#＜Time [never] comes back!?＞PART2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caxde · 8 months ago

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bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, your's an Eddie's relationship takes a new turn, while navigating life with her little girl (4.3k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

a/n: the support has been insane, so enjoy part2 <3 part 1 part 3 (they can be read seperatly)

“Munson! There’s a girl here asking for you.”

The raspy voice of his college snapped him back to reality. He had been working on the same bike for a while now, and had become unaware of everything else that was happening around him.

But if there was a girl to see him, it could only be you, or maybe Robin.

He really hoped it’d be you.

Heads followed him as he crossed the dusty garage floor as he found his way to the opened mechanical door. Lucky for him, you were anxiously waiting there, your hands playing with the hem of your sweater.

You had been lucky, if you actually think about it. You had left the café you started working at a few weeks ago, so you could go to the trailer park and get some sleep. This last weekend the logistic center that was 30 minutes away had called you, begging you to take the night shift since some of their employees were on vacation. You accepted, since they offered to pay you extra, and in cash. The downside was that the sleep you had lost didn’t seem to come back, and your car had been making a strange sound since then.

Now your car refused to turn right, and if it did it took way too much strength.

You avoided spending more than you had to, but it looked like it was finally time. Thank god Eddie works here, you kept thinking as you found your way to the mechanic.

“Hi.” Your voice was lower, barely holding yourself together.

“Hi princess.” He tried to cheer you up, a big smile on his face and his affectionate pet name he had only for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kept walking towards you, cutting the distance until you were a step away from each other.

“I wish it was a surprise.” The way your eyebrow furrowed let him know that you were a bit too anxious, a bit too nervous with the situation. “I need your help.” You added as your palm covered your face for a moment, trying to wipe away the panic.

“Whatever you need, princess.” And maybe it was his sweet tone, maybe it was the nickname or maybe it was the way his hand held your arm, in a supportive and soft way, that let you finally relax.

You walked with him to your car, while you told him what was going on. He just nodded and let you talk, knowing that that was just what you needed.

“It just sucks, I don’t know how I’m gonna get to work now.” You kept speaking as he popped the hood up of your car, and he kept looking at the engine, and everything that crept deep into it, what everything did you had no idea. Eddie was used to people talking while he worked, but oddly enough it made him feel more important, when you were the one doing it.

“I could drive you.” He replays. His body stood up from being bent over. He was tying his hair up, and you had lost any and every train of thought you had. You had never seen someone look as pretty with a ponytail, even when they were covered in car grease. Black stains in contrast with his white muscle top, decoration his arms in places tattoos didn’t. “I don’t mind, as long as you��re okay with carpooling with Lua.” Eddie’s nervous smile came back, an upside down grin while his eyebrows raised, eyes locked with yours.

“I’d love that.”

Breakfast was Lua’s favourite.

A piece of toast with some sweet jam, a cup of warm milk, and some cut up fruit.

Eddie let her eat it wherever she felt like, time proved that was the better option. She usually preferred to eat it sitting down on the kitchen counter, while Eddie sat on the stools, eyes on the same level. He usually ate the rest of the fruit that he didn’t give to her, while he downed his black coffee. Though if he was honest, he had never cracked how to brew a good cup.

Lua would babble whatever she had on her mind, she was chattier in the mornings, unlucky for her, Eddie was not a morning person, his energy drained from another poor night’s sleep.

Everytime he thought about it, it made him laugh. Before her little girl came into his life, he’d sleep until way past noon, usually skipping school, having a cigarette and a coffee -if anything- for breakfast, without a job - a legal one- and with no real reason to do anything with his life.

Maybe that’s why he cares so much about her, her little light, his reason to keep going, and be better.

While he looked at her, the world seemed to quiet down for a moment, and everything was fine.

Three knocks at the door, and he already knew you were on the other side of it.

“Morning.” Amusement in his voice, in a hush tone. His dippels appeared, as his smile grew wider, they way your hair fell, in a tangled mess, being the reason for it. He was just happy to see you, though he wasn’t going to admit it. Not yet.

“Hi.” Your voice came out raspy and hoarse. You hadn’t talked to anyone yet, and it made him chuckle even more. He moved his body out of the door frame, letting you plenty of room to walk through. “Coffee?”

“Already done.” He muttered back, pointing with his head where the mug in his kitchen was.

You felt your face relax as soon as you saw Lua enjoying her breakfast, quietly. Your eyes closed when your earnest smile came, once her voice rang with excitement as she said your name, as her hands moved through the air.

“Hi dude!” You matched her energy, the momentary excitement winning the battle for your remaining energy.

Lua gave you a high five, which you celebrated with a funny face that made her laugh. She offered you a piece of fruit that you accepted in a way too exaggerated manner, that only made her giggles multiply. Unbenoughts to you, Eddie was watching attentively.

He was memorizing the way your hair fell on your back, and the way it swayed everytime you moved. The way you fitted in your dark washed jeans, the little red shirt from the café hugged your waist and he suddenly had the wish to place his hand there. He didn’t do it.

Instead he handed you a mug with watered down coffee, that you accepted. He grinned at the way your nose scrunched once you took the first sip of it.

“Yeah, I’m not the best coffee maker.” He confessed while he suppressed a laugh.

“Clearly.” You answered in a joking manner, it wasn’t bad, you just weren’t used to black strong coffee, not the way he was. “I’m making you breakfast tomorrow.”

You meant it. He knew, so he accepted with a nod and another smile.

“Wayne’s sleeping, so we try to not wake him up. It’s difficult when little miss sunshine has all the energy in the world.” He explained while looking at Lua, her beaming smile and giggles made him light up, his thumb cleaning her cheek that had some purple jam on it.

“There’s no one else in my trailer, she can be as chatty as she wants there.” Lua understood that, as soon as she realised what you were talking about she started to clap and cheer, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips.

Eddie could hear that symphony for the rest of his days, he thought.

It became a new way to start your days.

You’d brew some coffee, and prepare an extra mug for Wayne, that Eddie left on the counter of his kitchen before you left for work.

You’d actually cook, eating something in the early hours for once, a new habit you never had before.

Lua always knocked on your door whenever they were ready, the little sound on your door followed by her sweet hi, as her arms swanged up in the air. She was becoming more and more comfortable with you, letting you hold her. She even gave you a thank you kiss on the cheek once.

Today you had some pancake batter sizzling in the pan, orange juice for her, milky tea for you.

“Dada?”

“Yes?” Eddie raised his eyebrow as he took his first sip, his voice softening at her.

“Music?” She answered with another question.

“Ah, yes. The beautiful melody that connects us all together.” He babeled, in that voice he used when he was talking as what he was saying was written in an antique book. He tended to do it more when he knew you would smile.

He took two cassettes out of his back pocket, letting her choose. He wished she’d actually choose the mix he finished last night, but as always, she picked the one that had a drawing she did as a cover.

He nodded and walked to your radio.

It hit him in that moment, just how tangled your lives were becoming. He knew where (almost) everything in your home was, and the same was starting to happen for you. He knew that you kept honey in a reused jar, because Mr.Felix gave you local honey from a friend in the first cupboard to the right. He knew you had extra plasters in the second drawer of your bathroom because you had a tendency to cut yourself when you used a knife when you had to chop something up. He knew that the drawings on your wall were painted by you, but that the one that hung over the orange lamp was gifted to you by a kid you took care of when you worked in a hotel two years ago. He also knew that you knew where Lua likes to put her toys away, under the table of his living room. You knew that the only way she had to eat vegetables was if they couldn’t be seen. You knew that Eddie liked to have it all under his ‘controled mess’ as you called it.

In just a few weeks you had become such an important person that he was scared of you leaving. Which people had a tendency to do in his life.

Now he couldn’t only care about his life, he had to care about Lua’s too, and he had been trying to talk to you about it. But everytime he summoned up the courage to do so, you’d look at him with your pretty doe eyes and everything he had wanted to say left, he could only focus on how pretty you always look.

You focused on other things. Silly, non important things.

Like how his tongue went over his upper lip every time he concentrated to fasten Lua’s seatbelt. Or how he played with his rings when he was deep in thought, whatever it was, his thumb played with the middle one, while his left hand focused on the one in his index finger. Or how when he had a clear idea, and had to start working on something, he’d tie his hair up in a lazy ponytail, his thick neck exposed. Or how he rotated his shoulders when he sat down on the driver's seat at the end of the day, half exhausted, half excited to go back to his home.

You walked to the car shop at around eight, as you always did. Knowing that he’d already be waiting for you outside. Since Lua was back in the house, Wayne coming to pick her up as soon as he wakes up, he always enjoyed that small frame of time to actually smoke a cigarette, his little moment, all for himself.

Before he met you, he’d spend this moment thinking about what he needed to do, what he needed to buy, or what Lua wanted for dinner. Now, the only thought was you. You and your sweet voice, you and your angelic laughter, you and your soft skin. You, everytime you called his name.

“Hey princess.” His pet name had also become a familiar sensation. Your heart still races a bit when it hears it, nevertheless.

“Hey moon.” Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the earnestness of your tone, or the new nickname, but he felt his heart jump around his chest, and his cheeks changing colour, a pretty pink flush taking over them.

“Should we go?” He added, happiness crystal clear, not only by his higher tone, but by his overall demeanor.

“Please. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go straight to bed.” You let out in a whisper, rubbing your face in an attempt to wake up, so you wouldn’t fall asleep on the drive back to the trailer park.

“You should eat something first.” It was his way of showing you he cared, making sure you were taking care of yourself half as well as you took care of others.

“I know, I just really hate cooking for myself. It's boring, and then you have to clean it, and do it all again…”

“You make breakfast for us everyday,” He pointed out, his eyebrow raised in synchrony with his pitch, as he opened the passenger door so you’d climb in.

“Yeah, but that’s different. It’s mostly for you.” You stop as you wait for him to sit on the driver sit, taking the time to make sure your seat belt is fastened. Looking at the backseat, a new habit you had developed thanks to him and his baby. “I didn’t eat breakfast before you guys came.” You admit, and he knows you’re not lying. You never do when your eyes shine that bright. You also know he is a bit worried, a frown appearing on his forehead. “I’m okay, moon.”

“Hey, it’s not fair that you use the nickname to your advantage.” He points out, his index finger raising to the air as he speaks, his car engine starting, heading home.

“Sorry?” You jokingly ask. Knowing that everything’s fine by the way he laughs it off.

“Then, we’ll come over and cook you dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“If that’s okay.” His tone showed a bit of concern now. Maybe he was pushing it a bit too much. He was just excited to spend time with you, so he tried to grab every opportunity he had to do so.

“Yeah, I just… My fridge’s a bit empty. We should stop by the shop.” You were embarrassed.

It was stupid. Or at least it felt stupid. Being embarrassed about it. But the only actual thing you had been buying was dedicated to the breakfast you shared together, once you were home by yourself, you usually had a soup, frozen pizza or a simple grilled cheese sandwich. You really didn't care that much, you just ate if and when you were actually hungry.

And it wasn’t that often, if you were honest.

Eddie knew. He had a tendency to be over observant, and he had noticed, but never dared to say anything. Life was complicated enough, and that was a mantra he stood by. So he took the chance, and planned to cook you the meal he was actually proud of.

The Never Ending Story played in the background.

A familiar scene in your trailer.

Eddie’s cooking filled the air with a delicious smell, he was concentrated in it, wanting to impress you while he cooked his ramen noodles with seared shredded chicken.

Meanwhile, you and Lua layed on the rug in your living room, the T.V on a low volume. She had found your nail polish, and cheerfully asked if she could paint your nails.

“What colour do you want to paint them?” You had asked, the calmest your voice has ever been, the tiniest trace of exhaustion in it.

“Blue!” She beamed as she held the bottle.

“Okay, careful though.” You opened the bottle for her, and looked at her as she looked at the puzzle before her. “Do you want me to do the first one?” You asked, knowing that she needed some sort of guide. You realised, she had the same face of concentration as her father, tongue out covering her upper lip.

She started painting, the smell of polish annoying her a bit, you encourage her. Telling her in a kind voice how good of a job she was doing, even if she was getting more colour on your skin than in your nail. She giggled as she covered her face in a shy manner, proud of the job she had finished.

“They look beautiful, bug” Eddie’s voice came right between both of you. As he sat down between you, she held your hand so he could look at them closer. “You did this all by yourself?” Even if he didn’t look at you, and even if his eyes were looking at the proud look on his daughter's face, you could feel the electricity travel from your body to his. And the warmth his touch leaves on your soft skin.

“Yeah.” She whispers in a shy, proud giggle, nodding along, waiting patiently for his compliments.

“She didn’t help you?” He asked again, this time his eyes were on yours. It had changed, you noticed. His eyes weren’t shining with a second intention, or a jokey flare. They were full of something else, if you had to put a name on it -without having to say it out loud- you’d say it was adoration, though you weren’t sure. You were right regardless.

“It was all her.” You tell him. He nods, catching himself falling deeper into the abyss.

“Dinner’s ready” He ended up saying that. He thought that saying what he was really thinking would have been too weird. Tough if he really thought about it, telling you that you had never been more beautiful wasn’t a total lie, or that out of character for him.

Lua sat on his lap, knowing that she would be fed, since she couldn’t be trusted with noodles. Not since she had used a fork to catapult them into the wall a few months back. She was smarter than Eddie realised, and he loved her more for it.

Eddie waited silently for your reaction, and was pleased with himself when you whispered an amazed my god once you took your first bite. He took his chance to look at you while you were eating, distracted by the food. While you took your chance to look at him when he fed Lua.

This was something you could also get used to, you find yourself thinking.

Having company. Having them as company.

It was complicated, and you knew that.

And it was even harder when he acted as nice as he was doing. Even if he had cooked, he was still offering to clean up. It was also harder seeing how Lua wanted you to hold her, exhaustion after a nice meal, she was sleepy and needed comfort. You looked at Eddie, a question written over your face is this okay? He gave you his usual grin, the upside down smile that showed his dimple of course it is.

You held her, close to your chest, her little arms hanged by your side, her head resting between your shoulder and your breast. You were softer than the strong arms she was used to, and your swaying was more delicate -probably because you were afraid to do something that might upset her- you hummed along the final song of the movie that was still playing, and as she felt deeper and deeper into dreaming, Eddie finished cleaning up.

“Is she…?”

“I think so.” Your voice was so quiet he could barely even understand you.

The image of you, holding her with such care, with such softness, with that much love… It became an image he would end up thinking in a recurring manner.

“We could set her down in my room.” You point at the closer door that he had never walked through. He nodded, trying to mask his boyish excitement.

He half expected your room to be as colourfull as the rest of your house, but your walls were white, decorated with just a couple pictures of a city he couldn’t name on the wall, your white sheets that had witnessed your meeting on your bed.

He walked over to you, a bit closer than he had to be to hold Lua, so he could put her down. Enjoying the way his skin graced yours.

He sat down on your mattress, and laid Lua in the middle of it, resting in deep sleep. You followed closely. Your body hitting the usual comfort that your mattress always seemed to have. He waited a second. Another image he wanted to remember happening right in front of him, your body laying down on a bed next to her baby. In another life… Maybe it could have also been yours.

He laid down carefully, and you saw as both of you were lost. Not really sure where to look, but dying to just look at each other's eyes. As these things go, you could only avoid each other for so long.

So you ended up lost into his gaze just as much as he was lost in yours.

It was a bit too much.

“Moon…” You whispered, trying to not wake her up.

“Yeah?”

“Is this weird?” Even if you tried not to, your words still came out as worried as you were.

“Is it weird that it isn’t?” He asked back, the sincerity in his voice made your body relax, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe.” You admit, with a hopeful smile. You turned your focus on her for a moment. “She looks so peaceful.”

“You should see her when she wakes up.” He adds with a smirk on his lips. His fingers pushing a hair out of her face. “She’s calmer when you’re around.”

“We should be careful, then.” You were measuring your words now, not only speaking about her. He knew, so he just nodded.

“You know…” He started speaking after a few minutes of comfortable silence, his body sinking deeper into the comfort of your bed, smelling your perfume in the pillows that hugged his head. “When I had her, it was only me and Wayne, her mother doesn’t want her in her life, and it was scary, and nauseating. I had no idea what I was doing.” His eyes flickered back to you. His shyness was gone, he was calmer with you near. You and the admiration in your eyes. “But I figured it out pretty quickly. She needed me just as much as I needed her. I had help, of course. But still, I wouldn’t change it for the world. She keeps me sane in a way… I know I’m a better person because of her. But I think I’m becoming an even greater person because of you, too.”

You weren’t sure what you could say back. It was a warming feeling, having heard him say it, knowing that somehow you were in the same position as him. So you decided to be brave, to be honest for once.

“I just worry Edds, that’s all.” You admit in a sincer whisper. He knows you’re not done talking, and he doesn’t rush you. He waits patiently, with an understanding nod and a smile on his face. “Meeting you, both of you, has been a blessing. Honestly. It’s been lonely, moving away, being here… And you guys have been so kind, and so welcoming… I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I know, princess.”

“I just… I don’t know where’s the limit. I think… I think I kinnda like you, and if this complicates things I… I don’t know.” You were a bit embarrassed. having finally confessed what has been on your mind for days. But seeing the beaming smile that escaped from Eddie’s lips was all the confirmation you needed.

“I think I kinnda like you too. And I know it sucks. In another life, I would have asked you out, and we would have gone on dates, and we would spend days together but… All I can really think about, all I should think about…” He gestures to the little girl, sleeping soundly. “But we could still figure out a way…”

“You think?”

“Maybe.” He echoes your first maybe, the same tone, the same expression you had given him. “If you want to, we could try it out, go on a date, see if we…”

“Work?”

“Yeah.” A lovesick grin was plastered in both of your faces.

Hope could be felt in the room. Maybe it could work out, maybe you could have something, even if you weren’t sure what that was. Normally the uncertainty would make you nauseous, and anxious. Not this time, it actually made you excited, the promise of a something with them. With him.

“You’d go out with me? An actual date?” He finally asks you. His soft spoken words can’t really hide the excitement that laid deep in his question. And you weren’t that good at lying, and he could read you like a book.

“I’d love to, Moon.” It had been easier than you had anticipated. Complicated and easier seemed to go hand in hand when he came into the picture. “As soon as you fix my car.” You add in a joking tone, sticking your tongue out.

“Oh, your car’s been done for a couple days.” He said in a sirius yet humorous tone, he covered his mouth with his index fingers as soon as a chuckle escaped your lips.

“Asshole.” You whispered in disbelief.

“I just liked having an excuse to hang out with you.”

Just like that, your heart was warmer once again. And soft giggles and conversation followed all the way through the night.

Until the exhaustion caught up with you.

You fell asleep right there. A picture that both of you wanted to remember, the little promise of something more.

there might be a part 3 if you guys would like it ! xx

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n

part 2 is up, thank for the support dudes <3

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yanderederee · 1 year ago

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Perfect

ctw: Yandere themes ~ explicit nsfw midway

part1 … part2 … part3 … now~ … part5

“I’m just worried about you!”

“You shouldn’t get so close, yaknow…”

“He’s going to hurt you one of these days!”

Mikey really couldn’t stand your friends sometimes.

They thought they knew the whole picture. Some goody two shoes who fell head first for the bad boy who never came to school.

It’s not like they bothered to acknowledge how you two genuinely got to know one another, how you helped get him back on track with school, how you looked at him like he held the world in his hands, or how deeply he cared— really cared for you.

All they wanted to acknowledge was how you never had any free time anymore. ‘He’s so clingy’ this, and ‘can’t we talk alone?’ That.

Sure, maybe Mikey hated when you looked at someone other than him for longer than ten seconds. But that didn’t make him a bad boyfriend!

“What’cha guys talking about?~” Mikey smiled innocently when he came up behind you. The girls surrounding you gasped, and backed away immediately.

Mikey was so friendly, how could they reject him so harshly? Maybe it was the death glare he burned into their skin, or the threats he made to them days prior for trying to fuel your head with all this nonsense to begin with.

“Morning, Manjiro~” you smiled back, placing your hand softly on the arm he slung over you protectively.

You never cared how other people saw you, even if you were dating the most notorious delinquent in Shinjuku and Shibuya alike.

And that same indifferent nature was just another reason you had him wrapped around your finger.

One of your friends clicked her tongue, and glared at you. “Whatever, don’t come crying to us about it later.”

You were a tough cookie. It took a lot to get under your skin. Yet somehow, that did.

Little by little, anyone who you used to interact with would suddenly give you the cold shoulder. No more friendly smiles or casual waves. If you even were acknowledged, it was with strained levels of respect, addressing you only by your family name, or curt bows.

No doubt from Mikey’s influence.

Still, if no one else, you had your Manjiro. His undeniable presence of security and words of comfort… he had only ever meant to give you the world, and in secret, punish anyone who would dare separate you.

“They don’t know nothing,” Mikey waved off your friends before hugging you close. You didn’t bother to point out his grammatical mistake. “You know I’d never make you cry, right?” He asked with his watery puppy eyes.

Smile so pure, you ruffled the mess of hair on Mikey’s head. “Course not.” You agreed.

He loved when you agreed with him. Validated his delusions.

“I can’t wait for our next study session~” Mikey sighed in contentment, a soft blush hanging over his features. Your face too caught heat at the taboo mention, in school no less. “T-that was..” you tried coming up with the words that could properly display your thoughts on yesterday, but Mikey loved finishing your sentences for you. “Heavenly. I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to heaven in my life, than I had then…”

Mikey nuzzled the bridge of his nose into the crook of your exposed neck, regretful he hadn’t left any long lasting love bites behind, like he intended. He was too enthralled in other sensations, but tonight, he’d make sure not to be so negligent.

“You’re so cute,” you giggled at his words of sentiment. “But don’t get spoiled now.”

Mikey narrowed his eyebrows in a pout. “Not fair~” he whined into your shoulder, unfazed by the looks of shock or ridicule classmates around you were giving at the public display of… affection.

Turning your head, you kissed your Manjiro’s scalp lovingly. “Fine fine~ just be patient. After school, okay?” You affirmed in a soft spoken tone.

Mikey smirked.

He loved how easily you gave in to him.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ nsfw below ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

“M-ma—! Manjiro..!” You yelled desperately, feeling your legs tense so harshly, you began to shake uncontrollably. “Pl-please, I-I’m—!”

But your voice only fueled the desire that flooded Mikey’s senses.

The feeling of your soft thighs against his hands. Your smell. The way playing with you made you scream. It was surreal, like nothing he had ever experienced. The adrenaline of doing these things for the first time only amped his speed further.

Ever since you showed Mikey how to pull back your clitoral hood and exposed your most sensitive parts, he’s been infatuated.

Exploring his tongue over the bundle of nerves, he tried everything, til his hearts content. Shallow licks, slow at first, until he crescendo’d the movement into a quick zig zag motion. The first orgasm he got out of you was evident and loud.

He was so glad he moved his room to the shed, lest his grandfather kill him for his inappropriate actions.

Yet still, even when you twirled his locks into your gentle fists to pull him up, he hurried himself deeper into you. This was heaven, like he said before. How could you take what away from him?

With a more broad sweep of his tongue, he made sure to slowly taste all the wetness you’d produced from your first orgasm. So sweet.

Just as slow as he started, adding pressure from the tip of his tongue, he started from your exposed clit, down til he felt the inward dip of your fluttering hole.

Your moan was soft and low, the movement perfectly easing you down from sensations just seconds ago. But he wanted to keep going, see what sounds you would make by sucking on you.

A drawn out whine escaped your throat when he’d done this. “I-I’m sensitive..! You can’t-“ you tried reasoning with him, but his lazy hooded gaze spoke for itself: he was having the time of his life.

With another hard suck, you whined loud, and threw your head back. “Ahh!—“

God, your cries alone could render him into a horny mess. More, he decided. He wanted to hear more of those sounds. Putting in the extra work, the grip he had on your legs slid up til your hips were under his strength. Pulling your hips upward, he pressed his tongue unbearably closer.

You always gave him just what he wanted. Louder; his name escapes your lips like a mantra. Mikey couldn’t get enough. Just as the muscle of his tongue and your squirming hips met a comfortable rhythm, it was only a matter of minutes before you felt that familiar tension building inside you again.

“M-Mikey! Gonna’..” you made weak attempts at warning him of your oncoming release, but the release overtook your senses before you could do so. A moan more pornographic and sincere soon blessed Manjiro’s eager ears.

You were heaven. It was obvious now, all his blessings in this world was squirming right under him. Your essence. Your angelic cries. The way your thighs cradled him impossibly closer— the way your toes curled and shaking body rattled the frame of his bed.

You were his euphoria.

It was a shame your head was thrown back. He tried getting a good look at your face when you cried so sweetly, but couldn’t.

Enjoying the last few involuntary thrusts your body released, Mikey finally release your core with a loud sounding pop.

His lips were red from friction, but he’d never been happier. Attentions all about you, he slowly rose to his knees on the bed, trying to see your face. His hands stayed glued to your hips as his fingertips traced the curves of your body.

“Manjiro…” you breathed out quietly, turning to reveal your glazed over eyes. Mikey smiled wide, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sight of you.

“You’re so perfect.”

You would never be able to leave Manjiro. For years to come, you would faithfully remain his. Lest the taste of death come between you.

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echoofadream · 6 months ago

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I need a part2 of the "sub!Geto Suguru x fem!dom!reader" fic🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 BTW your writing is amazing!💖

sub!Geto Suguru x fem!dom!reader

Synopsis: Geto starts feeling conflicted about his feelings for you (a non sorcerer). You make him realize some things and you both come to terms with what you feel for each other

Contains: angst (kinda), substance use (alcohol), mentions of masturbation, smut, p in v, missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, mentions of murder

Suguru was going insane. He was constantly telling himself that he hated you, that he had to hate you. You were the source of his unhappiness, you were the source of the pain of his kind. But he couldn't bring himself to hate you. He thought about killing you then immediately rushed to the bathroom and splashed freezing water on his face. It usually worked but when it didn't he'd also slap himself. How could he even think about killing you when he craved you like he's never craved anything else before?

He was crying. Laying naked on his bed, fingers wrapped around his dick and jerking it as fast as he could, twisting his hand around his shaft in a desperate attempt to mimic your moves. He never did it right. He hated it. He hated that he had no self control left. He needed it. Every time he tried to restrain himself from doing it he'd find himself humping the sheets. There was no escape. He was ashamed. He was crying because of how low he'd got for a mere non sorcerer.

The man's feelings were a complete mess. Nights like those became more and more frequent. He couldn't bare call you. There was no good excuse. You were sending him as much money as he wanted so there was no reason for him to call you and ask to meet you. But one night he did.

He didn't want his family to see him in the state he was in so he booked a hotel room and called room service for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He almost finished half of it by 1 am which was too late to call anyone but he didn't know what time it was nor did he care. He wasn't nervous, nor ashamed, nor excited, nor nothing. He took out his phone and dialed your number. You picked up on the third call.

"Do you know what time it is?" your tired voice asked the inebriated man.

"No" he answered.

You sighed. "What do you want?"

"I don't know" you could barely hear any emotion in his tone.

"Then why did you fucking call?" you snap at him. Hasn't he ruined enough nights for you already? You were paying him, so what else could he possibly need?

You freeze when you hear his voice break. "I'm sorry" he mumbles, biting his lip as tears run down his face. "I don't know why I called you but...I need you..."

You were speechless. You knew he was fighting some inner demons the last time you saw him and the fact that after you fell asleep right after finishing having sex with him you woke up in your own bed at home and nothing bad happened to you was telling a lot. He was growing fond of me, you thought. I'm going mad about her, he thought.

"Please say something" he adds.

"Suguru..." you start but he cuts you off.

"I'm lonely. I'm so lonely. Please..."

You contemplate for a while. It was up to you to go to him or go back to sleep. He wouldn't hurt you if you didn't come and you knew it. But it'll hurt him if you don't.

You sigh. "Send me your location"

Suguru opened the door of the hotel room. His hair was loose and his robes were undone, leaving his chest and legs bare. His cheeks reddened when he saw you standing there but you weren't even looking at his body. You stepped in and closed the door behind yourself.

"How much have you drunk?" you ask once you see the empty bottle on his table.

"It doesn't matter. Tell me..." his voice cracks and his lower lip starts trembling. "Please tell me what's wrong with me...I wanna hate you. I want to...I want to wish to kill you. What have you done to me...?"

You've never been scared of him, yet you knew he was insanely strong. You always saw him as this ruthless killer who only cared about his fellow sorcerers and loathed your peers. Yet here he was, crying because he had feelings for a person he was supposed to hate.

"I'm truly sorry my mere existence in your life makes everything for you so complicated. I know you despise non sorcerers and... I'm sorry for what you've been through" you say, trying to calm him down.

"How could you possibly know what I've been through!?" he yells. He was frustrated and it was obvious. He was at war with himself and you wanted to help him. Why? Why was the desperation in his voice making something inside you ache?

"I don't know...but I can only imagine how bad it was if it made you this full of hatred"

He remains silent and keeps looking you in the eyes, trying not to show his emotions. He turns around and walks towards the bed, then sits on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his temples. You didn't know what to do, but what you knew was that you hated seeing him in that state. You slowly approached him and not so surprisingly he let you.

"Suguru..." you started as you stood in front of him, looking down at his conflicted expression. He raises his head and looks at you, red teary eyes staring right at the shape of your soul.

He wasn't a bad person. Not at all. He was broken. So broken that his mind didn't want to accept what his heart was telling him. And you hated it. You were mad at the world for hurting him. For destroying the heart of a man you barely even knew aside from his previous constant threats he made to you and the one time you slept with him. You saw how much he was able to love. You saw the kindness he was showing his family, the care he was raising his daughters with. He didn't deserve any of this pain.

You lifted your hand to touch his face and he didn't stop you. As you stroked his cheek he closed his eyes an leaned into your hand, a small hum escaping his lips. His gesture made you smile, that ache in your soul slightly fading.

"Spend the night here" he says without looking at you. You accepted.

There was something about the way the sun rays made Suguru's features look the more majestic. He looked so peaceful as he was sleeping next to you. Even when the light was tickling his eye lids, he couldn't be less disturbed. The blanket was covering his lower side, leaving his back exposed to you. Your eyes traced the scars he had received from previous fights and you couldn't help but sigh, knowing he was living a life he never wanted.

You glanced at your phone. Eleven am. It's been a very long time since Suguru last found himself still sleeping at such a time. But you knew he needed it.

You brushed one of his locks behind his ear, continuing to stroke his long hair. You weren't trying to wake him up. It just felt right. Though soon enough he starts to slowly open his eyes. He yawns and rubs them then his hand goes to his forehead, pressing on it as his eyes squeeze shut. He was hungover.

You helped him get up then sit on the edge of the bed. He was grunting every time a new wave of pain pierced through his head and you tried to soothe him by stroking his back carefully.

"Suguru...I think I have some pills on me. I'll give you one, okay?" you ask, worried about his condition. He doesn't answer, instead he just nods his head. You get up and start looking for the pillbox you had in your bag and once you found it you filled a glass with some cold tap water and gave it to him, along with the painkiller.

He doesn't waste any time before swallowing it. He wasn't cautious. No, he trusted you. Suguru chuckles then raises his head to look at you. "I could've swallowed it without the water, you know?"

You raise a brow, a smile creeping onto your face. "You're in the mood for jokes now?"

He laughs again and tries to stand up, but only manages to fall back on the mattress. He gives you a pouty look. "I figured it's better to keep myself entertained. At least this way I don't feel bad for violating my principles"

You sigh and take a seat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I've done everything you asked of me..." you tell him. Your words piqued his interest, causing him to frown.

He turned his face towards you, giving you an ugly look. "And now what? You want me to praise you for the thing you were born to do? You want me not to feel bad that I feel...whatever I feel for a lower being?"

"Lower being?" you repeat his words, hoping he'll realize he's in the wrong once he hears them out loud. He doesn't flinch. His expression only darkens more. "How am I inferior to you, enlighten me?"

"You dare!" he snaps, struggling to get up from the bed. "I saw my friends die for you, people! And for what? So that you could keep on living and create more curses? To what? To kill us?"

"And you think that by killing non sorcerers your friends will stop hunting curses and therefore stop dying? You think you're protecting them by abandoning them, letting them grieve your defection? You're not saving anyone. You're hurting your former friends and destroying your own life. All for nothing. You can't change the way the world is. It's messed up and it's twisted as fuck but you can't change it. You'll die trying"

Silence. None of you said anything for a while. He kept staring at you, yet it seemed more as though he was looking through you. He was lost in thought. There was nothing he could've said to argue with you because, as much as he wanted to deny it, you were right. Suguru wondered where you knew so much from for a while but soon gave up on trying to figure that out. He was tired. Tired of all of this. He called you here because he needed you. He still does.

So he gets closer and sits next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. It was a surprising gesture which both of you had been craving for too long. A gesture which you reciprocated.

He sighed an buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Please don't talk. I don't wanna talk. I need...time to think. But I don't want that right now"

You started caressing his back with one hand while the other was playing with his hair. It felt right. Sitting there so close to each other on a random noon. This wasn't like one of the one night stands he'd usually have in hopes of finally feeling something, in hopes of finally filling that void in his being. This was different. This is what he needed.

"Love me" he whispered.

"I do...I've always loved you"

"No" he replies. "What I meant was...make love to me"

"Ahh~ ahh f-fuckk"

He was moaning so loudly as he was thrusting into you. The sounds he was making sent shockwaves down your spine since his face was so close to your ear. He was almost laying on top of you, hardly able to hold his own weight because of the pleasure he was feeling.

"Am ahh~ i doin good ngh-ahh~" he asks, desperate for your praise. His cock was filling every inch of you, yet he was moving achingly slowly.

You caress his hair and speak gently to the man on top of you. "You're doing great, baby just mhm~ faster for me...think you can do that?"

He whines and tries to comply, but fails miserably. He was so damn sensitive. You were feeling too good around him, he couldn't even think anymore. He was happy, as simple as that. You loved him and he loved you and you were having sex right now and it felt so fucking good.

"Mhm~ love you...I love you I love you I love you...!" he kept saying it breathlessly, not to convince you of this, but because he finally felt free to accept his feelings.

You took his face into your hands and started kissing him sloppily, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue. This only made him weaker, his pace getting slower and his moans and whimpers louder.

"I'm gon-ahh gonna c-cum...!" he whimpers. "Please can I? Can ahh I pleaseee cum??"

"Yes baby yes. Cum for me"

"Nghh thank you thank you!!" he whines and soon enough you could feel his release filling you up and sliding down your ass, soaking the bed sheets.

Before he got the chance to catch his breath, you gave him an apologetic look and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him forward.

"Mhm~ n-no more! Ngh~ can't!" he whined.

You gently stroked his cheek with your thumb. "Shh pretty boy. You can, okay? You can make me cum, okay sweetheart?"

He nods as tears run down his face from the tantalizing feeling of overstimulation. He started moving his hips, every touch of your skin accompanying his moans as he tried to go faster for you.

His cock hardened inside you once more, his fat tip hitting your g spot so perfectly it made your toes curl. As you clenched around his length he started sobbing and normally you'd comfort the poor boy who was now yours but your head was thrown back on the soft pillow from the pleasure this man was finally giving you.

"Yes baby! Yes! F-fuckk you're doing g-great! Ngh-ahh good boy! Good fucking boy!"

The praise was only fueling his desire to make his lover feel good, to show his lover all the love and adoration he has for her. "Mhmm thank you ahh~ thank you so much you're making me so happy oh god!" The way you brought your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck deeper into you made you both lose the little lucidity you had left. The warmth and wetness of your walls along with his cum made it hard for his dick not to slip out of your cunt.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your lips on his abused ones once more. "Mhm~ can't gon-gonna cum again... for you oh fuck fuck fuckkk!!"

You weren't in a better state yourself. The long awaited high was approaching your body and you didn't even get the chance to tell him. The way his cock was abusing every right spot in such a delicious way while his pelvis was rubbing on your clit during the rapid movements of his body was enough to drive you over the edge.

When you arched your back as your walls clenched around him, your head getting thrown back and your mouth making an involuntary O shape, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and shot his cum once more deep inside your pussy.

For a while the only audible sounds in the hotel room was your and his panting. He was laying on his back next to you, but both of you were looking into each other's eyes. It felt right.

"I love you..." he confesses once more.

"I love you too"

#geto suguru #suguru geto smut #jjk geto #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen smut #sub geto #sub!character #sub jjk #dom reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk #smut #angst #geto smut #geto suguru fanfiction

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latenightdaydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Oh my g I literally love your late night walk fic SOOO MUCH PLEASSe can we have part two of konig fucking the reader senseless PLEASED 🙏🙏

Of course!!🥰

Late Night Walk Part2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part1

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v

2.1k word count

Tag list: @deffnotstarguys, @er3nslovergirl, @eevee-of-eternity, @daemondoll

Later that day König is sitting in his office finishing up the mindless paperwork they keep pushing on his desk. Stressed and ready to go back to his room, he hears a knock on his door.

“Komm rein!” He leans back in his chair and looks towards the door, expecting to see someone with more paperwork.

But you walk through the door. With a playful little smirk on your lips. His eyes glued to you and how you walk through his office. You sit in front of him and avoid eye contact.

“Hallo Liebling.” König is pretty sure he knows why you’re here.

“Hello Colonel,” your voice makes it clear how nervous you are.

“Just call me König for now, we are both off duty.” No matter how relaxed the situation, König would never let a subordinate speak casually to him, but he wants you to know that you’re more than just a recruit to him.

“König,” you can help but to smirk as his name leaves your lips. “I came because…of what you said…earlier.”

König smiles under his mask, feeling excited that you really did come to him for sex. “Ja? Are you wanting to… come spend the night?” König crosses one leg over the other making it appear as if he is relaxed when in reality his heart is pounding and he’s already forming a chub.

“Yes…if that’s okay.” You look in his eyes but feel like your face is hot and desperately want to look away, but you want to appear confident.

“Okay. Let’s go.” König stands, towering over you as he reaches forward to turn off the lamp at his desk.

You both get up and walk to the door, he turns the lights off and locks his office door behind him before gesturing at you to follow him.

You both walk across base. König tries to slow his stride so he doesn’t leave you behind, but you don’t mind the view of his broad back and ass. The way he walked with such a confident swagger added to the attraction.

König was too nervous to say anything or look over at you so he just kept walking, eager to get you into his bed. Once in the hall for his quarters, his heart really picked up pace. He gets to his door and takes out his keys to open it. Inside it is simple but a lot bigger than your room. He has a king size bed since he is such a massive man. The room has a simple wooden desk and wooden dresser. Photos of him with his squad and his achievements near the desk.

You walk in and look around, taking everything in. You feel König’s hands rest on your hips as he brings your body to press against his. You begin to feel too bashful to even look at him as you relax and lean your body back on his.

“Tell me what you want, Häschen.” König’s voice was low and sensual.

“You.”

König smiles underneath his mask. He isn’t used to women, especially not ones as beautiful as you, desiring him so forwardly. He moves his hand up to his mask to lift it slightly, brushing your hair aside with the other hand as he leans down to kiss the soft skin on your neck.

You let out a shaky breath and lean your head to the side, allowing him more room to kiss you. His lips are soft and warm, leaving a wet trail behind each kiss. His free hand moves to your shoulders and down to your breast, squeezing it lightly. You can feel his erection growing, but too shy to reach behind you for it. He’s your Colonel after all and you feel the rank still carries into this moment.

Slowly, König moves his hand down to your waist and begins to pull at your tucked in shirt, both of you still in uniform, he pulls the tight black shirt up and quickly moves his hand under. He takes his time feeling the soft skin on your abdomen, small goosebumps covering you. Moving his hand up closer to the wire of your bra, he slips his hand underneath. Your breast feels so warm and soft in his hand. He moves his fingers around until he finds your nipple and begins to play with it between two fingers.

Your moans grow and encourage him to keep going. König lightly bites your neck before pulling his head away and letting his mask drop. He moves his hand from your breast to the small of your back, guiding you to the bed. He begins to pull your shirt off, his eyes dropping down to your breast, looking at how beautiful they look resting in your bra. He moves to take his own shirt off.

“Take your hair down.”

You reach behind your head to pull your hair out of your ponytail, fixing your hair as your eyes explore his chest. He is solid, covered in scars with a small happy trail of blonde hair. His hands move to his belt and you begin to undo yours as well. The both of you look in anticipation as you both pull your pants down.

You both stand in your underwear facing each other, König’s mask still on. He walks towards you, his hands wrapping around your waist as he looks down at you. Moving his hands up slowly he unhooks your bra, looking down at your breasts as they become exposed.

“Beautiful…” He whispers.

Getting on his knees before you he pulls down your underwear as he lifts his mask slightly and kisses your breasts, his tongue flicking your nipples. His finger gently touches back and forth from your clit through your folds, slowly getting wet as he touches you.

Feeling a rush of pleasure spread over you, you spread your legs a little more for him. He moves his hand further and stuck a finger into your tight hole. Your eyes close, your hand going to the back of his head and caressing the fabric of his mask as you let out gentle moans. His one finger felt the same as three of your own.

“You feel so tight Häschen.” König’s voice is almost unrecognizable as it drips with desire.

He withdraws his finger and stands. His boner is hard to ignore as it strains the fabric of his blue boxer briefs, a small spot of precum obvious. He reaches out for your hand and brings you to the bed.

“Do you suck cock?” He asks very directly.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Gut.”

He pulls your arm gently and lays you on the bed. He pulls off his underwear completely and joins you.

You lean forward and grab his cock on your hands and begin to stroke him, he lets out a soft grunt as he begins to rub your pussy. You move your face closer to his cock, smelling his natural musk and you couldn’t help but to love it.

You move your hand as he moves his body to lay his body the opposite way of yours on the bed, laying sideways. You move your body to match his. Your hand goes back to his cock and begins to stroke it again. You lean forward and lip the tip of his cock before backing away.

“Don’t be shy.” König brushes some of your hair away and gently guides your mouth to his cock.

You open your mouth and your lips wrap around him. König lets out a soft moan as he feels the wet warmth of you sucking the tip of his cock. He grabs one of your legs and pulls it to him, resting it over his shoulders, his head in between your thighs. He pulls off his mask and begins to kiss your pussy before burying his face into it. Moaning on his cock, you feel König’s hands squeeze your ass.

His lips wrap around your labia and he pulls his mouth back with a pop, “Du schmeckst so süß.” He says before going back to lick your clit. His hands begin to caress your ass before lightly spanking you.

Legs trembling as König devours your pussy, your mouth stretched around his cock. You bob your head quickly, one hand holding his balls and playing with them. König lets out a soft moan as he pulls his head back. If you keep sucking his cock like this he will cum before he is ready to.

Gently he pulls away from you. You look into his eyes realizing that you’re seeing his face. Trying not to stare, you look down at his body. He notices your eyes shift.

“It’s okay to see me, just keep it a secret, please.”

“I will.” You look back up at his face. He is handsome in a rugged way. Your heart beating out of your chest, you feel as if you just feel in love.

König can’t help but to smile at the dreamy look in your eyes. He moves to the edge of the bed and stands. Motioning you over he says, “Get on all fours.”

You crawl to be in front of him before turning, facing your ass to him. He kisses your ass checks, spanking them lightly. Standing up right he grasps his cock, one hand on your ass to guide you to him. He begins to push his cock into you slowly. Letting groans of pleasure as he feels your tight cunt wrap around him.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispers to himself as he pushes himself inch by inch. He looks down and watches your gummy walls stretch to accept him.

You moan out loudly as he fills you completely, your back arching and body leaning forward. He doesn’t let you try to get away. He grabs both of your arms and holds both of your small wrists in one of his large hands. His other hand reaching out and twisting in your hair, grabbing it and pulling your head back. You let out a small gasp as he does.

He begins to fuck you hard, his hips bucking forward rapidly. Your ass ripples as he pounds into you.

“Please fuck me harder!” You moan out as he pulls your hair harder. Your pussy tingles with pleasure with each thrust, his balls slapping your clit hard.

“You sure?”

“Yes, please ruin me!” You beg pathetically.

Your begging drives him crazy as he pulls your hair back more, his body slightly hunched over. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills his room as you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Squirming as he fucks you relentlessly. Soft moans fall from König’s lips as he feels his balls tighten from the pleasure.

König puts one leg on the bed, letting go of your arms and pushing your head down into the bedsheets. He begins to pull back farther and slamming his cock into you and you begin to let out loud groans with every thrust in.

“I’m- I’m, oh god!” You begin to orgasm, your body shaking under him as he doesn’t stop. He spanks your ass so hard he leaves a mark.

“Ja, good girl, cum for König.” His words send shivers down your spine. He looks down and sees your creamy white arousal covering his cock.

“Where do you want my cum?”

“Please cum inside me.” You beg him.

“Okay,” König is aware he shouldn’t be cumming deep inside of a recruits pussy, but he can’t control himself.

“Tell me you want it.” He spanks your ass again.

“Please, cum in me, please. I need your cum!” You cry out.

He pulls your head back by your hair again as his cock throbs inside of you. “Oh- oh ja…y/n.” König moans as he cums.

Breathing heavy he lingers a little bit, letting go of your hair as he falls forward onto the bed. He gently pulls out and lays on the bed beside you. You look over at him and pay attention to his side profile. His aquiline nose and strong jawline, he’s so beautiful to you.

König turns his head to see you staring at him, he smiles and a small blush forms on his cheeks. “Am I what you expected?” He turns his body and faces you, reaching one hand out and caressing the curve of your soft body.

“You’re even better.”

“Sex or my face?” He chuckles.

“Both.”

Both of you laugh and he pulls you closer to him. His hands caressing you all over, leaving small kisses on the top of your head and side of your face.

“I’ll uh, get you plan B tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

“So…you’ll stay the night with me?” His eyes are glued to yours.

“Of course.”

His confident cocky façade is gone and all that’s left is soft, awkward, and shy König. He knows that he shouldn’t allow himself to get close to you, a younger recruit, but he just can’t help himself.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #cod smut #konig x reader smut #könig x reader smut #smut #konig x you #könig x you #könig call of duty

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patscorner · 8 months ago

Text

FAMILY DINNER PART2

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, physical altercation, mentions of blood, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed, lmk if I missed something

______________________________

The rest of the dinner was just as awkward as you'd thought it'd be. You can't really come back from your father implying you and your boyfriend just fucked in the bathroom of your childhood home, at the first family 'reunion' in 2 years.

So there you sat, eating your food in silence, waiting -no- begging, that someone cut the tension.

And finally someone does. And as they say, careful what you wish for.

"How many plates have you had, dear?" Your mom asked, looking up from her plate. You look back at her, before glancing at your plate and back to at her again.

"This is my second." You say, mouth full of food. You were thankful that people took your mother's talking as an invitation to also continue their conversations.

"Maybe we should slow down, you know? Save room for dessert, which you clearly don't need." She smiles, as if what she said was the best piece of advice she'd ever given anyone.

Her comments always bothered you, no matter how much you were told to ignore them. But when it came to your weight, it hurt the most. The comments were the worst in high school, as you were a little heavier than the average petite high schooler. But it was never as serious as your mom made it. So when you were a sophomore in high school, you developed an eating disorder, where you couldn't eat even if you tried, where you spent hours crying in front of the mirror, wishing you were skinnier to fit your mother's impossible expectations.

You fought that battle for years, 3 years to be exact. Your mom couldn't help because she saw nothing wrong with what you were doing. She would say, 'It's worth it.' And when you're young, you tend to believe everything your parents say because they'd 'never hurt you.' So after you moved out, Chris helped you get help, and you won your long and cruel battle. Obviously, you still have your days and your moments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Not with your new family. People who actually cared.

"S'cuse me?" You say, your voice laced with agitation.

"Well, honey, you don't want to get fat again, do you?" She said, shoveling broccoli into her mouth.

You had stopped chewing completely, making sure you heard her correctly. You looked over at Chris, who was looking at your mom with his jaw clenched. You look back at your mom and out your hand on Chris's thigh as to tell him to relax.

You felt him put his hand over yours and squeeze, a symbol of reassurance.

You sit back in your seat, looking at your plate in defeat. Guess you were done for the night. But your dad wasn't. In fact, your dad was drunk.

"Oh, honey, leave her alone. She's not nearly as huge as she used to be." He slurred, taking another sip from his beer.

"Okay, this isn't neces-" you start, only to be cut off by your parents. Shocker.

"What do you mean? I mean, look at her, David. She's just as big as she was in high school." You mom says gesturing to you.

Your heart dropped, anger and embarrassment filling your veins. "What the fuck, mom?!" You cry out. "Not only is that something you shouldn't say about people, especially your fucking kid, but I'm also right in front of you. At least have some decency to shit-talk me in private." You remove your hand from your boyfriends lap.

Your mom looks at you in shock, and your dad squints at you. "Woah, woah, relax dear. It's not only your fault. You can't help it." She said, reaching for your hand.

You pull your hand away, a look of disgust covering your face. "I don't want to hear that, mom, why's my weight always been a big fucking obsession of yours?" You snap. You feel Chris's hand on your thigh, which you push off quickly. Usually, when you're angry, the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

"It's not my fault. You were huge. I was trying to help you. Nobody wants a pig as their bride, y/n." She spits. Her words feel like daggers, stabbing into your heart.

"You weren't trying to help. You were doing this for yourself. You never cared about it. You only did it because it made you look good to have skinny, petite children. I'm not you or any of them." You gesture to you siblings. The conversations had stopped by now, all of them watching as you and your parents bickered. Embarrassing. "You're a selfish bitch, who never cared about anybody else but herself a-"

"Hey! You watch how you speak to your mother!" Your dad stands up, and instinctively, so did you and your siblings. James and Peter were the first up, while Julia walked over and made sure Maya wasn't in the room.

Nick, Matt, and Chris all stood up too, but they weren't sure what to do, which you would've found funny, but considering the circumstances...

"Let's all relax, okay." Peter attempts to butt in. He's always been so soft-spoken, but if he needs to, he'll beat the shit outta someone. You knew what he was capable of. You'd seen it when your first boyfriend cheated on you.

Your dad directed his attention to Peter. "You shut the fuck up. You have no room to speak because you're a sorry excuse for a son." He drunkenly pointed at Peter.

"You're talking. You can't even see straight half the time, let alone be eligible to give advice." James, your younger brother spits.

Ah, you'd taught him well.

"You watch your mouth before I knock you the fuck out." Your dad spits, and that seems to shut James up. It breaks your heart knowing your father hadn't changed, and when you left, probably laid hands on your younger siblings. And it appears as though Peter's heart broke, too.

Peter stepped closer to your dad, with the same face of anger you'd seem many times before. "You hit them too, Dad? After what you promised!?" He said, his voice raised.

It was all too much. There are too many memories, too many flashbacks. There are too many similarities of past events.

"O-okay, Peter, relax." You attempt, knowing how fast this could escalate. You hold Chris's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Yeah, listen to the pig, Peter." Your father gritted his teeth.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm gonna need you to stop calling your daughter a pig." You hear an unexpected voice. Chris.

Your dad whips his head, staring at Chris with his eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Little did he know, Chris played hockey, and his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to jump in, also played hockey.

"Chri-" You start.

"No, no, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Your father mocks.

"No! No, please let's just sto-" you get cut off again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, Y/N." Your dad yells, taking very quick steps to you.

Chris stood in front of you, Peter and James behind your father.

"Move." He growled at Chris.

Chris sucked his teeth, with fake disappointment on his face. "Sorry, can't do that one, sir."

Your dad huffed, allowing Chris to smell every sip of alcohol he'd drunk. "Move." He stated again.

Chris shook his head. "That's my daughter! Get the fuck out of the way, tough guy."

Chris cocked his head. "Really, because based off what I've seen, you sure don't talk to her like it." He spoke, his voice calm, but stern.

That was it. Your dad snapped. He swung his fist, hitting Chris in the nose. "Dad! What the fuck!" You say.

You watch as Chris doubles over, holding his nose, followed by yelling from everyone in the room. You can't understand anything, but you do know that your dad's got his hands around your collar and is holding you close to his face.

You feel the tears start to fall as the scent of alcohol burns your nose. "You're a little bitch, letting this puny excuse of a man speak to me like that."

"Let her go, dad!" James screamed, followed by Peter's yelling.

You look over and make eye contact with your mom. She stood there, arms crossed, not a single expression on her face. She just let it happen.

Your dad shook you. "LOOK AT ME." He shouted in your face. You closed your eyes, as tears began to fall.

"CHRIS NO!" Nick yells. That's all you hear before you dropped. You didn't realize he was choking you until he let go. You look up and see Chris on top of your dad, landing blows like he if were in a hockey game. Your dad got a few heavy punches in, too, as you expected.

Chris had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and crimson knuckles. Blood stained his big hands, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your father's.

Matt and Nick finally managed to push Chris out of the house, leaving you and your family. Your dad was still screaming drunk profanities, while James made sure you were okay. Peter and your mom held your dad back from chasing your boyfriend.

You had walked out of the dining room and went to sit on the stairs. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself slip into a familiar but unfamiliar trance. You were completely unaware of your surroundings at this point, so lost in your brain that the rest of your body was just frozen.

You don't know how long you are disassociating for, but you heard muffled shouting until you didn't. The yelling was replaced with ringing, something your brain did as a coping mechanism, mostly when you were young and hiding with your siblings in the bathroom while your dad trashed your home.

"-aby, can you take a deep breath from me?" You look up, but your vision is blurred, and you can't make out who's speaking - or anything for that matter.

You blink slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It usually took you a while to come back to reality during these moments.

"Can someone get her a cup of water?" You hear the voice again, and despite your yearning to speak, you can't get any words out. Your mouth opens, and you try to speak, but it comes out more of a choked whine.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart, it's okay." Chris wipes the tears coming for your cheeks. Your pupils were enlarged, and your eyes were open, but you couldn't see.

"Thank you." Chris muttered as Matt handed him a cup of ice water. "Here, baby." He put his hands in the icy water, shaking them, so his hands are damp. He took your hands, which had a death grip on your hoodie, and rubbed his cold fingers over your knuckles.

You focused on the feeling of his frigid fingers and you felt yourself coming back to reality.

You blink quickly as more tears fall. "Aw ma, don't cry, it's okay, sweetheart." Chris coos, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs on the bone.

His attempts to ground you are successful, as your eyes finally focus on his eyes. "Hey, hey, you coming back to me, baby?" Chris asks, his voice soothingly attempting to comfort you.

You nod absent-mindedly, relief flooding your body as you come back to reality.

You take in your surroundings for the first time in what felt like forever. You're sat on the stairs, your hands shaking from the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You finally make eye contact with Chris, his eyes full of love and worry. He's got a bruise on the side of his face, a busted lip, and blood falling from his nose, smeared on his upper lip.

"Chris..." you say, cupping his face, rubbing his cheeks down to his lip, frowning when he winced. "Baby..."

He pulls away, chuckling lightly. "It's fine, baby, I'm okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." He squeezed your hips in reassurance.

"I'm okay." You say. But then your mind screams at you. "Fuck, where's Maya... an-and, James. Oh, fuck, what about Julia and Pet-" your cut off by Chris's lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, your hands trailing down his neck.

He pulls away and smiles sadly. "Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "Anytime, baby. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry." He said, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head. "It's okay, he's a fucking asshole." Chris kisses your cheek. "Let's get outta here? I made a little bit of a mess."

You raise your eyebrows. "A little?" Chris kisses his teeth and scoffs.

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Anybody would've done it, Chris. It's okay, really." You speak softly.

Chris smiles and helps you up. "Let's go home." He leads you down the stairs and reaches for the door.

But it opens before he can open it.

"Oh my god."

______________________________

(Man, I wonder who that is)

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jinkicake · 2 years ago

Note

HSHDHSHD HI AGAIN I JUST SAW UR CHILDE AND SCARAMOUCHE ARRANGE MARRIAGE POST AND I GO SJGNFNFNFNDNNFNDNG THE WAY U WRITE ARRANGE MARRIAGE TROPES>>>>>>/lh UR WRITTING IS SO GOOD!! I ALWAYS COMEBACK AND RE READ IT EVERYTIME AND I JUST REALIZED U ALSO WRITE FOR OBEY ME?! AND UR WRITING IS THE FIRST FEW ONES I'VE READ AFTER I JOIN THE OM FANDOM TOO?!👀💖💐

Ps. Would u mind if I request a 2nd part for the arrange marriage aus for the first fews chars (esp. Perrio👀) if nit they it's fine <33 thx u for creating such an amazing content!!💖💖

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope

(pt. ??) Alhaitham, Dottore, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

A/N: hi anon!! thank you for being so patient w me and for being so sweet </333 T T i hope you like this~~ if you want me to do part2 for anyone else let me know!! I only did it for zhongli and pierro teehee bc i also wanted to add alhaitham and dottore (i hope that is alright~~)

WC - 3.2k

- yandere!dottore // dottore is his own warning -

NSFW // LIGHT SMUT (pierro+zhongli)

~~~

Alhaitham

“I will be home after sundown, habibti." Alhaitham places a gentle hand on your shoulder after he stands up from his chair at the dining room table. He lowers his head with a slight dip of his neck to place a kiss on the crown of your hair. “Be good today.”

And then he is gone.

Months have passed since your husband began staying late after work. You don’t understand it in the slightest, he hates doing unnecessary tasks. The entire time you’ve known him, courting and beyond, Alhaitham has always spared time in his day for his interests. One day, he even told you that his favorite part of each day was settling down to read. He likes to live a carefree and relaxed lifestyle, so staying late in the Akademiya seems like the complete opposite of that.

Regardless, you bear the weight of your suspicions and ignore it.

You focus on being the docile wife you were advertised as and focus on your housework. In truth, your arranged marriage could not have gone any better. Despite your parents parading you around, you somehow found the most laid-back candidate who suited your needs to a t. Every night you thank the Lesser Lord Kusanali for such a kind husband, who lets you come and go as you please. You would have probably hired a hit on your parents, as opposed to never speaking with them again, if they married you away to a cruel man.

However, housework only keeps you busy for so long and before you know it, it is ten am and you have finished everything that you wanted to do for the day. You could go bother your husband’s old roommate or have a meal with your friend but, you notice that Alhaitham left his lunch today. The neatly prepared and packed lunch is still sitting on the counter where you left it. He must have forgotten to grab it.

With ignorance only Alhaitham could have installed in you, a result of keeping you in the dark for so long, you head toward the Akademiya. However, you regret it once you speak with his co-workers.

“Alhaitham is not here today.”

“Your husband? He didn’t come in this morning,”

“I heard he was heading to Port Ormos after speaking with the Gauhar.”

Through your dejection, you braced a kind smile and thanked them all before heading back home. What could your husband possibly be going to the port for? He’s not a student anymore, there’s no reason for him to be going there.

Unless someone else is there.

You stubbornly try to shake that negative thought out of your head as you walk through the marketplace. As if Alhaitham would commit something of adultery, he doesn’t show interest in anything or anyone.

Perhaps, you will have to speak about this with him when he returns home.

Returning home that night was not something Alhaitham did. In fact, he did not return back to you for two nights and only appeared on the third morning of his disappearance.

To say that you were upset would be an understatement and your husband was able to see it the second he walks in through the door.

“(Y/N), I know I have been gone-”

“Where have you been?” You don’t give him the chance to begin with the sorry apologies as you cross your arms over your chest, you get straight to the point.

“It was for the Akademiya, I cannot discuss the matters with you and you know this.” He sounds sincere enough, there’s a tiredness to his words that you can’t pinpoint. “I wanted to check in with you before I returned.”

“Check in with me?” You scoff and start to look at him as if he had grown three heads. “Check in with me before returning to your mistress?”

“My mistress?” Alhaitham raises a subtle brow and keeps a straight face despite the amusement growing in his chest.

“Why else have you been gone so long? Staying out so late? I’m not a fool and personally, I don’t care about who else you see.” You lie straight through your teeth, lie until you choke. Alhaitham sighs before stepping closer toward you.

“I really cannot share the details of this assignment just yet, you have to believe me, habibti.” He gently cups your shoulders, giving the area a soft squeeze before soothingly running over the planes of your back. “Listen to me when I say that I would never think of betraying you so cruelly.” And, before you have a chance to react, Alhaitham lowers his face to brush his lips against your ear. Vulnerability spills through his every word. “Please do not act so indifferent about the matter of us, I want you to care as freely about me as I do you.”

Smoothly, his hand cups your face and tilts you his way.

“No matter what thoughts you may come up with on your own, trust the logic that I love you.”

Dottore

“The Doctor will return from his mission sometime next week, perhaps during the beginning of the new moon-”

During the message personally delivered from your husband by a trusted subordinate, you can’t help but audibly groan.

“Why must he ruin my entire week with his presence? Did he specifically plan to return on Monday? Why couldn’t he have come back the following Saturday or Sunday?” You place your pen down with great irritation and with it, the notebook you were writing in slams shut. The large Fatui soldier stares down at you, quite flabbergasted by your actions. At the lack of response from your maids, he continues.

“Well, The Doctor wanted to spend some time with you before his next mission-”

“You’re kidding?” This time, you stand up and slam your palms against the strong wooden desk. Hatred and frustration flow through your veins, nearly choking you by your throat. “When you receive word that he is on his way, within a day away from me, then you will come back here and tell me. Understand?” You and your shorter frame could not nearly pose up to the Vanguard standing before you but, given the status of your esteemed husband, you can speak with him and any other solider of your choice however you want.

“Yes, my lady.” He offers a respectful bow before leaving your office and does not flinch under the intensity of your unwavering glare.

“My day is ruined.” You hum and try to calm yourself down by rolling out your shoulders. Within an instant your close friends (the maids assigned to you by your beloved) are by your side, offering you their condolences and support. “We must prepare for the torture that his arrival is ensured to bring. Where are my earplugs?”

Each day that follows, you work alongside other members of the house to prepare the cozy home that your husband chooses to reside in. Cozy is a cute way of describing it, this castle that hides within the mountains is anything but cozy. It’s large and empty but, you rather enjoy all the empty space that provides shelter when you’re hiding from your husband.

In the midst of your breakfast later in the week, you’re interrupted by another announcement.

“My lady, The Doctor will arrive-”

“What do you want?” You scowl and push your plate away, lowering your utensils before standing up from your chair. Now, just like your week and the ones that follow, your meal is ruined too. “I do not care when that wretched vermin will arrive. Tell me when he is here and leave me alone.”

“That is the thing, my lady, he is here early.” As one of the Legionaries beside the previous Vanguard steps to the side, your husband moves in front of you. He stands tall on the other side of the long dining room table and you have half a mind to sprint for the door. “I did not have time to issue the previous warning you asked for.”

“Warning? Is that how you speak of me when I am not around?” Dottore tilts his head slightly before slowly walking around the table. You try not to shake as he corners you, hands braced behind his back. “Oh? Where has your attitude gone? Down the drain with your fight?”

He doesn’t have to remove his mask for you to see the sneer on his face, the anger that is sure to be littering his features.

“Dear,” You nervously greet him, offering a pathetic smile that does little to hide your nerves.

“Sweetheart,” He greets back just as gently but, you can see the tension in his shoulders. “I must confess that I was thinking we would spend time with one another before my next trip to Sumeru but, now I'm not so sure.”

But? You mentally pray and pray to the Tsaritsa that he changes his mind and ditches you altogether, that he leaves you alone again for months on end. Anything would be better than facing his wrath.

“I don’t think we need to see one another for a while.” He waits for you to let out the breath you were holding in, to sigh in relief, before gripping your jaw with his gloved hand. “I think it would only be fair since you’ll now be coming with me to Sumeru. We can spend the entire trip together, side by side. Finally, you’ll be able to see my work up close and not just from your timid frame in the lab doorway.”

You can’t hide the way your lip begins to quiver, eyes filling with tears. That is the last thing you would ever want.

“Aren’t you excited, my wife? You must be since you’re near bursting into tears!” He mocks you until your soul breaks, until the farthest place you could ever be from him is no longer far enough. “If this is how you act when we are apart then, you will never be from my side ever again.”

Pierro

“You are a blessing,” Pierro murmurs lowly as his hands delicately sculpt your sides, gently he presses into your skin with his thick fingers. “a divine creation.” Like this, he worships you. His lips lightly trail between the valley of your breasts as he ascends up your body. “Hundreds of years have passed since I’ve felt this alive.”

Pierro slowly drags his lips up your throat and over your jaw to hover above your lips. His breath fans your chin, teasing you with his close proximity. He laughs when you tilt your chin in an attempt to kiss him, but it fails.

Regardless of how you care for your husband outside of your shared bedroom, you always love him inside of it.

“Please,” Your quiet voice sounds like a melody to the older man and he nearly sighs at the sweet tone. This is all he has ever desired, you wanting and yearning for him. He knows his words will never be enough to get this point across, ever.

With a light hand, the man brushes any lingering strands of your hair out of your face. He stares down at you with lust-filled eyes before cupping your jaw with his large palm. Subtly, Pierro tilts your face upward and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. As he presses his mouth against your own, applying just the correct amount of pressure, his thumb gently strokes your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss, one that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Before he can catch himself and reel in his self-restraint, Pierro cups your breast. Your arms loop around his neck, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders as he fondles and squeezes at your chest. The constant stimulation only makes you greedier for more and your hips create a mind of their own as you roll slowly upwards against his pelvis.

“My wife,” Pierro groans, pulling away momentarily to catch his breath. His voice sounds shaky as he tries to fight back the overwhelming desire to just take you right now. “enough, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

The first of the eleven Fatui harbingers thinks he has himself under control finally, that he will be able to continue but then you glance up at him. In your young eyes, mischief shines brighter than the life in his own.

“It’s alright if I don’t regret it, don’t you think?” And then you kiss him once more. You yank roughly on his neck, catching him off guard, and pull him down again.

The growl that leaves your husband is animalistic. His sharp reflexes snap at your wrist, pinning you effectively to the bed without much room to move. The kiss of his lips, once sweet, turns possessive and greedy as he presses you into submission. With little fight, you obediently fall right into his open palms with your lips parting at the slightest jut of his tongue.

Skillful hips roll against your own, Pierro’s hard cock grinds into your clothed cunt and the sensation against your sensitive clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. When you start failing to kiss back, Pierro makes his attack. He squeezes your wrists and shoves his tongue into your mouth, swallowing and taking all that you will give him. Your thighs are beginning to burn against the stretch of being spread for his muscular waist but, the pain is dulled over at each slot of his hips.

Your pitiful whimper pulls him from his conquest and Pierro remorsefully separates himself from your lips.

“I need you,” Your whisper does not fall deaf on his ears, Pierro hears every single word. No matter how much you make fun of the older man, poking at his true age, he’s sharpened every one of his skills beyond their years.

“I know, my beloved, I know what you need.” His hands make you sigh out loud as they run up and down your waist, breathy moans leave your lips. “Do you understand the affection that I hold for you? Are you aware of the effect you have on me?” Pierro closely watches your reaction, stares as you keep your eyes closed and don’t so much as flinch at his words. You simply hum and lay like a blessing against his sheets. Now, the older man lowers his lips to your stomach and presses his mouth into your skin. He gently creates a path to the band of your panties with each kiss getting heavier than the last.

“One day, you will understand the true extent of my feelings.”

Zhongli

Lately, you’ve been worried about your husband. Your concerns are nothing new or anything revolutionary but, you can’t speak about it to your friends or others who are unaware of his godly status. To deal with the matter, you sought out the one person you could discuss the matter with, one of the people who know him better than you do.

“I’m worried about Zhongli,” You sit patiently at the stone table, in your husband’s seat as you confess your inner feelings to the cloud retainer.

“Zhongli?” The bird rolls her eyes, tasting the name on her tongue before it clicks. “Morax. What is there to be concerned about? Foolish girl, he adores you.” The cloud retainer raises a judgmental brow at your timidness as she pours you a cup of tea. She sits down with an elegance that makes you feel small in her presence. Still, you proceed.

If any of the adeptus are going to listen to you, it’s her. If there is a single one that you can trust, it is her.

“Isn’t that the problem?” Truthfully, you have been worried about the upcoming and unforeseen future. You’re always worried about it. Not that you will disappear soon but, mortal lives are nothing compared to that of an adeptus. How will he fare when you pass? How can you prepare him for it? “What will happen to him when I inevitably-”

The aged bird cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“Speaking of such circumstances when they are nowhere in the near future will only come back to bite you.” Cloud retainer quietly sips at her drink, leaving a few moments of silence between the two of you before she sighs. “Fully cherish the time you have with him, that is the only piece of advice I can offer you.”

And that is as far as you go with her on the matter, the conversation was over.

Still, in your heart, you weren’t satisfied with the answer.

It continued to bug you even as you tried to ignore it, even as you tried to cherish the time you have with the immortal.

“How are you today, my dear?” Every single day when he returns, Zhongli finds you and presses a delicate kiss on your cheek. It’s a kind gesture that always makes you melt into the palm of his hand.

It also, more often than not, always leads to something else. Something more intimate.

“Would you forgive me if I said that I missed you today,” Zhongli’s low voice fills your senses and clouds your mind, leaving you barely unable to think. Now pressed into the couch with your husband over top of you, protectively holding your thighs over his hips, all you can do is take everything that the god has to give you. “I’m often missing you when you are away.”

His pure confessions make your gut twist in an uncomfortable way.

“Will you be okay when I am no longer here?” You whisper, letting the words spill into his ears as you hide your face in his neck.

Zhongli stops his movements. The gentle, smooth thrusts of his hips come to a standstill as his hands lower from your thighs. He places a palm beside your head and pulls back enough that he can look at you.

“I will never be the same without you.” The raw emotion in his features and the distinct vulnerability in his eyes cause tears to well up in your eyes. “But, I will continue to live. Your memory will keep me alive until we can be reunited again.” His gentle touch comes up to wipe at your tears as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I don’t want you to be worried about that just yet, okay, my gem?”

Softly, Zhongli presses his lips against yours and it muffles the sob that leaves your lips.

You tighten the grip that you have on his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin as your lips open for his tongue.

“I love you, I will always love you forever.” He murmurs into your cheek before kissing over your eyelids. Smoothly, his hips pick up a slow pace once more and you gasp loudly. The sound makes your husband laugh, gently shaking as he presses his forehead against your own. “If I had my way, we would have met earlier and you would never part from my side.”

In every touch, he portrays how much he loves you. There is an ‘I love you’ in the press of his fingers against your hips. There is an ‘I love you’ in the skillful roll of your hips and there is an ‘I love you’ in the gentle kiss of his lips.

Yes, Zhongli is sure he will always love you. Even through grief and mourning, he will never forget the feeling of loving you.

#al haitam x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #alhaitham x reader #dottore x y/n #pierro x y/n #zhongli x you #yandere dottore #alhaitham fluff #pierro smut #zhongli smut #xiaos spicy almond tofu

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its-avalon-08 · 4 months ago

Text

it all fell down (ln4)

part3

multipart story! part1 part2 next

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

The party continued, the room filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of conversation. Anna and Liam were making their rounds, thanking guests and basking in the joy of their engagement. Lando and Y/N found themselves in the same group, surrounded by mutual friends who were conspicuously trying to get them to speak.

"So, Lando, tell everyone how you had a great race last week," George said, trying to break the ice as they all stood together.

"Yeah, it was a good one," Lando replied, his eyes flicking briefly to Y/N before looking away. "A lot of hard work paid off, all those endless hours and sim racing. I guess it was all worth it."

"Y/N, how's the business going? I saw your latest campaign. It's amazing!" Claire chimed in, trying to steer the conversation.

"Thanks Claire!," Y/N said, smiling politely. "The team has been incredible. We’re launching another project next month that I’m really excited about. You remember what I told you about when we were in school? The whole collaboration? It's finally coming to life!"

The tension was palpable, each word carefully chosen, each glance weighted with unspoken history. Their friends exchanged nervous glances, hoping for a breakthrough.

"Y/N, didn’t you go on a date last week?" George asked innocently, completely aware unaware of the brewing storm.

Y/N stiffened, her smile freezing slightly. "Yeah actually I did. It was a nice evening. He wasn't busy on his phone with calls all the time and.. yeah it felt good."

Lando's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the judgement was clear on his face. He turned to George, a sarcastic edge to his voice. "Must be nice to have so much free time to date around. Not everyone can afford such luxuries. Or have that much time to waste."

Y/N scoffed, her eyes flashing with irritation. Intentionally avoiding speaking to Lando, Y/N Addressed Clare, "You know Clare, some of us manage to balance our personal lives and careers. It's called multitasking."

"Multitasking, huh?" Lando said, still addressing George but clearly referring to Y/N. "Seems like some people are just good at juggling multiple things at once and not really excelling at anything in specific. Some of us like to be the best at what we do."

"Yes, some people are good at multitasking because they can handle the pressure," Y/N shot back, looking at Claire instead of Lando. "It's amazing what you can accomplish when you’re not distracted by racing around in circles."

The group fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Anna, sensing the brewing conflict, stepped in quickly. "Alright, alright, let's not turn this into a sparring match. It's a party, remember?"

As the night progressed, the tension between Lando and Y/N only grew more palpable. They found themselves once again in the same group, their friends trying desperately to keep the atmosphere light.

"So, Y/N," George started, attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters, "any exciting projects coming up that you can share with us?"

Y/N glanced briefly at Lando before replying. "Oh, plenty. We're working on something really innovative, but I can't reveal too much yet. Unlike some, we prefer to surprise people with our results, not just talk about them."

Lando's jaw tightened. "Yeah, surprises are really fucking great. Especially when they actually live up to the hype."

Y/N smirked, turning to Claire. "Well, some of us don’t need to hype everything we do. The results speak for themselves."

Lando’s eyes flashed with irritation and he directly addressed the woman he used to love. "Funny, I remember you being quite the hype queen back in the day. Always making a big deal out of the smallest things, could never get you to calm down."

Y/N’s smile was icy. "And I remember you being quite the show-off, needing constant validation. Guess some things never change."

George, sensing the escalating tension, tried to intervene. "So, Lando, any plans for the offseason? A vacation, maybe?"

Lando shrugged, keeping his eyes on Y/N. "Yeah, thinking about it. Might go somewhere quiet, away from all the noise and unnecessary drama."

Y/N crossed her arms, addressing Claire instead. "That sounds nice and boring. I always preferred places with a bit of life. Too much quiet can get boring. But then again, some people thrive in dull environments where it's all about them."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Boring, huh? I’d say focusing on something meaningful is far from boring. But I guess when you’re always looking for your next distraction, it’s hard to understand."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. "Meaningful? Like endlessly chasing after something you can never quite catch? That sounds quite bloody exhausting to me."

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice low and challenging. "Maybe it’s about the journey, not just the destination. But I guess you’d know all about giving up halfway, wouldn’t you?"

Y/N bristled, her temper flaring. "At least I know when something isn’t worth the effort. Sometimes walking away is the best decision."

George, desperate to diffuse the situation, stepped in. "Alright, enough of this. Stop making this about you."

Lando and Y/N fell silent, their gazes still locked in a silent battle of wills. The group around them exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to navigate the palpable tension.

As the night wore on, it became clear to everyone that the wounds between Lando and Y/N were far from healed. Their snarky comments and pointed jabs were a stark reminder of the unresolved feelings still lingering between them, making the night a volatile mix of celebration and unspoken conflict.

"Excuse me, I need some air," Y/N said, forcing a smile.

Y/N walked away, her heart pounding. The night had been difficult enough without Lando's snide remarks. She stepped out onto the terrace, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

Back inside, Lando watched her go, his expression unreadable. He knew he had crossed a line, but the idea of Y/N moving on, dating someone else, had stirred something raw inside him. He turned back to the group, trying to ignore the feeling of regret gnawing at him.

"Anyone need a drink?" he asked, heading to the bar to escape the awkwardness.

Anna exchanged a look with Liam, her worry evident. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she murmured.

Liam nodded, watching Lando walk away. "They’ve got a lot of unresolved issues. Maybe tonight will help them start to deal with it."

The tension between Lando and Y/N was electric, an unspoken force that drew them together even as they tried to pull apart. Every glance, every word exchanged, carried the weight of their shared history—years of friendship, love, and heartbreak. Their chemistry crackled in the air, a potent mix of unresolved emotions and lingering attraction.

As the night drew to a close, they found themselves standing on opposite sides of the room, their eyes meeting across the distance. In that moment, the noise of the party faded away, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent, intense gaze. The space between them felt charged, filled with everything they had left unsaid.

Neither moved nor spoke, but the connection between them was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither could ignore. It was clear to anyone watching that despite the bitterness and hurt, the bond between Lando and Y/N was far from broken. It was a reminder that some connections are too deep to sever, leaving an imprint that time and distance could never fully erase.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164

comment to get added to taglist

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cofay · 4 months ago

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★ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ➤ sleepy.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You and Bakugou weren’t really fond of each other actually you guys were complete opposites of each other

He was hot headed and you were..you

He always wondered why’d you always stayed smiling how’d you always keep this positive energy and attitude he envied you. Not to say he didn’t have friends he had many ‘friends’ but he never had friends like you did he seen the way your table laughs at lunch how noisy they would get but the faces he saw were always so genuine and the sounds of your laughter had him feeling some type of way.

He couldn’t comprehend if it was jealousy or something else instead. He would sit in the bed wondering why you always graced his mind even though he doesn’t even know your name.

Soon his friends started to notice the change in his behavior how he would end up always looking at something or someone and a slight blush would appear on his face. One day while Kirishima and Bakugou were sitting down outside on the bleachers watching the field or Bakugou was watching the field Kirishima spotted him watching you play soccer with your friends he saw the way he looked at you aimlessly his gaze shifting slowly around your movements.

“Bakubro, you like her.”

That seems to be what snapped him out of it quickly he turned to Kiri with a embarrassed and sorta angry expression

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You like her” Kirishima points towards you

“Tch, as if”

Almost reluctantly he gets up leaving with Kirishima following behind.

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

It was almost a week of Bakugou trying to understand his feelings about and it seems like maybe Kirishima was right.

As night fell you were walking from your dormitory to the boy’s dormitory to return something to a friend around that same time Bakugou was heading out to get a snack he ended up passing by you in the hallway.

“Hey you”

A gruff and low voice calls out from behind prompting you to turn around

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

Almost completely confused you stood there just looking at the blond like he said something absolutely ridiculous. “Are you going to answer me or do you have no name?” That question seemed to bring you back.

“Uh I do, it’s..l/n y/n..why did you ask?”

“Because.” And as fast as that conversation was it seems to bloom something inside of him. “What you doin’ in the boys dorm?”

“Oh! Just giving this back to a friend” you hold out a pair of headphones

“Don’t you have enough?”

“Huh?”

“Enough friends, how you do that shit?”

“I…don’t..actually know?” You say almost nervously with a slight chuckle and smile.

He grunts and walks off.

𓇼 🌊 🐚

It just didn’t make any sense how he could like you it’s almost been close to a month since you guys spoke and even that conversation wasn’t very much he just found out your name. He has to know more about you just to be sure about his feelings like come on, no way the one and only Kastuki Bakugo is struggling with a small unimportant person.

PART2 HELP WTF0

#bakugou katsuki #fluff #cute animals #mha #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo mha #mha fanfiction #long reads #just maybe #slow burn

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criesinliess · 9 months ago

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━FEBRUARY 2024; susan's recs

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

━━LUKE CASTELLAN

look at me @indecisivemuch

apples @↑

love me anyway @okaytapes

a rose and her thorns @atlabeth

always an angel, never a god @cobrakaisb

when you get me alone, it’s so simple @emiliehornby

what’s a girl gonna do when she’s in love with you? @↑

kiss of life; part2 @sunsburns

you free 2night? @ilycosy

the killerverse @tangledinlove — still ongoing but one of my favorite things rn, luke and killer my beloved

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

dark honey; part2 @caxde

closeness @↑

picking drunk reader up @weird-is-life

go for it @nervoushottee

pretty girl @stevie-petey

oh, you didn’t know? @↑

(it’s not like) he’s my boyfriend @luveline

small hands, big heart @sexybabystevie

adventures in babysitting @worth-the-chaos — also still ongoing but you absolutely have to read it!! masterpiece

season two of „come home” @stevie-petey — i recommend season one last month and if u didn’t read it yet you should go and change that! i am living just so i can read new chapters

you and i (back at it again) @lighteyed

━━EDDIE MUNSON

candygram @hellfirenacht

ONE PIECE

━━ZORO

lips on every cross @revasserium

LOCKWOOD & CO

━━ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

buy me presents! @lewkwoodnco

i got options, babe @↑

unacceptable @atlabeth

far too young to die @↑

happiness @tangledinlove

OUTER BANKS

━━JJ MAYBANK

opposites attract @maybankswhore

━━RAFE CAMERON

be my once in a lifetime @erwinsvow

DIVERGENT

━━PETER HAYES

bad liars @heliads

THE BEAR

━━CARMY BERZATTO

february fluff @cloveroctobers

confectionary clash @newtkive

practice @↑

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

cause it’s you @bubbles-for-all-of-us

MARVEL

━━MIGUEL O’HARA

the grump & the drunk @t-lostinworlds

━━BUCKY BARNES

5 times there was only one bed (and the one time there were two beds) @mrs-illyrian-baby

CHRONICLES OF NARNIA

━━EDMUND PEVENSIE

ye of little faith @pariahsparadise

PROM PACT

━━BEN PLUNKETT

third times a charm @manheimsmuse

#susan’s recs #fics recs #luke castellan x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #opla zoro x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #jj mayback x reader #rafe cameron x reader #peter hayes x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #kaz brekker x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #bucky barnes x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #ben plunkett x reader

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larluce · 9 months ago

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Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 (You're here) , PART 8

A little more of past trauma

Merlin, Arthur, Lancelot (who isn't a Knight yet) and some knights camping in the woods.

Knight 1: (hesitantly) Sire...

Knight 2: (careful) We need wood... for the fire, sire.

Arthur: (a little confused by their behavior) Pick some fallen branches then.

Knight 1: Ahm... (sweats)

Lancelot: (realising why they're so scared. Sighs) There's no fallen branches, isn’t there?

Knight 2: ... No.

Merlin: (thinking and looking at Arthur carefully) Oh, no...

Arthur: (hardens his features) search harder.

Knight 1: We searched the whole perimeter three times, sire. There are no branches, no even leafs.

Knight 2: These trees are practically naked. We need... We need to cut one down.

Arthur: No.

Merlin: Arthur...

Arthur: No. We don't need fire anyway.

Lancelot: (the only brave enough to contradict him apart from Merlin) Sire, we need to cook the meat and if we don't make fire we'll freeze to death.

Arthur looks conflicted. Merlin sighs. He appreciates what his prince is doing. He went as far to almost forbid all his knights to hunt and cut any plant, especially trees, ever again and he knows Arthur would have ban any of this practices all together in the entire kingdom if he weren't still a prince. Fortunatly, he talked him out of it, so now Arthur allows hunting only when strictly necessary. Cutting trees, however, was always out of the question. They managed to avoid it... until now.

Arthur: (pointing to a knight) Hey, you. Take off your shirt. We can use that.

Knight 1: What?! Sire, but-

Arthur: (very serious) Are you questioning me?

Merlin: Arthur (holds his hand and pulls him gently til they are apart from the rest). Arthur, it's okay.

Arthur: (almost shouting, firmly) No, Merlin! Not with this. No!

Merlin: (reassuring) It just hurts badly when they do it for fun or there's no need. Now we need it. It's fine.

Arthur: (shakes his head, anguish in his eyes) I can't make them hurt you.

Merlin: They wouldn't be really hurting me. Besides, would you rather let me die of hunger and freeze to death? (Puts a hand on his face and smiles) I'll be fine, I promise.

Arthur: (sighs) alright. (Goes to his Knights)

Lancelot: (aproaches Merlin, whispering) Can't you make some branches fall?

Merlin: (shakes his head) these branches aren't thick enough for a fireplace, and I need to get use to this. Arthur too.

Lancelot: (nods in understanding) He must love you a lot.

Merlin: (nervous) Wha-?! What do you mean?

Lancelot: Don't tell me you didn't notice. He was willing let us starve and freeze so you wouldn't feel any pain just a minute ago.

Merlin: He cares for me. I'm his friend.

Lancelot: I'm his friend too and he never looked at me the way he does to you, like you are the sun. Or use any excuse to touch me, like he might die if he doesn't have you close for more than 5 minutes.(pause) And I don't believe you're not aware of this either.

Merlin: (sighs) I don't want to get my hopes up. I'm happy with how things are. I don't want to ruin things between us. (Thinking) Not again.

Lancelot: (smiles encouringly) You don't have to confess your feelings or anything. Just try to make a move to taste the waters and you can decide what to do from there.

Arthur orders his knights to cut down the farrest tree they could find. It's useless though. No matter how far, Merlin still can feel it. Merlin doesn't scream in pain this time, but he still trembles and flinches. Arthur hugs him close through all this and somehow he ends up sitting on Arthur's lap, and hiding his face in the crook of Arthur's neck. He whimpers and whimpers in pain until he falls asleep in Arthur's arms.

Lancelot: (aproaching them) You should wake him before they come back.

Arthur: (shakes his head) He needs this.

Lancelot: If they see you like this they'll think-

Arthur: (sharply) They can think what they want.

Lancelot: (smiles softly) You don't really believe this is some medical disease, do you?

Arthur: ...

Lancelot: You know about Merlin.

Arthur: (sighs) And he told you. (thinking, a mix of angry, hurt and jealous) He told you before telling me.

Lancelot: No, but I catched him. He echanted the weapon I used to kill the griffin.

Arthur: (snorts) This idiot.

Lancelot: He was careful I'm just observant. Why haven't you told him that you know?

Arthur: I want him to tell me himself.

Lancelot: Why?

Arthur: He deserves that much. And I want to prove that he can trust me.

Lancelot: I don't think it's a matter of trust. He trusts you a lot, Arthur. I know he really wants to tell you but he just doesn't know how to. I mean, can you blame him? He's been told all his life he should hide who he is. I don't think he ever willingly told anyone. (sighs) Even outside Camelot, there's hardly a place where magic users are safe.

Arthur: (with conviction) When I'm king there will be. Camelot will welcome magic again and he won't have to hide anymore. (looking at Merlin sleeping peacefully in his arms, thinking) And this time he will be able to live it and enjoy it.

Lancelot: (to himself) I knew it was a sign.

Arthur: (confused) What?

Lancelot: I never told you why I came to the citadel.

Arthur: You wanted to become a Knight. (thinking) Though you arrived earlier than I expected.

Lancelot: That too, but I also had a dream.

Arthur: A dream?

Lancelot: I saw myself in a knight armor. There was some sort of hole or crack in the air, I don't know, everything's kind of blurry. But I do remmember clearly two faces. Faces I never saw before in my life, but in my dream they were familiar. It wasn't until I came here that I recognised them. They were yours and Merlin's. You were in my dream.

Arthur: (in shock, but composes himself quickly)... I see. And you believe that's a sign. A sign of what exactly?

Lancelot: That one day you will be the king I'll serve with honor.

Arthur: Right... Did you have another memo-I mean dream about us?

Lancelot: (shakes his head) That's all. (looks at the sky) It's getting late. I'll go look for the knights, they may need help. (thinking) And you can have some time alone.

Arthur: (stops Lancelot before he leaves) Lancelot. You said me appearing in your dream mean I'll be the king you'll serve one day. What about Merlin? What does he appearing in your dream means to you?

Lancelot: I thought it was obvious.

Arthur: What?

Lancelot: Well, every king needs a queen sire. (laughs a little and leaves before Arthur can process his words)

...

Tagging @everything-is-applepie , @iwillalwaysbearealfan , @merlinsbeard2 , @procrastinating-angels , @thecornerofbelu , @an-entity-i-think , @smileytrinity , @the-night-viewer , @tansyuduri , @fuckyeahsnackables , @stalesaltinecracker , @lucifertookmyshoe , @aceauthorcatqueen and @virgil-wannabe since you all left beautiful comments in the other parts. Thank you so much! 🤧. Please if you have any idea for this AU or want to see a moment in particular between these two or other characters, just ask. I'm just writing random moments that come to my mind 😅

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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chimindity · 4 months ago

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Stress relief

Summary | stepbro!jj comes home mad and takes his anger out to his stepsister. Request by @ziggyfaremen

Pairing | stepbro!jj x reader

Warning | NSFW, stepcest, dark-content, reader being innocent, JJ using reader, please do not read it if you're easily triggerable :((

A/N | this is my first time writing something THIS dark... I'm still a bit shy about it, but thanks you so much my babyy @ziggyfaremen for your request :')) Part2

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

You are peacefully on your bed, scrolling on your phone since this morning, your mom and JJ's dad are gone for the weekend, which usually leads to an argument between your stepbrother and his dad.

You hum your favorite songs while texting your friends, the atmosphere in the house is calm, probably since you are all alone.

When suddenly a door slam is being heard, which must be your stepbrother who's back at home.

You decide not to pay too much attention and get back on texting your friends while you can hear the sound of his footsteps coming closer to your room, why would he want to be in your room?

That's when he opens your door, without even knocking, an angry expression forms on his face, he steps closer to the edge of your bed where you sitting, you stare at him.

-"hi, is everything okay?" You finally break the silence, his light blue eyes looking into yours, his hair is messy, the tight muscles in his arms are visible, seeming to srink his red tank top.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side confusedly as he doesn't answer you but instead pulls his shirt over his shoulders to throw it on the ground.

-"JJ? Why did you take—" you cut yourself off, eyes widening at the sight infront of you, watching your stepbrother unzips his pants.

-"shut up, face down ass up on the bed, now" he doesn't look at you, already starting to stroke his cock while watching you do as he said.

-"JJ? What's happened?" You look over your shoulder, a wave of fear running through your mind, watching his cock spring free out of his pants.

-"what did I just tell you uh?" He gets closer to you, placing one of his feet on the bed while the other remains on the floor to steady himself behind you.

-"you're scaring me.. JJ!" You whine in a high-pitched voice, feeling the rough palm of his hands grabbing your ass, a few sobs quickly slipping out of your mouth, completely intimidated by your stepbrother.

He doesn't care about how you're feeling right now, he just needs to let his anger out, already tired of your pouty behaviour, his arm pulls your back against him, trapping in his firm grip, the more your whine causing him to tighten his arm around your neck.

-"and if you dare make a sound sis, I won't mind choking you til you pass out" you hate whenever he calls you sis as if you two were related by blood.

You simply nod your head and obey him, while his free hand reach his cock, bringing it next to your entrance, he chuckles feeling your cunt already dripping.

-"no panties uh? And she's even soaked" he smirkes, teasing your clit with his tip, you accidentally let a moan slips out of your mouth.

-"ya like being manhandled by your stepbro uh?" While he whispers those dirty words, he forces himself into you brutally, not giving you any warning.

You cry even harder at the harsh pain, not fully understanding what's happening, you never imagined your first time would go like this, and specifically with your stepbrother.

You keep whining as he thrusts deeper into your poor cunt, as he hears you sniff repeatedly his hand goes under your shirt to play with your breast.

-"m'sorry sis, m'so sorry shit, my dad fucking pissed me off" he grunts, feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing cock.

-"why are you doing this to me JJ?" You mumble quietly, not wanting to get him angrier.

-"It's not time for questions, please be a good uh girl and take it" his grip tighten around your neck, feeling his pace going faster.

-"JJ i'm always good for you! I-I always cook for you—" being tired of your mumbling he places his hand over your mouth, shutting you up.

-'m'not talking about this, sweetcheeks" somehow the pet name shows that he still cares about you.

The back of your neck rest on his shoulder, not caring about your pleasure at first but hearing you cry, make him feel bad, so he gently circles your bud causing you to clench around him, you feel his cock twitching inside you as you hear him groan louder.

He rubs your clit harder, you furrow your brows in discomfort at the burning feeling, before he feels himself getting closer to his climax.

-"fuck—" he pants, before releasing his warm seed inside your cunt, you start panicking and squirm away from his grip, while he pulls out before zipping back his pants.

-"JJ! W—what did you do?" You look at him, bottom lip quivering as you start sobbing again.

-"m'sorry baby, i'm so sorry, fuck I needed this okay? I'll make it up to you, I just couldn't hold back and—and you seemed so ready for me" he looks at you sitting on your knees, seeing the red mark around your neck, somehow make him feel bad.

His shaky hands gently holds your face, leaving a kiss on your forehead -"m'so sorry baby, your stepbro's really mean uh?" He chuckles, as you pull yourself in his arms, snuggling in the crook of his neck.

-"it's okay, I forgive you" you mumble, feeling your cheeks burning as he rubs your back, easing you down.

Even though he was mean to you, doing horrible things to you, you couldn't help but continue to love him.

Taglist

@nemesyaaa @jjsfavgirl @wearemadeofstardust0 @mrvlxgrl

#outer banks #jj maybank #stepbro!jj #stepbro!jj x reader

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jamespottersdaisy · 1 year ago

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Dulcet

Peter Parker x fem!reader

in which it's a game

a/n: let me know if there are mistakes, more notes at the end <3

Shallow breaths echo around the forlorn silence. He keeps a distance. You endure pain.

He doesn’t talk much. He doesn’t want to. He brings you water when you ask and carries you from one room to another. He ensures your pillow is high enough while you eat,and your TV show is amusing enough while you lie. But he doesn’t talk.

You can’t speak, either. You don’t dare. Besides the meek requests and whispered gratitude, your lips fail at words. You want to ask him if he is angry with you and if he hates you as he attends to your wounds. You want to know if he counts the minutes until he leaves you to bed and if he’s been sleeping enough because his eyes are red most of the time. But you can’t speak.

Peter’s hands are shaking as he pressures your wound, his vision blurry, his ears ringing. Mark is dead. Soon, you will be, too, if he doesn’t find a way out of this.

He needs to think. Fast. He needs to stop crying your name and calm down. He has to get it together, he has to stop trembling, and he has to calm down, and he has to–

He can't breathe, so he takes off his mask. He hates the garment on his hands that prevents his touch. They are shaking as he moves your shirt up to see the wound. Curses echo in your ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I told you not to–” he moves around, estimating the safest way to hold you. “Why didn’t you listen? Why don’t you listen?!”

Your mind is foggy, the ability to move your limbs lost on you. You hear Peter’s complaints and pleas, feel his firm grip on your weak body.

“Peter…”

“Why? Why?! I told you! I told you to- Why don’t you never listen?!” he holds your hands and brings them on his. “Pressure the wound. Don’t move your hand, you hear me? Just, just- just hold them tight–”

So you do. You put all your strength left into your wound, feeling your hand get wet and red, all while Peter gently places his arms around you, careful not to move you too much. He elevates your legs while carrying you. He doesn’t know what he is supposed to do.

He doesn’t know where to take you.

You listen to the faucet running as your nails dig into your palm. It is lamentable how the only sound ringing in your ears is either water splashing or footsteps thudding when he is around. Heavy words have soared akin to a mountain between you two, one that is painful to climb. The high walls of unspoken cries refuse to crack now that neither of you dares to speak.

He exits your bathroom, head down, hands wet. You know the routine; he’ll dry his hands with his shirt, pad to your kitchen, and make you a sandwich. He’ll ensure you eat it and then leave to come back late at night to attend to your injury again.

He stops midway to the kitchen and turns around. You watch him enter your room and avoid eye contact with you. He frowns and moves his eyes from one corner of the room to another.

“What is it?” you ask, voice hoarse.

“It’s time for the,” he gesticulates carelessly, and then he nods to your desk as if he found what he was looking for. “the thing that you always watch at five.”

He grabs the remote from your desk and places it next to you. You wish he hadn’t moved his hand so fast before you could touch it. “Thank you.”

He glances at you for the first time in that hour and quickly averts his eyes.

You let him walk away. What can you even say?

“Peter, it hurts.”

“I know, I know, I know, just hold on, trouble, come on,” he prattles, all while holding you in his arms. He doesn’t know if he can swing you in this position, but it is the only solution.

Where was the nearest hospital? He swings around the sky all the time; why did he never pay attention? What was he thinking dragging you into this? Why does his heart sting as your whines pierce his mind?

He shakes his head.

Standing still is no help to you. He needs to move. Thus, he shoots one web after another, flying with you in his arms, searching for a place that will keep you safe. Safe from danger, safe from hurt, safe from him.

You are clinging to him the hardest you can, eyes closed, face in a frown. He wonders if you feel sick or dizzy. If you do, it is his fault.

All of this is his fault.

You are bleeding on him, and it is his fault. It should have been him. It should have been him staining your shirt red, not the other way around. This is not how it goes. You are not the one crying from agony. You are not the one in need of saving. You are not the one whom he gets worried over; you are the one that does the worrying.

If not, then it’s his fault.

He thinks of the possible replies to doctors' questions.

You would think the female lead would understand that the boyfriend is lying and that the right person for her is her best friend, but for some reason, she keeps ignoring the poor guy’s pure love. You would also think that Peter would have the same opinion as you.

“He is not stupid. He is in love.”

“Which made him stupid,” he murmurs as his eyes trace the bloody scar on your torso. It’s one of the few sentences he has given you that day. “Sit straight.”

“How is wanting to be near the girl you lo–”

You sit straight after Peter shoots you a harsh look. He places a pillow behind your back, and you let him slowly take care of your wound.

“As I was saying,” you start again. This is a mere attempt to have him talk to you more than usual, one that is very uncomfortable for you. “He just wants the girl he loves to be happy.”

“He should leave her alone then,” Peter glances at you when you hiss at the burning sensation of the antiseptic.

“Why?! She loves him, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

He doesn’t reply, and you know no more words will leave his lips until he is done with his work. Thus, you talk no more, letting silence dawn per usual.

If only one of you broached the subject that’s growing heavier day by day, this could have been easier.

He lays you down on your bed, careful not to wake you up. When you whimper as he does, he curses under his nose. Stepping back, he stares at you for a moment.

He thought he was late.

He thought all the flying in the air had made things worse. He thought your wound would not close, your bleeding would not stop. He thought he’d have to–

Peter feels faint. His limbs are weak, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten all day long. He also hasn’t drank any water, which explains the headache. His body is sore, rightfully so. After getting you to the hospital, he has flown back to his house, changed into something he now realises is wrinkled, and ran back to you as Peter instead of Spiderman.

He drinks your water and nibbles on your bread. He falls to his place by the window and stares at the carpet.

He knew this day would come. He knew he’d have to wait by your bed, count the seconds, and listen to your heavy breaths. He knew he wouldn’t be able to protect you from harm.

Nothing is new.

Moonlight shines and glazes as Peter watches you sleep.

He has no idea what and how to say when you wake up. He doesn’t know how to act. All he knows is that he will take care of you until you are strong enough to slap him when he leaves.

"I can do it myself," you protest.

"The hell you can," Peter grumbles, face in a grumpy scowl as he grabs your arms. You refuse to lean to him, determined to carry yourself around with as much grace as possible.

By around, I mean the toilet.

It is embarrassing enough that Peter helps you shower; you don’t need him to know your bowel movements.

“How am I supposed to heal if you keep coddling me?” you murmur.

Peter stops in his place, snaps his head towards you. He doesn’t say anything, and yet the look in his eyes is enough words to your heart.

You know you strike a chord each time you mention anything regarding your wound, healing, hurt and pain, but he needs to grow up. He needs to handle this without his emotions, ones that he refuses to communicate.

You seize the opportunity and enter the bathroom yourself.

“Call if you need help!” you hear Peter yell behind the closed door.

“Don’t spy, you creep!”

You hear him step away from the door; he must have really pushed his whole body to hear your movements.

“It’s not spying,” he calls back. “I was just making sure–”

“Peter!”

“Sorry!” he says, steps fading away.

It takes time, but you manage to leave the bathroom without a call for help. Bittersweet, that is. A few days ago, you would groan and whine with each movement, trying to stifle yourself so that Peter wouldn’t hear you. As of now, you are slowly gaining your strength back, and the only reminder of the unfortunate incident is the occasional sting and Peter’s distant mannerisms.

“I think I want to make my own sandwich today,” Peter’s back greets you when you enter the kitchen; he’s been going through your fridge in the hopes of ingredients.

"I was gonna make you pasta," he turns around, and you suppress the urge to smile.

He wanted to cook for you.

But again, he's been doing that for some time now.

"Are you hungry?"

When he nods, you slowly walk up to your shelves. Another thing you have noticed is that since Peter has been living in your apartment part-time, your fridge and shelves are full of groceries.

"You shouldn't be walking around," he opens the shelf next to yours.

"I'm sick of lying in bed," you shrug, stretching your hand to take the pasta.

The sting strikes, almost knocking you over; you shouldn’t have pulled your arm that swiftly.

Peter hisses your name, “Mule,” he utters before taking down the pasta himself as his other hand rests on your bicep.

You scowl at him while recovering, “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Peter bends over to find your pan. He’s looking at the wrong places.

“I can handle myself, you know.”

“And I’m Spiderman.”

“You are Spiderman,” you hand him the pan, which he takes without glancing at you.

You notice the subtle curl of his lips and the effort he wasted to hide it. You are doing the exact same; bickering with him has always been fun, even if he is distant and you are injured.

“How about you make yourself useful and sit on a chair?”

“How’s that any useful?”

“It helps the worrying.”

“I see no reason for worrying.”

“That’s because you are slow,” he turns around once he has put the pasta to cook. You feel his arms around your limbs, firm but gentle not to push your body to its limits, and let him lead you to the chair behind the table.

“You look pretty without being a hindrance,” he says when you sit down.

You don’t think you look pretty at the moment at all. “Mind you, you are the one in my apartment.”

“Preparing you a meal,” he nods and starts making the sauce.

“One that I’m perfectly capable of making.”

Peter scoffs. “Uh-huh. You as in you who whines every time she moves her arm.”

He finds it amusing that you are willing to banter even in a state like this.

“Oh, I wonder why.”

“Probably because you are so intent on hurting.”

“I am just strong enough to handle it,” you shrug playfully, pretending not to feel his burning stare piercing through your forehead.

You know what he is thinking; you can almost hear his thoughts. You haven't forgotten the fights roaming in your room, his harsh looks and raised voice against your aching body and breathless words.

He doesn’t remember when the silver hues of the moon abandoned their place for the golden light of the sun to take over. His mind has fled from the grasp of time, running amok with the perilous thoughts between its palm.

Its games have been played. Deceptions toward self, fear and rage dangling from the ropes it clutched have triumphed in gaining power over his heart.

The sound of his heart has been drowned, its echoes only blurring the clarity of the past, staining the white flames of apathy.

He has made up his mind.

A low whine averts his darkened eyes from his bruised knuckles to your frame on the bed. He slowly rises from the floor, staring at you, gaining consciousness back as the sore muscles and agony of your injury kick in.

It takes time for you to fully focus.

You are confused, in pain, and uncomfortable.

Memories of red, blue and black flashing like pictures in your mind, sounds echoing around, but none of them makes sense. Not yet.

You can’t move around. Your eyes look for water and find Peter instead. Maybe he can bring you water.

He’s standing a bit far away.

“Peter,” you say, but your voice doesn’t seem to reach him. Or you.

You clear your throat as he steps forward, hovering over you beside your bed. “Good. You’re awake,” he nods.

His voice is far, or maybe that’s just the ringing in your head.

“What happened?” you manage to ask. “I need water.”

He turns around and leaves, coming back with a glass of water.

“Thank you,” you whisper, attempting to rise from bed. He helps you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Now, they all make sense. The cure and your running. Peter and Mark, the excruciating pain in your bones, Peter’s distressed calls. You remember now.

“Hurt. What happened? Did you cure Mark? What about the–”

“Mark is dead.”

You look up to him, your face in a grimace and your breathing shallow. His face has no indication of feeling. His eyes are shrouded. “You couldn’t cure him?”

“I had to kill him.”

It means the same thing; you know it does. But it doesn’t feel the same.

“What happened after,” you look for the right words. “You know, after I–”

“Almost bled to death?”

He is angry. Not the screaming and yelling one. The silent one.

“Peter, look,” you try to move up, but the pain arises. “I’m sorry, alright? I know what you said, and I know what I did, and I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again–”

“No, it won’t.”

His tone is curt, and so are his eyes.

You put the water glass away. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t say anything at first.

“Nothing, really,” he shrugs. “It just won't happen again.”

You don't like how that sounds.

“Peter–”

“You should lay down,” he cuts you off. “Don't tire yourself out.”

This is not right. This is not how you left things. You are too weak to play games.

“What the hell is wrong with you? If you're mad at me, just say so–”

“If I'm mad at you,” his eyebrows shoot up as he scoffs. “If I'm mad at you?”

“That's what I said, yes.”

Your eyes watch him pace around, his face changing with every thought his mind produces.

“You could've died,” he says, mostly to himself.

“I–”

“You could've died there. In my arms, from a wound that I caused,” he turns to you.

You finally see it.

The anger. Fear. Desperation and exhaustion. All have painted his countenance into something unrecognisable to you. Something strange. Distant.

“You didn't cause anything,” you decide to reason.

“Oh, I did. I did, and I won't ever again because this,” he gestures the distance between you two. “Is not happening again.”

Your heart drops. You don't try to hide the feeling.

“What are you even saying?”

“What I'm saying is after I make sure you are okay, that you can walk and talk without groaning from pain, I'm not seeing you again.”

No.

You shake your head, albeit it makes you dizzy. You want to reach out to him, but you are not sure you can stretch your arm without hurting.

“That's not fair,” is all you can say between the pain and hurt. “That's not fair, you can't punish me like this–”

“I'm not punishing you, I'm protecting you because clearly, you can't do that yourself when I'm around.”

You abhor the way he composes himself.

“No, you're punishing me, you're punishing me with your absence, you know damn well it was an accident–”

“Accident or not!” he raises his voice this time. “Accident or not, you could’ve died, alright?! I’m not betting on that again.”

“It is not up to you, Peter! I can die walking on the sidewalk, too!” you match your tone to his regardless of how much it’s agonising. “You can’t protect me all the time!”

“I can try.”

He is not thinking properly. This is not right. You need to make him understand that this is not right.

“Peter, please, listen to me–”

He shakes his head and takes the glass you’ve put aside. “No, don’t. Don’t, okay? You need to rest. Rest and heal, exhausting yourself won’t do any good.”

Maybe it is not so nice for you to start healing. To start not needing Peter as much as you used to do.

He can see it. He can see that you are getting back on your feet, and it absolutely terrifies you that he will leave.

You don’t think he’s changed his mind.

Otherwise, he would talk to you. Not talk to you as if you are a civilian he is responsible for taking care of, but as if you are his friend. Yet, he refuses to.

“How are you feeling?” He enters the room with bags in his hands. The flex of his biceps under the shirt distracts you, and you wonder if he chose the shirt on purpose, as the weather is far from welcoming this kind of attire.

It’s late; you figure he must’ve come back from nightly patrols, which means he’ll leave to sleep in an hour or so.

That makes one visit a day.

You avert your eyes from him to the laptop screen. “Is that pizza?”

You hope it is; you’ve been too lazy to prepare yourself a proper meal.

“Have you eaten today?”

He knows you haven’t; he knows you too well after caring for you all this time.

“Coffee?”

He nods with an ‘ah’ to your sheepiness. “No wonder you have a headache.”

You do not want to miss this, him worrying over you in a teasing way. You don’t want to miss him.

“And I’m–”

“And you’re cold, yes, I know,” he puts the pizzas next to you. “Plates?”

“Nah, we can eat without.”

“All right, loafer,” he nods but still heads towards the kitchen.

“I’m sure I said no plates.”

“How many glasses of water have you had today?” his voice echoes from the kitchen, and you start to count in your head.

“Two?”

“So, two glasses of water and coffee, am I right?” he returns with a bottle of water, aiming it at you.

Your eyes widen at the ominous possibility, your hands already in the air to shield yourself. “Yes, but– hey, DON’T THROW IT!”

He does and you fail at catching it.

“Yeah, you’re a hopeless case,” he nods before taking a slice of the pizza.

“You need to stop throwing things at me,” you take the bottle from the ground, noticing the absence of pain. You are indeed healing.

“Someone has to train those reflexes, you can’t catch a ball to save your life,” you watch him pick the mushrooms on the pizza and eat them separately.

“I’ve got you for that.”

“Not always.”

“I don’t understand!” no matter how hard you’ve tried not to raise your tone, there you are, getting irritated by your own voice.

“What is there to not understand? We’ve been over this for a hundred times by now,” he says calmly.

He is not wrong.

No other words have been heard in the last twenty-four hours.

“It’s bullshit. Leaving me for my own good. If you don’t want to see me anymore–”

“Nope. No, absolutely not,” he abruptly stands up from the chair, shaking his head. “I’m not playing that game.”

“You can’t make a decision on my behalf!”

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper.

“I’m tired of this, trouble,” he leans to the counter with a disappointed look on his face. “You know why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

You know. You do know, and yet knowing does not make it any less painful.

“You are a selfish jerk, Parker.”

Your heart beats in your ears as you try not to make it obvious that Peter’s every touch sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ll ever feel his touch again after this, ponder what to say, how to behave to not break the already strained thin string between you.

“It’s healed,” he reclines, dropping his hand to his knees.

It takes all the vigour in you to keep your face still, to not let him know how much you are devastated to hear the words.

“Thanks to you,” is all you can say, and he leaves it unanswered.

Peter doesn’t think he deserves thanks for anything he has ever done. He watches your dismal eyes and knows he doesn’t even deserve a smile anymore. Especially not from you.

He’s been acting distant to the best of his abilities, breaking your heart into a million pieces, readying you for his decision.

He hates himself for that.

He absolutely abhors himself for being the reason for your gloomy countenance, broken laugh, and moments spent ruminating on the things he renders no control from you.

They falter him, placing doubts in his mind, pushing his mind against its limits and his heart down its cliffs. He often finds himself contemplating if this is the right choice. If cutting ties with you will indeed save you from future disasters. If speaking how he actually feels towards you will put you in further danger.

Sometimes, the words push against his lips. They threaten to spill over, to relinquish every hold he has over his heart to you, to divulge all his soul’s secrets to yours.

Then, he remembers.

He remembers the red in his hands. He remembers the echo of your whines in his ears. He remembers the unconscious moans haunting him all night long.

“I better get going,” he stands up, dusting himself off, attempting to remove the image from his mind.

“Where?” you ask, eyes following him around.

He doesn’t know how to answer. He can lie and tell that he has things to do. He can avoid any reply.

“Home.”

But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches your smile waver, sees your exertions to hold everything together.

“This soon?”

“Yeah.” he nods, not noticing his tone lower to match yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There it is.

There goes the hope you’ve been holding onto, and he is about to strip you off from it.

Peter whispers your name and the light in your eyes ebbs. The sofa you’ve been sitting on shrinks, suddenly unable to hold you. You rise from your seat, hoping to be close to him as if it would help.

“Peter, come on, you know this is ridiculous,” you try to reason once more. “Don’t toss this away just because you’re afraid.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” he stares into your eyes. “This has put you into danger so many times that I’ve lost count.”

“Peter–”

“Sweetheart,” he takes a big step towards you, holding you by the arms. “Don't make this any harder than it already is.”

Peter feels a lump in his throat as you shake your head and squirm away from his hold.

“You have no right, no right to do this,” you say, this time firmer than before. “You can’t decorate your own decision as ‘protecting me’, Peter.”

“My decision is to protect you!” He steps forward, hovering his hands close to your body.

“I don’t want that!”

Peter tries to calm himself. He knows exploding won’t do any good. He reminds himself that this is a lot more agonising for you than it is for him– he is the one making the decision while you are not allowed any control over it.

“It is not about what you want–”

“Peter, do you even hear yourself?!” your tone raises, and he can feel the anger burning in your veins. Anger from being desperate, from failing to change things, from not being able to have a say in this. “Do you even fucking hear yourself?!”

He knows this is his cue to leave. He can not stay any longer.

“That’s it, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he looks around to find his jacket. He doesn’t see you run a hand through your hair or hear you mutter curses under your nose.

You don’t try to persuade him any longer. He is not sure if he is grateful or resentful for that, but he knows you won’t lose further dignity to get a boy to stay.

He takes his jacket, throwing it around his shoulders, and striding to the door. The door creaks open, and he, despite all the protests of his mind, spares you one last look.

“Take care, trouble.”

“You are a coward, Peter Parker,” you shake your head and dash to your own room, shutting its door.

He knows you are right.

You’ve become bitter. Easily irritated and grumpy. Tired most of the time from overthinking.

You brush your teeth and think this is taking too long. You’ve never noticed how much time you've been putting aside for this.

You sit to study and find your thoughts fled to him. You believe your attention span has declined since the last time you studied. Either that or he has become the only thing you can think of.

You walk to campus and expect to run into him. You never do, and yet, you wait for it.

In the class, you notice you don’t take notes any more. Instead, you doodle so you don’t stare his way.

You return home with him in your mind, leave the room with him in your mind, and eat and drink with him in your mind.

And when you get in bed, that’s when the real nightmare begins.

That’s when not only your mind but your heart wreaks havoc as well.

Your feelings stain the sober thoughts, fogging your brain, deeming you unable to probe the facts.

Most of the time, it’s rage.

It’s the rage of being deprived of a say. It’s the rage of having all the ropes clutched off your palm. It’s the rage of being tossed aside in the name of love.

It burns in you.

It consumes you whole, blinds your senses. Its poison reigns in your veins, conquering your heart over his image. You rally no longer, welcoming the safety it provides.

Sometimes, however, it’s the heartbreak simmering under it.

It’s whys and ifs haunting your nights. The questions you want to ask him meddle in your mind no matter how well you know their answers will make no change.

You detest the sorrow of it– of losing someone you loved. Someone you love.

You struggle to tolerate it. The moment the tears prickle your eyes, you remind yourself of the rage, sheltering under its wings.

You run, and run, and run to escape the heartbreak’s crushing heft. Some days, you prevail. Some nights, the tears do.

You miss him.

You miss the evenings that dimmed into nights with him by your side. You miss his weight on your bed when you’ve just washed your sheets. You miss the light things around your home being thrown at you because he wants to train your reflexes. You miss the food he makes you eat.

You miss his laugh echoing around your heart.

You hate him for that.

You want to slap him across the face for keeping your favourite person away from you. You want to kick him in the stomach for marking every inch of your room with his memory. You want to hit him in the chest for rendering your body yearn for his touch.

You want to make him regret your absence, and you want to drive him crazy while doing it.

You simply don’t know how.

It’s midnight, and he’s not swinging in your room any more. He hasn’t been for a week. You shouldn’t wait.

Just close the damn window.

In the end, Peter is not visiting, and your room is cold.

Dusks turn into dawns, each hour a torment inflicted upon you. A day becomes one of the many others, yet he doesn’t become one of the others.

He is still there, alive and well.

And away.

Stolen glances are each a sharp knife in your heart. Clandestine yearning pulls you down, drowning you in his memory.

Nothing happens, but your heart beats as if it intends to abandon your ribcage.

You don’t talk, you don’t banter, you don’t even acknowledge each other.

He passes through you like the wind when you encounter. You don’t look him in the eye when you have a professor putting you two through a painful exercise together. He hides his wounds from you, and you don’t ask about them when you catch a glimpse of the bruises.

People pick on quickly.

They feel the loss of dynamic between you two in the class. Whispers arise behind your back, as well as the questions before your face. All of them get left without a reply.

“Please drop it, Ash,” you shake your head, sighing in annoyance. Not only in annoyance, but you can’t dwell on the other feelings in public. “Or ask him, not me. I’m tired today.”

“Okay, sorry, honey,” the redhead smiles, helping you with your drinks as you carry the meal to your table. “It’s just he also acts a bit off, you know?”

“He does?” you can’t help but ask as you two sit.

“Yep, it’s as if he’s not there. It’s not really productive for the project.”

“He must have a lot on his mind,” you say, playing with your food. You should eat it before it gets cold, as the weather is not forgiving these days. Or you simply shouldn't have chosen to sit outside. “Anyways, how’s the project going? We’re struggling a bit.”

“We can do better if Parker gets his shit together,” Ashley frowns, taking a bite from his burger. “Other than that, just the same old–”

A scream soars in the distance. Not a long time passes before it gets accompanied by the gunshot, wicked echoes of instructions. You see the silhouette of the people running around in the hopes of hiding.

You definitely shouldn’t have chosen to sit outside.

You don’t think; holding hands with Ashley, the first thing you do is to leave the table and flee to the inside, and if you are lucky, hide inside the bathroom.

Inside of the building is crowded to its limits, but there’s no turning back. You have to hide; that’s the only thing your mind instructs you to do.

“Ash, quick,” you drag her to the left, running the length of the corridor. If you remember correctly, which hopefully you do, there needs to be stairs.

Your heart beats in your ear, silencing every scream and yell echoing around the building. You don’t feel the push and pull of each person bumping into you, all of them rushing into some other place their mind decided.

Apparently, most of them indeed trust the building’s bathrooms enough to run there, blocking the stairs.

“Holy shit!”

“It’s okay, we can–” You look around to find something and fail to see anything.

“What about the classrooms?” Ashley asks, and you shake your head frantically.

“Too out in the open.”

“We are out in the open here too!”

You feel your body shaking in terror, mind operating too swiftly to regulate your breathing. “The other stairs! If we can circle the building–”

“You go,” she lets go of your hand. When you see what she’s doing, you find her boyfriend stretching out his hand towards her. It turns out he has a place for one next to him. “You go and, and, and text me when you get to safety, alright?”

When she leaves, you feel the sheer panic run down your spine. You waver between the two decisions. You wouldn’t think of leaving if only…

If only you weren’t the last person in the crowd pushing each other at the stairs. If they make it to this point, you’ll be the first one to get hurt.

Maybe it’s better if you run and circle the building. You turn around to take off, charge to the other side.

Instead, a taller figure crashes onto you, holding you by the arms as firmly as possible.

“Stay here! Don’t you dare move!” Peter orders with a stern expression. “You hear me? Stay here!”

He doesn’t give you much of a chance before taking off. Next thing you know, while you try to make your place between the frenzied crowd, a loud crash before the building hurts your ears.

You see Spiderman swinging around, and that is the only thing you see.

He blocked the main entrance by wrecking the billboard against the door.

Which gained you enough time to hide.

Your mind reflects his image only while your body runs for safety. If you look back to those moments, you wouldn’t remember a thing–how you pushed through the crowd in enough time to hide, how the shooting blarings got only closer and closer, how Spiderman’s fight only echoed in the place as descriptions from the girl close to the door.

You hoped he wouldn’t get injured in the process. You wondered if he’d visit in case of an injury or if he already had someone to ask for help. You scolded yourself for creating jealousy in your head in vain when he can be in pain out there.

You don’t know how the time passed.

All you remember is the shake in your legs as you followed the crowd outside after the announcement, according to whom criminals have been disarmed and neutralised. Only then you notice your phone being gone, left forgotten on the table you were dining at an hour ago.

You need your phone back.

If the announcement is true, there shouldn’t be any problem with you going back to the yard.

Checking your surroundings, you decide to make a turn and head in the opposite direction once you’re sure no one has their eyes on you.

You hope no one has touched your purse. Not only your phone but also your wallet and ID card are in there. It would be a big headache if you were to lose them all at once for a bunch of criminals–

“Where you going? Everyone is going that way.”

Your heart skips a beat at first, thinking one of the professors caught you, and then takes the pace after recognising the voice.

You don’t turn back.

“My purse is out there, I’m not letting it get stolen,” you continue walking, hearing Peter’s footsteps following you. “That is if it’s not already stolen.”

His hand grabs your arm and turns you around. “I’ll go get it, you get back to the others.”

“I can get my own purse, Parker, it’s not like there are any other bad guys running around–”

“There is one I haven’t caught yet, they just didn’t mention it in the announcement. Now, will you please get back to the others?”

You frown, forgetting the history with the guy before you.

“Then why the hell would they want us to expose ourselves? Are they crazy?”

Peter scoffs, letting you go. “They didn’t expose you, they asked for you to gather in the Hall, did you even listen?”

“I must’ve missed that part,” you murmur. “Anyhow, I need my purse. Take care, Parker.”

“No, absolutely not,” he grabs you by the arm once more when you turn around. “You go to the Hall, I’ll find it and bring it to you.”

“Such a gentleman,” you pull your arm from his hold, and walk to catch up to the crowd.

As you enter the Hall, your eyes look for Ashley or her boyfriend, and it doesn’t take much as there are only a handful of redheads around.

“I thought I told you to text!” she hugs you for a short moment, and you smile at her.

“You had the chance to take your phone?”

“Oh, honey, my phone is always with me.”

Looking around, you focus on people’s faces–distraught, confused, worried, and angry ones. For some, it still doesn’t feel real, for others it was shaking to the core. You still don’t know how you feel; you’ve been through worse.

Still, it doesn’t mean the worse doesn’t show up in your dreams. It does. It wakes you up in a cold sweat and obliges you to turn the lights on for a few moments. It gets better with time, but again, you’d wish there was nothing to get better in time.

“There you go,” Peter interrupts your thoughts, your belongings in his hand. “Nothing was stolen.”

You take them from him, relief washing over you. “Thanks.”

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes wandering around your body, checking for an injury. You miss the feeling of his hands on you. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “I’m fine.”

He averts his eyes up to yours, and at last, the feeling hits you in the gut.

Who would’ve thought a pair of brown eyes could drown you to your death? You would laugh at yourself once if I told you your heart would cripple under his brown eyes, your breath would hitch, and your core burns in yearning for him.

And yet, now, there you stand.

Ready to ignite under his touch.

“Right,” he drops his hands. “Nice.”

He nods, like he always does, biting his lips. “Just follow the crowd, alright? Don’t- don’t change the route or something.”

With that, he turns around to leave.

The feeling sinks back.

He finally acknowledged you when he thought you were in danger. This was the first time after that day that he actually held a conversation with you.

Suddenly, a lamp lights in your brain.

You know how to drive him crazy.

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to decipher your intention. This is the third time this week– not to mention it’s been ten days he’s been babysitting you from the air– yet you are determined to die.

At least, that’s how it looks from the roof of a skyscraper.

Yes, he is following you. No, he is not stalking you.

In his defence, you are proving to be more of a challenge than any other criminal he has ever fought; he needs to keep an eye on you.

It was rather confusing at first; how all the bad luck seemed to greet you only. However, later on, the realisation has hit him like lightning, shedding light on your clandestine intentions.

In the beginning, it started with small clumsiness.

Peter felt the ache hammer his temples as if thorns were prickling against his eyes. He needed to sleep. Three hours were simply not enough for every day of the week.

He would sleep if only the haughty professor giving the lecture would stop scrutinising him the moment his head hit the desk. Thus, there he is, attempting at his best to force his eyes open.

He stares at the board. Takes in the numbers and denoted letters, notices how none of them mean anything to him. He must’ve stopped listening a long while ago.

He glares at the lecturer. Notes how he glares back and that the green of his eye is extremely vibrant. Wonders if he is indeed human.

He focuses on the lecturer’s lips. Thinks the professor might not be the cleanest person on earth because of the beards surrounding his lips. Decides he is too sleep-deprived for this.

He looks around. Doesn’t understand how and why his eyes land on you. You look bored as well. And dismal. He’d know; he has looked at you more than anyone else.

He wonders if you are upset because of him or if something happened in your life that he is not allowed to know any longer. He’d hate to drag you back into the same hell of a place as he did before everything went south. To have your sleep poisoned, your smile broken, and your heart shattered.

He wishes he never agreed to your help; it ended the same way regardless– him without you on his side.

He wonders whether your hair still smells like heaven, whether your phone screen is still cracked, and whether you bought a new kettle for your home.

He doesn't see the yearning in the brown of his eyes, but he can feel it in his heart. The crave to reach out and touch you. Feel your skin aflame under his touch. He has always, always, felt it, felt you melting under him. It filled his heart with something greater than he was willing to admit.

Losing it– losing you– was the hardest decision he has ever had to make.

He averts his eyes before yours can find them.

He closes them for a moment– just for a moment– and lays his head on his arms. He will raise it back in a few minutes. He will.

When he does, he realises the lecture has ended, everyone has left, and his spider senses are tingling.

Almost everyone except you.

You are on your tiptoes, reaching for a globe almost your own size, dragging it by your fingertips. The black plastic base makes a low screeching sound, and Peter grimaces.

“Stop that, what are you doing?” he asks, standing up and shoving his backpack to his shoulders.

“I need that,” is all you murmur as you drag the base closer, not minding the fact that the heavier part of the globe is facing you.

“Let me,” he says as he advances, but before he can approach you, you shoot a nasty glare in his way.

“I can do it myself,” you say and drag the base swiftly.

The globe falls with your force, aiming at your pretty head, threatening to break it in two. You are too late to protect your skull from it. Peter is not.

A silver web of Spiderman sticks to the sphere and pulls it away from you, right beside your feet.

You flinch at the sound of the impact, and Peter frowns. “Where’s your head at? Did you really think you could carry that around?”

“I hoped. Is it broken?”

Peter scoffs, almost laughing genuinely, but stops. “Would be surprised if it wasn’t.”

He doesn’t wait for any reply, moving past you to the door.

Peter didn’t denote any meaning to it. It was an unlucky accident and a lucky coincidence that he was there. He had to admit, he did panic when he saw your frightened face, trying to cover yourself from the blow, but that is how he always felt when something happened to you.

Thus, by the next day, he had forgotten about it. That is until he took notice of the bandage around your dominant hand.

His eyes were narrowed, trying to figure out how you’d managed to harm yourself. There was no way for it to be broken, and yet it was a mystery to him how you managed a gash that deep to be bandaged.

It was none of his business.

Yes, of course. None of his business. He shouldn’t wonder, as there is absolutely no reason for him to worry. He shouldn’t give in to the urge to walk up to you and question you. Or get mad at you for not being careful like he used to do.

He put distance between you for a reason.

Albeit you are indeed with an injury, it could have been worse with him around. Or he could have prevented it. You could have been captured, or tormented, or gotten into another accident trying to save him, and even though your hand must have bled again, you are better off, right? You could’ve been—

“What happened to your hand?”

You look up, eyes nonchalant grey and countenance indifferent towards him. He glances at the papers before you, deducing that he must have intervened with your studies. You shouldn’t have studied in the canteen anyway.

“Nothing serious,” you wave off your bandaged hand, which only makes Peter more uneasy. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you injured– no matter how small and insignificant it is.

“You cut it?” his brown eyes never leave yours, and he feels heartburn inside his chest at the sight of you. This might not be the best idea.

“Yeah.”

You are cold. Distant and indifferent. Unlike the first days, when he’d drown in your sorrow, cursing himself for your every shed tear, and burn to ashes at the sight of you, you now have a nonchalance painting your visage shadowed with a confidence he is not sure where you’re getting from.

“Knife?” he nods.

Your eyebrows raise, and Peter feels strange in his own skin. What is he doing? He has no right to this.

“Worried much, Parker?”

“Just want to make sure it’s nothing–”

“Nothing serious, that was the first thing I said,” you cut him off.

Peter feels himself falter. “Alright, that’s-that’s good.”

You nod, lowering your gaze back to the letters and numbers before you. Peter takes the cue and turns around to leave.

He looks back and sees you smile to yourself.

Going back, all of many things made sense, except that one. He didn’t think you’d be crazy enough to inflict pain upon yourself.

Peter shakes his head, jumping to another roof to have you in his vision. You are walking out of a coffee shop with a boiling hot one in your hand. He wonders if you’ll somehow manage to spill it and burn yourself again.

He watches your hair get wet in the rain and knows you deliberately didn’t take an umbrella with you. It is absolutely frustrating.

You are absolutely frustrating.

The birds that are chirping at this time of the year must be a simulation, Peter thinks. Or robots. He remembers the game that had android birds. Although he never understood their purpose, he supposed it was one of the ways to signal the player that twenty years later, androids will–

“Parker!”

Ashley’s call startles him and he turns around. Oh, she has dyed her hair purple. And you are there with her.

“Hey, Ash, what’s up?” he cracks a subtle smile after failing to catch your gaze. You are staring at the hot coffee before you. He thinks it is hot– who would want an iced coffee in winter? Maybe you, he’s not sure.

“Wanna sit with us?”

No, he doesn’t. Not with Ashley around. “Uh, actually, I was just about to leave.”

He wasn’t. He was going to think of the game and its complicated flowchart. Maybe guess how other choices may lead to totally different endings.

“Didn’t you just come?” She raises a brow.

Five minutes doesn’t count as just. “Yeah, for a change of air.”

Peter smiles and gets up from his seat to approach yours. “You ladies need me to bring you something?”

You don’t cast him a glance, toying with your coffee cup. He’d tell you to stop doing that unless you want to burn yourself, but he bites his tongue. It’s not his business.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.”

“No, I won’t. Thanks for the warning, though, Parker,” you continue to do it nonetheless.

Ashley is talking, and yet Peter can’t hear; his eyes are on the cup and the steam that hovers over it. Another blow that is a bit stronger than the one before, you’ll spill it and burn yourself–

Peter sees you hit the cup harder, and in a swift moment, he pushes the cup towards himself in the hope of not burning you. The dark liquid spills over, its steams soaring slowly.

“You alright?” his eyes check for anything wrong like they always do and rest on you when they don’t find any.

“Did you just spill her drink?” Ashley laughs.

“No–”

“He totally did,” you nod, determinant in your movements.

Peter scowls in confusion, staring into your eyes. You tilt your head in response. You still are so pretty, he realises. He thinks it is not the right time to miss the taste of your lips against his. He never got to kiss you the second time, did he? If the first one even counted as a kiss.

“You owe me a cup of coffee, Parker.”

He watches you leave in perplexity.

As he follows you from the air, the irritating regret fills him for not kissing you the second time, but he shuns the thoughts away. He doesn’t know what this game will result in, how hard the limits will get pushed into the verge of the break, and he certainly doesn't want any new ideas to get to his head now that he sees you frequently.

What goes through your head with your each escapade is still a mystery that he has yet to solve. How you dare to face the most ridiculous circumstances without even a tremble in your hands is a wonder to him.

How much more any of you is willing to go…that’s another story that Peter can complain about for hours.

His shoulders sulk with his idle steps. Gray stains the weather and his heart. He thinks of Mark. How he had to kill him. How the rage had blinded him, numbing his senses. What worries him sometimes is the fact that he does not regret Mark’s death, unlike all the other criminals who had to die in the battle against him.

All he could think was you when he was face to face with that man.

He wonders if that makes him a bad one as well.

He only wants to get back home and sleep.

He looks around the campus, finding the best route out of all the busy chatterbox students and couples who are about to have sex out in public.

He recognises your frame a few steps ahead from your backpack. He notices your limping state, frowns, and, without a second, thought approaches you.

“Why are you limping?”

“I sprained my ankle,” you don’t seem surprised to see him as the reply flows smoothly from your lips.

“Where?”

“The stairs.”

Peter’s heart stings with every one of your winces as you step on your feet. “Don’t you have a ride home?”

“I sprained my ankle after I turned down the ride.”

He checks his surroundings. “Let me take you to a doctor.”

You shake your head while Peter practically drags your backpack from your shoulders and carries it on his own. “It’s just a sprain.”

“Maybe, but you are walking on it, at least let me swing you home,” he keeps his tone as reserved as possible, not wanting to give away how this situation annoys him.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

How would he know? He is not a doctor. “I don’t know, but I do know it’s not good to walk on it. Don’t insist, come on–”

“Peter,” this is the first time you’re calling him by his first name after everything. “If you weren’t around, I would still walk on my sprained ankle.”

“Yeah, but now that I’m around, let me help you,” his tone changes to irritation, and surprisingly, he knows you enjoy it.

“Oh, no,” you frantically shake your head before wincing again. And yet, a smile climbs up to your lips. Not a happy or a genuine one. One that resembles a smirk. “See, you being around has a big possibility that I’ll end up hurt.”

Peter’s frown deepens as his heart skips a beat. His mind runs amok with many interpretations of your words. “Is this what this is about?”

When you don’t answer, time fills in the gaps. He finally makes sense of every little bad luck. Pieces merge together like a puzzle.

You’ve been putting yourself in trouble on purpose.

He doesn’t plan to confront you about it yet. He has some thinking to do.

“What?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“Don’t torture yourself, let me carry you home,” he ignores the question altogether.

“I said no.”

He could not change your mind that day, just like you could not change his once. Yet, he did not have the heart to leave you alone unattended.

Thus, he followed you home from a distance.

From that day on, he's made sure to keep an eye on you.

Of course, there was no way of always being around you, and yet when he was, he’d have to prevent a disaster, whether from happening or from hurting you.

It was flattering, truly. To know you have placed enough trust in him to put yourself in ridiculous situations. It even drives him to actually not help you once, but his heart just won’t let him.

His night was mostly done; all he needed and wanted to do was idly check around the neighbourhood and make sure everyone was safe. He had a nice night– no big fights, just a few pickpockets and drunk potential dangers.

On his way home, he decides to pass through your street for the last time just to make sure you are indeed safe.

To his luck, you are not.

At first, he struggles to recognize you from the tiny silhouette and almost passes through you swinging in the air. Something, however, stops him in mid-air.

His eyes squint under the white cloth of the mask, and he jumps to the ground.

“It’s three in the morning, trouble,” his tone is indifferent, but what he feels is far from indifferent.

“Didn’t ask for time, Spider,” you don’t cast him a glance, shrinking to your coat instead. He turns around, walking backwards.

“Only homeless people and criminals wander around alone at this time. Which are you?”

“Just a girl,” you disregard. “You should leave me alone.”

“It’s not safe,” he shakes his head. “You gotta stop this, sweetheart.”

He can feel the shift in the air around you. Your confident walk wavers only for a second, and yet he notices.

“Stop what?” you ask, pretending that the name had no effect on you.

“Whatever game it is that you are playing,” Peter stops in his tracks; so do you. “Cut it out. It’s not safe.”

You look at him and shrug. “I can’t take you seriously with that mask.”

He takes it off with a quick movement, tousling his hair in the process. He would pay a heavy sum to know what you were feeling in the moment. He catches the change in your gaze and the quick glimpse at his lips.

He murmurs your name, “I know why you are doing this.”

“Pray tell.”

“You are trying to prove that you can get hurt without having a Spiderman in your life–”

“You said it, not me.”

“By jumping at every damned opportunity to get hurt,” he finishes the sentence ignoring your interruption.

When you don’t say anything more, Peter feels the frustration slowly climb up his core. He is tired from worrying about you every day. For a few days, he exhausted his own mind for a glimpse at yours to understand the logic behind all this.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“How long do you plan on keeping this up?”

To his surprise, you finally look him in the eye. His heart skips a beat. He forces himself not to dwell on how much he misses you.

“Until you stop the ‘for your own good’ bullshit.”

“Trouble, it was for your own good,” his tone has changed, growing tender now that your eyes rest on him.

They remind him of the glow he's been admiring for the past months. The laughter echoing in his heart, the light shining in his soul. The heat and desire and lust burning to ashes in his veins.

Maybe it is late. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Parker,” you stride forward, and Peter hurries after you. He can’t leave this conversation like this.

He has to show you how insane it is to hurt yourself deliberately for his attention.

“Are you seriously that mad? That crazy enough to cut your own hand?” he demands when he catches up to you.

“When the hell did I cut my own hand?”

You sound truly confused, and he is only a step left to madness.

“The bandage!”

“Oh, no, it had nothing under it. But it did work, didn’t it?” you laugh, and Peter’s body ignites in so many colours. “Did you really think I would hurt myself for someone?”

“You burned yourself and dropped a globe!”

“No, I didn’t,” you laugh again, and not only Peter feels the desperation mingle with anger, but he also feels the self control slowly slipping between his palms. Ah, that laugh.

“You did–”

“You prevented any of that happening, remember?”

“And you bet on that chance?!”

When you giggle again, Peter’s eyes fall to your lips. He drowns the urge. It is neither the time nor the place.

“Yeah, I did. You should try the same thing sometimes instead of running like a coward.”

He has no idea what you said. The only thing he can hear is the dulcet tone and the lips singing the tune. Would you slap him if he slammed his lips to yours?

You’d have a right to.

“Trouble–”

“Stop calling me that, Parker,” you beckon with your hand. “And goodnight.”

Peter does not think he is a coward. Not when it comes to being the hero. When it comes to his heart, however, he is not so sure.

All he knows is that the obligation to keep you safe is growing heavy on him.

Its stress is straining his nerves thin, his feelings elevating the unease further. He can’t handle this any longer, and yet here he is, wanting to make sure you cross the road safely.

Watching you from afar proves to be more difficult than he had guessed initially.

To have you in sight all the time and yet not be able to hear you, talk to you, or touch you is pushing him to the verge of madness. Your memories start to haunt him, your smile before his eyes, your touch on his skin, and, oh sweet Lord, your lips hovering over his lips.

He curses every interruption ever hindering your lips away.

The feelings he has buried deep dig their way up to the surface with every strand of your hair wavering in the wind. Every laugh that is not presented to his ears taunts him. Every touch lingers on a skin that isn’t his burdens his chest.

He feels like he’s going crazy.

Lost in thought, he misses how you don’t check the road before walking. How the cars won’t stop for your sake.

He was afraid that you’d spill your hot coffee and burn yourself. No, you’re going to kill yourself in a car crash.

His heartbeat picks up as he stands up in a second, sticking a web to the roof after jumping off it. The cold breeze would not usually hurt him; thus, he is sure it is the adrenaline that spills cold water down his spine.

When you enter his vision, so close to a car that’s speeding as if it’s going to fly, he opens his arms and grabs you by the waist.

Your coffee spills on him, burning his skin, yet he clenches his jaw at the pain.

Swinging over the cars, his ears sting from your screech. He carries himself up by the web and lands on the rooftop.

Leaving your waist empty, he takes off his mask in rage.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he yells. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Your nose is red from the bone-shattering weather, but your smile radiates sunlight enough to warm hearts. “Oh, hey, Parker.”

“No! Don’t ‘hey, Parker’ me, you hear me?! Just-just stop this madness!”

Peter is frantic, which amuses you more. His face is red, and you are certain it is not from the weather. The vein in his neck bulges, but it does nothing to scare you.

“What madness?”

“Stop trying to kill yourself to prove a point, trouble, or you’ll actually die one of these days!”

Your smile widens. Your plan worked. It took a terrifying amount of fear to implement it and much more trust in him to act on it, but in the end, it worked, and you are so close to what you want now.

“I can die any time of any day.”

“Yes, but no,– fuck!” Peter curses roughly.

You know you just have to push him a little bit more. Make him face his fears. Just a little bit more, and he’ll break.

“I can jump from this roof, you know, you are practically encouraging me.”

He lets out a frustrated groan. "Alright! Alright! Fine, fine! Stop this! You win," he screams, hands in the air, eyes wide with fear and defeat. "Hell, you're gonna be the death of me!"

“I win?” you ask, eyebrows raised. "So, you’ll stop the 'for your own good' bullshit?"

Peter stays silent for a moment, the only indicator of his distress being his swiftly heaving chest.

Your shoulders sulk at his hesitation.

If you’ve gone through all the trouble and still failed to change his mind, then maybe it is not worth it. Maybe it was easier for him to endure your absence than it was for you to endure his. Maybe he has already accepted the situation, unlike you, who was simply tolerating it for a change to betide.

Defeat and desperation grow heavy on your shoulders. It carries to your eyes as well.

You shake your head and turn to leave.

Peter’s hand grabs your wrist before pulling you into his chest. His thumb raises your chin, and before you can react, his lips crash with yours.

Your heart hammers against your ribs. The last breath leaves your lungs as Peter’s hand travels to your waist and lower. This time, you don’t hesitate; you don’t let the shock confuse you.

You kiss him back.

You welcome his lips over yours, letting your hand touch his soft skin.

God, you’ve missed it.

It is soft and tender. The reminder of the affection you once had, of the tension you never lost.

It is not enough, and yet, nothing ever made you feel this at peace.

You draw a sharp breath when he slowly breaks the kiss.

"You owed me one,” he whispers against your lips. You flutter your eyes open, gazing at the brown you’ve missed.

He parts his lips to talk, "And yes, I will... stop the- the thi–”

You don’t let him. You know what he’s going to say anyway.

You don’t want to hear it. Why would you wish to hear it when you can feel it, taste it?

This time, the kiss is sloppy, hungry, filled with a yearn radiating from your lips to your hearts. It is rough and firm, just like his hands around your waist. You didn’t know there was any distance left between you two, and yet he managed to pull you closer by his hand on your lower back.

His other hand climbs up your neck, cupping your cheek.

It was cold outside, and now you are sweating under your coat.

You play with the hair behind his neck and let his tongue between your lips. The deepening kiss feels wrong out in the air, but his body against yours numbs any morals.

You forget frost, the traffic, the spilled coffee.

He forgets the mask, the roof, rain falling onto you.

There is nothing and everything, and both of them are you.

“How about you tidy up your place from time to time?”

You step on Peter’s shirt on your way to his bed.

“This is the tidied-up version,” he lays next to you, a cookie plate in his bed.

“You sure you’re okay with the crumbs?” you involuntarily smile and take one, but instead of biting it, you divide it in half.

“Yeah, it’s seen worse,” Peter watches the crumbs fall to his bed and averts his eye back to you. You look disgusted.

Instead of denying it, he smirks.

“Ew, Peter!”

“Ew yourself, missy. My bed is cleaner than your room.”

“There is a sock,” you point to the corner of his bed.

“Does it smell?”

“No, but it has a gap,” you laugh and don’t notice Peter staring at your lips. “Can you wear it?”

“Later,” he murmurs before moving you by the chin to face him. You smile against his lips as he kisses you.

Your days have turned into soft touches with him by your side and your nights into lustful kisses with you on his bed.

You don’t complain. He still drives you mad, pushes your limits with every study you two ever have to do, but he also encourages you, loves you, and on nights like this where it is only you, the serene darkness and him, kisses you like it’s the first time every time.

A slow, almost non-existent moan escapes from you, and he smiles his mocking smile. You let him guide you to your back as he props himself up by his elbow over you. His hand roams your body and reaches the hem of your shirt to travel under it–

“You guys want anything else?” the door cracks open.

“Oh, come on, May!”

okay, this is the final! i'm so so so sorry that it took almost three months, and thank you to every one of you who patiently waited for me <33

i loved writing dulcet, and i hope you loved reading it with me, please let me know what you think of the series and the final.

if you want, buy me a coffee

tags✿ : @starsval @taylorann2013 @miwagila @just-henny @pepsicolacoochie @teddtheweeb @1ts-izzy @simp-sentral @naok-iyuu @hearttjason @itsfloorcry @olivezgalore @wildestestdreams @patis643 @lovelyweepingrebel @thedavax @qwintlimon7 @delwrites @daddyjackfrost @eddieslooneymoonie @msstillinskimorgan @lilmaymayy @tarzinnia @warrenposts @thehappygrungelife @peridotermine @ihearttities @hitoshislut @sassyrizznerd @aheadfullofsteverogers @booksandfairytales-mainblog @marmie-noir @thelonerlover @ttulipwritezz @unicornforscale @gorillaglue23 @inkthgoat @dinovickydzillarex @simp-sentral @miwagila @adiaz-25 @void21 @pingpongfingfong @just-levyy @mommymortuary @kindlover @turningtoclown @xreaderbooksreads @anuncalledbridge @ezzynf @birdsinmywalls @somethingsmart123 @dreamsarecloserwithyou @sincericida @hollandweather

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