#please tell me tags exist for this man he drives me insane

[h-------heh-ggg]

hhhiiiiiiiii guys..

how we feeling about the solarballs rule change chat

non existy is in the blank space actually sorry not sorry

[myeuphoricmindset]

Haunted by you — Eddie Munson

↳ chapter ten

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine

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Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Warnings/tags | here. minors DNI

Word count | 5.2k

This is the last chapter, so brace yourself.

divider by @cafekitsune | art at the end of the chapter is by ari_ylosputets on Instagram

The intensity of Eddie’s gaze leaves Daisy breathless, as if her lung has been punctured. Struggling to explain herself, Eddie just looks at her with an expression she can’t quite grasp. Dustin intervenes, gently pulling her aside, and offering comforting words.

“Maybe he just needs some time,” Dustin suggests, his voice soft.

Daisy, feeling numb, doesn’t wipe her wet face. “He promised,” she mutters, her pain evident.

Yet, Dustin can’t understand. No one can. Wayne talks to Eddie by the bedside, but Eddie’s eyes keep wandering to Daisy. She longs for his gaze to soften, for him to utter her name, but it remains unspoken.

Turning to Dustin, Daisy, broken, pleads, “I want to wait. Please.”

He hesitates, frowning. “How about I call you when he asks for you? He needs time to rest and regain strength. ”

Daisy senses his desire to ease her out of the room. Oblivious to the stress she’s causing Eddie, consumed by emotion, she hesitates but eventually agrees, “Okay.” But, she can’t bring herself to move.

Dustin guides her towards the door, assuring her everything will be okay. Like a zombie, Daisy shuffles, her gaze pleading with Eddie. She begs him to remember, her voice silent within.

As they exit, a soft voice interrupts, “Wayne, Hi.”

Daisy’s attention shifts, and she notices Chrissy and a man entering – Gareth from Eddie’s hellfire group, holding Chrissy’s hand. She recognizes his soft face and curly hair. 

Chrissy’s smile fades as she sees Daisy’s state. Before she can ask, Dustin mumbles something to her, guiding Daisy out. It feels like an out-of-body experience; Daisy is walking, yet her legs are numb.

Just before the door closes, Eddie’s raspy voice greets Chrissy and Gareth. Daisy’s heart breaks, realizing he remembers everyone but her. Did their connection exist if it’s a memory she alone holds? Daisy now feels like an outsider, tied only to Eddie’s soul and surrounded by those connected to his life. 

“Daisy, can you tell me your number?” Dustin asks in the hallway.

Staring into space, Daisy struggles to recall her number, feeling the information buried within her mind. “I’m sorry. I can see how upsetting this is for you,” Dustin comforts her. “He just woke up a few hours ago; it might take time for all his memories to come back.”

Despite her feelings, Daisy nods, gathering herself to write down her number and thank Dustin before leaving. Her heart aches as she gets further from Eddie. Driving home takes strength, and she hopes for Dustin’s call with good news.

Her heart aches the further she gets from Eddie. It takes a couple of hours for Daisy to gain enough strength to drive home. She hoped to receive a call on her cell phone from Dustin with good news, ready to run into the building and crawl into Eddie’s arms. He would tell her he was sorry and she would say it wouldn’t matter because everything was finally right. 

But the call she hoped for never came. After two agonizing days, Daisy gathers the courage to dial Dustin. Thankful that Steve shared Dustin’s number, she would have gone insane waiting. Avoiding Oakridge to spare Eddie from fear, she calls in desperate anticipation.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Dustin’s voice on the other end delivers a heavy blow.

Covering her mouth, Daisy tries to conceal the sobs rising in her throat. Dustin explains that Eddie was discharged from Oakridge and is now under Wayne’s care. Relief washes over her upon hearing he’s doing well, potentially preventing a complete breakdown. Dustin promises an update soon, and Daisy forces her voice to steadiness, managing a thank you before hanging up.

“I’ll be waiting.” Eddie’s voice echoes in Daisy’s mind from their last encounter.

But he wasn’t waiting. Not in this life or any other. His promise hangs around her like a noose.

The house is eerily quiet, and Daisy despises it. The absence of signs that he was ever there tortures her – no toothbrush on the bathroom sink, no coffee mug on the dining table, and no clothes in the closet that carry his scent. On the seventh day, Daisy wonders if it was all a dream. Without evidence, where is the proof that it was real?

The moon looms high as Daisy sits up from the couch, the old grandfather clock’s chime echoing through the silent house. Crumbs fall off her stained white t-shirt as she rushes to the door under the stairs. The safe light bathes the small room in red as Daisy begins to develop the film in her dark room.

The process feels drawn out, but it’s because Daisy is eager for results. A sound between a gasp and a sob escapes as she looks at the photo of Eddie standing in front of the house. It worked, and she can’t even share it with him. Deflated, she sits in the small chair, staring at the faint shadow in the photo. Not as clear as a normal person, yet it doesn’t matter. She knows exactly what he looks like, and this is enough for her to hold on to – proof that they were something, whether he remembers or not.

Before going to bed, Daisy sneaks into the kitchen and dials the number she’s memorized by heart.

The line clicks, and hope swells within Daisy despite the passing weeks.

“Hey Daisy,” Dustin says.

“Hi, Dustin. How are you?” she asks, masking her urgency with politeness.

“I’m doing good. You? Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

Merry Christmas echoes in Daisy’s head, though there’s no merriment in her. There’s only anticipation for news she’s been dying to hear.

“Merry Christmas. How is Eddie?” she asks, the words rushing out, waiting desperately for an answer.

Dustin sighs, and Daisy closes her eyes in pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you asked him? Does he know I’m here waiting? Mention my name, and maybe he might—” Daisy gets cut off.

“Daisy, I think it’s time to try and move forward. It’s been weeks, and it would be healthy for you to let this go.”

“Let it go?” Anger heats Daisy. “No, he just needs to be told about me. Maybe it will jog his memory. Let me come back and visit him. I know you said he needs time to recover, but it’s been enough. I can come by tomorrow.”

“No, you can’t come by to see him.”

“Why? Everyone else visits him. It will be good for him to see me; that’s the only thing I haven’t tried yet.”

“Daisy, stop. Look, we’ve become friends over these weeks, so I’m going to be honest with you, and hopefully, you can be honest with me. Okay?” Dustin waits for Daisy’s response.

Hesitating, she faintly replies, “Okay.”

“Eddie remembers everyone he knows, everyone who reached out. He even remembers people he barely knew—everyone except you. The last time you called, I pulled out Eddie’s old yearbooks and searched for your name, but you weren’t in any of them. I even went back to elementary school. It’s difficult to talk to Eddie about someone who never existed in his life before. I’m not saying you’re lying, but there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Daisy slides down onto the floor, clutching the phone to her ear, too weak to stand. Everything hurts as she grapples with the realization that Eddie remembers everyone but her. He’s fine, and she’s broken. Struggling to find the right words, she can’t reveal how she knows Eddie; it sounds crazier than being a fucking stalker. Both options are bad, and the pain makes it impossible to articulate the truth.

Her voice shaky, eyes full of tears, Daisy finally speaks, “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you were. I’m just asking for your honesty,” Dustin responds.

She can’t be honest. The fear of returning to a mental hospital at a young age lingers, affecting her as an adult. So, she stays silent. The silence builds on the phone, and Dustin finally breaks it.

“I’m here for you if you ever want to talk, but for now…I think it’s time you move forward. Whatever you’re going through, I hope you find some peace. Happy holidays, Daisy.”

Daisy whispers goodbye after Dustin already hung up, listening to the beeping that triggers her first memory of Eddie when she called the police. She laughs, strangled around a sob, longing to go back to that night.

Quietly, she walks to the couch in the dark living room, snuggling under blankets with her tear-soaked pillow. Footsteps catch her attention, and she squints as the dim lamp flicks on. Sloan looks down with concerned eyes.

“Sorry, I thought I heard the phone.”

Daisy grimaces, “You did. I just had to make a quick call.”

Hoping the darkness would conceal her puffy eyes, nothing escapes Sloan’s notice. Daisy has been here for two days and Sloan has been watching her closely, constantly asking if she’s okay. Daisy smiles, insisting she is, but Sloan doesn’t believe her.

“This late? Is everything okay?” Sloan asks.

“Yes.”

Daisy managed to stay home for Thanksgiving, but she couldn’t escape Christmas without Sloan’s questions. All she wanted was to stay home in case Eddie showed up. 

Sloan squeezes onto the edge of the couch and sighs. “Daisy, you’re not telling me what’s going on with you. I’m really concerned.”

They exchange looks in the dim light, and Daisy, exhausted, feels the weight of holding back her pain. Maybe letting it out will bring relief; she’s tired of feeling so alone. Doubt creeps in – what if Sloan thinks she’s crazy? What if she doesn’t believe her? Will she laugh? She wants to ask Sloan to promise she’ll believe her, but promises mean nothing now.

“I’ll tell you, but please don’t leave me,” Daisy pleads.

Sloan’s face shifts into seriousness, and she grabs Daisy’s hand, squeezing it. “I would never leave you.”

Spilling her heart out, Daisy tells Sloan everything. Tears flow, and Sloan wipes a few away as she listens. The more she shares, the lighter Daisy feels.

“Do you think I’m…crazy?” Daisy asks when the silence settles.

Sloan rolls her eyes. “Of course not. I’d never think that. It’s a little beyond what I’ve ever imagined, but somehow I can believe it. I’m just sad you didn’t tell me. This is too much for one person to handle alone.”

“Well, I’m not handling it well at all.”

They share a soft laugh.

“Yeah, leave that poor Dustin alone,” Sloan says.

Daisy’s laughter fades as she wipes her face. “What do I do now?”

Sloan gives Daisy a look, pushes her over, and cuddles up on the couch. Daisy instantly feels comforted by Sloan’s embrace, reminiscent of their younger days.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe it’s time to focus on you. It’s not good for you to be in the state you’re in. If it’s meant to be with him, he will come back.”

Daisy closes her eyes; Eddie’s smiling face flashes before her, and she lets out a shaky breath. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

Daisy struggles to fathom life without Eddie, but a whisper within urges her to try – try to focus on a new future, let go of the past, and release the hope holding her back from healing.

The photo hangs beautifully where her portrait once adorned the spot. Printing it this large costs a pretty penny, but Daisy finds it worth every cent. Busy with work, she’s managed to afford this indulgence. Daisy gazes up at the picture of the house, her eyes fixated on the shadow of a man atop the steps. Now standing where her mother once stood, she admires a photo of someone only known from memory.

Perhaps this is how she moves on – entering this room in secret to envision what life could have been like when she’s feeling down. 

She loved him in secret, and now she always will, haunted by him forever.

Closing the bedroom door and turning off the hallway light, Daisy grabs her car keys near the front door. The quiet house has become familiar over the weeks, but she still finds herself looking for him. In the late hours, she imagines him calling her. A solo movie night provides a brief escape, allowing herself to be sad only once a week. With closed eyes, she listens to the movie Ghost playing in the background, imagining Eddie’s funny remarks after a Patrick Swayze scene. It serves to keep the pain light. These rules aim to be healthy, a pathway to move forward and heal, but only time will tell.

The family video store is crowded tonight. Daisy planned to drop off the movie and head home, but she found herself wandering the aisles, glancing at new releases. Everything is either rented out or uninteresting. Deciding to return her rental, she freezes at the end of an aisle, breath catching at the sight of Eddie in line to rent a movie.

Eddie appears healthy and happy, sparking a bloom within Daisy just by looking at him. She hasn’t seen him since the day he woke up, and she has to pinch herself to ensure it’s real. Her nails dig into her skin, wincing at the pain but smiling because it’s real.

Eddie moves up in line, just one person ahead of him. Panic sets in; what should she do? Say hi? Leave? Would he even recognize her? Someone bumps into her, breaking her trance on Eddie. She needs to pull herself together; she might come across as a creep. 

Eddie moves up to the counter, and Daisy senses her chance slipping away. Her feet move before she can formulate a plan on how to approach him. Eddie places the movie Lost Boys on the counter, greeting the girl behind it. His voice, oh god – Daisy melts at the sound, gravitating towards him.

“You might like this too,” Daisy mumbles, barely able to speak as his eyes meet hers.

She places the movie Ghost on the counter next to his. Perhaps there’s hope that if he notices the movie, it will jog his memory. Please remember, Daisy begs in her mind.

There’s no recognition in his eyes, and hope dwindles within her. Still, he smiles at her, like a passing stranger.

“Thank you,” Eddie says as he glances down at the movie. “Romance?”

Daisy shrugs with one shoulder, trying to remain calm. “Supernatural suspense romance.”

Eddie nods, “Now you’ve got my attention.”

I do, Daisy thinks to herself. The girl behind the counter clears her throat and asks Eddie if he has a family video rewards card.

His brow furrows, “Uh, I don’t think I do.”

Daisy pulls her card out of her purse and places it on the counter. “Here, use this.”

The girl hesitates but sighs before taking it. “Daisy Morgan?”

“Yes.”

Eddie looks at her as if he’s searching for his words. Daisy meets his gaze, holding her breath for the moment his eyes shift to something familiar. But, they don’t. Seconds feel like an eternity, and she doesn’t break his eye contact as hope still hangs on. 

The card slaps onto the countertop, breaking their shared eye contact, and Daisy’s heart drops the second Eddie looks away. The girl tells Eddie his total, and he focuses on renting his movies. Daisy suddenly feels overwhelmed by the reality of it all. The air in the building is stale and hot, and she walks out just to inhale fresh air, her lungs burning.

He doesn’t remember. It hurts, and Daisy can feel the pain as raw as the day she heard those three words, “who are you”.

She wraps her jacket tightly around her before she starts walking to her car. It’s time to let this all go. Time to let him go. It’s clear now, more than ever before, that he’s not going to remember. He’s not coming back to her.

“Hey!”

Daisy looks back over her shoulder and sees Eddie walking after her. His brown curls bounce with each step, and his smile pierces her heart.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says as he stands before her in the middle of the parking lot.

“It’s no problem at all.”

“I’m Eddie,” he extends his hand and smiles.

Daisy slowly lifts her hand, her heart beating faster at the fact that she’s about to touch him. When their hands meet, Daisy’s stomach flips. His hand is still as soft as she remembers, but his fingers have hard calluses.

“I play guitar,” Eddie explains.

Daisy’s cheeks turn red as she realizes she mumbled the word “calluses” out loud.

“Do…I know you? Sorry, you just look so familiar.”

Yes, Daisy screams within. Her hand is still in his, and she wants to pull him close, snuggle into his arms, and remind him of everything they’ve been through together. But a loud honk breaks their moment. Eddie’s eyes flick up in the direction of a van parked off to the back of the parking lot. Eddie’s hand slips from hers as he flips off whoever is in the driver’s seat.

“Shit, I’ve gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” Eddie says.

Daisy places her hands in her jacket pocket, trying to conceal the remaining warmth of his touch. “I’d like that.”

“Bye, Daisy.”

Daisy softly gasps at the sound of her name on his lips. It’s the best thing she’s ever heard, and she wants to record it, keeping it playing on a loop. She watches Eddie run to the van, opening the driver’s side and pushing aside whoever’s in the car so he can drive off.

The emotions of being hopeful and hopeless keep hitting her, and it feels like whiplash. She doesn’t know what the future holds, but what she does know is that Eddie knows her name, and that is more than what he knew before. 

Max and Lucas’s wedding ceremony was so beautiful, filled with love and laughter. Daisy’s face hurt from smiling so much. Everything was going perfectly, and she was capturing every special moment of their big day. It couldn’t have been better.

“They look happy,” Steve says to Daisy with a proud gleam in his eyes.

“They do.”

They both stand at the edge of the dance floor, watching Max and Lucas dance around surrounded by their loved ones. Daisy had never photographed or attended a late wedding like this before, but with it being New Year’s Eve, it was special. 

The way everyone moved around under the moon and stars felt almost magical as they neared midnight. Heaters set up around the outdoor venue made it comfortable to withstand the cold winter air. Daisy didn’t even have a jacket over her black dress because she had been moving around so much to take photos. The mix of hot and cold air felt nice.

“Dance with me!” Robin shouts over the music as she runs up and grabs Steve’s hand.

“No, absolutely not.”

Robin groans. “You promised to be a good date.”

Steve looks at Daisy for help, and Daisy laughs, “You better keep that promise or Sloan is going to kick your ass.”

“I should be kicking her ass for not being here,” Steve says.

“I’d pay to see that.”

“Me too,” Robin says with a laugh, “Because you wouldn’t have a chance.”

“She’s right,” Daisy says, patting Steve on the back. “Now, go dance.”

Robin pulls Steve onto the dance floor before he can say another word. Daisy smiles and brings her camera up to take a photo of them. Max and Lucas notice them and pull them into their dance circle. The shutter on Daisy’s camera clicks over and over as she captures photos that make her heart swell with joy.

“Daisy! We’ve got enough photos. Enjoy the party with us,” Max shouts, and she waves her over.

“Okay, after this song.” Daisy smiles at her before taking another photo.

As Daisy lifts her camera to her eye, the song changes to something familiar. Her heart nearly stops beating when she realizes it’s “Unchained Melody” that’s beginning to play, and then she spots Eddie.

She lowers the camera from her face as he walks through the dance floor to her. He’s wearing a black suit, his curls loose around his face. Daisy can hardly breathe as he stops before her and extends his hand.

“May I have this dance, little flower?”

The voice in the song sings “are you still mine,” and Daisy’s eyes rimmed with tears. She gently places her camera on the table beside her and meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Yes,” Daisy whispers before taking his hand.

Before she can take her next breath, Eddie pulls her into him, and her chest presses against his. His smell envelops her, and she closes her eyes, taking it all in—the way his hand feels in hers, his curls tickling her cheek, and his warm breath against her temple. It’s everything she never had. 

Eddie tilts her chin up to where her eyes meet his. “How could I have ever forgotten you? I’m so sorry, Dais.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I would have gone mad without you. I can’t imagine how you’ve felt these past weeks.”

A tear falls down her cheek, and Eddie leans down to kiss it away. Her arms wrap around his neck, needing more of him. “How did it come back to you?”

Eddie nods over to the DJ booth where the song pours out of the speakers, and Daisy smiles. 

“The movie.” She whispers to herself. 

Then, Daisy catches sight of Dustin, flashing her a smile and a small wave before blending into the lively party by the lake. Gratitude swells within her for the newfound friendship and the help he was finally able to give. It’s only at this moment that she becomes aware of the deserted dance floor, leaving her and Eddie alone with the faint song playing in the background. 

Eddie brushes his knuckles softly against her cheek, and Daisy fights the urge to close her eyes. His soft and loving gaze keeps her captivated.

“Every night I was haunted by these dreams where I was stuck somewhere, unable to get free. But then I’d see this beautiful girl in the distance, but I couldn’t get to her. I was only able to see glimpses of her features. It wasn’t until I saw you at the video store that I felt like I was seeing her more clearly. Seeing you more clearly. I went home that night feeling so confused and frustrated because something was missing. It’s been missing since I woke up, and I couldn’t figure it out, until I did. It was you. The missing piece was you, Daisy.”

The wedding party and guests softly counted down from ten in the distance, but Daisy felt like she was frozen in time with Eddie.

Ten 

Nine 

Eight 

“I promised you that I’d find you,” Eddie says.

Five 

Four 

“Took you long enough,” Daisy says teasingly, and they both laugh.

Two 

One 

Eddie bends down, cradling Daisy’s face in his hands, and kisses her as the fireworks burst in the distance. The wedding party celebrates while vibrant hues bloom in the sky. Amidst it all, Daisy senses a firework ablaze within her chest, ignited by Eddie’s kiss.

One of his hands wrapped around the back of her neck while the other wrapped around her waist. His kiss was soft but eager. He held her just right, and she felt as if she could melt between his grasp.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eddie mumbles against her lips, and she smiles.

Daisy seizes her camera, intertwining her fingers with Eddie’s as they sprint up the hill, weaving through the trees to reach the parking lot. Amidst stumbling and intermittent pauses for kisses, their laughter resonates, causing a delightful ache in their bellies. Happiness radiates from Daisy, evident in her bright smile and the way her gaze lights up when she looks at Eddie. The once-dimmed light without him is now shining brilliantly.

Against the exterior of his van, Eddie presses Daisy, their kiss intensifying, embodying a sense of urgency.

“I never gave up on you,” Daisy utters between their breathtaking kisses.

“I don’t deserve you,” he responds, fingers interlocked with hers as their lips meet again. His warm kiss elicits a whimper from Daisy.

Amidst the passion, Daisy registers Eddie’s words and catches her breath enough to murmur, “Don’t say that.”

“Tell me you forgive me,” Eddie softly insists, his lips moving to her neck.

Daisy steadies his gaze by holding his face. “Eddie, there is nothing to be forgiven for. What you went through was not your fault and completely out of your control. I’m just so happy you came back to me.”

A subtle release of tension passes through Eddie as if he is finally able to breathe. Daisy hugs him tightly, her body shaking.

“Are you cold? Fuck, you’re cold. You’re not even wearing a jacket.” Eddie swiftly removes his suit jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The warmth envelops her like heaven.

“Come on, get inside the van, and I’ll turn on the heat.” Eddie guides her to the passenger seat, ensuring she’s settled before joining her in the driver’s seat. While waiting for the warmth to envelop them, Eddie holds Daisy’s hands in his, breathing warm air on them to keep her comfortable.

“Such a gentleman,” Daisy remarks, watching him.

He looks up at her through his lashes, blowing another warm breath against her hands. “I’m trying really hard,” he says before kissing her palms.

A profound tension lingers between them, an undeniable force that has been building since the day they met. Daisy leans forward, initiating a kiss. Eddie, as if anticipating her return, surrenders to the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her onto his lap. With a swift adjustment, Eddie reclines the seat to ensure her comfort.

Daisy shifts her leg, straddling him, her dress cascading around her hips and the top of her thighs. The closeness feels both comfortable and right. Eddie’s hands gently rub her back as she kisses him, the warmth of his body palpable between her legs, only separated by her panties. His tongue brushes over her bottom lip, slipping back into her mouth, eliciting a sound that causes Eddie to groan with desire.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Eddie confesses as he begins kissing her neck.

Daisy moans in agreement, “Yes.”

Her hands weave through his hair, and he responds with a moan of his own—a perfect melody, second only to her name on his lips.

“I want you,” he growls in a low tone.

“Here?”

“Here. Anywhere. Now.” He crushes his lips into hers, his hands finding her legs, moving up slowly. Stopping at her thighs, his fingertips trace the hem of her dress, silently pleading for more.

Daisy laughs while continuing to kiss him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait.”

Eddie smirks, looking at her, “Can you blame me? You’re perfect, and I haven’t been touched in years. Your hands in my hair are enough to make me come.”

Daisy gasps, laughter filling the van. Tugging on his hair, he squeezes her thighs, “Hey, come on now.”

“Sorry, just testing the theory,” Daisy says with a smug expression.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a tease.” He leans in, biting her neck with care, causing pleasure without pain.

Before Daisy can retort, his lips find hers again, kissing with increased intensity.

“I want you too,” Daisy finally admits, opening herself to him.

Eddie’s fingers move swiftly to unzip her dress as she yanks off his tie. The fabric cascades from her shoulder, collecting around her waist, revealing her bare chest to Eddie, whose eyes widen with lust.

“Fuck. You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

“Maybe you can do the touching this time.”

Eddie smirks, licking his bottom lip. His hands cup her breast, and she gasps softly. His thumbs brush over her hard nipples, his mouth finding one before she can fully grasp his touch.

“Eddie,” she moans, her hands tugging at his hair.

Moving her hips against him, she desperately seeks friction where the heat is building. A low groan escapes Eddie’s throat. He bites softly around her nipple, and she cries out. The heat in the van fogs up the windows, and, parked far from the party, they aren’t worried about being seen or heard.

“Please,” she begs.

Eddie’s hands move beneath the fabric of her dress, pulling it over her head. Her hands are on his chest, pulling at his buttons; a few pop off and disappear. His laughter causes her stomach to flutter, and he kisses her.

“I love it when you’re desperate for me,” he murmurs against her kiss.

She smiles, “Stop making me wait.” Her hands find his belt and unbuckle it.

He’s so hard against her; she can feel it through his pants. Lifting slightly, she guides his pants down, and the moment she drops herself down into his lap again, he’s so hard against her that the thud of his cock hitting her thin panties makes her gasp. Now, she’s throbbing for him, and they both can’t wait any longer.

“Condom?” She asks quietly.

“I do, but it’s probably seven years old. I wasn’t expecting this tonight.” He laughs lightly.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control anyway.”

With that, he kisses her, gripping her hips, and guiding her down onto him. The van is filled with gasps and moans as they both finally release the growing tension.

“You feel so fucking good,” Eddie groans, his fingertips digging into her hips as she pounds down on him harder.

“I don’t ever want to not touch you again,” Daisy says breathlessly.

He laughs, but it ends in a whimper as she moves her hips just right. He wraps his hand in her hair, pulling her head back, and exposing her neck. His tongue moves up her skin and to her jawline.

“That’s it,” he murmurs into her ear as she moves just right.

Their lips find each other, clinging onto their pleasure, but soon it spills over, and they both fall limp into each other’s arms. Daisy’s name on his lips still echoes in her mind, and she smiles because it sounds even sweeter in his ecstasy.

Eddie softly strokes Daisy’s hair as she rests her head on his shoulder, her arms draped over his neck. He makes small circles along her back as their breathing returns to normal.

This time he whispers three words that repair her broken heart. “I love you.”

She lifts her head and moves back a curl that’s fallen in his pretty face. His brown eyes are filled with love and familiarity, a look that she longed for when she first saw him awake.

“I love you too.”

They stay like that, cuddled in each other’s arms, trying to make up for lost time. When Daisy finally gets up, he helps her put her dress on before fixing himself.

“Now what?” Daisy says, looking over at Eddie. She can’t help the big smile on her face.

Eddie takes her hand with one hand, and with the other, he grabs the steering wheel. With a smile that matches hers, he says, “Home.”

THE END

★

Thank you all who have commented, reblogged and liked this story. It’s been so fun to write. I really appreciate the love I’ve been receiving. I hope the ending left everyone feeling happy.

Happy holidays to you all.

Taglist:

@eddiemunson4life420 @boxofsmittens @sweet-villain @all-time-otaku @steveoswhore @randomreader1999@erinekc @ficwrld @randomreader1999 @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth @tlclick73 @citychick86 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @erinekc @mandyjo8719 @sapphire4082

[gauntlings]

i keep seeing you tag things for lauralene please tell me more about her 👀👀

Detailed character info under the cut, in cast that's not your thing so sorryyyy

You have no idea how giddy seeing this question made me oh my god! I had to bust out the laptop to type this one all out lmao

Yes of course! Lauralene Lark is my VTM vampire OC who I currently play in a Victorian London campaign setting with some of my best friends.

Lauralene is truly one of my favorite characters ever, and I've put her smack dab in arguably the best/worst setting for a girl like her.

She's my southern siren. A southern belle from the states who was turned in France around the late 1700's, while in her early 20's, the prime of her life. She was accompanying her brother on business matters but secretly was always trying to elbow her way into the spotlight. There she met her sire, and was turned. She is from the Daughters of Cacophony bloodline, which means she can drive people to insanity or into submission with her voice, and baby girl is maxed out on charisma, manipulation, and performance.

While she is known for her voice, she is primarily a rising star as an actress on the stage in London. She was deeply maddeningly sickeningly in love with her lesbian sire whose whims she followed for the better part of a century, before ultimately being abandoned by her for reasons still unclear. The breakup is still a wound she carries, but she's gone through enough lately that she is in the anger stage about being abandoned, and is striving for personal success as a fuck you to her sire. She's petty as fuck when she wants to be, which is often.

She recently had her career take off and her personal life become absolutely destroyed by recent campaign events which I will not bore you with lol. Also worth mentioning: in our game Lauralene is the real life inspiration for Christine Daae from Phantom of the Opera. Her domain is the Royal Opera House, and her toxic jealous ex (the man who almost turned her, but who was not quick enough) is the basically her Phantom, & is working to reveal vampire existence to all of London & the world. He is obsessed with turning her to his side, which is currently very tempting and very dangerous. He is on the side of the enemy, known as The Sabbat, and Lauralene is tentatively gaining status as a member of the vampire Camarilla. And to associate with him would mean insta-death.

Additional fun tidbits:

- She has made a deal with a demon, which has made her an enemy of someone very important to a person in power

- She is helping drive asylum patients to madness for a scientific study

- She's very good at driving other vampires into a blood frenzy, albeit unintentionally 🤪 Very girl slay of her if you ask me but I'm biased.

- Prince Mithras of London wants to kill and eat her annoying ass. Not in the sexy way 😩

God there's honestly so much more about her since I've been playing her since March of last year, but she is my Lady Lazarus, my Persephone self-insert, and my own romantic embodiment of the lure of death.

I have a pinterest board for her as well and a spotify playlist because I can't casually engage with anything I enjoy I have to be weird about it always 🤦‍♀️❤️

[just-call-me-angel]

The Perfect Girl

Warnings: nsft content, non-con/dub-con elements, manipulation, slut shaming, Reader is Ruby Sparks, author is a disgusting little Calvin Weir-field's apologist

Author's Note: I am not ashamed to admit that I have had severe brain rot over Calvin Weir-Fields since the moment I saw Ruby Sparks. I am a Calvin apologist first and a person second. Please be mindful of the tags, this fic involves heavy non-con/dub-con elements that may be triggering. If this is not something you are interested in I ask that you simply move past my fic and forget it even exists. (Curate your online experience how you want it to be!)If you do read the fic and enjoy it feel free to leave some comments for me to read later when I inevitably come back to read through this and giggle like an idiot over Calvin being a dickhead.

Pairing: Calvin Weir Fields X Reader

Summary: Calvin should hate himself for how easy it is to lie to you. He should hate himself for how much he enjoys bending you to his will. But he doesn't hate himself, he doesn't even try. In the beginning, he had tried to delude himself into thinking he was doing the right thing in rewriting you. He told himself he was helping you and for a time he was content in believing that it was true. But with every edit he made to you it became clear it wasn't about making you happy anymore. It was about him. Because the truth was that Calvin was a selfish man who wanted you all to himself. He wanted you to belong to him. He had made you after all, was it so awful for him to want to keep you as his perfect girl?

Ao3

You should have known the night wasn’t going to end well as soon as Calvin had reminded you about that stupid fucking party.  You should have told him to just go on his own. Maybe then you wouldn’t have ended up arguing.

Or maybe you still would have argued. These days you never really knew what to expect from Calvin. Hell you barely knew what to expect from yourself anymore. You were in a constant loop of going from extremely happy, giggling as Calvin kissed the back of your neck while you tried to cook to so depressed that you’d taken to locking yourself up in the spare room so Calvin wouldn’t see you crying to angry at everything, especially Calvin and then back to happy. 

It was driving you insane. You were tired, you were frustrated and your feet were fucking burning after standing in heels all night. The last thing you wanted to do right now argued. But that didn’t stop Calvin from tearing into you as you tried your best to ignore him.

“You’re supposed to be my fucking girlfriend, (Y/N)”

You scoffed, tugging your heels off and tossing them aside, “I AM your girlfriend.” 

“Then fucking act like it”

You rolled your eyes, shoving past him to enter your shared bedroom, “Oh I’m sorry I wasn’t acting like the idealized version you have of me in your fucking head.” you shook your head, “Jesus you can be such a fucking prude sometimes.”

“No! Because you don’t want me doing anything!” you’re throat was already burning with the force of you shouting at him, “You have all these fucking rules and you don’t tell me until, WHOOPS– I’ve broken one! And then you get to be a self-entitled prick and act all disappointed in me?”

It was Calvin's turn to scoff as he followed you into the room, “ I’m a prude? Why because I don’t want you skinny dipping with other men?”

He stalked towards you, frustratingly less shaken than you were, “Okay.. You wanna know my rules?” he spoke to you like you were a child, “ Don't fuck other men. Don’t let other men think about fucking you.” 

“So now I’m responsible for what people think too?” 

He nodded as if you had asked him the dumbest question, “Yea. You are responsible. When you act a certain way, it leads people on.” he pauses, looking you up and down for a moment as if assessing you, “When you take your clothes off at a party, it makes people think you’re a slut.”  he licked his lips, pushing he glasses back up his nose and leaning forward to stand eye level with you, “So i’d really prefer it if you didn’t do that. Is that clear enough for you?” 

You saw red as soon as the words ‘slut’ passed from his lips. “Fuck you Calvin.” You huffed, shaking your head and shoving roughly past him to get to the closet, tearing off your dress hastily, “I’m not your child for fucks sake. You don’t get to decide what I do.” You shuffled through your closet, grabbing one of your sleep shirts to toss on. You just wanted to go to bed.

“Wanna bet?”

You spun around, “What?”

He wasn’t looking at you as he spoke, “I’m pretty sure I can make you do whatever  I want.” 

You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek as you shook your head at him, “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do Calvin? Tie me up?”Any other day the idea of Calvin tying you up and controlling you might have made you feel hot between your thighs, but tonight it wasn’t a flirtatious remark, and you both knew it.

He shifted a little, “No, I don’t have to.” he tilted his head at you, expression flat as he pushed past you to leave the room. You stood there angrily for a moment, wiping at the tears already streaming down your reddened cheeks before following after him to find him standing quietly in front of his desk, holding a stack of papers.

He stared at the stack of papers for a moment and then peered at you, setting them down on his desk and motioning for you to come closer. Slowly you did, brows furrowed in confusion, as you hoped he’d just pull you into a hug and apologize for being an asshole so the two of you could finally go back to normal. Instead, he tapped the stack of papers for a moment and slipped the top sheet off of the stack. Calvin didn’t say a word, just silently handed you a piece of paper and waited for you to read it. You looked at the paper and then back up at him, trying to understand what he wanted from you.

“Calvin can we please just go to bed and we can talk about this tomorrow…” you sighed, already losing whatever fight you had left in you. You were so sick of arguing with him. You missed the old Calvin and you were desperately clinging on to the hope that the two of you would eventually go back to being the happy couple you had once been.

“Read it.” 

Slowly you read the first few lines on the page and with every word you became more confused and angrier. Calvin was writing about you. 

You stared at the paper for what felt like hours before looking up to meet his gaze. Everything was so confusing. Why was Calvin writing about you? Did he think this was some sort of joke? He didn’t seem at all bothered by the tears already forming in your eyes. It was terrifying the way he just watched you, waiting for you to react. You felt anger rise in your belly, why was he acting like this wasn’t even a big deal. Did he not understand that you could end the relationship in an instant? Did he not even care? 

“Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you Calvin.” you crumpled the paper and tossed it at him, “You can’t fucking write about me…. That's…. That's fucking personal!” You moved to hit his chest again, yelping when he caught you by the wrist. He squeezed your wrists hard, but still refused to speak a single word to you. You tried to pull your arms out of his grasp, but he refused to budge.

You waved the paper in front of him wildly, “What the fuck is this Calvin?” he didn’t answer, just cocked his head at you and stared blankly, “You can’t write about me.” you shouted, shaking the paper again, and slamming your fists against his chest. Still, he refused to react.

“Calvin. I'm fucking serious are you even fucking listening to me?” your throat was already burning before you could scream and shout at him as much as you really wanted to. He rolled his eyes. He actually fucking rolled his eyes and sighed like you were the one being unreasonable. 

“Calvin… You’re hurting me…. Dammit, let me go.” you pushed against him, scrambling to catch yourself when he finally released you to sit in his desk chair.

“What the fuck is going on with you Calvin?” you hissed, massaging your wrists, they were sure to bruise. “Calvin can you just answer me,”

He looked up at you, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tilted his jaw up at you exhaling heavily. “What do you want me to say, (Y/N)?” 

That was the final straw before you imploded, stomping out of the room to pack your things, “You know what fuck you, Calvin, you aren’t fucking worth it.” 

You shuffled through the house in a mad dash, grabbing your things and tossing them wildly into a bag as your vision blurred from the tears in your eyes. It didn’t even matter what you were grabbing at this point, you just needed to get the fuck out of here and as far away from Calvin as you possibly could. You had no idea what the fuck was going on with him lately but it scared you the way he seemed so fucking calm about the whole situation. He was writing about you. About things, you had never told him about and yet he somehow knew every single detail. It didn’t even fucking make any sense.

Scotty whimpered by the door, clearly distressed by the noise you were making moving around the house frantically. You passed the small dog, kneeling to kiss his head before entering Calvin’s office again, with your bag stuffed full and hanging off of your shoulder. Calvin remained exactly where you had left him, he didn’t even look up as you entered, he just stared at his typewriter.

“Calvin please.” you were crying now, hard enough to make your eyes burn and your chest ache. He began to type, you could barely see him through your tears but you could hear the click of each key locking into place. 

“Calvin,” you said voice trembling. He couldn’t even give you the common decency to end the relationship peacefully.

“Calvin,” you repeated a little louder, shaking your head when he still refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he pulled himself closer to his desk, fingers gliding over the keys of his typewriter.  

“Calvin?” you whimpered before you could stop yourself. You reached for the door again but it only made you feel dizzier until you crumbled to the floor with a sob. You looked up through teary eyes at Calvin as he stared over his typewriter, not daring to get up and help you. You tried not to think about the way he looked almost smug as he stared at you, it only seemed to make you feel worse.

You shook your head, “Have a good one Calvin…I’ll have someone come by and grab the rest of my stuff some other time.” you mumbled, not even really caring if he heard you at this point. He continued typing as you walked to the front door and didn’t stop until you were twisting the knob to open the door.

Suddenly you felt dizzy and you’re knees buckled under you causing you to lean against the door, wincing when your bag crashed to the floor. 

“Calvin please.” you sobbed, as he began to type again, light reflecting off his glasses and making his eyes impossible to see properly. 

“I told you I could make you do what I wanted,” he said lowly, voice barely above a whisper as he typed furiously. What was he even talking about? What was going on? Why were you even mad at him? Why were trying to leave? You couldn’t remember, trying to remember made your whole body ache. 

“Calvin please.” you cried, dragging yourself up slowly, letting out a broken sob when you felt an ache between your thighs, “Calvin… I don't…. I don’t know what's happening.” Why did you feel so hot all of the sudden? Why did you feel so dizzy? Why was Calvin writing while you were just 

laying there in agony? 

So many questions and each one only seemed to increase the ache between your thighs. You sobbed, curling your body forward into a ball on the floor.  You were so confused and you could still feel the anger lingering in the back of your mind but you just couldn’t reach it. 

“You were perfect (Y/N) why did you have to make me do this?” he asked softly as if he were speaking to a child. A tiny voice in your head begged you to tell him to fuck off but you couldn’t, the words got stuck in your throat, and instead, you whined for him. You needed him. You needed to apologize. You didn’t even know why you needed to apologize but it didn’t matter. You needed to make things right. It was like someone had gone in and rewritten your programming. 

“Calvin, please ‘m sorry.” you whimpered, shaky hands reaching out towards him even though you were too far to reach him. 

He crooned at you, shaking his head as he shoved away from his desk, patting his thigh gently, “Come here (Y/N). Poor thing you can’t even understand what's happening.” you scrambled forward without hesitation, every fiber of your being begged to be closer to him despite the angry little voice in the back of your mind that seemed to grow quieter and quieter with every passing minute. He helped you gently onto his lap, situating you so you straddled one of his thighs as he pulled his chair back towards his desk.

“ ‘m sorry Calvin, ‘m sorry,” you repeated through broken sobs as you leaned heavily against him, whimpering when he moved his knee to grind between your thighs where you were aching to have him. 

“I know baby I know, It’s alright, I’m gonna fix everything okay,” he hummed softly, one hand caressing wrapped around your waist while the other moved to bring his typewriter closer so you could read what he had been typing.

You whined, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt nervously,” Come on baby read it for me.” he directed softly, his hand moving from his typewriter down to your thigh. He waited patiently, fingers gliding over your skin, carefully moving beneath the bunched-up fabric of the dress you were wearing until you could feel his fingers just barely grazing over your panties. He didn’t move any further, clearly waiting for you to do as he had instructed.

With a sob, you obeyed, leaning forward a bit to better read the words on the page through the haze of your confusion, “ (Y/N) couldn’t leave Calvin. She needed him. (Y/N) couldn’t remember why she had been so angry or why she had tried to leave, all she knew was that she needed Calvin. Every time she tried to remember why she was angry she would feel desperate for Calvin.” You paused, choking on a whimper as he slowly moved his hand past the waist back of your panties, “Calvin, please… I’m…I don’t know what's happening… this doesn’t… this doesn’t make sense.”

“Shhh baby I know just keep reading, I’ll explain it all once you finish and then I’ll make it all better okay.” He whispered, gently brushing your hair over your shoulder with his free hand to leave kisses along the nape of your neck.

You whined but couldn’t bring yourself to disobey, Calvin knows what's best for me, Calvin always knows what's best for me. Taking a shaky breath you began to read the paper again, “ All (Y/N) knows is that she needs Calvin and only Calvin can give her what she needs. Only Calvin could make her feel better.” You let out a broken sob as another wave of heat burned through your body making your thighs tremble and your hips buck desperately against Calvin’s hand.

“You’re so close baby, just a little more and I’ll make you feel better like I promised.” he crooned, sucking on your neck, leaving purple bruises in his wake, “You want to feel better, don’t you? You want me to make you feel good?” he asked sweetly, letting his finger just barely graze over your clit causing you to sob, fingers grasping desperately at his shirt, an effort to pull him closer. “You want me to fix this don’t you baby?”You nodded, whining breathlessly when he motioned for you to continue and moved his hand to graze over your clit again. 

“Only Calvin could make the ache stop. Every time (Y/N) tried to remember being angry at Calvin she would become consumed with desire, unable to think of anything other than how badly she wanted Calvin and how desperately she needed to cum. She belonged with Calvin. She belonged to Calvin.” Upon reading the last words on the page Calvin blessedly moved to rub his thumb gently over your clit, cooing praise when you bucked into his hand. 

“Do you remember when you asked me earlier why I was writing about you, do you remember that baby?” he whispered against your jaw. You shook your head, whimpering when he nipped at your neck, “come on baby, try to remember” he encouraged, smiling against your skin as you shook your head.

“Please… ‘m sorry Calvin.” you whimpered, bucking your hips against his hand to lessen the ache still burning between your thighs. He chuckled, kissing at a bruise he had sucked into your skin moments before.

“I can’t…. Calvin… Can’t re-remember… hurts” you said through broken sobs. He hummed, rubbing soothing circles over your side with his free hand while his other hand remained between your thighs, lazily thumbing at your clit.

“You need me to remind you, baby?” he whispered, kissing along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at the skin when you didn’t give him an answer immediately.

“It's alright baby,” he hummed, moving his free hand from your side up to cradle your jaw to get you to look at him. Even through the blur of your tears, you could see his green eyes were blown out and dark with something between madness and lust. It terrified you and yet you couldn’t look away nor could you stop yourself from leaning into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand as it cupped your cheek. 

He smiled, wiping tears from your cheeks with his thumb, “You asked me why I was writing about you… do you remember that baby?” You shook your head, wincing when it made your vision blur even more. He nodded, his hand stilling against your cunt to make sure you were completely focused on his words, “Well I wasn’t just writing about you baby.” he paused watching your expression closely as you blinked back at him. 

He leaned in a little closer, pressing a kiss to your other cheek, catching the taste of your tears on his lips as he whispered, “I wrote you.” You froze completely, like a dear in headlights, eyes wide and brows furrowed as you tried to understand what he was talking about.

“W-what… What are you talking about?” You ask through hiccups and sniffles.

“I wrote you baby.” he paused, smiling as he traced little shapes on your cheek with his thumb, “Everything you are. Everything you do. Everything you have. It's all because of me. Because that’s how I wrote you.” The voice in the back of your head comes back, Leave! Leave! Get away from him! You have to leave! Don’t let him do this! He can’t do this! He can’t get away with this! Leave! ESCAPE! 

He smiles as he watches you wince with the force of the aching in your head coming back as you try desperately to remember what was going on before Calvin pulled you onto his lap. God, you just wanted the aching and the burning to stop. You wanted the voice in your head to shut up. You didn’t care why you couldn’t remember, you just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted Calvin to help you. You needed Calvin to make everything better. The yelling in your head comes to halt. The silence is deafening and it makes you cling harder to Calvin for a moment.

You pull his hand from between your thighs before he can stop you. He grunts, lurching forward to grab you until he realizes you are twisting around in his lap to face him. You fall into his chest, fingers grasping desperately at his shirt to pull him as close as possible while you sob into his shoulder. He sits frozen, momentarily shocked by your actions. He had expected you to fight him again, yet here you were curled into his lap, crying pathetically and begging for him to fix her. 

“Calvin please… it hurts so bad… please… I want it to stop…” your words came out broken, lost between your sobs, “Please… please Cal….you…you promised… you promised you would make it better.” 

Calvin had a moment of clarity. He should put a stop to this. He should let you go. He shouldn’t do this to you. But how could he possibly say no when you’re begging him to make everything better. 

He wraps his arms around you carefully, “shh baby I got you… I’m gonna fix this okay.” you sobbed harder, nodding into his shoulder, “I'm gonna make you feel better, just like I promised don’t worry.” Thank you. Thank you. God. Thank you, you think desperately clinging to him like he’s a god damn lifeline. He moves to stand up suddenly, making you nearly jump out of your skin but he’s holding you close enough that you don’t fall back. He taps your thighs, and you bring your legs around his waist before he even needs to say the words. 

He hums, you can feel the vibrations of him speaking but you don't hear what he's saying, all you know is he’s holding you and he’s never letting you go, and he’s going to make you feel better. He shuffles away from his desk quickly and shoves his desk chair so hard that it spins backward, hitting the wall with a thump that makes you yelp,  fists curling tighter into his shirt. 

“Sorry baby,” he mumbles pressing a kiss into your hair. It’s okay, I forgive you, you think, just fix this. Fix me. You don’t even realize he’s taking you to the bedroom until he’s leaning forward to gently lay you onto the mattress. You whine as he pulls away, no don't go, stay, you promised you would make this better, your voice echos desperately in your head. 

“You have to let me go for a moment baby, I’m not gonna leave you, I just need you to let me go so I can make you feel better remember?” he hummed, breath fanning over your neck and making you shiver. You whine again but allow him to pull away until he’s standing over you and you can barely see his face with the light behind him. 

Is this what salvation feels like?

You don’t have time to decide on an answer to your thoughts before his hands are on your thighs, tracing lines upwards until he’s got the hem of your skirt bunched up around your waist. You shift your legs to press into his touch, whining when he presses you back down into the bed.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, leaning forward to press kisses to your thighs. You whimper but don’t argue. Calvin always knew what was best for you. He hums in approval, sucking little bruises into your thighs as he makes his way up towards your panties.

He clicks his tongue, “Oh poor thing you’re soaked.” he tugs at the band of your panties with one hand while the other moves to lift your hips to guide the fabric down your thighs. 

“Thank you,” you whine breathlessly.

“Lift your hips again honey,” he tells you, shuffling to swipe his pillow from his side of the bed. You do as he says without question, legs trembling as you let him place the pillow under your hips. He is back between your thighs before you even have to beg him, pressing kisses to your thighs again until he reaches your cunt. You sob and move to push your legs together the moment his lips ghost over your clit. 

“Come on baby, you gotta open your legs for me to make you feel better.” he croons, tracing little circles over your hips, humming in encouragement when you shakily spread your legs again. 

“There ya go, sweetheart,” he whispers against the apex of your thigh, “Just let me take care of you baby.” You don’t even have to say a word before his lips are back on you, tongue lapping at the slick pooling between your thighs.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

You aren’t even sure if you’ve said the words aloud but it doesn’t matter when Calvin’s got his face pressed into your cunt like it fucking belongs there. He presses one hand against your hip while the other guides your legs up and over his shoulder. 

It’s unfair how quickly Calvin unravels you. A simple swipe of his tongue over your clit and his hand slipping down to join his mouth between your thighs and your mind goes hazy. He doesn’t even have to try very hard to slip two fingers into you, groaning against your cunt when he feels you squeeze around his fingers. 

“Christ, baby you’re a mess,” he says it like it's a compliment, curling his fingers against that sweet spot inside you that makes you go all stupid for him. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” you’re positive you’re saying the words aloud this time, distantly you can hear the airy whine of your voice beneath the haze you’re practically drowning in.

“Please” you whimper through broken sobs, fists curled into the bedsheets and cheeks flushed red and dripping with tears. He lifts his head from between your thighs, chin shining with your slick, smiling lazily at you with his glasses askew and foggy.

“So good for me sweetheart, such a pretty, perfect, little thing you are” he praises, slowly slipping a third finger into your weeping cunt, chuckling when you try moving your hips. He’s slow and meticulous in taking you apart but you’re already so impossibly close to the edge it makes you sob with every delicious curl of his fingers.

He presses his fingers deeper, thumb tracing tight circles over your clit that make you pant for him, “Please what baby? Tell me what you want.” You look at him through wet lashes, tears blurring at the edge of your vision as he presses gentle kisses on your thighs, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin when you don’t answer him immediately. He grins when he feels you clench around his fingers. You shake your head, shifting your hips to try to get him to move a little faster. 

 “Don’t be a brat now pretty girl,” he says, stopping almost instantly just letting you clench pathetically around his fingers, thighs trembling as you keep trying to move your hips against his hand. He presses his free hand to your hip, holding you down against the pillow tucked beneath you. 

“Come on baby, all you have to do is tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” He curls his fingers inside you, letting his thumb graze over your clit briefly and grinning at the way you turn to putty in his hands.

“Please… Please ‘m so close.” 

He hums in approval but remains still, leaning down slightly to press a kiss just above your clit. 

“Please… please….ple- fuck… please make me come.” 

He smiles, doesn’t even give you a chance to repeat yourself before he’s fucking his fingers back into you, “Atta girl…  See that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t even tell if you’re nodding or shaking your head, distantly you think you can hear yourself agreeing with him. Calvin’s right. Calvin’s always right. Calvin knows what’s best. Calvin always knows best.

“I’ll make you feel good baby,” he promises.

And he does. He doesn’t even have to fight to pull you over the edge. He latches onto your clit and your mind goes blank. And before you know it you’re falling over the edge, crying out Calvin’s name in broken sobs as you clench around his fingers. He groans, lapping at your cunt as if he needs it to survive while he fucks you through your climax.

You’re a mess beneath him babbling incoherently and he fucking loves it. He loves that he’s the only one who’s ever gotten to see you like this. He doesn’t even notice he’s rocking his hips against the mattress desperately seeking the tight heat between your trembling thighs until he hears you whining for him.

“I..” you whine, fingers curling into his hair and tugging lightly, “I want– fuck, please… I want you Cal… please…” 

He can’t even bring himself to tell them to say exactly what they want as much. He wants to tease it out of you, make you beg and cry for him to he fucks you like you need him to. But he needs you just as much as you need him. 

He leaves one last kiss over your clit, slowly slipping his fingers out of you with a slick noise. He pushes up onto his knees, cock straining beneath his pants. You tug him upwards with more force than he expected, fingers already grasping desperately at the buttons of his shirt. 

“Please” you whine, fumbling with his shirt, tugging on it in frustration when your fingers slip on the buttons. Calvin shuffles closer and moves his hands to guide yours to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Once his shirt is tossed to the side, you lay still beneath him, shaky hands making their way up to his chest as you stare up at him with a dazed smile. 

“Calvin please… make me feel good,” you whisper like it's a prayer, a silent confession of your sins.

Mercifully he answers your prayers in an instant, pulling you into a heated kiss, groaning when your fingers tangle into his hair. One hand reaches up to cradle your head while the other fumbles with his belt until he can shove his pants down too hastily to his thighs. He doesn’t even bother taking them off fully, and even if he tried you probably wouldn’t let him pull away from you enough to succeed. 

It’s exactly easy for him to situate himself between your thighs when you refuse to let him go but he manages well enough, grunting when he presses forward and lets his cock glide against your clit. He slips his fingers between your legs again and guides his cock against your cunt until he’s as soaked as you are.   

“Please” 

He doesn’t even make you ask him again before he’s pressing the tip of cock into you with a long-drawn-out groan.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuc- thank you” you sigh, pulling him impossibly close until you start to forget where you end and he begins as he presses deeper. 

He bottoms out with a low whine, gripping your hips as he lays over you for a moment, lost in the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around him. 

“You’re so fucking perfect.” he groans, pressing bruising kisses along your jaw and down your neck, one hand moving from your hips to tug at your top, bunching it up at your collarbone as he sucks a few bruises onto your chest. You roll your hips up, crying softly when he pulls back until only the tip of his cock is pressing into you. 

He looks down at you through fogged-up glasses, breath catching in his throat at the little smile you give him. You look at him like he’s saved you, and he crumbles instantly, hips driving into you until all you can do is stare up at him through teary eyes, his name falling from your lips like it's something sacred.

“You’d be lost without me wouldn’t you?” he asks, one hand back on your hip while the other guides your legs around his waist. You whine, nodding frantically, unable to form any words that aren’t his name.

“Pretty girl” 

“Fucking perfect.”

“Such a needy little thing.”

“All for me.”

All you can do is desperately pull him closer, your cunt clenching around him with every slow drag of his cock pulling out and driving back into you. He pulls you into a dizzying kiss, his hands shifting between the two of you until his thumb meets your clit and you jolt against him with a sob. 

“You’re already so close aren’t you?” he hums, pressing so deep you swear you can feel his cock in your stomach, as his thumb rubs quick tight circles around your clit. 

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please

“Go on sweet girl, come for me”

It takes barely a minute for you to fall apart all over again, tight cunt spasming around him as he continues fucking you through your second orgasm of the night. Through the haze, you can hear yourself chanting his name, grasping desperately at his shoulders while continues driving cock relentlessly into you. 

You can’t even agree with him before you feel him reach his own release. You can feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, like a heartbeat as he spills himself inside of you, making a sound somewhere between a grunt and a whimper as he shakily rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck– you’re so fucking perfect, never gonna let you go.” he babbles, sucking more bruises into your skin as his hips stutter, “ ‘m gonna keep you all to myself, baby.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He whispers as he collapses against you, cock still twitching inside your aching cunt. He repeats the apology quietly against your neck, and in your post-orgasm fog, you can’t tell if he’s asking himself or you for forgiveness.

But you offer it nonetheless, fingers carding through his hair as you whisper back, “It’s okay, Calvin, it’s okay.” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t say a word as you pull him up into a kiss, distantly you realize he’s crying and you wipe the tears gently with the pads of your thumb as he hums into the kiss. 

The two of you lay there for a while, his cum leaking from your cunt even with his cock still pressed inside of you, just holding one another as you both come down from your highs. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead as he pulls out, hissing softly when your cunt flutters around him as if trying to beckon him back into the tight wet heat. You whimper, feeling him brush against your clit as he pulls off of you.

“I’ll be right back baby,” he whispers, pressing a line of soft kisses down your body before standing slowly, kicking his pants off completely so he can shuffle off to the bathroom for a washcloth. 

You don’t move an inch until he comes back, and you offer him a little smile which he timidly returns, brows furrowed slightly as he takes in the sight of you laid out on the bed, covered in bruises, thighs already sticky with his cum. 

He’ll never let you go now, a broken voice echoes in your head, it doesn’t even sound like your own voice anymore but you can’t bring yourself to think about it too hard as Calvin gently cleans you up.

You thank him quietly as he helps you undress, tossing your clothes off to a random corner of the room and helping you stand up for a moment so he can quickly strip the top blanket off the bed tossing it along with your clothes to wash later. 

You lean against him, legs trembling far too much for you to stand fully on your own, and let him help you back into bed watching him as he cleans himself up before joining you in bed. He’s oddly quiet as he pulls you into his arms but you decide he’s just as dazed as you are.

“I love you, Calvin,” you mumble, curling up against him and pressing your face into his neck.

It takes him a moment to stutter out a response, words dying in his throat at first, “I love you too, baby”

“Promise you’ll always love me?” you smile, pressing a kiss to his neck.

You can hear Calvin’s breath stutter as he answers, “I Promise.” you hum, pleased with his answer as you nuzzle into his neck, finally closing your eyes and letting your mind drift into a dreamless sleep.

Calvin woke long before you the next morning, he had hardly slept, how could he after doing what he had done to you? Never again, he told himself as he carefully moved you off of his body, stilling each time you stirred in your sleep until he was sure you would not wake.

“I promise I’ll never stop loving you.” 

-----------

I’ll never hurt you like that ever again, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, tracing over the bruises decorating your skin like constellations. You seemed so at peace despite what he had put you through the night before. You had no idea that he had even done anything wrong. You were hopelessly devoted to him. 

He was your salvation.

He reached out, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks. You mumbled sleepily, turning to your side, tugging the blanket tighter around yourself. I’ll make things right, he promised you, silently making his way out of the room, patting Scotty on the head as he passed. 

Scotty’s tiny fluffy face looked up and despite being a dog, Calvin had the sneaking suspicion that Scotty was silently judging him for what he had done. You hurt her, Scotty tilted his head up at Calvin. I know, I know, I’ll fix it, Calvin sighed, watching as Scotty seemed to lose interest in him, padding off to the bedroom, where he would likely curl up at your feet. 

At least Scotty would never hurt you, he shuffled into his office and froze in the doorway for a moment, staring at the typewriter still sitting on his desk. He curled his fists at his sides until his palms burned with little crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails. Just fix it, dammit. 

He moved closer, pulling his desk chair with him until he was standing in front of his desk, still staring at the typewriter as if it had personally wronged him. But it hadn’t, and he knew that. He knew that since the very moment he first started making changes to you. 

Almost.

It had started small, just little adjustments. He had told himself that he was doing it all for you. That he was doing it to make you happy and that he would never try to change you beyond that. He had repeated that lie to himself under the dim lighting of the desk lamp while making his edits to your very being that he almost started to believe he was doing the right thing.

Any belief that he had before of being a good person was gone now. It had faded away the moment the two of you had started arguing the night before and whatever had been left disappeared completely as you desperately clung to him, crying out his name like it was a god damn prayer.

He should feel sick thinking about how you cried underneath him, begging him to make the pain stop. But it doesn’t. And he can’t even find the will to hate himself for pushing you till you were trembling, unable to think of anything but him. 

Instead, he feels dizzy with power to the point that makes his head hurt. He sits and pulls his chair forward until his knees are tucked under the edge of his desk. His fingers ghost over the keys of his typewriter, I have to fix this. I should fix this and let her be free of me. 

He repeats the words he knows he should be typing like a mantra, Calvin could no longer control or change (Y/N). (Y/N) was free of Calvin. Free to live her life safe and happy far away from him. He wills himself to move, to type, to just get it over with already so he can keep his promise to her. But his fingers don’t move, there is no clicking of the keys locking into place and there are no words written on the paper. 

He exhales, reaching up to rub his eyes and brush his hands through his hair until he’s tugging at his scalp in punishment. Just fucking let her go. If you really loved her you would let her leave and you would have never tried to change her in the first place. 

I do love her.

Then why can’t you let her go? Calvin huffs kicking his desk, slamming his fists down onto the surface. He stares at the paper, still blank, staring back at him in silent judgment. You promised. You promised you would fix everything. 

“I know. I will. I’ll fix this.” he whispers bitterly to himself, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Liar.

He bites the inside of his cheek, placing his hands back over the keys of his typewriter. With a shaky inhale he begins to type, the sound of the keys clicking fills the room until it's all he can hear. But the words he types are not the ones he knows he should be reading as they form across the page. 

Instead, he did what he did best. He told a story to make you believe that he was still a good person. To make you believe you still loved him. He spun pretty words into a tall tale about you had both come home the night before and had a civil discussion after the party. It was a lie of course, but you would never know that. It would be the truth to you, and that's all that mattered.

You would never know what he had done to you. You would simply remember coming home, arguing briefly, having a long discussion with Calvin that ended in sex after he apologized for being unreasonable and you apologized for making a scene at the party. He scrapped the bits of the fight that didn’t fit into the narrative he needed you to believe. You would never even know he had called you a slut or that you had threatened to leave. Because in your mind it had never happened. 

He told himself as he typed feverishly that he’d make everything better and then he’d never try to rewrite you again. Even as he made it every possible chance to make sure you would remain his perfect girl, he kept repeating to himself that he was doing the right thing.

This is the last time, he promises himself as he pulls the paper from his typewriter, rereading the lies he had written. The lies that would become your truths. He decided it was best to let you believe the lies as he tucked the papers back into his desk, where they would never see the light of day.

I’ll let her go next time.

And he almost believes his lie when he spins around in his chair to find you standing in the doorway in nothing but his shirt. 

“Calvin?” you mumbled, rubbing sleepily at your eyes, “What are you doing up?” 

He freezes for a moment like he's been caught in the act. But he hasn’t been caught. He knows he hasn’t the moment you give him a sleepy little smile and pad over to him to curl into his lap.

He just laughs and holds you close, “I’m sorry baby, should I have Scotty arrested for such horrible crimes?” 

“I just had to take Scotty out a little bit ago and I had this idea I wanted to get down before I forgot.” he pauses, to comb his fingers through your hair, smiling at the way you lean into his touch, “I didn’t wake you did I?”

You shake your head, pressing your face into his neck, “I woke up because Scotty was licking my feet.” you admit giggling when you both hear Scotty come scampering into the office. He should hate himself for how easy it is to lie to you and pretend everything was normal. But he doesn’t hate himself, he doesn’t even try. 

You giggle and shake your head, pulling away just enough that you can look at him, “Did you manage to get the idea down?” 

He shakes his head, “Nope, I’ve been sitting here for a while trying to remember the idea.” He doesn’t even need to think about it anymore when he’s lying to you. 

You hum, moving to rest your hands on his chest, “You know I hear spending a day in bed helps with brainstorming.” 

Calvin snorts, raising a brow at you, “Oh really? Where’d you hear that?” 

You shrug, a cheeky grin already forming on your lips  “Can’t remember.” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Any more advice you got for me, baby?” 

You hum in approval at the pet name, turning to catch his lips in a quick kiss before he can pull away, “ Yea I heard it's especially helpful for writers to spend a day in bed with their super cute girlfriend.” He laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips, and then along your jaw.

“That sounds like good advice to me,” he mumbles, before nipping at the underside of your jaw, grinning when you let out an airy sigh. 

“I know right, whoever came up with it is a total genius.” He nips at your neck, this time a little harder and you laugh between a gasp.

“Cal comes on at least take me to bed first, we gotta figure out if my advice actually works” You shove playfully at his chest until he pulls away from your neck with his glasses sitting at an odd angle. You shuffle off of his lap and he follows quickly, rolling his eyes at the smug look you give him.

I did the right thing, he decides as he lunges forward, throwing you over his shoulder and grinning when you squeal in surprise and slap playfully at his back. 

Besides, who were you without Calvin?

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a piece of cake

© @jamesbrnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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[mirrored-heart-fics]

Cruel to Be Kind (s.h. x reader)

from @get-your-fics‘s A Midsummer Night’s Writing Challenge! Thanks so much for tagging me in this! Hope you all enjoy 💗

Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew // 10 Things I Hate About You 

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader (fluff, a little angst)

warnings: strong language/swearing, betrayal, high school level PDA

word count: 8k

Note: The reader insert uses she/her pronouns. I chose to write the reader as an immigrant/ethnic kid (her parents are non-English speakers/speak only a little English). She’s probably ND as well but was never diagnosed. It takes place during Season 4, but no major plot events happened (nothing w/ Vecna or the Upside Down). I cut out the subplot of Bianca and her suitors for a simpler story, but still using the original source material as the basic outline. The title comes from the song by Letters to Cleo, which is featured in the soundtrack for 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dustin slammed the door as he got into Steve's car. (These kids, man. Where are their manners?)

"Steve, hey, look. I need you to do me a favor," he turned and looked up at the older boy who was currently fiddling with the dial on the radio with a concentration that could match El's.

"What?" Dammit, he needed to replace it soon. But he really didn't wanna go to his dad so it may have to stay busted for now.

"Okay, so just got bamboozled—"

"Bamboozled?"

"Shut up, practically trampled by these freshman—"

"You mean your classmates?"

"Yeah, whatever, anyway—these freshies wanted you do something for them. And—it's kind of like a big ask. But you owe me a soda anyway."

Steve was intrigued. Or, at least, mildly interested in whatever these freshman had to say. He hadn't befriended any other younger teens outside of Dustin's circle and had no siblings, so he didn't know how these kids knew his name. He was sure his 'King Steve' reputation died when he graduated.

"Okay? What is it?" He sounded... weary... of the details he wasn't even aware of yet.

It couldn't be too big, right? Like, these kids probably wanted him to drive them around or—

"You need to ask Y/N out so that they can ask her sister out to Homecoming. Her sister can't date anyone until Y/N does. I dunno, her family's, like, super strict or something," Dustin blurted out. Completely ripped off the band-aid.

Steve flinched back from the broken radio.

What?

...

What was he to him? Did he only exist to give into Dustin’s every needs and wants?

He wasn’t some kind of dating service or whatever the fuck.

 “Please? These kids are obnoxious as hell yet so popular somehow. They have not left me alone—I swear to God—since that dance was announced,” Dustin pleaded.

 He looked again at his younger friend. His dorky freshman and kid-brother figure in his life.

That... wasn't the most insane thing he's been asked to do, considering Dustin and the gang always got him into supernatural shit anyway.

How hard could this be?

Robin commented recently on how he's managed to go on a thousand dates every week. This is one of his main strengths in his, well, diverse arsenal of skills (using household items as demon hunting equipment was strangely a plus). If anything, it would be weirder if he didn't get the girl.

And, speaking of the girl, Y/N—she was a complete stranger to him. He could vaguely recall having junior year history with her... maybe it was chemistry? The more she didn't know who he was in high school, the simpler this would be and the sooner this would be over. He would take her on a date, turn on his trademarked charm, and be done with it.

Steve sighed. What did he have to lose, truly? It was just a stupid little favor.

Dustin looked hopeful... hopeful that this would stop those boys from pestering him. Steve empathized wholeheartedly.

"Alright, when do I ask her?" He started the engine and gripped his hands on the steering wheel.

—————✨

The girl in question was spending her time stocking shelves, sweeping the floor, helping customers find their items and then checking out their items. She planned to work at the Hawkins Art and Frame store for the year before studying at a small art school next fall.

She was currently bored at the counter, hand on her chin and forearm resting on the counter, re-reading a comfort book but not being able to focus on the story. Just skimming over the words. It was a slow day. Barely anyone came by.

The bell rang and she glanced at the source of the sound and movement. It was a guy who graduated with her from high school.

"Hi, welcome in," she called out in a light tone as she does to all customers of Hawkins Art and Frame. He nodded back and waved to her with a tight smile.

Oh god, not this jerk. She clearly remembers hiding herself in her notes or a book, trying not to get roped into the conversations of the popular group. She succeeded—they didn't bother her and she could live out her quiet existence in peace. She learned nothing deeper about them and that's the way she preferred it.

She looked down into her book, pretending to read. Literally just studying the texture of page, not comprehending any of the printed text.

The guy—Steve—wanders around the store, pausing at sections of brushes and paint, canvases and paper. Not that she's creating meticulous notes in her head of his store behavior or anything.

"Uhm, hi. I'd like to buy this," he lays down a single 2B graphite pencil in front of her.

"Alright, it'll be two dollars—"

"Two dollars? For a pencil?" She wants to let out a laugh, but she's a budding expert in the ancient art of keeping one's cool.

"Yeah—you chose an expensive brand, see?" She twists the pencil over to the side where the name is stamped into it. "And artist pencils are different from regular ones. This one is softer. It'll smudge more easily."

Steve pauses a second and decides whether or not he wants to go through his charade.

"I... sorry, I don't actually want to buy this," he runs a hand through his hair. "I came here because..." Why is he so nervous? The girl looks up at him with soul-piercing eyes, that's why.

"For a date." He manages to push out.

...why isn't she responding?

"A... date?" The girl is thoroughly confused. He nods his head.

"Yeah, I..." shit, shit, he was gonna kill these kids if he finds them. "I wanted to ask you on a date." This is far from the most embarrassing thing he's done yet it viscerally feels like it.

"I, uhm. Uh." The girl is blinking rapidly. Unsure if this is real or not. "Uhm. I don't know."

"You... don't know?" Why does he feel a bit crushed?

"I—I don't know you that well, Steve," she answers flatly.

That's fair, he thinks. He doesn't know her at all.

"Will you think about it?" Shit, he sounds too eager. Keep it cool.

"Uh." She looks up into the hope-filled brown eyes of one Steve Harrington. "Sure?" Is all she can genuinely give right now.

He gives her a thumbs up and speeds out the door.

She has a lot to journal about tonight.

—————✨

She does think about it. That part is truthful.

But—she doesn't think she'll accept the date request. The "I don't know" was a soft "no."

The girl rolls over on her bed, unable to sleep, brain too busy with potential scenarios of how this may play out. If she says yes and her parents allow it—if they don't even care—then what? She goes on a date and has a good time? Or she goes on a date and feels awkward and uncomfortable, leaving the both of them miserable?

Would her parents allow it? They sure haven't for her little sister, that bitc—kid she doesn't get along with.

But she was legally an adult now. They told her she's allowed to do anything she wants within reason.

If she says no and doesn't go on a date, life will be the same except she may hurt a dude (a guy who was pretty rude in high school, her conscience would insist—don't feel too bad).

If she doesn't show up at work and lives inside her bedroom, she would be able to avoid Steve long enough that he forgets her, but then she'd lose her job and thus her money for school.

She runs her hands over the comforter, playing with the loose threads. She hadn't considered why yet. Why would Steve want to take her on a date?

She struggled to produce an answer.

—————✨

 "Hey," Steve showed up once again to Y/N's workplace. In a cute yellow sweatshirt. With nice, fashionable, big hair. She even notices freckles on his face, but rapidly tries to erase that thought that out of her mind.

"Hi?"

"You? Me? Date?" He points at her and himself.

"Uhhhhhhhh."

"Y/N, you have gorgeous eyes," Steve tries complimenting her, realizing it was too soon as he speaks it. He internally smacked his head.

"Uh, I—thanks?" Y/N grimaces-smiles. She tried to keep it friendly, but unsure if what she wants to do in her head is showing up on her face. She's pretty sure she's not nailing what she's going for...

And Steve thinks the same with his moves.

"I just thought, 'man, I was wondering what Y/N was up to today, I'm so impressed with her art skills,' and I had to visit you," Steve wonders if he's hamming up his delivery enough.

"...How'd you know I make paintings?" Her face is showing disbelief. He was going for amazement and hopefully swooning but this is okay, too.

"I remembered—high school." Snap. Finger guns. "Miss Watson's sixth period art class. You were wicked in her studio. Complete genius. A real Picasso in there," aaaannnd that's the extent of his art knowledge. Picasso was an artist, wasn't he? He had Dustin go through his yearbook to figure out what extracurriculars Y/N did, though he did know that she had taken Watson's studio art class (Nance had it, also).

Y/N's eyes popped in recognition, but he took that as a good sign.

"I, uh. Thanks, Steve."

He smiled at that.

"But—why me?"

And the smile marginally dropped.

"I mean—you have lots of other girls dying to be with you, waiting for you to ask them, no?" Steve found it was harder to keep a friendly face. "Why don't you go look for them?" Someone who's actually interested in you, she wanted to add, but held back. It would be a bit too mean.

"Y/N, I'm really into you. Like, super. I mean—you're so artsy! And nice and cool. What guy wouldn't wanna be with you?" He's salvaging what he can from this dumpster fire he started himself.

That... did something in her. Something bad. Small, but bad. He could tell in the tiny downturn of her lips, the glimmer in her eyes. Did he say the wrong thing? He meant it as a compliment. He tried compliments this whole time. It's not working. Why isn't it working?

 She replied carefully, choosing her words like picking out a splinter. "Thanks, but... no, Steve... I'm sure you're used to getting 'yes' all the time. But. Sorry."

 He couldn't believe it. He blew at his best trait.

—————✨

 Steve re-told the story of his failed attempt to Robin, slicing out all of the bits about Dustin's favor. Robin didn't need to know that. She'd freak out and the plan would be ruined and Dustin would hold a grudge against him for a million years. He couldn't lose his only other friend.

And she was laughing. Snickering. Snorting. Hooting and clapping her hands.

"You complimented her eyes? That early? Outta nowhere?" Robin was holding her abdomen, stomach muscles hurting from the amount of laughter she was letting out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know—wasn't the best timing," Steve rolled his eyes, resting his hands on the counter of Family Video. "I panicked in the moment. Usually, I just... ya know," he waves his hands around, "smile and give girls the look, and it all ends up going good from there," he side-eyed his best friend.

"You dingus, that's why you have to learn something about her before you ask her out," Robin gave him a gentle shove.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I panicked in the moment and-and it felt like I was slipping... she didn't join any clubs in high school. I had, like, only one class with her. I was so focused on Nance, right? I only knew she did art and that's what I told her," he lifted his eyebrows.

"You told her?" She teased.

"Complimented her. You know what I mean."

"Ooookay, have you seen any of her art?"

Steve was suspiciously quiet.

"Steve!" Robin scolded, swatting at his arm.

"I know! It's not working—my usual charm—not working..." He couldn't figure out why. He's usually in the clear at this point. He ran a hand over his face.

"Steve," Robin looked at him, sobering up, "maybe consider that not all girls are the same. Or that, you know, I can't afford to screw up if I like a girl." Steve nodded, eyebrows tilting. Grounded by the serious reminder.

"So... what do I do now?"

Robin looked around the video store, aimlessly at first and then—spotting the candy aisle.

"I have an idea, Harrington."

  —————✨

Y/N was sketching on her bed, Walkman headphones on. Her sister was throwing a fit to her parents in the bedroom next door (she couldn't go dress shopping with her friends if she wasn't allowed to go to Homecoming in the first place). She increased the volume dial.

She turned the paper around, drawing on the far end corners she couldn't reach without smudging. Thinking over the two encounters with Steve over the week. How (seemingly) spontaneous and strangely persistent they were. How it was Steve Harrington of all people.

But also noticing after the fact how... dorky he acted. Leagues away from his high school self. Finger guns? The thumbs up and dash away? She unconsciously smiled to herself, thinking of the mental images they created.

Huh. Maybe he had really changed after all.

Or maybe he hadn't.

With no reference point to the real Steve beneath the reputation, either in high school or currently, how could she judge him accurately? Or maybe the reputation was the true him, which was less of a chilling thought and more of a sad, pathetic one.

Still, neither the pity nor genuine curiosity into the layers of Steve wasn't enough to accept his date invitation. She lounged on her bed, covered by her pillows and blankets, surrounded by art supplies and snacks. It was a literal comfort zone, one she felt no desire to leave whatsoever.

Even if a... she wanted to roll her eyes at finishing this thought.

Even if a... conventionally attractive boy existed beyond its boundaries. (There. She could leave that in the open.)

 But some tiny, evil plotting part of her brain started thinking about what a date with Steve would be like. It conspired in the back of her mind, stubbornly lingering while her music and art distracted her at the forefront.

—————✨

It started with small things—her favorite candies, bookmarks from the used book store she shopped at, colored pencils. These little presents appeared on her work counter from time to time. At the very first moment, she was pleasantly surprised, but then it quickly became obvious who it was from, and her surprise turned into bitter acceptance.

Steve showed up more, hanging around her counter, even helping her when she had to restock items. He came as much as he could whenever he was off on his own shifts at Family Video. She tried to shoo him out and he respected that whenever she actually had customers to help, but for the most part...

He was here. With her.

Huh.

Okay, then.

She learned that he wasn't close to his parents (who were never home, anyway, he told her). She told him that she came from a big, nosy, tight-knit family. She learned that he was able to tell what kind of hair products people used (and later learned what kind he himself used). He learned from his own observations that she was a music and art snob, criticizing other people’s collection of cassettes and VHS tapes like her life depended on it.

 “Favorite movie?” she asked as they were both re-stocking the pencils.

“Back to the Future—I saw it with Robin when it first came out,” he chuckled to himself, remembering that night.

“Oh, your sister, right?” She recalled seeing her a couple times at Family Video. She had seen her maybe once in the frame shop before she knew Steve. She seemed like another artsy type, was kind of a band geek, she remembered, but friendly. They were cool whenever they passed each other in the halls or classrooms back when she attended Hawkins High.

“What? No! She’s not my sister.”

“Well sorry,” The girl put her hands up, “It’s just that… you guys look alike.” She shrugged. She insisted it was a fair assumption. She furrowed her eyebrows. “…Back to the Future? Really? You work at a video store. You don’t have any other ones?”

Steve was a little shocked by her boldness. He thought this girl was supposed to be nice, right? “I mean… The Karate Kid! I saw that one in the theater. Ferris Bueller? Ghostbusters?” He was getting weirdly defensive about his movie tastes.

“I liked Ferris Bueller also…” she conceded. “But that’s it?”

“What else would there be?”

“Uh, you’re skipping over entire genres and histories of movies. Not to mention international ones or experimental films. Or feminist films. Stuff like that. All of yours is kitsch,” The girl went back to sorting her pencil stock.

Steve was genuinely offended. He would have to look up whatever she said in the last part. He didn’t even know how to spell that.

“Well—which ones do you like then?” He asked just to ask. He was still recovering from his bruised ego.

“Next time you go to work, you need to look out for… actually, no, let me write you a list,” she stood up to go to the check-out counter. She pulled out a pad of yellow lined paper and a pencil. She scribbled down her list, but he couldn’t see exactly what she was writing from his angle.

“This is your homework,” she ripped out the sheet of paper and handed it to Steve. It contained a few movies he’d seen at Family Video (he recognized their VHS covers), but most of them were new names to him. Some of the titles were in foreign languages. French? Spanish? He sweated nervously.

  The girl had a couple siblings, including an annoying younger teenage sister. Steve pretended not to know that.

She observed that he morphed into a parent figure when he was with the young group of teens. She was surprised that he was close with one of them (the curly-haired one with the baseball cap. He even had a handshake with him).

The Steve she knew from high school wasn’t him. 

  "Let's go eat something," Steve tilted his head towards the storefront. The girl was closing her shift and taking off her apron and name tag.

"I should probably go home, Steve. What if my parents ask where I am?" She answered indifferently. Steve learned by now that it was another way of her saying no.

"You can say that you're eating dinner with a friend—a friend that can drive you and have you back before dark. C'mon, you live close here," he gestured to vaguely the direction of her house.

"You haven't met them in person yet," she bent down to grab her purse.

"Don't worry, I can charm parents, too," he grinned boyishly.

"Steve," she looked him in the eye, "you haven't been around immigrant parents and it's showing." She put on her windbreaker. "They're not like American parents—not so relaxed about the whereabouts of their children."

"Okay, but maybe I can try to ge—"

"It's like with my sister—they refuse to let her go to Homecoming, let alone allow any dating for her," Steve's eyes widened for a split second, heartbeat skyrocketed for one millionth. And back down.

"But you can try," she mock-smiled up at him.

—————✨

 "No shoes in the house."

"Okay," Steve wheezed out, following close behind her steps. He bent down to untie his shoes and leave them next to the door while Y/N effortlessly slipped hers off and kicked them under a stool.

"Y/N? YOU HOME?" Her mom called out from the living room. She was folding laundry on the couch while her grandmother was watching a TV show.

"YEAH! Steve, come on," she waved him in. He followed her and—she cringed slightly. She forgot to tell her family beforehand. But you can't prepare for spontaneity, she supposed.

"MOM I'M HERE WITH A FRIEND," she entered the living room.

"WHO'S THAT?" Her mom looked over just as Steve appeared in her line of vision.

He waved and smiled. In a very unusually stiff way, the girl noted.

"MOM, THIS IS STEVE," The girl crossed the room to give her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. Steve took a baby step into the living room, conspicuously out of his element.

"HI STEVE," her mom nodded at him. He nodded back, still with that nervous smile. He couldn't tell what accent she had.

Her grandmother said something to Y/N in a language he didn't understand. They laughed together and Steve felt like it was directed towards him. Not in a hostile way, but not in a way that included him, obviously.

Her dad appeared in the hallway, newspaper under his arm. He looked Steve up and down, then nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen.

"H-hi, ma'am. I was wondering if I could take her—I mean if we could eat dinner together. In a restaurant. For-for food." His voice cracked several times and was at a higher octave than usual. He gestured lamely to the door.

"YEAH, GO, GO," Her mom shooed them off.

"You're... letting me go out to eat?" Y/N was momentarily stupefied.

"YEAH," Her mom resumed her activities of folding towels and watching the TV.

"...okay. Bye, mom. Bye, grandma," Y/N waved at them, turning towards Steve, gesturing them out. Her grandmother and mother said goodbye to them.

The girl had a furrowed look on her face. "...would've never happened in high school," was what Steve was able to catch from her muttering. She shut the door and locked it with her house key.

"They liked me?" Steve was still in his meeting-the-parents-of-a-friend anxiety state.

"Yeah they did. My grandma even called you 'handsome boy.'" Y/N was annoyed by that for a current unknown reason. Though, she was equally amused.

Steve's face lit up like plugged-in string lights.

"Steve," she laughed in disbelief.

"I'll wear it like a badge of honor," he announced like he was knighted by the queen. She laughed and he thought it was a sweet sound—he wanted to hear that again.

As they walked to his car, Steve couldn't help but ask:

"What d'you mean 'never happen in high school'?"

"I... my parents would ask me a lot of questions if I wanted to go to a school event or a dance. Either that or I had to stand by a chaperone if I did. It was too tedious to answer the questions and embarrassing if I did go so I ended up not going to a lot of them.

"I guess... I guess I just got used to being a homebody. It was too much work to make the effort to go out, so why do it? It's also a lot more... my style being at home. I like my hobbies and it's convenient to have all of my stuff in one place and it doesn't require other people..."

"Hobbies like drawing. Your art," he supplied.

"Exactly," she looked up at him. He looked into her eyes for answers and found an emotion he couldn't describe. But he knew what it was. He felt it himself before.

It didn't matter that he was never good with words. He could feel, and he felt deeply. And that was the most real thing to him.

"Come on, let's go eat," she opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in. She tried to shake herself from that strange moment and try to get back to dull, impersonal normalcy. She was reeling from that discomfort.

So why did they both hold on?

—————✨

 The boys had many of these moments in their downtime. Meandering hangouts just for fun. If a monster had attacked Hawkins, this would be the stage where Dustin laid out his research and plans to strike back. But currently, Steve and Dustin were sharing a bag of chips and half-watching TV together.

Steve was finding it hard to stay present. His mind kept pulling him towards the girl. He was smiling idiotically, Dustin told him. He didn’t know until he was told.

“What’s wrong? Are you in love with her now?” he remarked sarcastically, grabbing the bag for himself. Steve froze for a second.

“I—no. No, that’s crazy talk, Dustin,” He tried to regain his composure after the kid ruthlessly snatched it away. But he knew that Dustin saw that he hesitated. He forced himself to look at the TV, knowing that all of his credibility would dissipate if he looked at him now.

Dustin was silent.

No, wait—that was scarier than if he was pelting him with questions.

He felt fear—fear that since Dustin knew that something was up, that made it unavoidable to him and his brain now, no matter how much he tried to shove the feeling down.

“…Steve?” Dustin asked in a menacingly slow way.

“Yes?”

“When did it start?”

He groaned. Caught red-handed. “Uhmmm…. Like. I dunno, man… two weeks ago? Maybe?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t you say it’d be only one date?”

“I—yes! Yes, Dustin. I just. I haven’t taken her on a date yet—not on a real date. Just give me more time.”

“Steve, the dance is coming up soon. And it’s gonna be more complicated if you actually like the girl now.”

He knew that full well. Plus, she was going away to art school next fall and he would still be in Hawkins. He’d never done long distance before. He wasn’t sure he knew how. But—that was thinking way too far ahead.

He was positive she didn’t feel that about him.

But the way he felt about her. It was… jumping off a cliff but enjoying the feeling of jumping off and falling.

He chuckled at himself. Still no way with words.

It was like what he had with Nancy, once upon a time.

—————✨

 The girl received notes made from scrap pieces of college ruled paper—compliments on her outfits, inside jokes they had developed, and cheesy song lyrics from the Top 40 radio station. One time, she even received a mini review of one of her movie recommendations. It was a half-folded piece of paper with a crude drawing of three stars colored in with two left blank. She opened the paper. It said: “To be honest, didn’t understand it. Pretty neat I guess. The main guy was cool.” She smirked.  

The girl had a growing collection at home, stuffed into an old shoebox, hidden far beneath a suitcase in her closet that no unauthorized eyes could pry into.

Steve and the girl were growing closer as signs of the dance slid beneath her nose. Four of the freshman boys had asked her sister to Homecoming. She went dress shopping with her friends but Y/N was too preoccupied with Steve's newfound place in her life to notice.

Eventually, Steve asked her once more on a date and... she said yes. To her surprise, to his surprise.

 The girl borrowed a dress from her aunt. It was her favorite color and suited her own personal style. She did her hair and makeup in front of her bedroom mirror.

She looked like... she looked like one of those girls from high school. The ones that went out all the time and had fun outside of school. The ones who had a life.

But still a version of herself was still present with all of that.

It wasn't a bad look.

She told her parents and grandmother that she'd be out with Steve and they let her go with only a request to bring back some food.

 She opened the door and Steve was more dressed up than usual in a button down under his blue jacket and his hair in a style that probably took hours to do. She wasn't sure, but she swore his eyes lit up when he saw her in her date outfit. Cute.

The girl and Steve went to a small diner close by Family Video. It was 1950s themed with neon lights, black and white checker-board tiles, even a jukebox in the corner. They selected a booth near the jukebox so she could browse the songs while waiting for their order.

Y/N was aware that she was... enjoying this. She had a petty desire to begrudge dates (maybe it was the stab of jealously she felt when seeing couples fawning over each other in public), but she had to admit that this was nice: being with him in fancy clothes and eating a comfort meal while Ella Fitzgerald's voice enchanted them from the speakers. The colors blurred into a soft neon blue and pink. The other patrons provided a quiet background noise to their conversation.

They talked about their usual topics: plans for the year, funny and/or crazy things that happened that week, hobbies, stuff on their to-do list. Anything interesting that came to mind.

 "Ya know, I don't always get a 'yes' to everything," Steve looked up at her from his plate. "Remember when you told me that? That was like, what? The second time we talked?"

She nodded, mouth full from eating.

"I really. Um. I really haven't been... I didn't know I'd end up here," he fiddled with the straw in his drink.

"What do you mean?" she tilted her head.

"Here. I mean, working at Family Video with Robin or driving around Dustin. Uh, a lot of things didn't go the way I expected them to. I didn't always get what I wanted." He thought of his shitty home life, growing away from his high school friends who were all dickheads anyway, his relationship with Nancy, his college plans that didn't go through, and, most of all, fighting for his life in a pit of alien monsters. Just the typical growing pains of life.

 "But did you get what you need instead?" Steve was taken aback. Eyes wide. He started to shake his head 'yes'—

"Like me?" she pointed at herself with her fork. He huffed. Rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like you," he laughed, "and like Robin and Dustin. Like... people I didn't know I'd end up friends with." He stirred around his drink with his straw.

"Glad you took a chance on us nobodies, I guess," she added sarcastically.

"Hey," he was firm, chiding her. "Hey, no, no, not like that," he barely shook his head. He was soft with his voice. His eyes told her everything—everything that she wanted to believe about him.

 He was so much of what she was not. Sure, she received lots of compliments on her art or high grades, but she navigated through the world in such an awkward, clunky way, one that contrasted so visibly to Steve's. She was afraid that she was committing an innumerable amount of missteps every single time she had to interact with anyone. She was guarded and tended to doubt people more than she trusted them. She couldn't just talk to someone without a rehearsal in her head.

He had an effortless facility at basic human interaction. At rare times, in moments when it was needed, he was earnest and serious, reeling in his usual gregarious personality back in when the time wasn't right. He made people feel seen. He made people want to be around him.

She liked him. She liked him a lot. He endeared himself to her every day and she had to pretend to be annoyed by him when it was the polar opposite of that. For what? To protect her reputation? To guard her own heart?

Y/N watched Steve look at other patrons. His eyes danced around the room, a soft contented look on his face. He called over the waiter and ordered a milkshake.

 The waiter came back with two straws.

 —————✨

 "I have to pick up Dustin after the dance," Steve told her as they walked to his car. She nodded, plastic bag in hand for her family's take-out order. Just a detour and then she'd be on her way home. But a part of her wanted to stay with him for the night.

There was something about the angle of the moonlight, the glow of the neon diner sign behind them. Something that... made her want to hold hands. She took a leap of faith.

The warmth of his hand. He held her hand. He made her feel special.

She was the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted to see in this moment.

He softly placed a hand on her cheek to bring her closer to him. They were so close, she could almost feel it. Closer to him than she'd ever been to anyone before.

They kissed. And something released inside her—relief from the anxiety of holding herself back or the finality to the anticipation of this moment. She had no clue; she couldn't think right now.

She adjusted her face to fit better. Was she doing this right? Nope, no relief from anxiety. She was still anxious. This was happening and it was exhilarating and disorienting. But it felt good, so good.

They bumped noses accidentally and she could feel him smiling. She laughed, pulling apart a little. And then it was over.

 "I—" she took a deep breath. What was there to say after... that?

 "Do all of your dates feel like that?" she was talking with no mediation between her brain and her mouth. The kiss completely dissolved her filter.

"No," Steve's chest was heavy, his cheeks hot and hair wild.

She didn’t stop to think of the implications.

 —————✨

 He drove them to Hawkins High. They held hands in the car. It was nice.

 He parked the car and they walked towards the high school gym blasting a Cyndi Lauper track. Balloons and couples framed the entrances. It was like a tunnel to another world where she would be transformed on the other side.

“Heyyyyy! Dusty, my man!” Steve called out. Dustin arrived with his long, complicated handshake.

“And you must be the ravishing Y/N,” Dustin bowed in front of her. “Enchanté.”

“Quite the gentleman,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you, too.”

A couple of Dustin’s classmates zoomed by, clapping him on the back. She couldn’t pick up what they were saying exactly, but it was like they were congratulating him for something?

She scanned the room. The dance was a lot to take in. She didn’t remember what it was like to be at one. High school felt so long ago. The music, the mass of kids in the gym, the decorations, the lights. She took a couple unsteady breaths.

She recognized a couple of Bianca’s friends to the left of the room. They were standing to the side, drinks in their hands. She thought she saw Bianca for a split second but knew that couldn’t be true. It was probably another girl that looked like her.

In her searching trance, she wasn’t aware that Dustin’s friends formed a circle near her, chatting and enjoying themselves. She took it to mean they wouldn’t be leaving right away. She looked up to Steve—who caught her eye. He winked.

She shook her head, unable to stop grinning.

Someone bumped into her.

“Oh! Sorry!” The kid exclaimed. She turned around to see—

Bianca in a party dress.

 “Y/N? How—why are you here?” she was becoming infuriated. Her older sister was quite familiar with how these things went. “I just went to the bathroom and you appeared outta nowhere?”

“Bianca, how’d you get to the dance? Did mom drive you? How did mom and dad let you?” She gestured to her whole outfit.

“Mom let me because now you’re with Steve. I went with my group and some guys that asked me out,” She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes at her older sister.

“What?” She let out softly, taking in this information that seemed impossible. She was asked to the dance? And by more than one person? Mom thought she and Steve were dating? She was mortified.

“God, you’re such a square sometimes,” she rolled her eyes.

“Bianca, we’re going home now.”

“Oh, you think you can make me? I thought you were into that whole artsy hippie boho thing. You need to chill, homegirl.”

“Wow, okay. When did you start thinking being an airhead was cool?”

“At least I’m not some loser brainiac.”

“Come on, we’re going now.”                                                                                  

“No!”

 “Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin rammed himself into their bickering. Steve looked over the kids with a concerned expression.

“I just need to get my sister home. I’d rather her have an attitude at home than here. Can you convince her to leave?”

“Hey! I’m standing right here! Hello??” Bianca pointed to herself repeatedly.

The whole crux of the plan—both of the girls—were here. Dustin’s eyes widened. “Uh—Steve?” he silently begged his friend to diffuse the situation.

“Besides, I have a date! I can’t leave,” Bianca defended her case. Dustin was guiltily aware that he’d been the one to enable that.

Bianca squeezed past them over to her friend group.

 “Y/N? I have something to tell you,” Dustin prompted nervously. She turned to face him. “I-I was the one who set it up. Some kids wanted to ask your sister out and I asked Steve to ask you out. I know your family rule.”

She just kept receiving more information this evening. She left Dustin’s friend group, slipped by Steve who called out her name, and walk-ran out the doors. She couldn’t think. She relied on pure muscle memory and brain mapping of the school to get away from the building. She hugged herself for warmth, left uncovered from the heat of the gym and bare to the October night. She took deep breaths, trying to escape this nightmare.

“Y/N!” Steve ran out from the gym to her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s crazy. I knew it was crazy. It’s crazy,” he tried to explain but it didn’t come to him like he needed.

“Steve,” she said in a defeated way. She laughed at the ridiculous situation. It was just her life now. "’If I be waspish, best beware my sting,’" she recited with a faux-acting hand motion.

“What?” Steve was genuinely confused.

“It’s Shakespeare.”  

“Why does this keep happening to me,” he remarked quietly to himself.

She laughed again, but it was tinged with a sour taste. He was adorable. He was so familiar now that it would be hard to let go of him.

 “Anyway, I gotta call my parents. Somebody has to pick me up,” she turned to go to the payphone.

“Wait—” but he knew he couldn’t end it with I’ll drive you home. He knew he majorly fucked up.

She stared sadly at him. She felt like she lived two separate days in one night.

A humble ‘bye’ was all she said to break his heart.

 —————✨

 After that night, the girl resumed her life as it had been pre-Steve. She went to work at Hawkins Art and Frame, drew pictures or read books at home, and took care of family errands.

 She was at work when Robin visited her out of the blue.

The girl straightened up in her chair and greeted her into the store.

“Hey, look, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. That was so shitty of Steve and his kid friend,” Robin looked like she had run all the way to the store from Family Video. Some of her bangs were stuck to her forehead and she was inhaling air, making her raspy voice even more hoarse.

“I helped that dingus plan out all those little gifts for you. I was, like, his wingwoman ‘cause I thought he was really into you. And-and we went through the yearbooks to try to figure out what you liked,” she used her arms to steady her torso and panted.

“Hey, hey slow down,” the girl scolded. Robin nodded. She took a deep breath and continued:

“I found out that he was doing it for those freshman and I talked to him—I swear I did—I didn’t want it to hurt you,” Robin shook her head in emphasis.

The girl stared at her for a moment.

“Thanks, Robin. It’s nice to hear that. It's not your fault, though,” Y/N said impassively. She was understanding of Robin, of course, but her eyes dimmed at the mention of the incident.

“Listen—I’m gonna kick Dustin's ass and Steve's—both of them—but first I want you to know that he really did like you. He does like you. Present tense. He fell for you hard and he never believed that you would like him back,” she punctuated her sentences with hard gestures. Y/N lifted her head slightly, a small bit of hope sparked.

“Just—believe me. Or not. Whatever. I can’t control you.”

Robin took a couple more breaths. She pointed her thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

—————✨

 Months passed by. The girl switched up her routine occasionally, but every day started to feel the same.

 Tonight, she was drawing in her room, Walkman headphones on.

 She thought she heard a thunk sound but couldn’t quite make it out from the music blasting into her ears. She ignored it.

Ignored it.

Ignored it.

Just ignored it…

Until the frequency of the sound increased. Was it trying to test her patience?

She lowered her headphones in gesture of blazing irritation and rested them around her neck.

Pebbles hit her window.

She walked over, moving closer to it. She drew the blinds open with more force than it required.

Her eyes lowered to—

Steve.

 She opened the window, a gush of wind blowing into her face and shocking her with its cold. Steve called out her name, elated to see her. He waved with both arms on the ground.

 She threw on a sweater and her slippers and rushed downstairs, opened the door, met him outside.

  “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Y/N tried to sound accusatory, but it was more muted than she intended.

“I—,” Steve restarted his sentence a couple of times. “I wanted to see you. I had to see you.”

“You could’ve just called—,” she tried to undermine his plan, to push him away before he left her and she got hurt.

“I wanted to see you in person,” he looked directly at her. No bullshitting this time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His eyes gazed into her eyes. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes.

 What was there to say? Her hands were freezing, her legs were shaking. Her nerve signals were wide awake and she could only feel. She felt herself tear up against her will.

She moved closer to him and he pulled her into a hug. She relaxed under his embrace as if that was what she had always done. As if she always lived her life in his embrace. He held onto her tightly, trying to make her feel all his love with all his might.

“Sorry—,” she sobbed.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve’s voice was so gentle it almost hurt. So she shut her eyes and allowed herself to just be with him under the weighted blanket of the night. He held onto her for a while, rubbing her back and shoulders.

She pulled back.

“I-I just,” she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. "That was really shitty of you. It was. And it doesn’t erase what you did but. But like…” She threw her hands down. “I don’t know… My life is different now and it’s hard to go back to the way it was before. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“Like… all the stuff you did? Like those notes and candies and stuff? Like, no one’s ever done that for me. Never. I watched all the couples in high school do that or, like, I’ll see couples on the street and I’ll feel really lonely, like I’m shut out of something,” She sniffed and wiped her nose on a napkin from her pocket. “I wonder if those couples know how lucky they are are to have each other. If they really appreciate what they have or they just take it for granted and think nothing of it because I’ve been watching from afar and wanting what they have forever.

“And I’ve never dressed up and went out for a real date and stayed outside of the house when it was dark. I’ve never been in someone’s car alone with them. I had my first kiss with you!” She gestured towards him and laughed through her tears. “I can’t stop thinking about it, all of it...

“And-and Robin! She told me that you didn’t believe I’d like you back. Which is weird because I did. I don’t know how you couldn’t figure it out but I really did, Steve,” she shrugged her shoulders.

Steve’s face flipped through a arrange of emotions. His eyebrows were pulled together. He held her arms, ran his thumbs across the knitted fabric of her sweater.

“I—you’re a good person. You’re a lovely person. You’re strangely kind and helpful and charming and accepting. And I guess I was too stubborn to accept that because of the stupid little gifts you sent me or because you’re so easy to get along with and I was trying so hard to hate you. You’re so easy to love, do you know that?” She looked into his eyes with that same intensity he was so intimated by when he first met her.

He placed a hand over her cheek, smoothed over the curve of it.

She was incredible. It was way past time to tell her that.

He kissed her. It’d better the best damn kiss she’d ever received, he’d make sure of that.

He’d give her anything she wanted. He’d give her the world. He kissed her forehead and felt her laugh. He beamed.

But she shivered. He remembered he pulled up at a late hour and that it was nearly winter at this point. He took off his jacket and urged her to lift her arms up.

“What? You’re gonna dress me up like a little kid?” she crossed her arms and tried not to grin.

“Yeah! C’mon, let me take care of you,” he gently forced her arm into the sleeve and into the other one. His mom tendencies jumped out in moments like this—it was something she missed about him but didn’t realize until now.

They were back together, working in syncopation. Their little world was whole.

  —————✨

Next August, the girl was packing in her room, figuring out what was important enough to bring with her to her dorm. She folded piles of laundry and towels to stuff into her suitcase. She nestled a neon-colored bag of toiletries in the corner of the towels.

She paperclipped photographs of her family in a brand-new journal. She carefully wrapped photobooth pictures of her and Steve in some embroidered handkerchiefs, ones given to her by her aunties. Robin took polaroid photos of Steve and her goofing off in Family Video and she stuck those in her mirror frame. She took them off. She’d give those ones to Steve.

She paused. She found some old love song lyrics from Steve in her photo box. Back when the whole thing had first happened. She found his movie review with the hand-drawn stars rating.

She ran her finger over his handwriting, scribbly in blue ink but legible enough to her.

She would save that, too.

 She hugged her parents and grandma good-bye and pulled in Bianca for a side-hug. Her dad and Steve loaded her luggage into Steve’s car. The school was only under an hour’s car ride from Hawkins. Y/N remembered her cassette tapes last minute and rushed to grab them, preparing to force Steve to listen to her eccentric music taste.

 Steve and the girl kissed goodbye after moving her into the dorm. They held onto each other like they would never see each other again in this life, but really, it was just a drive on the highway every few weeks to her school. Yeah, he’d be a long-distance boyfriend, but he was gonna make sure he’d be the best for her. He promised to call and write.

It was not the end, but more of a beginning.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Maul?

A/N: PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! HEADCANONS NEED LOVE TOO YOU KNOW! (Also the tags are not working because they hate me)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s gentle, shockingly so. No matter how rough or intense, his entire demeanor shifts.  He treats you like glass; caressing your skin, cleaning your mess, and reveling in the lingering warmth. He becomes one clingy bitch is what I’m getting at here. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your throat.  He loves how you leave it so open to him, to kiss or bite or squeeze as he wishes.  It’s a sign of trust, not to mention it leads down to your chests and all the other soft parts attached. (He’s a boob man, that’s all I’m saying)

As for himself, he likes his hands. They still hold his true strength. They can still wield the force to his will; to destroy his enemies or to place a gentle touch to your cheek.  He’s amazed that you can allow him to touch you after how much his hands have done. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He makes a mess whenever you fuck.  He likes to cum on you; on your tits, stomach, back, face, anywhere.  But he really loves cumming inside you and watching it drip from your sex.  Even if he can’t give you children, the idea of burying his seed in you is an instinct he can’t shake.  Would love nothing more than to keep his cock inside you and fill you again and again with him cum until it spills out on the bed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he purposefully makes you angry because he knows how you’ll punish him later.  He’s not sure if you’ve caught on or not, but either way you play into his scheme perfectly.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very before you.  He was taken by Sidious at a very young age; as a Sith he was trained to forgo attachments and obey his master at every turn.  Sidious would not allow his apprentice any chance to form a connection with another aside from taking him back to Dathomir to fulfill a coming of age ritual where he was taken by a Night Sister.  After that, nothing. 

But, for what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in his willingness to learn.  He asks what you want, what you like.  He feels your reactions through the force and demonstrates a control you hadn’t found in previous lovers.  He can be patient when it counts.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves it when you’re both kneeling, with you straddling his waist a he thrusts up into you.  He’s able to reach deep inside you while allowing either of you to gain control as you wish it.  Not to mention easy access to your throat and breasts as he clings to you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maul is 99.9% of the time completely serious during sex.  Either his focus is entire on your pleasure or you’ve given him permission to work out his frustrations using your body.  The only time he’d crack a joke is if he’s feels particularly smug about the way he’s making you feels and wants to tease you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No hair down below, because, well...he doesn’t really have a natural below.  I doubt Mother Talzin added hair just for the fun of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before Maul has two modes; I need to fuck away my feelings OR you are the most important thing in the galaxy let me show you why.  When he’s in mode two, he’s the most intimate and romantic partner you can ask for, almost desperate in his attempt to show you how you make him feel.  If it’s option one, you’ll have to wait until after the sex to get the same treatment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre-Naboo, he kept it on the down low.  He could only allow himself a moment’s release when his master wasn’t around.  And even then, it was only when he was particularly stressed or angry.  It was done quickly with no real thought of pleasure, just some kind of release if he couldn’t do it through violence.

After Naboo, it’s not really something he does because well...there’s not much down there for a good long while and after he gets some of his...parts back, he meets you.  With you, he doesn’t feel as compelled to use his hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink.  He can’t give you children, obviously, but there’s an almost instinct there.  Just another thing Kenobi took away form him.

Also, not sure if it’s a kink, but he’s an absolute switch.  One minute he’s squeezing your neck while using you as his personal cum bucket.  The next, he’s tied to the bed begging and promising you the galaxy if you just let him cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist. As much as he wants to be the only one to see you naked and writhing underneath him, there’s something about fucking you on the throne of Mandalor that sends a thrill up his spine.  Anyone can walk in and know that he’s the one making you feel this way.  He has the power to fuck you in front of the whole of Death Watch if he wanted to and none of them could touch you.  They would know you were his and as their leader they would not dare oppose him.

So, in terms of most common place, your bedroom.  In terms of most thrilling place, the throne room, followed by the war room, and then the training room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You getting angry is the hottest thing in the galaxy to him.  If you direct that anger into destroying your enemies in combat, even better.  He’ll take you the second you’re alone in the ship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Roleplaying.  It’s you and him, that’s it.  He doesn’t want or need to “spice things up”.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving.  He loves your taste and how easily he can get you to cum with just his tongue.  He can feel your pleasure through the force which only drives his further.  Granted he needs to be mindful of where his horns are when you clamp him head between your thighs but that’s neither here nor there.

He’ll certainly accept you going down on him, but he knows it’s not as pleasurable for you to have a metal cock in your mouth no matter how good it feels for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow an sensual, but it almost always devolves into rough desperation.  He’s a man of wild passions and it shows in the marks on your thighs the next morning.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’re almost always the one to initiate them.  He says he can wait until the evening, but he’s often left working well into the night and forgets.  You take it upon yourself to strive into his office and tell him you need a good fuck.  That will get him away from the paper work long enough to leave your legs shaking and his mind a little more clear.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try something you propose so long as you discuss it properly before hand.  He wants to make sure you’re safe before trying anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s absolutely insane how high his stamina is.  For one, he’s got a mechanical cock that doesn’t actually get soft even after he cums.  Second, his reliance on the force allows him to recoup faster than normal.  He can go for an many rounds as you can stand for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

That will be a negative.  He doesn’t have any toys and the idea of you having a toy when all you have to do is ask he finds more than a little insulting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always does it when he’s trying to win an argument or make a point, and it’s infuriating.  He likes hearing you beg or admit he was right all while he teases you clit with the promise of more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Maul gets loud.  It’s almost a defiance.  His master would not allow him anything like this singular happiness with another being and now he’s taking it at his own pleasure.  He screams and growls and moans and begs and every other noise in the book.  He wants people to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Maul wants to have kids with you, and that fact that he can’t really aches at him.  He wants something that is truly his own; a legacy outside of the Sith, a final defiance to the master who abandoned him.  They would be the best of both of you and unparalleled in their power.  Nothing would stand in their way.  He can see it in his minds eye every time you fall asleep in his arms.  But, it can never be.  If Mother Talzin had figured out a way to make life without the need of Zabrak men, he wouldn’t have been a Night Brother in the first place.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like I’ve said, Maul’s entire lower half is mechanical, including his cock.  Mother Talzin made him one which retracts back in when he’s not aroused.  It’s shaped like a Zabrak male: three ridges, each wider than the last giving him good length and girth (look up Nova: Bad Dragon). It also gives him pleasure, which is better than a dilo and excretes a synthetic cum when he climaxes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s not so much a sex drive as a yearning for you.  There are times he just wants you, to hold you close, to bury himself inside you and forget anything exists outside of you.  It’s in flux, but it’s certainly higher than most men you’ve known.  You’re having sex at least every other night if not more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t dare fall asleep until you do.  He likes the feeling of your body relaxing beside his as you drift off. He likes knowing you trust him to keep you safe, even in sleep.  Only when he knows there’s nothing lurking in the dark to take you away does he finally fall asleep.

[dumbasscorn]

Exothermic : chapter eight

Amalthea vs the End of the First Day 

"Bold of you to assume I would kill my new bestie, Mal! I'm gonna force you to live forever just cause you said that." Previous Chapter 

967 words 

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A shrill school bell ringing brought Amalthea out of the trance that sketching the cars outside put her in.

Not even raising her eyes, she could tell Trevor was on his way over to annoy her yet again. He had been passing her notes in every class, trying his best to make the girl smile.

"Mal, 'Son's got practice in 20, wanna watch sweaty dudes kick balls and yell each others last names with me?"

"That sounds amazing and I'd really love to go, but I'd also really rather die." Standing up, Amalthea elbowed a set of ribs as she walked around the tall boy.

Trevor winced and curled into himself, holding his right rib as he pursed his lips. "Fine! You're not getting any of my special cookies when I talk my brothers girlfriend into making more," he dramatically waved his arms around to exaggerate his point, pushing Amalthea out of the classroom door.

"Brother? Damn, I pity the poor soul who had to deal with you as a kid. If you're annoying now I can't imagine what you'd do to get attention then."

Trevor guffawed at the teen and bumped their shoulders as they walked down the hallway, "Dude, can't even try to deny that-- I was annoying as fuck as a kid. My mom called me a gremlin, cause I'd eat sugar and go fuckin' insane."

Thea felt a tug at the left side of her lip, immediately hiding the smirk from Trevor.

"But on a more serious note, I don't really even know my brother. We didn't grow up together at all. We've got different moms and grew up in different towns - I'm here and he grew up on the reservation. You see, I only found out we had the same dad literally a couple months back, and when I went back to pretending he didn't exist, he resorted to bothering the shit out of me."

Thea could not hold back the snort of laughter that passed her lips, "Bothering you?"

"Dude, yes. He shows up at random times and like... watches me. It's weird as fuck. You might've heard people talk about him. They think he's some cult leader who sells steroids or something."

The two teens giggled at the thought of Trevor's estranged brother being a steroid dealer who finds big dudes and decides to think, hm! I want them in my cult that nobody knows about!

Trevor shouldered a short, talkative sophomore out of their way, watching as the boy gawked at the girl next to him. Amalthea heaved a sigh, shoulders drooping in a sluggish manner, "Damn, I forgot I still got to give this paper to that lady in the office. Kill me and I'll forgive you for being a nuisance."

"Bold of you to assume I would kill my new bestie, Mal! I'm gonna force you to live forever just cause you said that." He bopped her on the nose.

"And you plan on doing that how, may I ask?"

"Don't know yet, I'll look into finding a witch or something so she can curse you into being immortal! Or shall I say blessing, since I'd obviously get the curse too. Can't have you being lonely, Mal!" He grinned heavily, eyes shutting as he did so.

Trevor stumbled over a backpack in the middle of the hall, grasping the shoulder of his new friend for support, and spoke again before fully regaining his balance. "Honestly, thank god Mr. Huber made us project partners,. Now I can text you when I know all the deets."

"Well good luck with that. Text me to say dumb shit and I will brutally murder you, Uley."

"Yes, I absolutely one hundred percent believe you'd kill your bestie." Trevor rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner,

"See you later Mal. I'll tell Jackson you miss him dearly and have your fingers crossed that he'll make the team run laps and suffer!" Trevor smushed Thea's cheeks together with his thumb and pointer finger as he spoke, the teen girl responded by slapping his hand away and rolling her dark eyes at his antics.

"Thank you, dear!" Amalthea waved him away from her, swinging the office door open. Only looking back at Trevor once more to give him the middle finger and turning away when she saw him giggling into his hands, pretending to get flustered.

The young girl handed in the paper that the teachers signed in each class, only after she was forced to introduce herself to the room, to the secretary.

Nodding at the elder woman, Amalthea left out the door and into the drizzling weather.

'Where the fuck is Bella, she better not have ditched me again,' Thea thought angrily, after searching for the awkward brunette and not finding her.

Spotting the ugly truck that Bella sported, Thea made the decision that taking a seat in the vehicle would make sure her cousin didn't strand her.

She thanked herself when she found that the door was still unlocked from this morning.

Bella Swan fumbled her way to the rusty truck, discovering the cousin she found herself ignoring seated on the passengers side.

The girl gave Thea a close lipped smile, uncomfortable at the glare the girl was giving back.

Setting her bag down and starting up the truck, Bella pulled away from the school that reminded her so excruciatingly much of Edward Cullen.

Tearing her venomous eyes away from the pale brunette, Amalthea faced the parking lot and watched as a broad shouldered, tan man scowled as he observed the girls driving off. The ebonette watched amusedly as Trevor walked toward the older man in an agitated state.

'Must be Uley's brother. No wonder people think he's a cult leader on steroids-- could he look any more scary, jesus christ.'

═ ∘♡༉∘ ═

Hi, sorry its been over 2 weeks since I've updated. Yikes! Sorry bout that. My mental health has been not doing good. Hopefully things get better soon and I update more. Spring break is coming up so I'll have a few days to do whatever I want. Gonna try to write a few chapters in that time!

Also, full moon tonight y'all. Love that.

Also (again), I changed the cast list thing. u should check it out 

Tag List: @ivettt @jjpogueprincess @demigodslut​

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me an ask or message me! Do the same if you’d like to be removed. :)

master list 

[baloobird]

Because I Said So

by @baloobird for @searching4sanity716 I hope you like this!!! 💜💜💜

This is my submission to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!!

Ao3 Link (but it’s not revealed yet)

Words: 10.1k (hehe whoops)

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, May Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker

**Slight Trigger Warning: mention of an eating disorder accusation but there’s no actual eating disorder. Attempted kidnapping while on patrol but it’s stopped before it goes anywhere**

Summary: He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May.

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else.

-

Peter doesn't tell May that he has to eat more than the average person because he knows how tight money is for them. He knows his aunt can't afford it so why say anything? And besides, he's fine.

Honestly.

No way is this going to come back and bite him in ass…absolutely not.

Adding my taglist here but the fic will be under the cut. I hope you enjoy!!!

Taglist: @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @dexteritymisdirectionsuggestion @peuty @starkaroos2034 @marvel-us-world @podcastsandcoffee @bestofirondadfics @mmmmmmmmmchicken @riseuplikeglitterandgold @desirexwolf @theoceanphoenixhasrisen @ultravioletstark @just-the-daydreamer @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @diminajackson @theofficialdeannawinchester @whatwasmyprevioususername @spidey-mood @autisticbabynurse @ironmanismydad @tinyandsteven @dreamingformuses @smokesteamair @intuitive-mathgeek @softrdj @legendarypenofeating @petermyspiderson @zselenophile @shymothstudios @and-so-my-adventures-begin @sarcasticmusic @fandomsofrandom @cluusheen @mjc-dream @emygirl @pxterbpxrker @pawprinterfanfic @innocent-until-proven-geeky @blackwatchandromeda @jaelyn-karrett @iron-damn @unnoted-invisible @pixeltrix-13 @anyonewantathroatsweet @m0ther-of-dragons @chaos-with-a-pen @spideynamu @bthtallmadge2 @verdonafrost @the-reverse-mermaid @icymapletree @kitkatwinchester @irondad-is-cannon-bitch @brushes-of-sage @ghostinthebau @canonismybitch @tmifangirl24 @loverofstuffsworld @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @i-write-disney-not-tragedies @drowned-in-books @peanutdoodles @hauntedbybleachella @aelinasardothien @tonystark-built-this-in-a-cave @tonystarkweneedyou @spideygirl2003 @7peternotparker7 @justme--emily @dongjiayun @dykeragee @jmercer1997 @swagfictionreadingnerd @dredfulhapiness @fallenstar07

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!!!

Peter has been staring at that damn clock for about thirty minutes now.

But only one minute has actually passed.

Why do the last ten minutes of class always feel like another fucking hour?

Despite time moving as slow as molasses, the teenager keeps staring at the clock, seeing his life tick away closer and closer to death. 

Hey, it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than learning about the Industrial Revolution.

Whoever decided to make AP History the last class of the day deserves to be shot like Abraham Lincoln.

Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark. Ten more minutes until I can finally freaking eat.

As if reading his mind, the boy’s stomach releases yet another growl, so loud that a few of the surrounding students give him weird looks, making him flush in embarrassment.

The hero smiles sheepishly as he wraps his arms around his torso, hoping to suppress any more incoming rumbles.

God, he is so fucking hungry, as he has been for the last couple of hours.

He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May. 

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else. With the powers of his super strength, stickiness, and “spidey sense”, it’s no wonder he developed an increase in his appetite as well. 

Of course he wants to tell May, he desperately wants to tell her to buy more food, to make enough dinner to feed four instead of two.

But he’d be an idiot not to notice how tight money is for them. Peter doesn’t miss the bills with the dreaded red stamp that states “past due”, or the student loan payments that she is at least a couple of months behind on.

“You, food, and shelter are always my first priorities, you know that,” May has said on more than a few occasions.

While yes, she always has enough for rent, food, and their phones, the kid would be lying if he said that their water and power have never been shut off. And he can’t count how many months they’ve had to go without wi-fi. 

Thank God libraries exist or he’d never get any homework done.

So the teen does what he can to keep from going completely insane from lack of food consumption: since he’s a part of that free lunch program, he thankfully always has a lunch - even though it’s not enough to leave him satisfied - and Ned, the wonderful, amazing best friend that is Ned always packs an extra apple or another sandwich to give him so he won’t feel like he’s completely passing out by the time history class rolls around.

But even then he can hardly stand it.

Peter keeps his arms wrapped around him, watching the clock at the front of the classroom like a hawk. 

Watching the last seven minutes tick by at the slowest possible speed.

The genius feels his head start to droop with fatigue and jerks it upright, keeping it from slamming completely onto his desk. He winces as he feels his stomach release another round of grumbling and squeezes it to keep it quiet, even though it won’t do him any good.

He ignores the more questioning looks from his peers but he doesn’t miss the sympathetic one his best friend is giving him from the next desk over. 

Peter looks away almost immediately. He already feels embarrassed enough for his obnoxious stomach, he can’t stand someone looking as if he’s a charity case.

Which is exactly why he hasn’t told Tony about this either.

He jerks his head up yet again after feeling it droop for a second time and stares at the clock once more.

Five minutes, just five more minutes, Spider-Man.

The teenager misses his masked alter ego. He hasn’t been able to don the red and blue as much lately for a number of reasons such as homework and decathlon.

The most annoying one being that he can’t patrol but for so long without Karen taking notice of his decreasing glucose levels which she would then send to Tony and the last thing he wants is for his billionaire hero to find out about his money troubles.

Peter takes a deep breath, constantly reminding himself to keep his eyes open, damn it, he refuses to fall asleep four minutes before the last bell.

He’ll sleep after he eats all of his hero’s food.

Because when he stays with Tony, he pigs out, eating enough food to feed a “whole army” his mentor has jokingly said.

And since Peter is planning to stay the night, he relishes in going back home that Saturday with a more than satisfied stomach.

Well, for a few hours anyway, until he gets to what his current situation is now.

The boy looks back at the clock.

Two minutes left, hell fucking yes.

God, he needs carbs if he has any hope of staying awake on his way to the tower.

He just needs food in general.

Any food…allllll the food.

The bell rings at long last, leaving Peter wishing he could race out the doors but he’s too sluggish to exert that much energy. Again, he ignores his friend’s pitying looks as he gets his things before walking as fast as he can to his father figure’s car.

The second he gets in and gives his mentor a tired smile, the volcano that is his stomach erupts in yet another growl, announcing the hunger it so desperately craves.

Tony giggles as he makes his way to exit the parking lot, “Somebody’s hungry, huh?”

You have no idea.

His protege sheepishly giggles himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach once again, “Uh yeah, sorry.”

“Only you would say sorry about being hungry,” the mechanic says with a snort, “McDonald’s drive-thru sound good to you?”

“Please, I can taste the Big Mac already.”

“How many do you want?”

“Uh,” Peter holds back as slight anxiety sets in, “Two?”

As they stop at a red light, his mentor gives him a deadpan look, obviously not believing him, and repeats, “Pete, how many do you want?”

“Four?” Said kid answers in a questioning tone, covering himself in case Tony thinks the number is too high. He then adds on, “All with fries? Please?”

Tony smiles down at his kid, ruffling his hair while keeping one hand on the steering wheel, “How many times have I told you that you don’t need to be shy around me when it comes to eating?”

“I know,” his interns says, slumping his shoulders but taking full advantage of this “curls massage” to keep his mind off his hunger, “I just feel bad -”

“Don’t,” the older man says, firm but keeping a gentle undertone, “If you’re hungry, you’re getting food, that’s the rule when you’re around me. It doesn’t matter if you want to eat the entire damn cow, you’re getting it.”

Peter feels a warmth filter through him at that, leaning closer to his father figure and smiling serenely at the hair ruffling, squeezing his stomach as it continues to gurgle periodically.

Tony lets go when the light turns green, his attention back on the road, “Didya even eat today, good Lord, kid.”

Barely.

“Yes,” the tyke responds, drawing out the syllable, “If I didn’t, you’d have to carry me to the tower.”

“That’s a terrifying image.”

“Relax, Mr. Stark, I’m more careful than that,” Peter responds with a cheeky smile. 

It’s true, he thinks. Despite the constant hunger, he’s always been careful, never letting it get to the point of him not functioning as a human being should.

Yes, he’s hungry all the time, but not that hungry.

It’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiine.

“You lost me at ‘careful’, does the word ‘Vulture’ mean anything to you?”

“Hey, I stopped him, didn’t I?”

Tony rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh, “Yeah, touché.”

Peter snickers in brief victory as they pull up to the drive-thru ordering station, “Hey, I may be clumsy but I’m still careful.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” his mentor responds with his own snicker before lowering his window, turning towards the microphone. After the usual polite greetings, he says his order, making sure to order for himself as well, “Five Big Macs, five large fries, a Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, and a side salad.”

“Ranch dressing okay?” The fast-food employee asks as Peter gives his father figure a look of pure confusion.

“Yeah, sure.”

“We’ll have your total for you at the first window.”

“Thanks,” Tony says, driving around the curve to the upcoming window.

Peter asks, “You got a salad? At McDonald’s?”

“No, I got it for you, you really think I’m gonna let you eat four Big Macs and no greens?”

“There’s lettuce on the burgers -”

“Nice try.”

“Jeez, ‘Helicopter Mom’, much?”

“You’ll thank me later when your stomach doesn’t hate you.” 

For once.

Peter rolls his eyes as his stomach continues acting like a bear, looking on as his hero gives the cashier his credit card.

Eh, it’s more food, I’ll take it.

The second the boy takes his first bite of that heavenly, artery-filling burger, it takes all of his strength not to guzzle it down in five bites or less. He’s unfortunately learned from experience that not eating much for a week and then consuming enough food in one sitting to feed his entire apartment building equates to seeing all of that food again in a not so appetizing manner.

So by the time they get to the tower, only one burger is consumed and about half of an order of fries, yet the spiderling’s stomach is still growling. They settle in at the kitchen counter, with Tony digging into his own burger and fries, making light chatter with Peter unashamedly talking with his mouth full.

That Friday night and Saturday morning are spent in bliss, in more ways than one. The two heroes did their usual thing in the lab, Tony helped his kid with some of his homework, kicked back on the couch, and the tyke’s stomach was never not satisfied.

If only he could feel this way all the time.

The older man actually made dinner that night and told Peter he can take home the leftovers for him and May.

The teen’s heart did what felt like an actual backflip. He gratefully accepted the leftovers with absolute no intentions on sharing it with his aunt, instead his mind going into ���math-mode” on how he can ration this throughout the week.

And when Happy drops him off that Saturday afternoon, he’s filled with the most energy he’s had since the previous time with his mentor, damn near skipping to his room in excitement to put on his suit and soar through the skies.

Until he sees May in the kitchen sporting a look of grim disappointment, and his whole demeanor falls immediately.

What happened? I haven’t done anything lately…at least I don’t think I have.

Hold up, did somebody die?

“Um,” Peter starts, gripping the straps on his backpack and praying his aunt can’t smell the leftover pot roast, “May, is everything okay?”

The nurse sighs despairingly, doing nothing to help her nephew’s case, “No,” she taps the barstool next to her, swinging it out, “We need to talk.”

The teenager’s anxiety spikes instantly.

Must she say the most horrible phrase in the English language?

Peter carefully sets his backpack on the couch before walking over and sitting on the designated stool, “Uh…what is it?”

“This,” his aunt slides a piece of paper over to him, “Progress reports were released yesterday and I didn’t check the portal until this morning. Explain this to me.”

Wait, progress reports? School isn’t even an issue, what the hell?

He looks down at the report and studies his grades, most of which are “A’s”, other than a “B-plus” that ruins the streak.

Fuck English and those fucking essays.

And there, at the bottom of the report, is his grade in AP History.

A “D.”

A big, fat, ugly “D.”

“What the hell?” Peter whispers in shock. This isn’t possible, he thinks, he’s never gotten anything below a “B” in, well, anything. School has always been his strong suit.

While yes, there were a couple of history quizzes he did less than stellar on, but shit happens, it certainly wouldn’t cause his grade to jump to a fucking “D.”

“There has to be a mistake,” he exclaims, still staring at the report with wide eyes, “There’s no way -”

“Really? No way?” May counters, voice a mixture of both anger and disappointment. 

Making Peter want to crawl under a rock and die.

His aunt goes on, “Read the teacher’s comment.”

I don’t wanna.

The boy swallows a lump in his throat, reluctantly flipping over the page. He skims down until he sees the one for history and reads the comment.

Mr. Parker is no doubt a gifted student but he has difficulty with paying attention in class. While he does well on the homework, he lacks applying what he’s learned towards the tests and quizzes, both of which carry heavier percentages than the homework itself. I suggest taking more time to study, pay more attention in class, and, if possible, seek a tutor.

Peter scans over that comment who knows how many times.

Okay…maybe he’s done less than stellar on more than just a couple of quizzes.

How did he not see this, how in the fuck did he not know how bad his grade dropped?

The boy feels his stomach gurgle as it digests the last of his lunch that he had before he left to come back home.

Then it clicks.

Shit.

By the last class of the day, the food he’d eat at lunch has long since digested and his body is already begging for more.

So much so that he loses focus on the class and instead does what he can to keep himself sane until he can eat more food.

And the only reason why he’s able to do well on the homework is exactly that, he does it at home, where he’s hungry, but it’s bearable enough to where he can still concentrate.

At school, where he feels like his stomach might actually fall out of his body, leaves little room for concentration.

Peter looks back at his guardian with wide eyes, “I can explain.”

“Really? ‘Cuz I’m dying to hear it.” May lets out a light, humorless laugh, “I just, I just can’t believe we’re having a conversation about this. School was something I never had to worry about with you, what gives? Are you and Ned passing notes? Is there a girl you like that’s distracting you -”

“May, oh my God, I’m not ten,” her nephew says, annoyance in his tone, “And there’s no girl, for the record.”

“Then what is it, Peter?” May counters, getting annoyed herself, “Do you not understand the material, do you need a tutor -”

“No, no I don’t need a tutor. Look, I’m sorry, I’ll bring it up by the time report cards come -”

“You really think it’s that much of an easy fix?”

“Yes, look, May, it’s just a progress report, it doesn’t mean anything -”

“Oh, really now?” She asks, raising her voice slightly, “If they don’t mean anything, then why do they exist, huh? How would you feel if this was your report card? You’d lose your scholarship, Peter.”

Fuck, the fucking scholarship. 

The teenager puts his head in his hands, his heart feeling heavy at the thought of being forced to leave Midtown, “Pretty shitty, yeah. May, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it got this bad, I promise I’ll bring it up. There’s a test next week, I’ll make sure to study for it.”

“Oh, you certainly will, no question, because until I see this ‘D’ disappear,” May hesitates before she says, “No more Spider-Man.”

“No!” The fifteen-year-old exclaims, head snapping right to his guardian, “May, please, please don’t take Spider-Man away from me. He’s what keeps me sane, c’mon, please.”

“He’s why your grade dropped, isn’t it?” The nurse asks, her only redeeming factor is that she doesn’t seem to like punishing him any more than he does, “That’s it, you’re too excited to be Spider-Man that you can’t concentrate on the class -”

“No, that’s not it! -”

“Then what is? Peter, help me understand ‘cuz I don’t know what the hell this is.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t get enough to eat.

He could say it, right here right now, he could say it. He would get to eat, and he could still be Spider-Man.

But May would feel awful.

And he can’t stand to see her more upset than she already is.

“You’re right,” Peter forces out, mentally kicking himself, “Yeah, it’s Spider-Man,” he concludes brokenly.

“That settles it then,” May confirms, voice small and filled with remorse, “No Spider-Man until you get your report card. And in three weeks, if I see anything less than a ‘C-plus’, it’s gonna be a long while before you see that suit again, you understand?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, the boy slowly nods his head, “This is so not fair -”

“It’s not up for discussion. Dinner’ll be in a few hours,” his guardian says, getting out of her chair to start chopping vegetables.

Peter quickly gets out of his own chair and gets his things before dragging himself to his room, the last thing he wants to do is look at his aunt let alone talk to her.

He gets to his room and slams the door, dropping his things and plopping onto his bed face down. He smushes his face on his pillow and screams into it as loud as he can without alerting May before slumping in defeat. 

Words can’t express how mad he is at his guardian but it’s nowhere near how mad the kid is at himself. 

How stupid was he? How did he not notice how bad he’s doing in the class? How could he have let it get this far?

And now there’s no more Spider-Man to at least soften the blow.

As much as he knows he needs to study, he doesn’t, he’d rather just lay in his bed and wallow in self-pity for the next week or so.

That’s just what he does until May calls out that dinner is ready. Peter wants to rebel by skipping dinner but realistically, he’d pass out if he doesn’t eat, and he wants to save those leftovers for as long as he can.

Dinner is the epitome of awkward.  

Not much small talk is made as the kid eats his food as fast as humanly possible, afterward spending the rest of the night drowning out his thoughts through YouTube videos before succumbing himself to torture and digging out his history book.

No way is he letting the late 1800’s ruin his double life and his future.

-

The following week, he gets to work.

Unfortunately, his teacher doesn’t offer extra credit but he did say that if Peter continues doing well on the homework, studies hard for the upcoming quizzes and test, along with the paper due at the end of the month, the teen could have the potential to bring his grade up to a “B-minus”, maybe even a “B” if he aces them.

As long as his report card is above a “C-plus”, he doesn’t give a shit what it is.

The hero decides not to eat the extra food Ned gives him right at lunch and instead scarfs it down right before history. It doesn’t fill him up by any means but his stomach won’t sound like a thunderstorm either. Then when he gets home, he eats some of Tony’s leftovers, leaving his hunger manageable enough to make it to dinner.

It works for that week, to the teen’s pleasant surprise. Who knew that eating can make a person more focused and actually pay attention?

With this new routine, not only does the boy continue doing well on the homework but he damn near aces both of his next quizzes with a “B-plus” and “A-minus” respectively. The higher his grades get, the more confident he feels, he can almost taste the sweet freedom of swinging through the air and becoming one with the wonders of Queens.

Hell yes, Peter thinks, he’ll be back to donning the red and blue in no time.

-

However, that second week proves to be tougher than the first.

For one, Peter finished the leftovers; he didn’t want to, but he knew the food would eventually go bad if he kept it for much longer so he bit the bullet. Pair that with his dinner that night, it made him the most satisfied he'd felt since that waiter at the Thai restaurant gave May an extra plate of food for free.

God, why can’t that happen again?

He sticks to the same routine at school but when he gets home, he limits himself to a small snack to keep him satisfied until dinner.

But that has yet to work.

The teenager is having a hard time concentrating on his homework. The calculus that he normally breezes through is taking him twice as long to complete, same with physics, and he’s forced to put off history until after dinner, where his stomach doesn’t feel like it’s falling out and giving him enough energy to finish it with a passing grade.

Which is where Peter is finding himself now the night before that dreaded history test.

He huffs in frustration as he stares down at his dense brick of a history textbook, words blurring together as he reads over the same page for the fourth fucking time - and maybe the information might actually stay in his brain for once - and starving despite fixing himself a sandwich earlier.

Maybe his dinner should’ve had more sustenance than that but what the hell, he doesn’t know how to cook and May’s going to be at work until like midnight, he had to fix something.

Even though it’s only eight o’clock, the kid’s eyes are drooping with fatigue, resisting the urge to fall asleep on his book and thus making his chance of passing his test get slimmer and slimmer. 

That lousy sandwich didn’t do shit.

Peter lightly slaps his cheek to wake himself up and he continues reading through that same page…again.

Why can’t I learn history dates as good as math formulas, this shit’s exhausting.

He studies as much as he can, going from the textbook to his chicken-scratch notes and now graded past homework and quizzes. Yet the more he tries to memorize political figures, the more he focuses on the food that’s in each and every one of the kitchen cabinets.

As if reading his mind once again, his stomach gurgles with hunger.

Okay, I think I saw another apple in the fridge. I mean, it can’t hurt.

Oh my God, and there’s a bag of chips we haven’t opened yet, maybe May won’t notice if I eat a few…or the whole fucking bag.

Maybe she’ll forget she bought them, no harm, no foul.

The hero’s mouth starts salivating at that. He can’t keep torturing himself like this, he has to get something to eat. Just as he’s about to do so, he hears a scream from outside his window.

“No!”

Peter’s head jerks to the window behind him, eyebrows narrowing in curiosity. 

He’s normally pretty good at tuning out the murmurs that flood the mean streets of Queens…but that sounded close.

Too close.

Like right-outside-his-apartment-building close.

His worry grows when he hears another scream that sounds like it’s coming from the same person.

“Let go of me!”

Not just a person.

A kid.

Peter is out of his chair in less than a second. He opens his window and peeks out from the corner so he can’t be seen. After a few seconds of searching, his eyes land on a scuffle across the street between a middle-aged man with a black hoodie covered face and a little boy who can’t be older than eight or ten years old.

“You’re not my dad!” The boy cries, trying to get out of the man’s grasp.

“Shit,” Peter whispers, “Shit, shit, shit.”

The physiological need now forgotten, the hero races to his closet while he’s hurriedly taking off his clothes, putting on his suit in record time, and keeping a close ear on the scary situation at hand.

Okay, save the kid, come back, save the kid, come back…

He knows he’s breaking his aunt’s trust - which is saying something considering he kept this identity from her for almost a year - but he can’t just sit here and study shit that’s already happened while a child is being kidnapped.

The boy hears the usual greetings from Karen after putting on the mask, looking out the window once more before sneaking out of it, climbing the last few stories so he can scope the situation from the rooftop. He hears the little boy yell out again, “Let go of me!” but the kidnapper keeps dragging him along, mumbling some shit that Peter doesn’t find relevant to comprehend.

The teen swings to the next building, following the kidnapper and the poor little kid. He tells his AI, “Karen, activate web grenades.”

“Web grenades activated,” she responds, her usual robotic manner sounding out of place given the circumstances.

The spiderling swings to a building ahead of the criminal and waits patiently from the rooftop, web shooter aimed at the guy.

Keep walking, keep walking…aaaaand YEET.

He presses the button and a whole net of web fluid goes flying, trapping the kidnapper and hitting him against the wall of a closed bank. Unfortunately, the kid’s left hand got caught up in it and stuck around the web as well.

And he starts wailing.

Peter webs his way over in seconds, ignoring any bullshit the criminal is shouting, and lands in front of the boy.

He starts speaking words of reassurances, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as possible, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I gotcha, you’re okay.” The teen whispers to his AI, “Karen, call the police.”

“Already in pursuit, Peter.”

“Thanks.” Peter uses his super strength to tear the boy’s hand free, applying a small amount of web fluid to keep the net intact. He kneels in front of the kid and asks, keeping his voice light, “Hey, I’m Spider-Man. Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

The boy sniffles, wiping away a few tears with his sleeve. He holds out his left hand as he says shakily, “Just m-my-my, my hand…he was, he was holding it too tight.”

The teenager sighs in relief, thanking God that nothing worse happened. He ignores his stomach’s occasional growls as he asks, “I’m sorry he hurt your hand, buddy. Do you know where your parents are?”

The boy hastily shakes his head, eyes widening in fear, “My-My mom, we were walking and-and there were all these people and, and I-I let go of Mommy’s hand but I didn’t mean to!” His panic increases the more he talks, “Someone, someone uh, someone bumped into me, it was an accident -”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, these things happen sometimes. So you got separated from your mom and that’s how you got lost?”

The little boy nods his head, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes, “And, and then, and then he,” he points to his attempted kidnapper, “Grabbed my hand and wanted to take me away.”

“He’s lying,” the offender says from the other side of the web net. Without even looking at the guy, Peter shoots a web at his face, successfully shutting him up.

The hero hears sirens in the distance and smiles from behind the mask, “The police are coming soon and they’re gonna help you find your mom, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“J-Josh.” 

“Well, Josh,” the teen holds out his fist as a police car turns the corner, “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” Josh smiles as he gives his hero a soft fist bump, biting his lip as he asks, “Can you stay until I find my mom?”

Another stomach growl escapes the spiderling but again, he pushes it down, “Of course, buddy.” 

Law enforcement finally arrives and a female officer approaches the boy, taking his hand as the young genius stands up. His anxiety starts to rise as he starts to feel unexpectedly dizzy and he’s forced to put a hand on the wall to steady him.

Karen says into his ear, “Glucose levels decreasing rapidly, I suggest you seek appropriate nutrition or I can contact Mr. Stark -”

“No,” Peter commands, “Look, I’ll eat something after we find his mom, okay, just don’t tell Mr. Stark -”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Josh asks, turning around to look at the hero in confusion.

“Uh, just, um,” the other boy stutters, spinning around and again, having to use the wall to steady him, “Uh, Bluetooth.”

The little kid raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs and continues walking away, still holding the officer’s hand.

Peter uses his super strength to free the criminal and his mouth only for the guy to be arrested by two other officers. As they’re walking to a second police cruiser, the kid finds himself having to take short breaths and are his eyes deceiving him or is everything going suddenly blurry?

I thought my powers fixed my eyesight.

Karen again whispers in her owner’s ear, “Glucose levels are drastically low. Willing to contact Mr. Stark -”

“Please, Karen, no,” the spider-boy sharply whispers back, “I literally live here, I’ll eat something when I get back.”

“My concern isn’t when you’ll eat, but for if you can make it back at all. I have no choice -”

“Yes you do, don’t call him.” 

Peter walks over to Josh, seeing his kidnapper being handcuffed and put in a car from the corner of his eye, albeit a blurry one, and says, “How you doing, little buddy?”

“Great! They found my mom, she called the police after I got lost and they’re bringing her here.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s great,” the hero says with as much energy as he can pull together, “I have to go now so you be safe, okay?”

“I’m never letting go of Mommy’s hand ever again.”

God, they’re so innocent.

“That’s good, good lesson,” Peter takes a couple more deep breaths as he stands up, ignoring the lightheadedness swirling in his brain, and with a friendly, “Have a good night”, he swings as fast as he can to his apartment.

Food, food, food, food, food…

The teenager sluggishly climbs back through his window and takes off his mask, swaying on his feet as his fingers start to shake. He starts to head over to the kitchen but grips onto the ladder of his bunk bed to let his vision catch up to him.

But then he looks at his bed.

His wonderful, heavenly, comfortable bed.

God, he’s so tired.

No, I gotta eat something.

However, he inches closer and closer to his bed, his world literally swirling around him in such a way that he’s amazed he can still stand up.

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

He’ll just eat something when he wakes up.

No harm, no foul.

Peter then gets into position and starts to belly flop onto his bed.

I’ll just take a nap riiiiiiiight here -

He is out cold before his head even hits the pillow.

-

“Boss, Mr. Parker is in distress.”

Tony’s head snaps up from the TV, gaze going to the ceiling, “What happened? He’s not supposed to be Spider-Manning.”

“Sending Karen’s information to your phone now.”

The man’s phone vibrates on the end table barely a second later. He hurriedly grabs it, reading what’s on the screen.

“Peter Parker’s glucose levels are devastatingly low. His vitals indicate that he is suffering from malnutrition and needs to seek medical attention immediately -”

“FRIDAY, call a suit,” Tony exclaims as he’s getting off of the couch, waiting to hear the rest while on his way to his kid.

“Yes, boss.”

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Tony mumbles as he’s racing to the lab. In no time but it feels like too much time, he punches in his code and walks into the room, instantly getting into his suit, “FRIDAY, read me the rest of what Karen sent, put Peter’s vitals up on the screen.”

“Yes, boss, tracking his location now.”

The hero is out and flying to the location on the GPS only to see that the destination is at…the Parkers’ apartment.

The kid isn’t out.

And Tony has no idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Now knowing where he’s going, he turns off the GPS, trying not to let any panic set in at the boy’s ever slowly decreasing levels.

Or at the open window leading into the kid’s bedroom.

The billionaire stops right outside the window, carefully slipping inside and lifting up his faceplate.

He sees the tyke out cold on the bottom bunk of his bed, his left hand gripping his mask and a small puddle of drool next to his mouth. Tony would’ve thought this was adorable if he wasn’t so worried.

The older man kneels next to his kid and gives him a slight nudge, “C’mon, Pete, it’s time to wake up.” He nudges him a little more.

And a little more.

Tony gets more desperate as his anxiety skyrockets, “Peter, this isn’t funny, c’mon, wake up, we gotta get your idiotic ass fed yesterday.”

But Peter makes no notion of any plans to get up. The only way his mentor knows he’s still alive is by his vitals FRIDAY is whispering to him and the boy’s back rising and falling to the tune of his breathing.

“Kid, you’re really about to make me fucking do this,” Tony says with a sigh, grabbing the teen’s mask and putting if over his head to hide his identity, “FRIDAY, alert medbay, tell ‘em we’re on our way.”

“Roger that, boss.”

The mechanic slips his nameplate back over his face as he picks up his kid, positioning him like a toddler and sitting him on his arm, cupping the boy’s head to keep it close to his neck, “Might need two beds if I get a fucking panic attack over this,” he mumbles.

“Roger that, boss,” FRIDAY responds, not noticing the sarcasm.

“I didn’t mean - whatever,” Tony turns on his repulsors so he’s now hovering over the floor and with one leg at a time, he oh so gently flies out the window, not even bothering to close it as his suit takes off at full speed, determined to get this kid some help before…

He refuses to think about the rest of that sentence.

The entire flight back to the tower, Tony keeps a tight grip on his kid, damn near smushing Peter’s head against his neck. The man says occasional words of reassurance even though he knows no one is listening, “You’re gonna be okay, kiddo, you understand me? You have to be okay so I can whoop your ass later.”

Honestly, he’s not sure if he's saying this more to the kid or to himself.

He has superpowers, of course everything’s gonna be okay.

Because I said so, damn it.

-

Peter comes to, finding himself in a hospital gown on an equally uncomfortable bed, a bunch of wires attached to his left hand and a remote on the table to his right, assuming to adjust the bed and TV.

“What?” He mutters, taking in his surroundings. The room is a standard size with a marker board stating the healthcare professionals’ names, a portable cart containing whatever necessities the patient and doctor might need, along with an attached bathroom and window with a view of New York City.

What the fuck am I doing here?

He shifts on his bed in an effort to sit up but he accidentally hits something with his right leg.

The spider-boy tilts his head in confusion only to gasp at the sight of his father figure sitting in a chair next to him, fast asleep with his head on his kid’s bed, resting it on his crossed arms.

Peter can’t help but smile at the sight of Iron Man snoring but that doesn’t answer his question. He looks back down at the wires on his hand and follows them up to an IV bag with the label “glucose.”

Wait, glucose?

Everything hits the hero like a sack of potatoes as his mind takes him back to the last thing he remembers: the hunger, the little boy, Karen constantly telling him about his levels…

Deciding to take a nap.

And he wakes up here.

“Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit.”

The teenager jumps as he hears random beeps on some machine to his right. He feels his heart racing with panic and his legs start restlessly jerking from underneath his thin blankets, thus accidentally waking up his mentor.

Tony’s head snaps up when he feels his arms being nudged for about the fifth damn time. After blinking out of his stupor, he puts his focus on his frightened kid, “Peter, hey, hey,” he grabs hold of the tyke’s right hand and gives it a heartfelt squeeze, “Kid, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now -” he cuts himself off at noticing his words aren’t doing shit and his other hand goes the young genius’s shoulder, “Peter.”

The child stops abruptly, looking right at his hero. Said man gives him a reassuring smile and comfortingly rubs his shoulder to calm him, “You’re okay, buddy, take a breather.”

“Wha-what happened?” Peter asks between deep breaths, doing as his father figure says and trying to settle down, “Is May okay -”

“She’s fine,” Tony confirms, releasing his protege’s shoulder. He can feel the kid’s iron-grip in his hand and makes no move to let go, “She was here earlier but I made her go home for a bit and rest up. I’d rather there’d be one adult with a sore back than two.”

“Wait, how long was I out?”

“Well, considering it’s now,” the billionaire takes a brief look at his watch, “One PM, about fifteen hours, give or take. You had one hell of a nap, if I do say so myself.”

“That sounds like an amazing nap, I wish I savored it,” the teen replies, “But what happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Tony responds, face looking upset, “Why don’t you tell me why your levels were so low that I had to come get you in my damn suit and bring you back here?”

Peter sighs in frustration, “Glucose levels -”

“That’s right. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um,” the spiderling starts, trying to be as vague as possible, “Dinner.”

Tony raises a confused eyebrow, “How much did you eat at dinner?”

“The normal amount,” Peter answers with a shrug.

Please don’t see through my bullshit.

“And you didn’t eat anything later on? You always have to eat something before bed.” 

“I, uh,” the boy lets go of their grip, feeling his hand start to tremble uncontrollably. He brings it to his lap and puts it with his other hand under the covers, “Forgot.”

“You forgot to eat,” Tony says, face the epitome of unamused, “How do you forget to eat, your stomach practically screams at ya.”

“I just-I just did, okay, I’m sorry -”

“Oh really, you’re sorry? This ‘forgetfulness’ put you in the damn hospital, ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it. I want you to tell me right now what the hell happened. Why did you let it get this bad?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Peter retorts, getting pissed at the man’s tone, “I didn’t want to end up like this, I thought I had it handled -”

“What handled, Peter?” At hearing no answer, the billionaire continues, “I already know about you Spider-Manning when you’re not supposed to -”

“It was one time! I couldn’t just let a kid get kidnapped cuz Spider-Man got grounded.”

Tony’s eyes soften at that, “Was that what happened last night?”

“Yeah, I heard it right outside the apartment building.” The teen’s voice lowers, “I was studying and I was about to get something to eat when I heard the kid scream, I-I couldn’t just let that happen. I was just gonna save the kid and come right back, I didn’t know it got that bad.”

“How hungry were you?”

“What?”

“How hungry were you?” The mechanic asks, repeating the question, “‘Cuz if you were just hungry, your levels wouldn’t’ve gotten that low. Kid, you were way past starving.”

The kid looks down in shame, feeling his cheeks heat up and he can only imagine how red they must look.

Tony then asks, trying to keep his tone as gentle as he can, “What is it that you’re so afraid to tell me, Peter?”

Peter looks up at him with sad eyes, biting his lip. 

Fuck, he’s seeing through my bullshit.

Seeing no chance at a loophole, he knows he has to bite the bullet…but how does he go about telling billionaire Tony Stark that he’s not eating because his aunt can’t afford more food?

Said man asks, keeping his same tone, “Why are you not eating?”

“I am eating -”

“But clearly not enough, why? When you’re with me, you eat ‘til the cows come home - oh shit,” Tony cuts himself off, covering his mouth as his eyes widen in fear.

Peter’s eyes narrow in utmost confusion, “What, what is it?”

“You’re not eating as much as you should,” the older genius mumbles, trying to piece all this together, “And you pig out when you’re here.” He turns to his kid, sporting a scared expression, “Do you throw it all up later?”

That makes the other’s skin prickle into goosebumps, his own eyes bugging out, “What?!”

“It all makes sense now,” Tony states, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms in concentration, “You eat like a horse when you’re with me, but I just brought you here because you’re not eating enough at your place. You already threw it up when you saved that kid, didn’t you -”

“Oh my God!” Peter shouts, the insinuation sinking in, “You think I have an eating disorder?”

“What the hell else is it, Peter? No wonder you were scared to tell me -”

“No, Mr. Stark, it’s not that, I promise it’s not that.” The kid swallows a lump in his throat as he briefly purses his lips, finally giving in, “You don’t understand.”

“Try me -”

“I’m serious, you won’t.” Peter props his elbows on his knees above the covers, putting his head in his hands, “And I don’t expect you to understand.”

Tony leans forward, crossing his arms next to Peter’s outer thigh, his face unreadable, “Then make me understand,” he says slowly.

After a long deep sigh, the boy finally spits it out, head still in his hands, “I don’t get enough to eat.”

“What?”

Peter lifts his head up, resting his hands in his lap, “I don’t get enough to eat. At home, I mean.”

“May doesn’t feed you enough -”

“No, she does, it’s not May’s fault. She feeds me enough food…for if I didn’t have powers.”

It takes a few seconds but the hypothetical lightbulb goes off over the man’s head, “May doesn’t know you have to eat more.”

The spider-boy silently nods his head. 

Tony asks, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

The tyke’s shoulders slump with dread. The guy who can buy fucking Google is about to hear his stupid working-class money troubles.

He then says, eyes looking everywhere but at his mentor, “‘Cuz she can’t afford it.”

“Wait, what?”

“She can’t afford it. I don’t know how she manages to buy enough for if I was just a normal human being, with all the bills and her loans and everything. She can’t buy more food for me, Mr. Stark. I’d love to get a job and help her out but I’m only fifteen -”

“Stop, stop right there,” Tony cuts him off, looking even more confused than he was earlier, “That’s what this is about? You don’t want her to buy more food?”

Peter looks up at the older man, looking offended, “It’s not that, I’d love for her to buy more food but she can’t. I’ve seen the bills when she thinks I’m not looking, or her student loans she’s behind on. God, if it wasn’t for my scholarship I wouldn’t even be going to Midtown ‘cuz we can’t afford it.” His voice lowers as humiliation sets in, “Which is why I have to get my history grade up.” His eyes grow to the size of his head, “Oh my God, my test is today -”

“Don’t worry about it, I called the school this morning, you can make it up next week.”

“Next week? But it’s Thursday -”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need more than one day to recuperate after all of this,” Tony says, slightly annoyed, “Why didn’t you tell me you guys are having money issues, I can help you out -”

Peter cuts him off with a humorless laugh, “You really think that’s gonna solve everything?”

“If it means to get you to eat more, it absolutely will,” the billionaire responds, raising his voice in offense.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it -”

“Then make me get it, for God’s sakes, you need money and I can give it to you -”

“We’re not a charity case, don’t you understand?” The child exclaims, “We’re doing fine, we don’t need help -”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing -”

“But we are!” Peter sighs deeply in frustration, “You’re not the first person to offer us money, okay? You don’t know how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“For someone to try and help you out by giving you money. It sounds great on paper but you’ve never had someone give you this-this ‘look’ of pity that makes you feel this big,” Peter shapes his thumb and index finger into the shape of a “C”, with both fingertips almost touching, “All because you’re not making that much money. I just, I don’t wanna put Aunt May through that again. She’s proud of what she does, she loves what she does, she loves helping people. I don’t want anyone belittling her again.”

That makes Tony pause.

While yes, no shit he knows the vast majority of people don’t have his kind of money but most of the people in his life over the years only hung out with him because of his money. He’s never thought about the opposite end of that coin, how someone is proud of making a living, especially being in a profession that they love.

And that as long as they can provide for them and their family, they don’t need to be a billionaire to be happy.

“You really love May, don’t you?” Tony finally asks, a proud smile spreading across his face.

“More than anything,” his protege says with a nod of his head, “So please don’t tell her -”

“You know I can’t do that -”

“Please -”

“No, Pete, while your intentions are good, I can’t let you keep starving yourself like this. Who knows what would’ve happened if you weren’t in your suit, if I didn’t get that notification from Karen.” The older hero grabs hold of his mentee’s hand again, “Hey look at me.”

Peter reluctantly looks up at his father figure, his shame slowly but surely ebbing away.

Tony gently his thumb over the tyke’s knuckles, giving him a reassuring smile, “You deserve to eat. We’re gonna tell May and we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

An unexpected third voice erupts from the doorway, “Tell May what?”

Both heroes’ heads snap to the front to see the woman herself walk in, closing the door behind her. She immediately rushes to the other side of her kid, giving him a hug, “How you doing, sweetie, you gave us quite a scare there.”

Peter hugs her back letting go of Tony’s hand, “I’m better now, thanks to Mr. Stark.”

“It’s nothing, bud,” the mechanic says, comfortingly rubbing the tyke’s knee, “I’m just glad I can help.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Tony,” May says when they separate, sitting down in her own chair opposite the older man, “I know I said that like a million times, but really, I owe you one -”

“You don’t owe me a thing, not where the kid is concerned.” Tony turns to his intern, “But you actually came at the perfect time ‘cuz Pete here has something he’s gotta tell you.”

“Oh?” May turns to her nephew, grabbing hold of his left hand, being mindful of the wires connected to him, “Is it about what happened, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Yeah,” Peter replies, defeatedly, “I’m sorry I went out as Spider-Man but I had a good reason.”

“We’ll talk about that later, I’m just glad you’re okay. What happened, sweetie, you’ve been eating just like you always have, what was the problem?”

“That’s the thing, May,” the boy starts, scratching the back of his neck, “There’s something I didn’t tell you about me after I got my powers.” He doesn’t wait for her response, “I have to eat more than I used to to keep up with them. I have I guess what you call an ‘enhanced metabolism’, meaning I have to eat more than everyone else.”

The nurse’s eyes squint in confusion before her eyebrows raise as everything sets in, “Oh my God,” she says, leaning back in her chair and hand covering her face, not unlike what Tony did earlier, “So all this time you were starving yourself?”

“Well -”

“Why, Peter?! Why the hell would you do that?”

“‘Cuz I know you wouldn’t be able to afford it, okay?” Peter cries, “I didn’t want you to struggle any more than you already do -”

“Stop,” May cuts him off with another hug, her eyes glistening with unshed tears behind her glasses, “Stop, baby, stop.” She lets go and looks right in his eyes, “Don’t ever pull that shit with me again, you understand?” 

Peter nods his head, letting a small grin escape him at hearing a muffled snicker from Tony, “I promise. Um,” he takes a deep breath as his aunt settles back into her chair, “It’s also why my history grade is as bad as it is.”

“What?” Both adults ask at the same time.

“Uh,” the teen starts, fidgeting with his top blanket, “So the free lunch I get at school doesn’t fill me up obviously and Ned sometimes brings extra food and that helps…for a while.”

“I know where this is going,” he hears Tony mumble.

“Yeah, and history is my last class of the day so by the time that comes around, I’m really, really hungry so I have a hard time concentrating. In my defense though, it’s boring as shit.”

Both adults can’t help but giggle, “Yeah, history wasn’t my strong suit either,” Tony says, coming to his kid’s defense.

“Peter, this is why you need to tell me things,” May says, “You still understand why I punished you, though -”

“Yeah, even though I hated it. Is Spider-Man ungrounded now?”

“You get rested up and eat for once and we’ll talk.”

“Deal,” the kid confirms with a grunt.

As if on cue, his stomach releases an ever so slight gurgle. As much as the IV bag has helped, he needs actual food sustenance.

Tony says, pressing the button to call a nurse, “And on that note, let’s get you patched up and we’ll order in, how ‘bout that?”

May cuts in, “And you can have allll the orange chicken your tummy desires.”

Peter gives them both a timid smile, wincing as another growl rolls in his abdomen, “That sounds amazing.”

-

“Mr. Stark, I’m a failure.”

“Kid, you know you’re not, it’s just a few dates and inventions.”

“You make the Industrial Revolution sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

It is now the following week, the day before Peter’s makeup history test, and the father-son duo are in the lab after school. Instead of actually working on anything, Tony is helping his kid study.

If only he can get Peter to put the material in that hard head of his.

“You get into that mindset, and it will be the easiest thing in the world, bud.”

“Easy for you to say,” Peter whines, “Your scholarship’s not riding on this.”

Aw, how cute that he thinks I won’t help him out.

“Forget about the scholarship, you’re already stressed as it is. Focus on the triple cheeseburger you’re gonna get after this thing is finally over.”

“The two triple cheeseburgers,” the kid shyly elaborates.

Ever since the tyke dropped that bombshell about him freaking starving himself, things have changed. For one, May - refusing Tony’s help - is buying more groceries and always makes sure her kid gets a lunch in addition to the free one that’s available. Whenever Peter stays with his father figure, things stay the same except now when Tony makes dinner, he purposely makes more for leftovers.

And now, the man is about to present his kid with another way to help him out.

“Pete, I think your brain might actually explode, let’s take a break for a sec, huh?”

After releasing a long, dramatic sigh, Peter drops his pencil, “Y’know what? Fuck history.” 

Tony can’t help but bust out laughing, “Kid, you know why you have to learn it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it’s not like I’m gonna be a historian or anything.” The teen gets up and walks over to where his father figure is standing, “Whatcha wanna work on?”

“Actually, I want you to do this for me first.” The billionaire takes a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and unravels it, holding it out to his protege, “I want you to sign right here, and initial here.” He points to the designated areas where a signature is required as the teen takes the document, reading what it says in confusion before his eyes widen in shock.

“You’re…you wanna make my internship a paid internship?” Peter asks, not believing what he’s seeing, “And May already signed it?”

“Yup, you’re not eighteen so I needed May’s approval. So,” Tony casually leans against the table, holding out a pen for the kid, “What d’ya say?”

“I-I,” the teen stutters, his gaze not leaving the sheet of paper, “But like it’s not actually an internship, that’s just a front -”

“Really? You think all the stuff you do around here is just a front?” The older genius asks with a cheeky smile, “Making up web fluid and all the repairs you help me do, I should’ve done this a long time ago if I’m being honest.”

Peter looks long and hard at the writing in front of him, occasionally glancing back and forth at both that and the man who put it together.

He’s not stupid, the kid knows why his mentor is bringing this to his attention.

And he’s grateful.

Tony could’ve tried offering money again, making him feel like a loser even though he didn’t mean it in that way.

But no, Iron Man is offering him a job, a job where he can continue doing what he loves while he helps out his aunt in the process.

He can feel accomplished…proud even.

A smile breaks out across the teen’s face as he takes everything in, thinking about what he can do with the money he’s going to make in addition to helping May: saving up for college, a car, and ooh that Nintendo Switch he’s been dying to have -”

His thoughts are interrupted by Tony clearing his throat, snapping him back to reality, “My arm’s getting tired here, kiddo, you in or not?” The man asks.

Peter takes the pen and lays the sheet on the table, signing on the dotted lines before giving it back to him, “Um, th-thank you, thank you, Mr. Stark, you’re amazing.” He concludes with giving him a hug, wrapping his arms around his hero’s torso thus making the older man gasp in surprise.

“Well, I already knew that,” Tony says jokingly, giving the tyke a light ruffle of his hair, “But it sounds so much better when you say it. You’re the amazing one, don’t doubt that.”

“Tell that to my history book.”

“Speaking of,” the mechanic starts with a snicker, “The Second Industrial Revolution -”

Peter cuts him off with a groan, defeatedly resting his head on the other’s chest, “You said I could take a break -”

“Yeah, for a sec.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“But you ‘needa’, c’mon, back to studying.” Tony lifts his mentee’s head and lightly pushes him back to the direction of his textbook, “So, who invented the telephone?”

“Uh, ‘Mr. Telephone’? He probably used his last name when he invented it.”

Tony lets out about the deepest sigh he’s ever expressed, “So this is how my hair goes gray.”

-

The following week, it is an ordinary day at the Parkers’ residence. May is preparing dinner while her nephew - who is still feeling satisfied from his after-school snack - is at the counter working on homework, trying not to stare so much at his history test that his aunt stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet.

But damn, he’ll never get tired of seeing that shiny red “B-plus.”

There is a sudden knock at the door, making both Parkers tense up since they’re not expecting anybody.

May opens the door with her kid standing off to the side. On the other side stands a middle-aged man holding a clipboard with about half a dozen bags on the ground around him.

Are Peter’s eyes mistaken or do those bags look like the reusable ones grocery stores sell?

“Ms. Parker?” The man asks, voice neutral but friendly.

“Uh, yes?” May reluctantly responds, looking the epitome of confused.

“I got your groceries here for ya.”

“What, um I didn’t order anything, Peter, did you?” The nurse turns to her kid who responds with a simple shake of his head, his expression matching his aunt’s.

The man’s eyes squint at the small clipboard he’s holding, “Isn’t this your address, ma’am?” He holds the clipboard out to the older Parker and she studies the sheet for a couple of seconds, eyes looking more and more baffled.

“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s us but-but I don’t understand -”

“No need to explain, I’m just the messenger. If you would just sign right here, saying you received your items -”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m not paying for something I didn’t order.”

“Don’t worry about it, that’s all taken care of. All I need from you is your signature.”

“Uh,” May stutters, shoulders slumping in defeat, “Okay, sure.” She signs the paper and gives it back to him.

“Do you need assistance with the groceries today?”

“No, we got it from here, uh, thank you, thank you very much.”

“Alright, have a good day,” the delivery man then leaves them be. They pick up the grocery bags and bring them inside, quickly going through them as if it’s Christmas.

They gawk at the food items in front of them: steak, salmon, lobster, there’s even veal and duck amongst a pile of vegetables, some of which they’ve never even seen before.

“Where did all of this come from?” Peter asks, amazed at all that “Santa Claus” has graced them with.

“Wait, there’s a note.” May reaches the bottom of one of the bags and pulls out a mini note card that could mimic one that goes in a flower arrangement. She then reads aloud the brief message.

This is what you get for refusing help. Expect groceries every Monday and Thursday for the next, well, ever. 

Signed, “You Know Who I Am” -

“Mr. Stark,” Peter finishes with a disbelieving grin, “Of course he did this.”

May can’t help but laugh, not believing this herself as she gets out her phone, “I’m giving this man a piece of my mind.”

Her nephew giggles in response, already getting out his own phone and sending his father figure a text.

Thanks for the groceries but you reeeeeally didn’t have to do that

Tony responds not even a minute later.

I know 😉

Now for God’s sakes EAT!!

[soranihimawari]

Based on this Oikawa art: ©️to the original artist credits via this link.

Tagging : @oikawa-obvs @m0nstergeneration20xx @smolbludandelions @oikawaandkuroostan

Word count: 2.2k

Playlist for reference:

The lullaby:

The song that helped me write:

Conmigo, tu corazón está a salvo.

(With me, your heart is safe)

A small part of you is a tad bit more curious these days since your building had received a new occupant. You had been studying for months abroad in Argentina, the place where your paternal grandparents had met during the Second World War. They were encaptured by the thrall of escaping their fascist home territory of a province in Italy as children; the two would eventually meet as young adults and with a promise of an apple and fine charcuterie select meats, it wasn’t long before they were busy tending to their own children.

One lucky son met the love of his life on an excursion to the library and had successfully flirted with a young florist who did not fall for the young man’s sharp features, but instead, with his kind heart. The younger couple chose to move abroad to the states for a few years in order to leave behind the pillars of their supportive past to sketch a dream for their future.

You were the first child who infamously stayed mute, observing a world that was meant for those who were much older and wiser than a child. You had been exposed to mainly three languages and until the age of four, you remained silent. You had been dragged to many doctors and learning centers yet the cause for the quiet loomed over your tiny demeanor, but growing up in a multicultural household did have its charm. You were five years old when you finally decided staying quiet was no longer an option; you strung along sentences in your father’s Argentine tongue, your mother’s native British English, & finally much to your grandparents’ surprise, Italian. The world was much more brilliant since that day.

Now, nineteen years later, here you were standing at the mailing center floor of your student lodging. The mid-July season was a time when the air brought about snow and sleet and the graying sunset surrounded the city of Buenos Aries in a phosphorescent hue. The new neighbor had just arrived from Japan earlier last month; he was a sight to behold. You couldn’t help falling for his charming smile or his determineds stare as you two walk up the stairs together. Suddenly, you think of yourself when you were nonverbal for the first five years on this planet. His actions and reactions to the new side world was at first marvelous; you could see his passion and drive everyday you would leave the apartment for various errands like heading to the market or a cafe for a light snack of coffee and pan de bono.

However, the thinning veil of homesickness loomed behind the closed door had become much too great. You didn’t mean to pry, but you could tell the man was clearly upset at something (or in this case someone) as you over heard his voice crack on the phone, which for whatever reason had been set to speaker:

“Lo siento Toto. No podemos encontrar un traductor para usted ahora mismo.”

You close the book you were reading in your room as soon as you heard the call end. It was only three weeks into his tenure, but you and him liked to play a game. You come up with it one afternoon after your online lecture at the university finished and he was home from a jog around the apartment block. You smile at him, waving shyly at first. He returns the gesture before you make a sign with your hands; this is when you point him and he glanced down at your kind eyes. You smile again and with your opposite hand, you tap his door once. You frown, and it’s two knocks. And so on. If there is an emergency, it’s a triangular placed knock; if it’s a health thing like a cold or your cycle showing up, a square. So now you wait patiently waiting by the wall of next to your bed and when you hear no knock from him, you raise your hand and knock twice. Your neighbor agrees with two knocks followed by a triangle.

Of all days to make a house call, you chose no time like the present. You grab your D-link key ring, bag, and a hoodie before you slip on your light blue high top sneakers. You lock your front door and slide to the left. Your heart suddenly beats a bit faster because you give a curtesy knock on the door. The deadbolt squeaks as your neighbor pulls the door open.

The apartment is dark save for the night light in the kitchen and the light in the bedroom. Looming above you, you noticed his pink tinged nose and tear stricken cheeks hidden by a broken smile. You think about your family stories about being lost and found. You apply it to him once the door behind you closes. His dark brown hair bounces on a whim as he instinctually reaches out for your hoodie sleeve; he tugs on the fabric causing you to turn to look down at his hands. He mutters something so quietly you thought it was the heating element being turned on by the timer.

You nod your head, kicking off your shoes; you see the small area next to the coat closet where his shoes were kept. This momentary delay caused enough of a buffer time before he moves his hand into your own to hold. You don’t mind the roughness of his fingers at all. Against yours, it feels like the sport he so heavily trains for everyday gave him these aesthetically pleasing grip. You squeeze his hand gently for reassurance, your eyes hide a certain storm of serenity & you decide that perhaps this is what he needs. You have to quell the uneasiness and betrayal he was emoting because you of all people understand.

Call it a sign of humanness since you both slowly start to see each other not as neighbors, but as equals in the solidarity of finding comfort in the other.Neither of you say anything as he leads you to his kitchen dining island where he sits on a singular barstool, his body facing you with his hand in yours still.

You raise an open palm to his face, his cheek is warmer than you expected when he closes his eyes and the tears fall again. He looks like a pouting child, much to your amusement. You say nothing as your other hand massages the ringlets (which felt like chocolatier mousse)that make up his hair before you feel his other arm snake around your waist and he pulls you closer; your hoodie becomes damp the more he lets out every thing that he kept locked away. The loneliness is not kind to those who fear it, yet the two of you persevered. After all, the dark is less scary when you have a friend and so you grasp a hold of him. It hurts; this hurts seeing him this way because somewhere along the way you and him forged a bond. And you hold the boy who is so far from home as much as you can; believe in me and I will come running to you. Your inner conscience conveys this until his crying subsides you stay there still cradling his hallowed frame. His sniffles are reduced to a breadth of a whisper as you hum the opening bars of a song you heard earlier on the classic radio XM station.

Your eyes notice the shirt he wears has been through better days with the faded title on its sleeve, you realize the word is the same no matter which language you spoke; you brush back his hair with your fingers before you pry his almond eyes upward to get a good look at your stoic face. You wipe his cheeks with both of your hands and when you are sure his eyes are truly focused on your promoninent features, your breath hitches in your throat for a moment. You intake a sharp breath and when you exhale rather slowly, your breath fans across his brow. His eyes are closed for a half a second and you decide to open your mouth when your mid-Atlantic voice finds its place.

“Captain,” is the first word you say with confidence you say with utmost clarity. You trace your fingers on the faded design, your neighbor’s emblem is a crown as well. Your voice cuts through his pride like a comet; it is surreal and bright. The shadows of sadness ceases to exist when you see how much the old title inspires the almost snuffed out embers to reignite. He doesn’t look anywhere but up at you stunned in a wild glimpse of surprise. You repeat the word, a brief smile dances across your features.

“Captain. Capitán. Capitano,” all three languages you know in succession drives his mind to rule the court again. You tell him this out loud until he kisses your lips closed; it is as honest as he feels and when the kiss breaks you tap his steadfast pursed lips with your left handed fingers. His arm is still on your waist with the other brushing back your your front layers of hair over your shoulders. You place your right hand in the middle of his chest which now regained its resting breathing rhythm. He asks you something and you nod. You stifle a yawn before you remove your hand from his lips and lean down again.

This time, this kiss is calculated and efficient; you guide the hand on your waist higher to your neck and when you tilt your head to the opposite side, he whines. Yet you smirk beneath the soft sound he makes you reply with. You remove your lips from his and kiss his jawline, the side of his neck driving his impulse points insane. His hair is a mess and so is yours, but neither of you are paying it any mind when his arms envelope your body; he lifts you with such ease you feel your head swimming and the kiss is becoming more deep. Your hands entwine around his shoulders for stability, and your legs wrap around his hips; and he breaks this moment to hold your body for the few minutes he needs to move you swiftly out of his kitchen and into his dimly lit room. He smiles into this kiss and finally the least bit of sorrow leaves for the time being.

There is an innate need of questions seeking answers. Desires of wanting to feel safe in the company you keep is a mad thought when your nightly clothed bodies are pressed in an innocent hold and the kisses exchanged are like tantalizing secrets you expose.

He knows he’s not in the right mind set to give you all of him, but this physical love language you both trade off are fine for now (on so many levels). He navigates the small apartment with ease calling you nicknames from his hometown like Watashinojinsei no joō & Hikari no ōjo.

You breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth as he lays you down, a tender sigh escapes your mouth in vague innocence remains. (It would be a name he affectionately still calls you years later, but neither of you are perturbed by the future you will create for each other.) You are on equal footing or lack there of as you both reach an sensual epiphany.

You let him hold you for as long as needs; your bold vitality is what motivates your contemporary lover in your arms, away from the fickleness of the world outside. Here in the bed draped in a sky blue tone, does the light he keeps on shine around you. Even Helios learns to drive the chariot, like your mythos books say, so you balance yourself, on your knees close to where he his hands rest on your thighs. He waits learning newer customs he was still adjusting to since he left his palace home behind.

You straighten your lower back as he observes the way you pull off your hoodie revealing a thermal turtleneck that has a designer’s mark stitched on the corner. The familiar western numbers stare at him through the well loved turtle neck. Your paternal grandmother and father’s favorite fútbol player and mother’s lucky number is exposed to him. The faded gold and white thread outlines the club from the late modernization of the sport (a club that has since been retired). Argentina’s famous #13 ranking legend is Oreste Omar Corbatta, commonly known in 1957 as “Angels with Dirty Faces,” but from where the soon to be Olympian watches you, he knows where this chance meeting would end once you trace your fingers along his face...

You crawl back toward him to rest your head against his neck as he presses his lips against your brow. You look up at him with a a stern gaze. He chuckles at the way your nose scrunches before he kisses you one final time, hope ever present when your bodies succumb to sleep. Somewhere along the twilight hours activities, the idea is seared into both your minds that no matter what happens afterwards, because falling in love with him would be the driving force for him to call you his everything.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 28: Valon Joins the Dead People Gang

So lately it’s been really freakin hot.

Like crazy freakin hot. I haven’t done anything productive because youknow--I live in a Covid hotspot and I’ve been quarantined for what feels like is 6 years, and then to continue the 10 plagues across America, now it’s just really freakin hot.

I was trying to go the hell to sleep when I heard this WIND outside my window at 2 AM. Just...WIND. It was like 5000 degrees outside, and then it started thundering, and then the lightning started hitting and I was like...wtf 2020, please calm down!

So I decided to check Twitter at 3 AM really fast just to make sure this wasn’t a freakin dream. Aaaaaaand Northern California had a Fire tornado warning.

3 words I never thought I’d see in conjunction. Fire tornado Warning.

and it hella dropped in Tahoe, y’all, it was freakin nuts. Meanwhile, Death Valley--the place where Yugi hella biffed it and died, if you don’t remember--hit 130 F (54.4 C, for the metric lovers in the back) so...it’s been a time for every part of California, and now we have some good ol fashioned rolling blackouts accompanied by 27 wildfires (yes, 27 fires) who have turned the sky into a yellow pea soup.

So because of the rolling blackouts (one of our power transformers exploded because of either the lightning or overuse, I dunno) at any point...my power might go out. Because of this, I didn’t feel like booting up Photoshop and so instead I’ll just...work on this.

...something about the Fire Tornado, the yellow shadow realm outside my window, and crazy lightning over San Fransisco reminded me that it’s been a HOT MINUTE since I’ve posted so lets get back to Yugioh. Somehow they knew that the doorway to hell was my back yard and you know what? They’re right. Completely believable and I wish someone would close the damn door.

Tristan read my mind that it’s been such a hot minute since I’ve checked in, that he mansplained a very quick summary of what the hell is currently happening to Tea Gardner.

A brave man, Tristan Taylor. A brave man to risk getting into a fight with Tea, who is the only Goliath on this show that exists without also being a paper card.

Which is when Pharaoh had some news.

I guess without Duke around, Pharaoh had to be the new Killjoy

(read more under the cut)

I exaggerate a little for the caps, but it’s kind of interesting that when Joey is usually on his own, it’s Yugi who’s certain that Joey is about to die and Pharaoh is the one that has to calm little Yugi down. But, when Yugi’s not there, I guess Pharaoh is just already in a Mood.

Mai is really weird this episode! I wish this season had gone into more detail about the extent of the Orichalcos’s mind control. Because Mai could very well be under it’s spell...or not...maybe it has no spell and they’re just falling for it like a placebo?

It’s not like the Orichalcos was ever put on anyone who was “good.” like if it were possessing someone nice like...

....

....(let me think about this, I’ll think of someone on this show who is a true lawful good.)

....

.................Dark Magician Girl, then I’d actually know if this Orichalcos actually IS different from how these characters actually are. But Mai was introduced in this series as a villain, and she’s always been around to bust balls, so it’s like...what part is Mai and what part is not?

Apparently a part that only shows up when Valon dies.

PS Valon turns a very quick 180 right before he died. I honestly thought I had skipped an episode or something because bro mentioned something about...Valon burning down a church or something...but I think that was a spicy headcanon where he mixed up this show with another anime.

I think. If I skipped an episode, y’all would tell me, right? I didn’t skip an episode?

I did skip the card games, however, so something about getting punched like 1000 times in the dick by Joey Wheeler taught Valon how to be human again, and the death that followed the 1000 dick punches inspired Mai to remember that Valon exists and that she Loves Him.

(just flat on his face)

I just...

I am going to give Yugioh this one. They have had so little in terms of relationships--I will give this to them. Good Job Yugioh, you did it. You had a relationship on your show. Sure, it was one where she...never seemed to like the guy at all, but hey--they actually did embrace...a corpse. Good on you, Yugioh.

Again, I have a really difficult time not cracking up about this very tragic moment a little bit because (and I have said this before about relationships on Yugioh), but I have never seen a TV show treat a straight relationship this way. I have never seen Straight Baiting before in my life and it is...WILD.

Also because Valon and Mai have both murdered I want to say hundreds of people at this point, it’s hard to feel too bad about them, although they are drawn as a very cute couple in how their outfits match. They got the finger less gloves, the belts hanging off their collar, the sleeveless outfit that is both too much clothes and too little clothes at the same time.

And like...I really like the idea behind Valon/Mai. I still think that was a good idea to build off of, I just wish that there was more of a sign from Mai that she had any idea that Valon existed prior to this. Because Valon had Orichalcos too, but he was fully able to love her--so what was happening on her end that prevented this? Was it just the amount that she hated Joey was so much more than her love for Valon? Was Valon actually more jealous of her hate of Wheeler and misinterpreted it as love?

Anyway it’s a billion degrees and I don’t have air conditioning so...I think we’ll have more time to think about this next episode. Maybe it’ll occur to me two weeks after this heat wave ends exactly what I am trying to grasp at when it comes to these two, but for now all I can say is...well it was nice.

Ah RIP Valon/tine (or at least I assume that’s the ship name). You lasted almost a whole season. You almost became a thing. I guess well find out if there’s redemption after he eventually gets resurrected.

And on this show we redeem resurrected people kind of a lot, so that seems reasonable. Sure it was a couple hundred people that he murdered but like...we redeemed Marik.

And then she goes back to wigging out like immediately. The flipping and the flopping of Mai Valentine in this episode is a lot.

And immediately after he says something along the lines of this, he follows with...doing this:

Joey! Valon just died so you wouldn’t have to duel Mai Valentine! He’s dead, Joey! Maybe try talking???

The thing about this show is that cards can both heal you and also destroy you, and the line between the two is just...rolling a dice and hoping you come out healed. Yugi played cards against Yami so that Yami could free himself from his guilt and move on--Valon was healed of Orichalcos control because Joey beat him at cards--Seto was “cured” of his more evil side because Yami mind wiped him in a card game--card magic is weird.

At the same time, Cards can take your soul in just So Many Ways--kind of one of the downsides. But, in a very round about way, maybe cards are kind of like therapy in this world. Maybe they don’t have therapy, and all these kids playing card games with eachother is metaphorical to how they all need eachother in order to push eachother to actually go through the steps of-

Ah, who am I kidding? They just really needed to have Mai lose at cards so they could write her off the show.

I do appreciate that the show never tells you that someone’s actions in the past mean they must rot for eternity. This show will never cancel anyone and say “burn that bridge, let’s go” but I feel like murder is...the line where you can just walk away?

But youknow if that were true of Joey wheeler he’d have no friends left.

During this time, The Yugioh crew was inexplicably lost while, for once in his entire life, Seto was going the correct direction.

Unfortunately, the lure to throw cards at thing was too much for him to go the right direction for very long. It is kind of funny to note that he is the smartest boy in Domino--so he knows you can drive through a hologram--but he just didn’t want to know if they were real or not, so he...didn’t.

Like I think that says a lot about Seto, and I’m sure the show-runners didn’t think about this at all, but he could have tested his theory right now. He could have just seen if these were real in order to know if he was crazy or not...but he’d rather be insane, than be involved with magic.

Anyways, Mai drops that Orichalcos.

Reminder that San Francisco is only 7-12 miles from one end to the other depending on what part of the peninsula you’re on.

But then again, they’re reading a map in Roman characters and these kids are school dropouts who only speak Japanese and maybe Spanish. Maybe they’re actually doing really, really well considering the language barrier?

Anyway that’s all for now I’m gonna go pass out and hopefully when I wake up it’ll be next week when it is no longer hot. If you just got here, this is a link to read these caps from the beginning!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[hirazuki]

Ooo I'm curious about your hot takes on the Inuyasha reboot after reading your tags 👀

Ahaha, where to start XD Idk if they are hot takes, but here are my thoughts in bullet point form for coherency, I couldn’t figure out how else to organize them. Under a cut, as usual, because it got lengthy... as usual :D

We are 13 episodes in, and I still have no idea wtf is going on or what the series is actually about. And yes, I’m aware that we didn’t know of Naraku’s existence or of the overarching plot until at least episode 16 of that series either and Inuyasha was still very episodic in nature at that early point too, but here’s the thing: Inuyasha did not build upon a pre-existing series. For better or for worse, Yashahime has certain expectations to live up to that the original anime didn’t, by virtue of its being a sequel. Unfair? Maybe, but tough; that’s what happens when you make a sequel. Additionally, despite us not knowing The Main Plot™ of Inuyasha until later, the basic framework for it was laid out clearly by... episode 2? I think? Find and collect the Shikon Jewel shards. Boom, done. Were there distractions or fillers? Sure, but you never got the sense that the characters simply up and forgot about the shards. Even in fillers, the shards often made some kind of appearance. With Yashahime, there’s like three potential storylines going on: 1. The most obvious: most of our main cast from the OG is missing; where are they? Apparently no one in-story cares! :D Inuyasha, who’s that lol. I’m all for a sequel focusing on the new generation with cameos of the old crew; after all, they already had their own series. But this is like... no one cares about them? No one talks about them? And the more characters go about not mentioning them, the stronger their absence is felt. Like, for instance, Kaede knows Moroha is InuKag’s daughter. Moroha grew up on her own, doesn’t know her parents. Kaede doesn’t mention them to Moroha, doesn’t even spare a passing thought about them for the audience’s benefit, Moroha doesn’t ask. Kagome’s family in the present day meet Moroha, recognize her as Kagome’s daughter and... say nothing??? Souta shows Towa Kagome and Inuyasha’s old photos, but doesn’t say a word to Moroha?! Like. It makes no sense. By people not even acknowledging their existence, it makes the fact that they are nowhere to be found even weirder. Also the new gen girls don’t care about their parents or finding out who they were/are... like, okay, it would maybe be in character for one or two of them, but all three don’t give a fuck??? 2. Kirinmaru/the rainbow pearls: Idk how familiar you are with the story, but similar deal with Naraku and the shards here. Kirinmaru is being set up as the villain, still a mysterious figure; our new gen trio is supposed to collect the rainbow pearls that... some of his henchmen have? Or he is after them? Or is that Riku? Unclear. ANYWAY the new gen girls often forget all about the pearls’ existence :D 3. Setsuna’s memories: Setsuna’s dreams have been stolen by the dream butterfly and they need to get them back, because without her dreams she has no memories and is unable to sleep. Cool! Finally a solid, easy-to-follow plot line! Except wait! Towa, who supposedly made it her goal to get Setsuna’s sleep back, forgets all about it! All the time! Like, none of them make an effort to look into this other than being like “oh yeah, know anything about the dream butterfly?” to random folks every now and then. The Inugang back in the day was putting some grad school level research towards their goals, just saying. It just feels like everything’s all wishy-washy and there’s nothing really solid tying the series together. People just remember shit exists when it’s convenient.

.

Character development is MIA. I’m not expecting ground-breaking char dev in 13 episodes (though I do know 12 episode series that were phenomenal in that regard), but like... I do expect the series to focus on building the dynamics between the main three characters. So far, the series is more focused on teasing the audience with glimpses and promises of the OG cast instead. The creators are using nostalgia and bait (esp of a certain pairing) to drive interest in the series, rather than developing the new characters as fully-fledged characters for their own sakes. 

.

Moroha is was the only thing I actually liked about the series. She is a little spitfire and you can somehow instantly see both Inuyasha and Kagome in her, while she also remains very uniquely herself; I have never seen such a successfully developed main pairing child in any series. She featured quite prominently in the first few episodes -- and unlike both her parents, she’s got a great memory and knowledge of lore -- where she balanced funny moments with badass fighting moments and being the token supernatural encyclopedia. It was great! And then... they’ve like... forgotten her. She’s been left behind so many times by the twins. She’s the butt of every joke. She’s become the type of comic relief that’s, well, insulting. More like a buffoon than anything else. And it’s basically all for the sake of giving the floor to Towa :/

.

Setsuna is okay. Not offensive, but unremarkable. She’s got her dad’s personality but like way toned down due to her different growing up circumstances, which is nice, but like... I feel she isn’t given any room to grow or breathe or anything. She’s also basically there as a device to enhance Towa’s development.

.

Towa... oy. I tried to like her, I really did, but she just doesn’t work for me. They set her up having a very Kurosaki Ichigo type deal with beating up bullies and getting into trouble at school and shit -- I’m fine with that. That’s cool. Esp if it’s linked to not feeling like she fits in bc she’s a hanyou? Awesome. Except once she travels back in time to the feudal era it’s all “Oh killing is bad you shouldn’t kill people” and “even though they attacked me I can’t possibly hurt them” and “you need to empathize and talk things out” and “friendship is magic” and shit. It feels like she had a personality transplant, it literally makes no sense. Her design is totally nonsensical too -- out of everyone at her school, she’s the only one dressed in a bright white suit? Do protags not wear the school uniform? Someone should tell Kagome lmao. She’s a pro at hand to hand, and she can absorb demons’ powers and fling them back at them like a personified Tessaiga, and she has a lightsaber sword, and she’s immune to miasma, and -- like... you get it. It’s too much. It’s way too OP for the type of universe that Inuyasha/Yashahime is set in. She’s hanyou for fuck’s sake; remember all the training Inuyasha had to go through? When he couldn’t lift his sword? When his sword attacked him? Sango, Miroku, Kagome, even Sesshomaru all had trouble with their weapons and had to work to become stronger. But Towa? Nope. Towa is straight out of the Yas Queen/Girl Boss manual, so she gets a free pass on everything.

.

UGH they are doing the VLD/bad writing thing where things happen (like, BIG THINGS) and none of the characters actually react to them. Or stuff happens and there are no consequences. No one ever talks about anything. It’s wild.

.

Everyone has amnesia!! :D People either don’t know or don’t remember anything or anyone. People who absolutely should know things all of a sudden magically don’t know them. Like, Kohaku -- traveled with an undead priestess, spent years in the company of demons, traveled with Sesshomaru... and yet had NO CLUE that Setsuna is Sesshomaru’s daughter or that she is hanyou, despite her living and working with his team of demon slayers all this time. Like... how, man. How. And Kaede! Don’t get me started. Since when does she perpetuate random demon-boogeyman type stories as facts? Demon children will kill each other in the nest so that only the strongest one will survive, therefore Setsuna must have killed Towa when they were infants. O_O What are they, sharks? Has she been hanging out with Kisame? Wtf?? And she’s speaking about Sess’s kids as though she doesn’t know him or anything about him, when she has had Rin under her roof all these years. It just makes. no. sense.

.

Things that happened in the original series are happening again now! Because that’s the best we’ve got, recycled plot elements wooo! No, but really, characters that died or things that were resolved in Inuyasha keep coming back. Why? What was the purpose of bringing back Kinka and Ginka? To have a foil for Towa and Setsuna as twins? Someone please tell Sunrise they can just create new characters. Like, it’s one thing to have call backs to the original or cameos, references, whatever. But like... this is entire (dead) characters and interactions.

.

No one knows how long it’s been since the original series ended. Fans initially heard 20 years from promo material, then “over 15″ and “10 years since” in-series regarding two different events, and now in a future episode summary we’ve gotten 18 years since Hosenki II gave Inuyasha the black pearl. But like, which black pearl? Because the one in Inuyasha’s eye doesn’t exist anymore, but Hosenki II had told Inuyasha that it would take 100 years for him to produce one. So, are we retconning that or where the fuck did it come from? Also, this doesn’t help one bit, it just confuses things even more. Back to the point, though, we have no coherent timeline or real frame of reference whatsoever, and I’m betting it’s in large part to keep the mystery of who is Sesshomaru’s wife going, as it keeps Rin’s age very vague. Everything is vague and mysterious in Yashahime, to the point where no one knows what’s going on, in fandom or in-story even. It’s kinda like how too much plot twist/shock reveal ruins a story, too much mystery does the same. It’s insane that both shippers and antis of that ship can lay equal claim that the “18 years since” announcement works in their favor.

tl;dr: Idk man, Yashahime is a clusterfuck of a series. Even if the mother of Sess’s twins is either of the characters I ship him with, I will still not like the series. There’s no saving this writing. Every episode feels like this:

[acc3ssdenied]

BRUISED | 06

SUMMARY: You don’t know what you expect when your best friend and her boyfriend invite you to one of his friend’s parties. But, it certainly wasn’t for you to be at an underground boxing venue the next day and for you to be thrown into a world that you had no idea existed.

PAIRING: boxer!jungkook x reader

GENRE: non idol au, boxer!jungkook, badboy!jungkook, tattoo!jungkook, angst, fluff, smut

WARNING: 5.2k+

WORD COUNT: oh boy, let’s get the usuals out of the way :)) excessive alcohol consumption, drug use, explicit language. ALRIGHTY - shotgunning, jungkook really do be a jealous boy, oral [ m + f receiving ], slight nipple play [ OC has nipple piercings ], dirty talk, panty ripping, bit o’ fingering, dom/sob undertones [ jungkook is kinda possessive ], unprotected sex [ pls don’t have children if ur not ready to ], riding, lots of marking [ like I said: possessive ], forgive me father for I have SINNED, kinda fluffy at the end, little bit of angst OKAY BYE HAVE FUN

A/N: i really love the whole jungkook with tattoos and him being a boxer/ badboy so I have decided to write my own! this will have updates alternating with mélomanie most likely but, i also have to keep up with my wattpad schedule. please tell me what you think and ask if you would like to be added to the tag list <3

TAG LIST:  @singulari-taes @lil-bai-of-sunshine @diab1a @bts-trash24 @rubydotexe @ryulite @dammit-jjk @bbyboihongjoong  @bunnyboyjjk @taehyungiev13 @scvkjinrecs @milkandminie @screamingshoes @mygscafe @kimvantaee @pleasantpeachstudent @fivesecondsofsarang @frenchki @gukksluv @loserjeonjk @uugghhheveythingistaken @batakookie @itiswhatitisnt88​ @srslyuwish​ @bubbletae7​ @hhhhwww7​ @unrewardingrhinestone @forevermoremagcon @bangddaengddaeng​ @rjsmochii​ @hisunshiine​ @taeass​

CHAPTER SIX

There weren’t many things that Jungkook was sure of but, one certain thing was that you were going to drive him insane. Most of the time, he doesn’t get jealous easily, simply because he doesn’t care. But, then you came into his life, like a firecracker that had been set off and thrown into his garden accidentally. You were different, that much was obvious and because of that, he found himself falling head over heels for you. He would watch the way your eyes would widen considerably when you wanted something, the way your nose would crinkle slightly when you were confused; every mannerism he picked up on he found himself adoring. But, his favourite thing was your laugh. Jungkook knew you were by no means innocent, you drank more than would be considered advisable and the first time he met you you were high but, every time you laughed he would forget that. It was high-pitched and quiet, as though you were a schoolgirl trying hard to keep a secret but you were finding it too hilarious to not share.

God, he wished he hadn’t walked past Jimin and Taemin as they were talking about you. He only caught the end of it, about how you knew that Jungkook liked you. God, he wished he hadn’t let them spot him and, boy, did he wish he hadn’t let himself hope that you returned his feelings. Granted, he knew that there was little to no chance of that happening; the first time you met you had kicked him in the balls and smiled the whole time — you probably wouldn’t touch him with a stick. That didn’t mean it hurt any less when he saw you pressed against Kai in the kitchen. Maybe she’s trying to let me down easy? Jungkook hadn’t realised how naïve he had become when it came to you. In his eyes, you could do no wrong and you were an angel, maybe even sent down to repent him of his sins. He was taken by surprise when said ‘angel’ was grinding against another man right in front of him.

Now, he knew that he had no right to be jealous — he had no ownership of you and you were friends at best. But, the fact that you were aware of his feelings and you made the conscious decision to hook up with someone where you knew he could see — that hurt a lot. The girl, whose name he had long forgotten, had quickly gotten the message he wasn’t interested once he had stopped reciprocating her advances and become far more interested in the entire vodka bottle he had consumed. Then, he was left alone to watch you leave for a corner with Kai. Fuck this.

It wasn’t just jealousy that coursed through his veins as he stormed out the front door and onto the wrap-around deck that all Fraternity Houses has: it was fury. Jungkook knew he didn’t deserve it. Sure, he had been a right dick at first but, all he had done was try and make up for it since then. Even with Hongjoong, all he wanted to do was protect you but, it was for nothing.

Spotting a bench at the far left of the deck, he sighed and stumbled over to it, throwing himself into it tiredly as his eyes traced the patterns in the wooden panels above him. Stick his hand into his left pocket, he pulled out the blunt that Namjoon had handed him when he had first arrived. He might as well. Just as he had burnt the twisted end off the blunt and he has just placed it into his mouth, the front door swung open again. And there you were; wild-eyed, lipstick smudged and hair everywhere. He couldn’t help the dark chuckle that vibrated through his chest.

A part of him even swore that relief flashed through your eyes when you spotted him but, he knew that he was being ridiculous. Maybe not, he thought as you walked as quickly as the five-inch heels you wore allowed you to. You came to a stop right in front of him, not bothering to hide how your eyes traced every single detail of him whilst he did the same (he especially took note of the various love bites littering your neck).

“I’m an idiot.” That was all you could think to say. You had wanted to say everything all at once so that he wouldn’t have a chance to interrupt but, instead, you said that. Jungkook arched an eyebrow at you, leaning back on the bench as his legs spread wide, the hand holding the blunt resting idly on his right thigh.

Clicking his tongue, a grim smile spread across his lips as he looked at you, “There’s no need,” he said, voice slightly hoarse, “I got the message loud and clear.”

Well, that didn’t go as planned. You shook your head rapidly, widening your eyes to try and appeal to him so he could believe you. “No. I thought I was clever trying to make you jealous,” you averted your eyes, “Fuck. Why did I not consider the fact that you thought I didn’t return your feelings?” When you looked back, he had placed the blunt back into his mouth and was taking a long drag.

Your eyes fell to the floor as your shoulders sank, losing any hope that he would believe you from the impenetrable look in his eyes. Shuffling your feet, “I thought I was winning at whatever game we were playing but, I forgot I was the only person playing it,” your voice was small, smaller than he ever thought was possible for it to sound, “I don’t know when I started liking you but, I just know that I do — a lot.”

The silence between you both was painful. Sighing, you prepared yourself to look at him one last time before giving up and leaving. Jungkook stared at you, blinking multiple times in succession as though he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. Instead of saying something, he held the blunt out for you to take as though it was both of your own twisted form of an olive branch. As you inhaled the sweet smoke deeply, your eyes fluttered closed and you felt your muscle relax. You didn’t know what to do with yourself; what was he thinking, did he want you to leave?

When you looked at Jungkook again, his eyes were hooded slightly and his lips were parted — there was a hint of silver in his mouth and you almost choked right there. He had a tongue piercing. As you stayed like that, stood smoking whilst he sat and surveyed you lazily, you considered leaving. Maybe he was just waiting for you to leave. As if he could sense your inner turmoil, Jungkook’s large tattooed hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled you onto his lap.

Surprised, you yelped, your skirt rising up slightly as you landed, straddling his lap with wide eyes. Jungkook simply plucked the blunt out of your mouth, taking it in between his teeth as he smirked up at you. Your breath was caught in your throat, you were keenly aware of the heat forming in your core as you found yourself pressed up against the rough denim on his thighs.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” he said, voice lower than you had ever heard it before. He pulled the blunt from his mouth and spun it around before pressing the unlit end against your lips. Eagerly, you took it into your mouth and inhaled it deeply, nodding in response to his statement simultaneously. As he chuckled, you could feel the vibrations in his chest and it went straight to your core, shivers coursing across your skin. “Well, you succeeded.”

Once again, he plucked the blunt from your mouth but, this time, he just let it dangle idly from the fingertips of his left hand. He reached forward with his other hand to took a stray curl behind your ear, humming softly as he let his fingers ghost down to your neck. “Do you have any idea what it was like to watch him touch you? To watch him do the things that I wanted to do to you?” You felt the callouses of his fingers graze over the sensitive love bites Kai had left and you bit back a moan. Jungkook chuckled almost sinisterly, “When I know I could have made you feel a million times better.”

Your mind was entirely blank; the combination of alcohol, weed and arousal was sending your body into overdrive and you couldn’t tell if you were really hot or ridiculously turned on. Either way, you were staring into his dark eyes with rounded ones of your own, mouth slightly parted as you panted lightly. Once again, Jungkook laughed at you and leant back even further before taking another drag of the blunt. He held the smoke in his mouth and grabbed your chin gently, bringing it closer towards him. His thumb pressed down on your bottom lip to part them further and he leaned forward, exhaling the smoke into your mouth with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

A whine escapes your lips and the left side of his mouth quirked up, his thumb pressing further into your mouth and out of instinct, you wrapped your lips around it. You sucked on it lightly, your tongue swirling around the digit as he watched you with gleeful eyes. Once you decided you were finished, you let his thumb go with an audible pop before looking at him through your lashes innocently.

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, a hint of curiosity in your eyes as he tries to distract himself from the saliva he can see covering your lips, “You seemed far more enthusiastic when you were with Kai. Are you sure you have feelings for me?” You knew he was teasing but, a part of you was bothered by what he said and you felt a need to prove yourself.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, to push yourself forwards on his lap, you stopped when you could feel his hardening length against the heat of your core. You leaned forward so your lips ghosted against the shell of his ear, “All I wanted from Kai was to make you jealous. Why would I rush when I have you all to myself?” With light pressure, you ground yourself against him, smirking slightly at the choked groan he released.

Gritting his teeth, he tilted his head at you as though you were his prey, “You want me all to yourself, out here where anyone can see?” There was a glint in his eye that told you he was almost daring you, he wanted to see how far you would go.

Humming in thought, you gave a deep roll of your hips and leaned forward to press your lips against the column of his neck. You parted them slightly, nibbling at the skin teasingly with your teeth. “Why not?” You asked, there was a huskiness to your voice that had not been there before.

Jungkook cursed under his breath, gently easing you off of his, now, rock hard length, “I need another drink,” he muttered, carefully lifting you from his lap and onto the bench before he got to his feet.

A sense of dread fell over you, you must have misread the signals. Maybe he wanted nothing to do with you now and that had all been an elaborate game as revenge for hurting his feelings. Jungkook had slowly begun to walk towards the front door and you thought all hope was lost but, he turned round to face you with a cocked eyebrow.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight for the rest of the night, you are sorely mistaken,” he said in a low voice, holding his palm out for you to take. Giggling softly to yourself, you stumbled over to him and allowed him to wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you tightly into his side.

As you both re-entered the house, his hand slide from your waist to cup your ass firmly. Looking up at him quizzically, you saw the dark look on his face as he stared out anybody who looked at you both. You glanced around quickly, spotting Jimin and Kai who had moved to lean against the wall beside the archway into the kitchen. A low growl came from Jungkook’s chest, the vibrations from it travelling through your body as his grip tightened on you. Instead of heading to the kitchen like he had suggested before, he quickly began pulling you up the stairs behind him. You stumbled on the first step but regained your balance as you both reached the top and he guided you both inside the first unlocked door he spotted.

Jungkook locked them door behind you both, spinning around quickly to press your back against the door. Your breath hitched in your throat and you looked up at him with wide eyes, tracing the swirls of ink that laid on the curve of his neck. Bracing yourself for him to laugh in your face, you said, “I feel like there’s something we need to talk about.”

He blinked, as though he was surprised that you had proposed you both have a conversation before anything else takes place. His composure didn’t break, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Or...” his voice trailed off as a smirk curved up on the left side of his mouth, “We could talk in the morning.”

Your breath hitched in your throat again, he had a good point. You hummed, “That sounds like a good idea.” Breaths were falling from your mouth as you stared up at him with parted lips and dark eyes. Everything was silent apart from the heavy breaths coming from both of you.

The next thing you felt was the sensation of Jungkook’s soft lips pressed against your own. A surprised noise escaped your mouth, allowing him to sneak his tongue in to tangle with your own. Your hands swooped up to tangle in the waves at the nape of his neck as one hand rested against the wood of the door and the other cupped your jaw gently. His tongue swiped against your own, lips coming away for air before moving down to suck a hard kiss on your jawline.

A soft moan fell from your mouth, fingers tightening around the soft strands of hair as he licked a stripe down the column of your neck. He brought his lips back to your own, kissing you desperately as his hands moved to grip your waist firmly and pull you tight against him. The cool feeling of the titanium barbell in his tongue made you gasp in surprise, the difference in temperate sending intense heat straight to your core. Wildly, he bit down on your bottom lip lightly, pulling a moan from your mouth that gave him better access to explore.

His fingers slid down beneath the waistband of your skirt as though he expected to find the hem of your shirt to pull it up. Your thought was confirmed by the freezing of his body and the confused noise that fell from his mouth. He pulled away with a pout on his face which contrasted the atmosphere filled with tension as he looked at your outfit in confusion. You chuckled softly, pushing his body away from you lightly.

Reaching behind you, you pulled the zip down and shimmied out of it, kicking the fallen material to the side as he took another step away from you. “Oh,” he gasped, looking at the bodysuit with realisation. The emotion was quickly taken over by lust as you pulled the sleeves of it down and kicked it off to the side. Jungkook gulped visibly as he took in the sheer black lingerie that hugged your tan figure. “Jesus fuck, I’m lucky.”

A girlish laugh fell from your lips as you strode up to him, fingertips grazing over the hem of his t-shirt with a playful smile on your face. Cursing softly, he yanked his own t-shirt over his head and tossed it to somewhere on the side. His large hands wrapped around your hips and picked you up, your legs automatically straddling his waist as he walked you both back towards the bed. Jungkook leant back on his hands as you looped your arms around his neck and leaned in to press a bruising kiss against his lips, one hand sliding down to peel his shirt from his torso. 

He was a masterpiece. He was all hard lines accentuated with dark swirls of ink that only further sculpted him. A finger reached forward to trace a tattoo on his abdomen that was in a renaissance style and you smirked as he shivered beneath your touch. A smirk appeared on his own face that mirrored your own, “Still want to talk?” He asked teasingly, eyes trailing down your cleavage and to where your torso narrowed into your waist.

“Fuck no,” you breathed out, beginning to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck and his torso. With one hand, he unclipped your bra and let it fall forward as you swirled your tongue around one of his nipples, a groan slipping from his mouth as his head tipped back. Sliding further down his lap, you pushed his torso firmly until he was laid flat on his back as you held him down with a hand on either shoulder. He took that moment to pull the bra from you fully, eyes widening as he spotted the silver barbells that ran through both of your nipples.

Jungkook smirked up at you with a lazy grin on his face; with a wicked smile, you ground your crotch against him and the grin was replaced with closed eyes and parted lips. Chuckling softly, you reached down to unbutton his jeans before sliding forward to rest on his abs so you could push them and his briefs down his legs. A low whistle fell from your lips as you looked at his hard cock, there was already precum wetting the tip of it. “At least I can see why you’re so damn cocky,” you drawled, looking up towards him with a smirk curling up at the corner of your lips.

“W-What-” He stammered out, overwhelmed by the pure sexual tension filling the air between the two of you. “O-Oh-” He breathed out, eyes fluttering closed as you wrapped your lips around the head of it, kitten licking the slit and taking the salty precum into his mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks as you took his length as far as you could into your mouth, swallowing the gag as it grazed against the back of your throat. Humming around it, you looked up at him through your lashes from where you were leant over his crotch. Jungkook stared at you through lust hazed eyes as he let out small pants, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

You pulled his cock from your mouth, reaching forward to lick the bulging vein on the underneath before taking one of his heavy balls into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. A series of curses escaped his mouth and he wrapped a strong hand around your hair to pull you back up towards him so he could kiss you hungrily. Your tongues tangled together, desperately trying to get a taste of the other; Jungkook gripped onto your hips tightly and flipped you over so he was on top of you. 

He reached down, taking the waistband of your panties in between your fingers as he hummed thoughtfully, “How much do you like these?” He asked, taking his lip in between his teeth as he eyed the dampening patch on the thin lace.

“Quite a lot?” You replied unsurely, leaning into his touch eagerly.

Jungkook clicked his tongue before he shrugged, “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Without any hesitation, he ripped your panties in two and exposed your wet cunt to the cool air. You sighed lightly, squeezing your legs together to try and soothe the ache in your core. He tutted disapprovingly, gripping your thighs tightly so he could spread them apart and you whined, desperate for any form of friction. “Hey,” he scolded teasingly, “It’s my turn now.”

You swore under your breath as his fingers spread the lips of your cunt and he blew on it, savouring the shiver that rattled your whole body as your fingers curled into the stranger’s bedsheets. One of his fingers slid through your pussy, collecting the wetness before pulling it out and examining it intently. Without a second thought, he brought his finger up to his mouth before sucking your juices off of it. The sight of it almost made your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a moan. 

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned before delving back into your warm cunt. He let the tip of his tongue travel from the bottom to the top of your slit, drinking in all of the juices. As he circled your hole, you breathed out shakily, eyes fluttering closed as your fists tightened on the sheets enough to peel them off the mattress. Just before he dipped into you, he moved to your clit and traced a figure eight on it with the tip of his tongue.

You squirmed against the mattress as one of your hands flew down to grip onto his wavy hair and press him into your core. Jungkook began switching between circling your clit rapidly and dipped in to lick your core. “Jesus. Jesus, shit,” you swore, tightening your grip on him that you were almost concerned you had ripped out some of the strands. “Fuck. If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”

This only seemed to encourage him, switching to press down on your clit firmly as he curled two long fingers inside of you, each time grazing against the rough texture of your g-spot. You cried out his name, a wave of heat flushing over you as you squeezed your eyes shut when the pleasure became too much for you. Jungkook rode you through your orgasm, still lapping at your hole until you stopped trembling against the sheets. He moved back up your body to press a gentle kiss against your panting lips, you moaned into it despite the contrasting nature of it to the previous ones you had shared.

“Do you want me?” He breathed out in between licking hot kisses onto every crevice of your neck, desperate to get rid of the marks Kai had left there earlier. Unconsciously, a whine left your mouth as your fingers clawed at him lightly, desperate for him to do anything. He chuckled, “Do you?” He smirked slightly, “I could always go back out there and fetch Kai if you’d rather fuck him?” The playful tone to his voice told you he was joking but, it still made you want to throw his jealous ass out of the window.

You locked your ankles together around his waist and used all of your strength to flip the pair of your over so you were on top. Panting above him, you gently grabbed a hold of his cock with one hand before spitting directly into the other before cupping him in your hand and beginning to stroke him. He cursed under his breath and you let out a triumphant huff, “Are you clean?” You asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“W-What?” He stuttered, mind completely missing the question you had asked, too distracted by your hand’s motion on him.

You paused, rolling your eyes, “I said, are you clean? I have an IUD and I want you to cum inside me,” you stated matter-of-factly before continuing your previous action of stroking his cock as you coated him with your saliva.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned out and you giggled, shaking your head at his response. You held his cock before positioning your hole directly above it, sinking slowly down onto him until he was filling you to the brim. “Shit. Fuck. Shit,” he swore, one hand grabbing onto your waist with a deathly tight grip, “How the fuck are you this tight?”

You braced your hands on his shoulders, wiggling your hips around to try and make yourself used to his significantly larger size. As you moved, moans continued to spill from his mouth because of how every little movement would squeeze your walls around him tightly. “You okay?” he checked, peeling one eye open to look you over with concern. Your eyes were closed as your head tipped back slightly with a serene expression on your face. You were more than okay.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured in assurance before using his shoulders as leverage to left yourself almost completely off of his cock before slamming your hips back down against him. A loud curse followed by your name fell from Jungkook’s mouth and he shifted you both back so he could rest his back against the headboard, both of his hands tightly holding onto your hips. With his help, you continued to bounce yourself up and down on his cock, high-pitched moans filling the air each time the tip of his cock would slam into your g-spot or your clit would rub against his pubic bone. “Oh my god,” you gasped, one hand leaving his shoulder to grab a handful of your left tit, fingertips lightly turning the barbell in the way you knew would cause shivers to erupt on every inch of your skin, “You’re fucking me so well.”

Jungkook was slamming you down onto him at a pace you were sure would leave bruises on the backs of your thighs. “Oh really?” He grunted out, growing restless from having such a limited amount of control with you on top. As much as watching you tease your own bouncing tits was a stunning sight, he was raring to fuck you hard and fast. Swearing under his breath, he pulled you off of his cock and gently you threw you onto the mattress so you landed on your stomach. A choked gasp escaped your mouth as he grabbed onto your hips and lifted them upwards so you were on all fours. He plunged back into you at a bruising rate that made your previous one look slow. “You like how I’m filling you with my cock, hmm?” He growled out, fingernails embedding themselves into your skin but neither of you could find it within yourselves to care.

“Yes!” You cried out, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming pleasure you were receiving as every pound of his cock slammed against your g-spot to the point white spots were beginning to form at the edge of your vision. “My cunt is so full! I love it - I love your cock,” you screamed out. If the entirety of the downstairs hadn’t heard you both by now, they must have gone deaf. 

Desperate to reach your second orgasm of the night, you brought one hand down to circle your clit with an unforgiving pace, occasionally pressing into the small bundle of nerves harshly. Jungkook leaned forward, teeth finding the flesh of your shoulders as he left raw, dark marks across the flesh, “Your pussy’s made for me. Who’s pussy is this?” He demanded, voice so much lower than you had ever heard it before. “I didn’t hear you, who’s pussy is this?” 

Gasps were coming from your mouth at an uncontrollable rate as your vision blurred from the pleasure both yourself and Jungkook were giving you. “Yours,” you managed to make out, words almost impossible to form as your mind came up blank, “Yours.” Sobs were falling from your mouth, you were so desperate to find your peak and the pleasure was quickly ascending into overstimulation.

“That’s right,” he growled, pressing soothing kissed over the marks he had left littered over your neck and shoulders, “You look you need to cum. Are you going to come for me?” He let his own left hand slip forward to toy with your nipples, twisting the barbell with more viciousness than you had previously but, not enough to cause you any pain. Jungkook was desperate for you to finish before he tipped over the edge as well.

That was it. Your mind splintered, unable to entirely comprehend what was happening to your body. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” you repeated mindlessly as your arms gave out, his name spilling from your mouth like a mantra as you juices flowed out around his cock. The excruciating tightening of your walls set Jungkook off as well, his hips stuttering as he began to coat your walls with his warm seed. You moaned tiredly into the mattress at the feeling; the back of your mind only slightly registering him fucking you both through your orgasms, somehow able to maintain his unforgiving pace. 

He slowed his thrusts and fell forwards to rest lightly on top of you, his right arm saving you from being crushed under his weight. Just as he was about to pull out, you brought your hand back to hold him against you; a whine sounding from your throat at the thought of being empty. Jungkook chuckled, holding you against him before shifting you both so you were on your sides but, he remained inside of you and none of his cum could fall out. A sound akin to that of a cat purring met his ears and he couldn’t help the gleeful smile that had appeared on his face. 

He swooped your hair to the side and pressed a soft kiss into the juncture of your neck, your skin sticky with sweat from the orgasm that had wrecked you. Humming into the side of your neck, he murmured, “So, how about that talk?”

A tired whine came from his right and a loud, joyful laugh filled the room.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

A/N: OJO hi guys,,, this is pretty much the second smut I’ve ever written so I am SO nervous to post this. anyway, if you could tell me how you think it was that would be great and if there’s anything I could improve upon or even if you’d want another part with smut??

some random stuff in my life: i’m super nervous for the history test i’m supposed to be revising for because they're sources and they're kind of different to essays which :(( i love. also, i had my prize giving today and it was so nerve-wracking, i hate standing up in front of people and stuff and i was convinced I was going to fall off the stage BUT i didn't so that's great !! also,,, I got a distinction in my English Language Speaking which was surprising.

Anyway tysm so much for reading, the engagement on this series is INSANE and it will never cease to blow my mind - sometimes i don’t even think its real bc like?? why are you all reading my writing??

I love reading your comments and what you think about my writing it means the world to me, genuinely!! please feel from to PM me if you ever want to chat I really want to make some new friends and I just :(( love you all <3

[callmeunstable]

Angels & Demons - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Characters: Reader, Godling, Healer

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is the second part of my The Witcher Fic. I accidentally deleted this part so I had to reupload ot. Yes I cried, but thankfully I still had the draft saved on my laptop.

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Tags: @marvelbrat @charliestuff

Song: I couldn’t find the original one sooo

Absently, Alva wondered if most of the monsters were meant to be as beautiful and kind as James, or if this one was an exception to the rule, her mind struggled to hold on to one thought, with a whole new world opening in front of her.

“I know the healer of the village on the other side of the forest. She’s nice. She brings fruits to me from time to time. She will help you.” James hopped in front of her leading the way out of the woods.

She couldn’t believe anything her eyes captured. There are bad creatures. According to the Godling, there are a lot of them. The boy explained to her, that “Drowners” inhabit both natural and artificial bodies of water, from rivers and lakes to mill ponds and city sewers. It is commonly thought that these creatures are drowned men, somehow arisen from the dead to prey on the living. This opinion is as widespread as it is false, for the beasts are another post-Conjunction relict.

She couldn’t believe that this Godling just was a boy but knowing such crucial things about this life. She remembered James talking about the powers he has, that’s how he was able to save her.

“Hey, play some more of your music, please? I love the sound of it and we have to walk some time.” The Godling begged and gave his best puppy face.

She grabbed her phone and she had an idea. Maybe she was able to call or text her dad? Letting him know she’s okay. She wasn’t sure if this was the best idea she ever had, but still better than making him believe she was dead.

No signal. Of course.

“Music, please.”

She pressed the icons on her phone monotonously and a random song started playing.

 “Oh dear, oh dear, I’m sorry

That you grew up so soon

A cold year and no high school parties

I’ve been drinking alone

Oh, I’ve been drinking alone”

 “A blessing to my ears. What's the name of this bard?” The Godling started dancing along while walking in front of the girl.

“What is a bard?” These questions came automatically out of her mouth, wanting to know everything about this world.

Knowledge is power. Even in a world like this. If she knows what she has to be careful about, she can start to protect herself.

“You know the man and women writing songs and these lovely texts of legends, stories of their personal experiences, or their imaginations. I don’t care what they are about. I care about the melodies. I love the tunes.” James seemed to drift off in a state where he was admiring the artists and musicians at this time the whole way out of the woods.

He specifically talked about a Bard called Priscilla. A young woman famous for her poetry.

 “So, don't fear, don’t fear their warnings

They’re bitterer than most

4 years of driving across the country

For empty seats at their shows

And they’ve been drinking alone.”

 Less and fewer trees came along their way and after some more minutes, a village became visible. Still far away but the girl decided to turn off the music which was rewarded with an angry look of the Godling.

“Her cottage isn’t in the village. It's right here!”

He took a sharp turn between some trees and as told, a small cabin was revealed in front of them. It was old. Looked like a typical middle-aged, self-made cottage. Random kinds of stones were piled upon each other, connected by something that seemed to be a kind of cement. A small chimney was built on top and was busy blowing smoke out of it.

“Savilla! I want to show you, my new friend.” The boy shouted and Alva begged it was quiet enough so no one around could hear them. She wasn’t ready to meet anyone in this world, at least for now.

The old wooden door of the cottage opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the house. She was beautiful. Her Long black hair was braided down to the small waist of hers. Her long dress was colored with a dark wood green tone. A small V-neck covered her chest mostly and the butterfly sleeves made her look like a princess. A less fancy princess but a gorgeous one.

“Hello, my lovely James. How can I help you today?” Savilla had a warm smile on her face and holding her arms out for e hug.

The Godling happily jumped into her arms, to just leave them a couple of seconds later to point hysterically at Alva.

“This is my friend Alva. She got lost in my forest and a Drowner hit her. I think shes not from hear so she needs your help.”

Savilla laid her eyes on the small girl for the first time. Silently analyzing every single part of her. At this moment Alva realized that she was a unicorn in this world. Her clothes looked completely different from Safillas and James’. She was wearing a red lumberjacket that revealed her sports bra. Some pair of sporty leggings rested on her legs and short sneakers tied on her feet. Her favorite outfit for hiking. At least her fake leather bag seemed to fit the surroundings.

It wasn’t hard to tell that if the person in front of her wasn’t a cosplayer of Lord of the Rings, she had to be stuck in some kind of middle age century.

“Yes, she's not from here. I can tell.” The firm look of the women changed into a friendly smile. “Come in, I think it’s the best if no one sees you like this.”

Both Alva and James entered the cabin. Inside it was beautiful. Flower and herbs were growing every in countless pottery. An out of stone made kitchen area filled the rest of the room with a cozy fireplace at the opposite wall. Different kinds of fabric and papers stuck to the wall. It was filled with colors and smells that made you feel instantly relaxed, at least if you’re a person like Alva.

“You don’t seem to be in a lot of pain.”, stated Safilla while grabbing a wooden chair and placing it in front of her, guiding her to sit down.

“It’s pretty numb right now. It was worse about an hour ago.” Alva tried to give off a normal impression. But what is normal in this world.

er “That what I was inferred already. You seem to be in shock. Your body numbed itself to protect you from the pain.” While investigating the big scratch she explaining typical injuries caused by Drowners.

“You’re lucky that you had James by your side. He’s a loyal soul.” The healer tossed an apple to the boy who caught it happily.

Savilla mixed some unfamiliar herbs and bandaged it up with a clean cloth.

“It should heal fast, it's not a deep cut. You are lucky.”

The women put everything back in place and then grabbed a stool herself.

“Where are you from?”, she asked.

Where was she from actually? Maybe similar countries still exist?

“Originally my family comes from Sweden but I live in the USA at the moment.” The girl explained but ended up not receiving the reaction she wanted.

“I never heard of a place like that. I traveled a lot through Cintra, Temeria, and Lyria. How did you end up here?”

The girl got quiet. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. She was a stranger to this world. How much corruption was she able to cause?

Alva felt a hand on her shoulder. Savilla gently pat her and gave her a motherly smile.

“Look dear, I’m not here to hurt you. I can see you disturbed, even traumatized. You have no idea how you got access to this world, have you?”

The girl started to tear up and found herself in a warm hug of the healer. She couldn’t help herself but at this moment everything that was built up throughout the day suddenly burst out of her.

Every breath felt like acid burning heart throat, inflaming her lungs. Her heart felt like somebody was squeezing out every single emotion trapped in there. Like a sharp blade that is cutting straight through her chest.

“Mark my words, one day will come when you finally realize that fate is inevitable. One day you will get passed all this pain and realize it was a lesson learned for a better future, for a better you. You believe that this was an accident. But in our world, everything happens for a reason.” Savilla didn’t break the contact because she knew that this girl needed it. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. The same happened decades ago. When the monsters first got into this dimension.

“I can teach you if you let me.”

Alva lifted her head and looked at the healer.

“I can teach you how to survive in this world until we figure it a way how to get you back. You just need to let me help you.”

“How do you know?” The girl was confused, more confused than she was, to begin with. How much does this woman know?

“This is not the first time a portal opened on accident. What we need to figure out is, if this indeed was an accident or if you have a mission you have to fulfill. I will help you. That’s my duty. Let me explain. I’m a mage.”

Savilla explained to Alva that mages are basically what she knows as a witch. Only rare individuals have the potential to become mages and many of those with this potential are doomed to madness. Unless the individual in question - known as a source - learns to control their power quickly, he or she may end up a half-insane, slobbering oracle. That is why schools of sorcery were created, where talented children study for many years, acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills. Because of their powers, mages age more slowly than ordinary people. Savilla herself attended a school called Aretuza. But she didn’t believe in their morals so she left and lives on her own.

Mages can extract magical energy from the four elements, transport themselves long distances and heal, as well as kill, in the blink of an eye. They have extensive scientific and political knowledge; in the latter respect, many mages are the equals of rulers.

A witch that is connected so some kind of rule book.

“Know you know about me, but for now we need to get you out of your clothes. They reveal your true identity. There are people out there who will view you as dangerous and they’ll get scared. We need to give you a new persona. But for now, let’s start easy. No one will look for you because James took care of that. New clothes will at least give you the appearance of our dimension.”

Savilla walked in a different room and you could her searching sounds. Fabrics got thrown around after her steps came closer again.

As she walked into the room she showed off a dress similar to hers. The dress was white and it had some floral symbols embroidered in the fabric. Her sleeves were also long and wide, almost touching the ground. The White of the dress was mostly protected by a moss green light coat that had a corset on the front. The white dress was strapless but unseen due to the green coat. On top of that Savilla brought her some flat sandals.

“I can give you some pants to wear underneath the dress if you’d like. Is more efficient when you have to move quickly.” The mage was happy she could assist that young girl. She finally had a purpose to assist to.

Alva only nodded along, speechless by the kindness the woman was offering her.

Savilla walked up to her with a hairbrush and put her hair into different styles. “And maybe we can do something with your hair, putting it up or braid-“, she hesitated the moment when she was putting her hair up. “I think it looks fitting already.”

Quickly brushing Alva's hair down again.

[pandoraashes]

Yo to the past from future Dax! Damn it’s been a wild ride, still surprised I survived it all. I know you have a lot of questions but since present Dax has no fucking clue what’s going on, I’m writing from the future after I figured it all out. Strap in!

So, its February 14th 2001, when yours truly was born as Daxion Karlos! Magical right? Nah I’m joking, I won’t go into that much detail. The important thing you need to know is that my parents were into the dark arts. Two total humans, not a drop of demon blood in them, but they were hardcore into the dark shit. I was conceived (gross) during some ritual they were performing with their coven. I was born into it, praying to the coven’s gods and goddesses, performing rituals and spells, dressing the part. I loved it; it was my life. Until Sayla was born in November 2006. That was when it all changed, my new purpose in life was to keep her safe and happy.

All through school I was the weird creepy witch boy which became the weird punk emo kid in High School. Dressing in all black, threatening to curse people, listening to Avenged Sevenfold and Asking Alexandra and Black Veil Brides, and being every one’s bad boy crush. If their lucky it becomes more than a crush. But I’m not here to list my conquests, which is a lot.

Anyway, what was I saying? Right, Sayla! She is a total cutie, bright blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, a little bundle of sunshine in my life. I dedicated my life to protecting her! I made her protection charms, threatened to curse any boy that talked to her, sent curse bags to her bullies, and asked the demons to help her whenever I wasn’t around. She loved it, being a dark princess was her dream. And I treated her as such, spoiling the shit out of her. Of course, my parents did as well, the whole coven treated her like a goddess come to life.

Years pass and I’m 19 off at college, approved by the coven, and Sayla is 14 going into High School. I get a panicked call from her, telling me there’s a boy at school that is obsessed with her. He’s leaving creepy notes in her locker, sending her pictures of himself and of her at home, and won’t leave her alone. I quickly make my way back home and have a meeting with the coven. They agree that he is messing with a vessel of a dark goddess and must pay.

We grab the old ritual tome and find a summoning spell for a protection demon. The ritual is set up on the next new moon, Sayla is placed in the center and I am the caster, with our parents and the rest of the coven assisting. I recite the old texts, lighting the candles, and cuts into my palm and Sayla’s, sealing the bond. Suddenly the room fills with smoke, coming from the symbols we painted onto the floor. All the candles go out as I grab Sayla to protect her. None of the rituals or spells I’ve ever seen done have reacted like this! Sayla starts screaming and pointing, when I follow her finger, I see a grotesque demonic form climb up out of the floor. “Where is my prey?” It growls into the room.

The cut on my hand burns and I fall to the ground screaming in pain. The demon grins at me, then attacks. My body is locked up, unable to move, I couldn’t even close my eyes. I was forced to watch…watch the demon I summoned to protect my sister…maul my parents to death…then rip Sayla apart, dropping her head at my feet. It starts laughing and painting the walls with blood. A rage I never felt before filled my entire being, body and soul. I screamed, somehow broke the hold it had on me, and ran at it! Grabbing up the ritual knife and stabbing into the demon. It growled and turned on me, claws ripping into my flesh, but I didn’t care. I kept stabbing as it clawed me, but neither of us knew the consequences of a summoned demon killing its summoner.

As I felt my life leaving my body, a red flash of light came from the demon. It burst into flames and melted away. I smiled, thinking I had taken it out with me…but I couldn’t be that lucky. The red light, instead of going out, drifted into my body. My body burned! It burned like a thousand fiery suns! My body changed then…I became something called a Soul Demon. An extremely rare form of demon, when a dead demonic soul occupies a dying human body it mixes together into one creature. A chain with a lock appeared on my neck, locking me into this fate.

The madness of the demonic soul and the rage that was my last moments as a human collided into pure Hell. I still don’t really remember my time in the darkness of that day, but I know I caused a massacre. Every member of my coven died at my hands, and once that was done, I moved through the town just killing anyone I saw. Finally, a group of Hunters stopped me and locked me up to face execution. In that cell I was able to calm down and I came to, with no memory of who I was and what had happened.

Those Hunters told me I was a murderous demon and asked my name. All that came to my mind was Dax Sin. I mean I was close, Dax Sin…Daxion…almost had it. I hung there for hours feeling absolutely insane and trying to figure out my existence. Then the doors opened and a man in a red coat appeared. I assumed he was there to finally kill me. He said his name was Al Wolfguard, a 1000 and something year old wolf demon and he knew what I was. Surprisingly, he was right, he knew I was a Soul Demon and that the breed is rare. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was willing to help me find out. I agreed to leave with him and that was the day I joined The Wolf Pack.

The Hell didn’t end there though because I couldn’t be that lucky. Little did I know at the time Sayla had been chosen by the Guardian Angels to become one of them. I was a threat to them, and they wanted to send her to watch over me. But Sayla didn’t know their real plan, for her to drive me to kill myself. Sayla visited me one night, coming into my dreams and putting images there. The images tormented me for weeks until finally pushing me to an intense panic attack. The Wolf Pack did their best to help me, true friends they were. But these images of this girl didn’t make any sense to them either, nor the nightmares I was having, or the flashes of this girl I would get around corners and at the edges of my vision. I was just slowly going insane.

Don’t blame Sayla for this please, she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted to help, she wanted us to be together again. But I can never get that lucky. You’ve been with The Wolf Pack 5 months now Dax, still a baby demon in their eyes and you are just descending further into madness. But they are your lifeline, they will stand by you and do their absolute best to help you. Trust in them and Kenway, for your own sanity please…ignore the callings from the darkness…for Sayla’s sake…don’t break that lock.

(This backstory is for Dax Sin a character from my TikTok’s for the JAHunters universe, check the tags, for more information about Dax Sin check his bio)