’s a given.

If Brett told him the truth, that is. Which he did, right? They’ve been friends for years. Brett wouldn’t lie to him just to get into his pants.

Right?

“I can hear you overthinking.” Brett drops the backpack next to the bed, flicking a bottle of lube at him.

Stiles catches it awkwardly. For a moment, he stares at it as if the weight of his future rests inside of it. “Are you sure about… this?” Stiles gestures vaguely around, not daring to look at him.

“You mean the sex thing, or the whole I-love-you speech?” Brett asks, and although he smirks at him, his blue eyes have gone unbelievably soft. “Because I fully intend to be your trophy boyfriend.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious about us. If you let me, I will come with you after this vacation. I’ll travel the US with you. I’ll make sure you eat and sleep, and I fuck you as often as you want me to.”

“And here I thought romance is dead.” Stiles can’t help but grin at the idea. It’s easy to see Brett by his side, to come home to him. Still, “it’s going to be boring for you, though, isn’t it?”

Brett raises his brows, shuffling closer until they’re nose to nose again. “Relaxing by the pool? No way.”

“I’m not staying in hotels like this.” Not usually, at least.

“Stiles,” Brett sounds exasperated, yet he cups his cheeks ever so gently. “I can deal with a year of ratty motels in the middle of nowhere if that means I’m with you, okay?” The moment Stiles opens his mouth for a reply, Brett leans over and kisses him, very clearly done with the conversation, and pushes him back into the pillows. “You’re not going to talk me out of this,” he whispers against Stiles’ mouth. “Stop wasting your breath.” With a chuckle, Brett plucks the lube from his fingers. “And relax, my love.”

Fucking hell.

Stiles runs his fingers through Brett’s hair and pulls him down for another kiss. He’ll allow himself to dream, to imagine this future Brett is painting will have a happy ending. Perhaps it does. He’ll never know if he refuses to try. So, he tries — tries to be an optimist, tries to relax as Brett’s hands and mouth explore every inch of his body, and tries desperately to hold onto his sanity as Brett’s tongue and fingers do their very best to make him fall apart.

Something that gets significantly harder the moment Brett thrusts in to the hilt. He presses their foreheads together, breathing heavily as he stays still for way too long.

Stiles hooks a leg around Brett’s thighs and rolls his hips. The way Brett moans his name makes him almost cum on the spot. “Fuck,” he breathes, “warn a guy.”

Brett chuckles as he captures his lips for another kiss mere seconds before he pulls back out and thrusts back in, fast and hard, yet not quite hard enough. Brett does it again, harder this time — testing how far he can go, or how much he has to hold back.

Stiles moans into the kiss when he does it for a third time, unable to stay quiet any longer.

“Okay?” Brett asks, stilling again.

“Yeah,” Stiles gasps, “better than okay.”

Brett lets out a breath. “You’re perfect,” he mutters, and it almost sounds like a curse. But Stiles can’t be bothered. Now that they’re here, he’d like to feel it for as long as he can, even when Brett won’t be leaving his side anytime soon — or ever, hopefully. God, he wants his marks all over his body, wants to feel this with every step he takes.

Brett seems to be thinking along a similar vein because he keeps the pace, fucking Stiles as if he’s got every intention to leave his mark everywhere. His fingers curl around Stiles’ dicks again, adding more fuel to the fire burning absolutely everywhere inside of him.

Stiles digs his fingers into Brett’s back, feeling his muscles tighten as he rushes towards his orgasm.

They’re hardly kissing any longer, instead, they’re breathing, gasping, moaning against each other’s mouths — lips brushing against each other’s more an accident than purpose.

And then, it hits him. His orgasm cuts to his core, and Stiles throws his head back.

Brett holds him, fucks him, until he collapses on top of him, boneless, skin hot and sweaty, face hidden in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

His brain is still trying to catch up while his heart is already beating in sync with Brett’s. His body truly never fails to disappoint. Stiles lets out a soft breath and runs his fingers through the blond strands. “I could get used to this.”

Growling quietly, Brett nips at his skin.

Stiles flicks his ear. “What the hell was that for?”

Brett chuckles and props himself onto his elbows. His eyes are bright, his lips ever so kissable, and he ducks down and brushes their noses together. “I’m not going to get a quiet afterglow, do I?”

“Have you met me?” Stiles raises his brows, not exactly expecting an answer to a question that couldn’t be any more rhetorical if he tried. “I could offer you cuddles in exchange for the remote, though.” He’s going to finish that movie, even if he has to stay still in Brett’s arms for the rest of it.

Sighing dramatically, Brett kisses him again. “Fine.”

Stiles grins. “I love you.” Three words he’s been wanting to say for years.

“I love you too.” But hearing them feels so much better.

#briles #stiles stilinski #brett talbot #teen wolf #brett x stiles #stiles x brett #kinktober 2023 #*tv:teen wolf #*w:kinktober2023 #*w:complete #*s:briles

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