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shawnxstyles · 1 year ago

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panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland smut #peter parker fics #peter parker fanfics #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fics #tom holland fanfics #peter parker one shot #tom holland one shot

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bgomtori · 11 days ago

Text

☆ autumn - c.sb

synopsis -> the transition of summer to make him fall.

-> soobin x reader

-> childhood friends to lovers, fake dating, mutual pinning, sunshine and sunshine protector relationship, slowburn.

-> warnings! yn's slightly dense, super long

-> notes! heavily inspired by the webtoon our secret alliance, please read it 😢 it's so cute and jaeha reminds me of soobin a lot.

"an alliance?" soobin peeked over his phone, looking at you like you grew two heads. you nodded your head, falling onto the bed, right below soobin's feet.

"think about it, if we lie to our parents that we are dating, they wouldn't suspect a thing when we go out! they'll think that we'll be going on a date or something, but we're actually sneaking out to do our own things." you explained as if you were a genius solving a difficult maths question. soobin placed his phone down to look at you, his head hovering over yours.

"this better work, if not i'm telling your parents about the vase you broke the other day." you gasped at his audacity to even bring that up, you stuck out your pinky finger, "i promise that this is a good idea." soobin eyed you suspiciously before locking his pinky with yours.

"i trust you." you beamed at his words, for the first time in a while soobin finally agreed to one of your plans, and did not call you stupid for it.

from then on, the both of you have been heading out for your so called "study dates" to prove to your parents that even though you're "dating", your studies are still your top priority. however, as soon as you step out of your house, ensuring that the door is sealed shut, you and soobin part ways almost instantly, sending him a reminder on the agreed timing to meet up and head home for dinner.

it also helped that practically everyone, even the teachers, thought that both of you were dating, the way soobin would walk to class with you or the way you would cheerfully run up to him, telling him everything that has happened to you throughout the day.

to you, this alliance was fun, you enjoyed spending time with soobin, now that mid terms were around the corner, the two of you have been studying together more than usual, unlike the past where he would go gaming with his friends and you would go out on dates with people you met online. you loved your time with soobin, more than you expected.

on the other hand, soobin didn't like the mushy feeling he'd always feel when you come around, he hated the way his heart would race when you wrap your arm around his.

"i think i'm sick." soobin mumbled, his face slightly flushed, his heart banging against his ribcage as he recalled the way you waved your mock test at him with a bright smile, telling him that you've finally passed the subject you've been constantly failing, later rambling about how this year is going to be your year.

"more like lovesick.." beomgyu gagged, rolling his eyes, "why did you even agree to the alliance." he added, taking a sip from his milk carton. soobin shrugged, turning his head to the side, watching you smiling with your friends as you take bites from your lunch.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

a few weeks has passed, soobin had finally realised his growing feelings for you, after multiple scoldings from beomgyu, he finally got it through his thick skull that he does indeed like you.

"i'm home! come on, let's go to my room, i really need help with my math homework." you took soobin's wrist, about to pull him into your room until your mum stopped you two.

"welcome back, wait here for a while, i have some treats for you." your mum smiled, scurrying off to the kitchen to grab some pasteries she bought from the newly opened bakery from down the street. soobin shyly thanked your mum, taking a bite out of the brownie placed infront of him, while you basically devour the cookies.

"you know.. recently my friend's daughter lied about her report card, saying that she was scared that she wouldn't see her as a golden child anymore," your mum sighed, looking down at her hands, you looked at her, taking another bite of your cookie, "you two aren't hiding any secrets from me, are you?"

you swallowed the cookie, the feeling of guilt crashes onto you, taking frantic glances at soobin who looked calm and collected, unlike you who was panicking. "no." you uttered out softly, taking a sip of cola. your mum smiled at you, leaving you and soobin alone for now.

"we're screwed aren't we?" soobin snickered, biting on the soft, chewy brownie on the plate.

"we are, i feel extremely bad. should we stop?" you asked him, using your straw to stir the contents of your drink aimlessly.

"if you want to, i'm fine with it." he replied non-chalantly. your hand came to a halt, staring at the twirling ice cubes in your drink.

"or should we start dating for real?" soobin was now stunned, turning to face you, eyes widened, his ears coloured in a red hue.

"what'd you say?"

"i mean it's better this way isn't it? we don't have to lie to our parents anymore!" you exclaimed, completely unaware of the fidgety boy beside you, biting the inside of his cheek.

"that's the reason?" his tone sounded angry and serious, something you weren't used to, you looked at soobin who had his head down, "huh wait, i didn't mean to make you angry soob.."

"please don't make jokes like that." soobin stood up, swinging his bag over one of his shoulders, about to make a move, your first instinct was to grab his wrist, preventing him from leaving you alone.

"wait thats not what i was trying to do, i thought it wouldnt be that much of a differece with us being friends." you explained yourself, speak of the devil your mum decided to walk in, your eyes flickered from your mum to soobin, he mumbled something inaudible for you to hear, "what did you say?"

soobin let out a sigh, bending down to your ear, "i said i'll think about it over the weekend, you should do the same.. about us dating." he whispered, you could feel his lips brushing against your skin, you face slowly heating up at the realisation of how close you were. your eyes followed his every action, from thanking your mum, to leaving the house through the main door. you brain was about to malfunction, causing you to bang your head against the table, clearly flustered from everything that has just occurred.

"jeez what's your problem." your mum jumped at the sudden thud, pushing you a plate of home-cooked food for you to enjoy.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

a few days has passed, despite talking to soobin like you always do, you can't help but feel like there's an invisible barrier between the both of you. he seemed out of it, replying you with single word replies, or even just humming a response. you were used to it, but you can't help but think that he was uncomfortable around your presence.

you sat at your desk, resting your head on the table, surrounded by two of your close friends, tuning out their voices while they ramble about something that didn't concern you.

"honestly, if it seems natural for you to hold hands with a guy friend, or even imagining yourself kissing him, you definitely have slight feelings for him." that statement piqued your interest, lifting your head, only to make eye contact with choi soobin, sending your mind into a spiral. you do interlock arms with him, but does that even count as holding hands? your eyes dart down to his lips, your face warmed up at the thought of his lips touching yours, making your groan in frustration.

"what's up with you." your friend questioned, concerned for your sudden outburst. you shook your head, looking back down at your phone.

soob : meet me after school, in the storage room.

yn : what for?

soob : just come find me.

you couldn't ignore the warmth pooling in your chest when you read that message, for the first time in your life, you were afraid to meet soobin.

the school day went by too fast for your liking, you packed up your things, you made your way to the storage room, only to be stopped by a friend of yours from another class.

"yn! are you going home right now? let's go to the convenience store nearby, i missed you." she exclaimed, hope shimmering in her eyes as she waited for your response. you smiled at her apologetically, about to tell her that you weren't available,

"she's not free right now julie, let's go." a familiar voice replied in your stead, his warm hands wrapped around your wrist, dragging you towards the place you were supposed to meet in. julie looked back at the both of you in confusion, "they're weird." she whispered to herself.

soobin closed the door behind him, locking it in the process. you felt uncomfortable, the atmosphere created was awkward and tense, soobin looked down at you, waiting for you to at least say something.

"uhm, did you think about it? about us dating." you asked, your eyes glued to the ground below you.

"yea." you stared at him with wide eyes, you didn't expect him to actually agree with you that fast.

"you didn't think about it right?" you pursed your lips, unable to make eye contact with the much taller male standing infront of you, soobin sighed, "i can't go out with you."

your heart dropped upon hearing those words, "wait no, i just need more time to think about it." you were rambling, your grip around his arm loosening, realising that you couldn't stop anything.

"sorry yn." he apologised, leaving you in the empty storage room, alone with your thoughts. you groaned in frustration, swinging the door open, accidentally scaring people that were walking past, you just wanted to go home, lay in your bed, and drown yourself in homework, distract yourself from dwelling over soobin. you stood at the entrance, realising that it had started to rain, you rummaged through your bag, in search for an umbrella.

"did i forget.." you whispered to yourself, placing your bag onto the ground to thoroughly check your bag, slowly you gave up, zipping up your bag. you leaned against a pillar, watching the rain hit the ground below. you stared up into the dark, gloomy sky, remembering what had just went down earlier. honestly, you weren't serious when you asked soobin that question, you didn't expect him to say yes right away too. however, you were upset that he rejected you so firmly. you knew that soobin was never that firm with you, the soobin you knew was kinder than that. so maybe, he's under the pouring rain right now and worrying about you, maybe he'll come pick you up, because he has always helped you in situations like these.

"yn!" a voice you knew all too well called out to you, you looked up to see a panting soobin, an umbrella over his head, sheltering himself from the heavy rain.

"how many times must i tell you to pack an umbrella." he reprimanded you, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, a concerned look spread across his face.

"you really came." you smiled to yourself, "it's cause it's raining." soobin replied, pulling you to walk in the rain with me.

"you should call your mum, your place is far from here, and it's raining really hard." he suggested, you nodded your head, grabbing your phone from your pocket, dialling your mum's phone number. soobin remained quiet then entire walk back to his place, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, preventing you from getting wet, matching the pace your walked at. maybe he does treat you differently.

"i'm a soobin's place right now, i'll wait for the rain to slow down before i go back home." you informed your mum.

"that's fine! just tell me when you reach home." your mum answered, "yea what did you say?" your mum's voice added, oh your mum forgot to hang up.

"aren't you worried that she's alone with a guy now?" her colleague asked, sounding worried for your safety. you continued to listen in on their conversation, curious on what your mum has to say about your relationship with soobin.

"those two aren't like that! i just tease them sometimes, but i know better than anyone that they're matured kids and wouldn't fool around." your mum defended you, your eyes flickered to soobin who was unlocking the door to his house, right, it was just the two of you in the house now. you quickly ended the call, removing your shoes.

"you can go into my room, i'll get you something to snack on." you muttered a soft okay, taking swift steps into his room, you sat on the cold wooden floor, grabbing your folder from your bag, starting on your revision for an upcoming quiz.

"soobin, i need help with this." you tapped your pen against the question you were stuck on, he closed the door, setting the plate of jellies down on the table, sitting next to you, reading the question. it was quiet, too quiet, you could hear your own breathing, it felt weird, your mind went back to the conversation your mum had with her colleague.

"soobin, wanna know what my mum said earlier?" you flashed a mischievious grin at him, soobin placed his pencil down, "what did she say?"

"she said even if you and i are alone, nothing will happen!" you laughed, "she thinks we're dating. i wonder how could she say that.. that's how much of a gentleman my mum thinks you are! haha. by the way can i borrow some of your clothes?" you joked further. soobin looked at you unamused, agreeing to your last question, going into his closet to grab some of his clothes.

"what's with that face? i only said that for the laughs. what she said wasn't wrong." you pouted, taking his clothes from him, "you said that you had no intention of dating me anyways."

"you didn't even think about dating me." soobin responded, poking your cheek with his finger.

"i'm done with the question, you should try analysing the question first before jumping into it." you hated this, he still helps you with school, and is always so concerned about you, yet why did he reject you? soobin patted your shoulder, asking you to complete the paper.

"why.. don't you wanna go out with me?" your sudden question left soobin stunned.

"that's random.."

"you're fine with everything but you're not fine with that?.." you suddenly remembered the statement your friend had said earlier in the day, "it's not as if i asked if you could kiss me."

"what?" soobin's cheeks flushed, his thoughts going wild, "see you're playing a prank on me again." you grabbed onto his arm, feeling his stiffen under your grip.

"why aren't you answering me?" you were desperate for an answer, you needed an answer, to understand why he does all he does for you, but still decide to close your out and reject you.

"don't tell me you could see yourself kissing me." you looked at soobin in his eyes, he frowned, a nervous bead of sweat trickling down his face, you were too close to him, he felt like he was going to explode.

"why are you doing this to me?"

"you can't?"

"that's enough now." he turned away, only to feel your lips against his cheek.

"i guess, i can haha.." you joked, covering your mouth, averting your eyes from him, "i guess i'm ok with kissing you." soobin was at a daze, his eyes looking at your lips now, lips slightly apart, whatever you said earlier was completely ignored by him.

"oh, just now that was..??" he lundged forward, capturing your lips, your eyes widened at the sudden contact, unable to process what was going on. soobin pulled away slowly, his eyes meeting yours, both of you were flustered, red colouring the tip of soobin's ears.

"sorry.." he apologised.

"i.. i should go now." you mumbled, immediately packing your things, scrambling out of his room, you texted your mum, telling her that you were going home, you took one last look at soobin.

he's totally red. you thought to yourself, covering your own lips, you couldn't believe that it happened in a span of an hour. you ran home under the rain, you didn't care if you were drenched or not, you wanted to escape from his place as soon as possible. that night, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to get any rest.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"are you ok?" chaewon asked, of course you weren't, soobin was infront of you, you couldn't let him see you. you swung your bag infront of you, placing the notebook chaewon passed you in it.

"thanks, you returned it sooner than i expected." you smiled, carrying your bag around your shoulder again.

" i got someone to explain it to me instead, cause i didn't understand most of them." she explained, at this point, you were about to walk beside soobin and his friends.

"woah! really? i guess it's a friend who is really good at maths. come on let's go in." you pushed chaewon, practically making her walk faster.

"you're avoiding him aren't you?" chaewon turned back to look at you. you nodded your head, "i'll tell you in class, just go." you begged, she shrugged her shoulders, excited for the long story you were going to rant about as soon as you were not in the vicinity of choi soobin.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"here are the worksheets you asked for mrs lee." you went to find her in the staff room after classes

"thank you for bringing it here, here eat these." she smiled, taking two packets of biscuits for you. much to your dismay, you heard the door behind you slide open, "oh soobin! come here i'll give you some biscuits too." mrs lee dug through her desk in search for extra biscuits.

"i ran out, yn, share one of these with soobin." your teacher sighed, your voice was soft, almost inaudible, "yes.." your hand reached out to soobin's placing the pack of biscuits in his hand, your fingers grazing against his.

"aren't you two close? i thought you were but you look so awkward with each other right now!" a teacher from behind exclaimed, her statement made you flinch.

"of course they're close, yn nearly fell off the ladder while cleaning the window, do you know how much soobin lectured mr because of that? ever since then i've never asked students to wipe windows that are up high. i thought soobin had feelings for yn." mrs lee giggled, recalling the incident where you almost lost your footing on the steps, trying to remove the speck of dirt on the window.

"oh my goodness, if you say that the kids are gonna feel more awkward." the teacher joked. you turned to your side, noticing the way soobin's ear was coloured in a soft hue of red. if he's slightly embarrased, then you aren't the only one that's feeling self conscious, right?

"i'm just teasing them because they're such good kids! yn and soobin are so proper and well-behaved. they've never caused any trouble too." proper. well-behaved. your head turned to soobin, making eye contact with him.

"i should go clean up before it's too late." soobin made up an excuse, trying to get himself out of the tense atmosphere, as you were about to follow behind soobin, you teacher asked, "i'm asking this out of curiousity, so.. are you two actually dating?"

"huh? it's nothing like that." your words were blunt, immediately turning on your heel to chase after soobin, knowing exactly where he would go to in situations like these. you knocked against the storage room door.

"you're in there right?" your voice was soft and sweet, soobin felt like he would melt right now, the apples of his cheek turning red, "why are you avoiding me too?"

"you were the one who kissed me." you whispered, loud enough for his to hear, soobin rubbed his lips with the back of his hand, unable to shake off the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your cherry lip balm on the tip of his tongue.

"you know, i'm fine with it right?" that was when the door flung open, revealing soobin looking distraught.

"don't talk about that here." his tone was sheepish, the grip around your wrist tightened, watching you smile at him.

"haha! you were pretending to be fine, but you're actually flustered." you teased, soobin frowned at you, knowing what you'd say next, "i know i kissed you first, but you were the one who kissed me on the mouth–"

"not here." he whispered, his hand cupped around your mouth, preventing you from saying anything more. you removed his hand, looking at him sincerely.

"no one is here to clean yet, you know we have to talk." you uttered, your eyes never leaving his, hope glimmering in your eyes, wanting to have a conversation with him about last night.

"ok, but first, come here." before you knew it, you were dragged into the storage room with soobin again, his hand holding onto yours so carefully like you were glass, while his free hand was placed on your waist, preventing you from failing over. you regained your balance, eyeing down the now unfazed soobin. wasn't he flustered just seconds ago?

you sat on top of a barrel that was somehow in the storage room, pulling soobin along with you, he bent down slightly to ensure that he was eye to eye with you, his hands pinned beside your thighs. his eyes burned into yours, his body language asking you to tell him something.

"in the past, i liked that i felt comfortable around you." you gulped, "but now i'm becoming weird because of you." you brought a finger up to his forehead, poking it.

"i guess i forgot how i used to treat you because we've been pretending to date each other for a while, or maybe it's because you're so nice to me." oh, he was red again, he was wrapped around your finger, you knew his feelings for you, he was too obvious. your heart fluttered, you could smell the scent of his shampoo, and the scent of rain from the leaves that hasn't dried up yet, making you recall the kiss once more.

"this is your fault." you glared, the palm of your hand flushed against his chest.

"what do you mean?" he questioned, squinting his eyes at you. just say you like me you wanted to hear him say it, you wanted to hear him admit it.

"why'd you kiss me yesterday?" you inched your face closer to his, the strong, yet simple scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, his hot breath fanned against your lips, his black rimmed glasses sitting on the top of his nose making him more attractive than usual.

"i.. don't know." those were the words that came out of soobin's lips, as much as you anticipated it, he wasn't someone who would just admit his feelings, you felt disappointed. you two stared at each other in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek.

"soobin, i think we should stop lying to each other, i'll go on and tell you the truth, i lied about the reason why we should date each other. i know i said that if we dated for real, we wouldn't have to lie to my mum, but i realised that i can't control how i feel about someone." you paused, taking in the look soobin was giving you, you smiled to yourself, "i really don't know when i started to feel this way, but before i knew it, i had feelings for you."

your arms wrapped around soobin's neck, playing with the back of his hair, the tip of his ears turning red by the second, "i like you soobin."

"you like me too right? it's your turn to tell me the truth." again, your teasing grin slowly grew on your lips, soobin scowled at you, leaning closer to your lips, leaving a chaste kiss against them, "yeah, i like you too." your grin grew larger when you finally heard those words come out of his mouth

"when did you start having feelings for me." your hands pressed against his cheeks, soobin dropped into the crook of your neck, "i don't know, a long time now.."

you giggled at his response, patting his head, "that's nice to hear."

now that summer fades into autumn, the relationship between you and soobin blooming like the changing leaves, as he stares at you with overflowing love, he's reminded of the time when he fell for you. during autumn, where the season changes from summer to making him fall deeply for you, and history repeats itself, this time with sweet kisses and warm hugs.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added :D) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson @woncheecks @boba-beom @naveries @be-argyu @defnotleee @babymochibeargyu

#bgomtori ✰#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fanfic #soobin soft hours #soobin fanfic #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #soobin #txt thoughts #txt fluff #txt imagine #txt reactions #txt soobin #txt

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garricks4thwingqueen · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, can I please request some Xaden fluff with the prompt "I couldn't leave, you were lying basically on top of me." ? Love your fics! <3

Power x Velocity = Air and wing speed

This was such a fun request idea! Thanks for the request my lovely anon! I also love getting requests because they help me think more on the one shot side of fics instead of the stories my fics usually end up in!

Word count: 1054

You sighed and grumbled as a shadow slide across your physics book; damn near covering the whole fucking page. Studying this late? On Winter Solstice Of all nights. Xaden snickered across your bond before he snaked around the corner and sat next to you on the couch. “Mid Terms.” You mumbled with a sigh. “I'm not even sure why the most powerful dragon bonded to me if I can't even grasp the basic fundamentals of physics.” “I'm sure he had his reasons.” Xaden said, taking the book of your lap. “Heyyy! Give it back!!” I do have my reasons and you being an Aetos is one of them. Tairn said through your black bond that connects you to your dragon. “Oh I don't think so sweetheart.” Xaden smirked. “Riorson I swear to god if you don't.” “If I don't, what?” He said now standing and dangling the book over his head so it was now well out of your reach. You tried reaching for it, but your shorter frame with his much larger frame made it almost impossible. Xaden chuckled at your sad attempts. God you loved that sound but you knew anything more than mated dragons between you and Xaden was wrong.

Ever since you first saw Xaden before crossing the parapet you were drawn to those damned forbidden onyx eyes. Once you told him your name; flirting and shameless angsty banter had become a feisty secret hidden challenge for the both of you. God you wanted him but with you being Colonel Aetos's daughter and Xaden well Xaden it was a forbidden match. Focus. Tairn snarled through your bond. Fine grumpy ass. You chided back “Riorson,I need to study. Tairn is getting impatient and he wanted me to inform that he doesn’t like a rider that fails.” “Is that so?” Xaden smirked, sitting back down on the couch next to you awfully close. “Well in that case, I’ll help you on the test and we can both get back to the winter solstice party.” “You can’t help me. Third year and first year remember? They wouldn’t even let you in the same lecture hall.” “Sweetheart, did you forget our brilliant minds are now connected.” You slightly rolled your eyes at Xaden’s nickname for you ever since you had bonded to Tairn.

God you wanted him. You wanted him more than just a sexual tension release when your dragons had their love making. You wanted to call the Riorson boy yours. You again were snapped out of your thoughts by Tairn speaking down the shared bond between the four of you. You will not be cheating. She needs to learn the formula. He snarled and tossed his shields back up, sure enough tired of your and Xaden’s banter for the evening. “You heard him.” You sighed, snatching your book out of Xaden’s hands and leaned back onto the couch. “Come on Aetos, I’ll toss the shield up. You read me the questions and I’ll tell you the answers. “No. I need to learn the stupid formula "air something times something whatever equals whatever.” Xaden snicked at your words as he stated “Power x Velocity = Air and wing speed.” “Yeah that and apparently even you're a physics whiz.” Xaden snickered. “Lighten up and get comfy Aetos. I'll help you. Besides, the sooner you're finished and confident, the sooner we can get some drinks.”

“I am confident!” you said in a snarky tone in defense. Xaden chuckled and it intensified your need to pull him down on the couch by ten fold. “Prove it.” He said with a shit eating grin. You searched your brian for any recollection of the formula as you finally spoke “Velocity X wing speed = air?” You said not confident at all as Xaden busted out with a fit of giggles. “You're supposed to be helping me, Riorson not laughing at me.” “Ok, Ok, you’re I’m sorry smartass.” He smirked and it’s “Power x Velocity = Air and wing speed.” You groaned heavily. “Relax Aetos. You're smart, you're good at sparring and every other subject. We will do some practice problems and we will get you to pass that mid term. Buckle up and get comfy.” He smirked and patted his shoulder. You didn’t shy away at the opportunity and took the chance and laid your head on his shoulder as Xaden started to ramble off problems for you to solve with his help.

You stirred, waking up as bright light shone through the library windows. You had no idea what time it was and it took you a hot minute to gather your surroundings and that you were currently on top of Xaden Riorson. He smirked as you final laid your chin on his chest and looked up into his onyx eyes. “What the hell Riorson?” You asked with a smirk his arms wrapped around instinctively or protectively you weren't sure what one. Xaden had a shit eating grin on his face once more and smirked, “I couldn’t leave, you were basically lying on top of me.” “You could have left.” You tried protesting as he wrapped his arms around you tighter as you tried to get up. This was the first time you and Xaden had been in a proximity like this. Yes, you’ve both fucked but this, this was different, more intimate. “You know Aetos; I could get used to this.” “Used to sleeping in the library?” You asked stupidly knowing exactly what he meant as you were still in his arms. “No idiot. Waking up with you in my arms like this.” You smirked were you and Xaden actually finally going to stop walking on your feelings like they were glass on the floor? “You know Riorson, I could get very used to this. But maybe tonight not on the library couch?” Xaden chuckled and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and smirked and whispered:” Deal but you need to pass that physics exam first sweetheart.” You groaned in defeat. “You know maybe cheating won't be a bad idea. I mean if we have both our shields up to block Tairn and Sgaeyl. They can’t find out can they?” Xaden chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest. “There’s my girl.” He smirked and kissed your lips as you both melted into the taste of each other.

#fourth wing #xaden riorson #fourth wing fanfic #xaden riorson x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

Summer Breeze 8

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You leave your dad as the doctor goes through some tests with him. You sit out in the hall and stare at the panted brick. It’s so bad. He looks so vacant. He recognises you but he didn’t even remember the cottage. It took him a while to pick out Andy and he just called him the new neighbour.

Your chest feels constricted and your head pounds each time you catch yourself holding your breath. A gentle weight on your leg startles you. You didn’t even realise Andy was sitting right there with you.

“You okay?” He asks. You’re getting tired of that question. You’re not.

“Yeah, uh,” you shake your head and swallow, “I... should call the insurance. The nurse mentioned something about it.”

“Sure, sure, well, we can go grab your phone and I already gave all your dad’s info at the desk. His wallet’s in the room.”

“Okay, yeah, I... need all that.”

You’re just moving through the motions. Those walls are maddening. It’s all you’ve seen for the last day, almost two. You’re going to go crazy from the noise of alarms and call bells and beeping and whirring and everything.

When you have your dad’s wallet and your phone, you leave Andy. It’s as good an excuse to have some space as it is to actually do something useful. You sit outside on the curb and breathe in the open air. It doesn’t taste like sanitizer and latex. It’s refreshing but chilling.

You dial out to the number on the back of your father’s insurance card and smooth out the first night’s invoice. You wait on hold, the droning music itchy in your ears. When at last an agent picks up, you answer their questions.

“Mm, yes, I see here the hospital submitted the claim. The admitting paper work is here on file,” the agent says, “it says the patient had a blood alcohol content above the legal limit. Some sort of motorized vehicle accident?”

“A jet-ski, yeah,” you answer, blinking as acid brews in your stomach.

“Right, right, so reviewing everything, the details we got from the healthcare provider and yourself, the cost of the room will be covered up to sixty percent and any diagnostics and testing do not qualify for coverage.”

“What?” You puff out, “that doesn’t make sense. He has insurance.”

“His insurance doesn’t cover injuries sustained under the influence of intoxicating substances. It’s typical insurance policy. You can access the terms under his account number through our app. If you have an email, I would be happy to forward a copy--”

“No, no, this can’t--” You press your palm to your forehead as panic swirls in your chest and chokes you, “how... how are we going to pay for all this?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I wish I had an answer for that, but I can only speak on eligibility--”

“I know,” you cut off sharply, “I know. I’m not—I'm sorry, I’m upset. Thank you. Thanks. I... have a good day.”

You hang up and have to keep from throwing the phone. God, you always knew your dad’s drinking would get him hurt and now it’s going to bankrupt him. You nearly keel over at the thought of your tuition washing down the drain. It’s a selfish concern but you have three years behind you, you’re so close to the finish line.

Who cares about a degree. You can’t lose your dad. You rub your eyes until they stop tingling and get up. You tamp down your distress and head inside.

You approach your father’s room and find Andy waiting outside. He sits up as you near. He gives a tight-lipped expression, somewhere between a frown and a smile. You fold up the bill and and your dad’s wallet and clutch it against your phone.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

You’re so tired. You blow out between your lips. He’s done enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this.

“Yeah, uh, yeah, just sitting on hold forever,” you grumble. “How’s dad?”

“I think he’s doing alright. They said they need to do a bit more. Do some scans. X-rays, MRI, stuff like that. He’s going to be here for a while.”

“Oh, I... makes sense,” your lips trembles and you make it stop. Each night is more money. You tuck the wallet and phone into your pocket. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Okay, want me to come?”

“No,” you say abruptly. “No, I just... want a moment.”

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you need.”

You go inside the room and find your dad with his eyes closed. You stop beside his bead and stare. The large bandage around his head reminds you of the damage done. Damage that likely can’t be undone.

“What’re you staring at?” He opens his eyes.

You give a start and cough, “sorry, dad, I... I was checking on you.”

“You look like crap,” he says in his blunt way. That makes you laugh. “Andy says you been chasing your tail all around.”

“I... I’m worried.”

“I hit my noggin, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back in time for prom.”

You shy away as if you’ve been slapped. You search his face. He’s not kidding.

“Dad, I... I finished high school three years ago.”

His face slackens and fear ripples over him, “three years?”

You touch his arm, “it’s okay. The doctor said it will take you some time to get back to normal.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “yeah, I don’t feel very normal.”

You’re quiet. What can you say? You’re as scared as he looks.

“You gotta go,” he says suddenly, “get some sleep.”

“What? No, I’ll stay and sleep here.”

“On the floor? Nah, don’t be dumb,” he looks towards the door. You follow his gaze and find Andy watching, “Andy, you take her and make her get some sleep. You can come back tomorrow, kiddo.”

“But--”

“Now don’t be stubborn. You get that from me,” he points at you but his hand is weak and shaky. “’sides, I’m tired.”

“No problem, Doug,” Andy says as he breaks the threshold, “we all need to rest up, huh?”

You look between them and hide your chagrin. You don’t appreciate Andy listening in like that. You’re sure he’s just concerned but his help is starting to turn suffocating.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #series #summer breeze #defending jacob

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mydearestbeloved · 21 days ago

Text

Chapter 9 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo had been mulling over a simple, yet increasingly puzzling question: How does one even contact you?

Despite weeks of fighting together, not once had he taken the initiative to reach out. The strange thing? You two hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You either planned your next raid before parting ways, or—more recently—you would simply show up because of your own schedule, or a butterfly of yours would come to him first.

The answer came to him, in a way that felt both obvious and absurd. Your butterflies.

Jinwoo wasn’t one to wait idly for answers, so he decided to test his theory. Concentrating on the familiar presence of your aura, he extended his hand, replicating that feeling in his mind. Moments later, one of your butterflies—the one that often remained hidden nearby, perhaps acting as your eyes—fluttered into view, landing lightly on his open palm.

Its wings faltered slightly, as if in acknowledgment.

This might actually work.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo focused on the connection he had felt before, the distinct feeling of the red butterfly communicating with him.

Take me to her.

He didn’t know if it would respond, but soon enough, the butterfly took off, guiding him through the city.

---

He found you in the Hunter’s Market, haggling with a merchant. You were engaged in a rather intense back-and-forth, and judging by the merchant’s begrudging look, you were winning. In your hands, Jinwoo caught sight of what looked like a dormant magic beast egg, likely the reason for the negotiation.

"You're late."

You greeted him without even turning around, continuing to inspect the wares. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. Not even a flicker of surprise from you. It was becoming clear that not much could catch you off guard.

By now, he was getting used to your way of doing things. "I need to talk to you."

There was an unspoken understanding between you that this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

As you continued to browse the market, you hummed in acknowledgment. "I need to talk to you about some things too. Let’s continue this conversation in my domain. I’ll be done here in a few."

Jinwoo froze, staring at your back in confusion.

“Domain?"

"Dungeon," you corrected nonchalantly, still focused on the items displayed before you, your words casual as if you were discussing the weather.

Jinwoo’s brain paused for a moment.

"You own a dungeon?"

At that, you paused, a beat of silence passing before you turned toward him with a curious tilt of your head. "Did I never mention it before?"

"..."

"Ah."

For a split second, Jinwoo had the very distinct and rare urge to pinch your cheek. But instead, he just stared, half-amused, half-incredulous. You owned a dungeon, and you were mentioning it in the most off-handed way possible.

Of course, you would be the kind of person to forget to bring up owning something like that.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle that was you fell into place, though Jinwoo knew he had only barely scratched the surface.

---

Jinwoo couldn't help but feel a rising sense of disbelief as he followed you into the alley. He had barely come to terms with the revelation that you owned a dungeon. Even now, he had to force himself to stop asking questions before they overwhelmed him.

He kept telling himself, Stay calm. Just get to a private place. Ask your questions there.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, a glowing portal materialized in front of them with a soft hum. Jinwoo froze mid-step, his eyes widening. The gate was far smaller than the typical ones he had encountered, just big enough to fit a full-grown adult comfortably—yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a dungeon gate. The shimmering silver-white wisps that surrounded it were unlike any other, almost blending with rainbow-like accents at the edges. It looked... strange, subdued compared to the usual ethereal blues and reds, but somehow still powerful.

It was just his luck.

Jinwoo had been trying to push the thousand and one questions flooding his mind to the back of his thoughts, but now, they came rushing back in full force. He glanced at you, but you didn’t even seem phased by the sudden appearance of the portal. Instead, you waved him forward, as if portals and dungeons appeared in alleyways every day.

He hesitated for a split second but, deciding it was better to follow your lead than be left behind in confusion, he stepped forward, his senses alert. The instant he crossed the threshold of the gate, everything seemed to shift. The world around him blurred for a second before stabilizing again, and he found himself standing in a vast open temple-like structure.

It was nothing like the harsh, ominous dungeons he’d been to before.

The structure was grand, with high ceilings and pillars that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. The atmosphere had an air of serenity to it, something so starkly different from what he expected when entering a dungeon. But it didn’t end there. As he followed you forward, stepping through what looked like the entrance of a colossal, ancient temple, Jinwoo’s gaze was drawn outward.

The view beyond the floating temple was breathtaking.

The sight was nothing short of a dreamscape. Lush forests and vast gardens stretched far beyond what the eye could see. Gentle rivers meandered through valleys, their sparkling waters catching the sunlight. Towering, misty mountains loomed in the distance, and there were labyrinthine paths that seemed to lead into hidden areas, mysterious domed structures rising proudly in the distance. The land appeared to have been untouched by time, ancient and majestic in its quiet beauty.

It felt more like a paradise than any dungeon Jinwoo had ever seen.

This is a dungeon?

"I know, right?" you spoke, breaking his thoughts, your voice playful. "Trust me, the first time I got here, I thought I was dead and that this was paradise."

Jinwoo’s eyes flicked to you in surprise.

But you continued walking calmly ahead without a glance back, seeming completely at ease, at home.

This place, this dungeon, was a paradox. It was both beautiful and dangerous, serene and lethal. As you moved forward, he couldn’t help but make comparisons. It reminded him of the butterflies—so ethereal, so delicate, yet with a deadly bite.

Like you, Jinwoo realized.

As if sensing his thoughts, you shot him a brief glance over your shoulder. Your eyes caught his for a moment before you turned back ahead, leading him forward through the landscape. Jinwoo shook his head, his thoughts momentarily swirling. But something made him froze in his steps.

He watched you from behind, the soft fluttering of butterflies surrounding you, some of them trailing closely behind, others flitting about aimlessly.

One butterfly, the familiar red one, fluttered close to you and landed delicately on your finger. You brought it up to your lips and kissed it gently, a soft, quiet action that felt impossibly tender.

Divine.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder again, and for some reason, his pulse quickened. But, before he could dwell too much on his absurd thoughts, he shook his head and hurried to catch up with you.

---

The two of you continued walking until you reached a beautiful outdoor gazebo. The serene atmosphere of the garden, complete with a quiet pond surrounded by vibrant flowers, made it feel just like the rest of this space shouldn’t had been, a paradise. The soft trickle of water from nearby waterfalls added to the peaceful ambiance. On the table in front of the gazebo, there was tea and snacks laid out, ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with you.

Jinwoo sat down across from you, his mind buzzing with questions. He had so many things he wanted to know, and yet, he wasn’t sure where to start.

You, on the other hand, took a sip of your tea, completely at ease, before setting it down. You studied him quietly for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to speak first.

It took a moment, but Jinwoo finally asked, "This place... this dungeon. How did you come to own it?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, looking out over the garden for a moment as if gathering your thoughts. "Ah, yes. The story of how I got this place. It’s not simple, but I suppose I owe you an explanation."

You paused, seeming to gather yourself. "The truth is, this dungeon was here long before I ever arrived. In fact, I... was lost here when I was a child."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. You—lost?

You continued, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "I was barely a teen when I stumbled into it. The Trial System... it didn’t exactly help me, if you know what I mean. But it gave me a challenge I couldn’t ignore. To leave this place, I had to defeat the dungeon’s guardians."

Guardians? Bosses? Multiple?

You caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a question. Jinwoo didn’t say anything, but his mind whirled. It was clear that this place wasn’t like any other dungeon he’d ever encountered.

"So, how did you own it?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as if trying to make sense of this all.

“The Trial System gave it to me as a... reward, I guess,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s mine now, in every sense of the word. And because I own it, I can summon it whenever I need to. I can open a portal to it and leave at will." You looked at him, eyes gleaming. "That’s how I was able to summon that gate earlier. It’s a... special gift."

Jinwoo absorbed the information, slowly piecing it together. "So, you can teleport anywhere?”

“Not exactly, I need to have a clear picture of where I want to go." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Jinwoo exhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling. As much as he wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers—he felt something within him pull him back. This was your secret to reveal, in your own time.

So, instead of questioning you further, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. You seemed to know what he was thinking. With a soft smile, you raised your cup again and said, "I don’t mind sharing more, Jinwoo. But just know, some things are better left unsaid.”

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He would get the answers he was looking for, one way or another. But for now, he would have to trust you—because there was no other choice.

---

Jinwoo stared at you, completely flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You have to what now?"

You sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the seat of the gazebo, as if this whole conversation were some kind of exhausting memory you'd rather not dig up. "I have to level up my skills manually. Yes. Manually."

You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. "Wait, so… no shortcuts? No automatic leveling?"

"None." You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back and stretching your arms out. "The system basically made me work my way up through blood, sweat, and endless labor. You’d think the trial version would offer at least some quality-of-life updates, but nope. If I wanted to get better at farming, I had to actually go out and till the fields. If I wanted to improve cooking… yeah, let’s just say that was a nightmare."

Jinwoo blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. "Wait… so, all those skills that the system grants—crafting, mining, cooking—you had to actually do all those things?"

"Yep," you replied, with a roll of your eyes. "No instant boosts for me. While you get to succeed or fail with crafting based on your intelligence stat, I actually had to sit down and grind every skill point myself. And, of course, I started off just as badly as you’d expect.”

He tried to picture it and stifled a laugh. "So you’re telling me… you burned a boiled egg?”

"Listen," you huffed, giving him an exasperated look. "It was the lowest-level cooking skill, okay? Apparently, it was so low that I couldn't even be trusted to make something as simple as a boiled egg. Somehow, it just… burned." You buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "It’s still a mystery to me how boiling water and an egg turned into charcoal. But that was my life. Trial version for the win."

Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore, and the sound of it filled the air, rich and full of genuine amusement. "You? Burning an egg? You?"

"Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not funny," you protested and pouted at him. "Let’s just say I made my fair share of… tragic cooking attempts before my skill level got high enough to handle basic meals without a disaster."

You watched him try to stifle his laughter, but your own lips twitched, betraying a smile as well. "And it wasn’t just cooking," you added. "Farming was another story. I didn’t even know the basics—soil preparation, crop rotation, pest control. Do you have any idea how long it took me to produce anything that wasn't... wilted? Even mining was brutal. There I was, chipping away with an old pickaxe for hours just to get a sliver of ore."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Looks like you went through your own personal training arc as well."

"Of course I do." you agreed with a snort. "If the system hadn’t taken feedback from me eventually, you’d be the one cursing it out every time you tried to do something simple. But yeah, thankfully, the system decided to cut you a break. Guess my suffering counted for something, after all."

You straightened in your seat and took a sip of your tea, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. "But at least, once I got a skill to a decent level, it stayed there. Permanent. I don’t have to touch a frying pan for years, and the skill level’s still as good as ever. And the skills I invested in heavily—those have even broader effects."

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, curious now. "Broader effects?"

You nodded, glancing up thoughtfully as if reliving memories. "Take my language skill, for example. I leveled it up while studying Monster Tongue, which was excruciating at first. But once I maxed out that skill, learning other languages was a breeze. The system gave me a boost, kind of like an automatic enhancement for anything similar. If I tried learning another language now, it’d be easy compared to when I first started out.”

He gave a low whistle. "So basically, the more you leveled up, the easier it became to learn things related to that skill?"

"Exactly." You placed your cup back on the saucer with a gentle clink. "Though there’s a catch. Back then, whenever the system went through an update, some skills would get expanded. The cap would get set higher, and I’d have to grind all over again to max them out."

You gave him a look of exasperation. "Imagine maxing out a skill only for the system to update and say, 'Hey, you can go up to Level 50 now instead of 30!' That happened so many times, I lost count."

Jinwoo leaned back, his expression growing more serious. "So… what happens now? Are you stuck with your current stats forever?"

You took a slow breath, letting the question sink in before nodding. "That’s exactly it. Since the trial stage ended when you became the player, there haven’t been any more updates. My levels, skills, and stats… they’re frozen as they are. I can’t adjust my stats, I can’t level anything up, that’s why I don’t get EXP anymore. It’s like I’m in a kind of… stasis."

He was silent for a moment, digesting the weight of that statement. It was strange to think that someone with as much knowledge and power as you would be… limited.

"I still have everything I gained during the trial, of course," you continued, your tone turning thoughtful as you gazed out over the garden. "But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll never improve again. All my stats, skills, and levels are frozen in time. There’s no ‘growth’ anymore—not like what you have."

Jinwoo frowned. "And that doesn’t bother you?"

You shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "It did, at first. But after a while, I came to terms with it. I put in the effort back then, and I reaped the rewards. Sure, I miss the feeling of progress, of leveling up. But the fact that you’re the player now means the system’s finished with me." You managed a smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He looked at you, quiet for a moment, perhaps feeling a hint of the sacrifice you'd made just for the sake of his journey.

"So now," you said, breaking the silence with a brighter tone, "I’m basically a living relic of the trial version, here to help you navigate the system’s quirks."

Jinwoo smirked at that. "The legendary burnt-egg chef, my official guide through the system."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That title better not stick." Then, with a playful nudge of your cup in his direction, you raised an eyebrow. "And hey, if I’m going to help you, maybe you could use a few pointers. Starting with, oh, I don’t know… naming tips? You’re downright horrible at that."

The two of you shared a look, both of you smiling. And despite the strange circumstances, Jinwoo knew he was glad to have you by his side, guiding him, burnt eggs and all.

[Oh, he’ll not let that go, will he?]

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

---

"The meals with healing properties, the intricate mana stones, and how your butterflies can affect my daggers' stats... So that's why..." Jinwoo trailed off, connecting the dots.

You nodded, munching on a biscuit. "Mhm, pretty much. Since I have to actually *learn* the fundamentals of each skill, I can manipulate and craft related items more easily. It makes altering, replicating, or even making things from scratch a lot more natural."

You paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, "It’s a blessing that the last system update allowed me to max out certain skills to the point where I can do these things in reality without relying solely on the system."

You brushed the crumbs from your fingers and leaned back, satisfied. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?"

Jinwoo took a deep breath, locking eyes with you. "Join me for a week."

"...Eh?"

Without a word, he held up an item—a key.

<Castle Door Key>.

It was the entry to the Demon Castle, the S-rank dungeon created by the system itself.

"There’s no rule saying I can’t bring someone with me. You don’t gain any more experience, so there’s nothing for me to lose. But you might get materials you won’t find anywhere else, not even in the hunter's market—"

"I refuse."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "What?"

You looked away, your mind racing. The offer was tempting—you had several experiments in mind, but there was too much at stake. There were bigger forces at play—the plot, the system's interference, and Jinwoo's crucial development. You couldn’t afford to be too involved in this one. You needed a good excuse, something he would believe.

"Jinwoo," you began, "you’re aware of my powers' limitations, right?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Listen." Your voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the air, and Jinwoo froze.

For the first time, Jinwoo felt uneasy, confused, like he had said something wrong. He didn’t like the shift in your demeanor, especially when it was directed at him.

"'Demon' Castle," you continued, your tone softer but firm, "just by the name alone, we can assume the majority, if not half, of enemies there will be undead."

"..."

"My powers thrive off life. In an essentially ‘dead’ land, I’ll be at a severe disadvantage—"

"I'll protect you."

"And that’s exactly the problem. I’ll be a deadweight."

"Just focus on supporting me and my shadows."

You stared at him, the determination in his eyes unwavering. He was serious—dead serious.

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "You’re really persistent."

"I know," he replied, not once backing down.

You exhaled, resigned. Deep down, you knew that continuing to refuse him would lead to something far more troublesome. There was no winning against Jinwoo when he was this determined. "Alright," you finally said, "I’ll join you. But if things go south, you have to trust me to pull back. Understood?"

As if you could leave him, the nagging thought echoed in your mind.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened slightly, and a small, rare smile crept onto his lips. "Understood."

You only hoped that the system wouldn’t interfere or cause any unexpected complications this time. But one question remained: why was Jinwoo so insistent on bringing you along, despite the risks?

Unbeknownst to you, Jinwoo was asking himself the same thing. But it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit—not to you, and perhaps not even to himself.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [023/10/2024] -

The middle part of this, the convo between Jinwoo and (Name) feels a bit weird, so I apologize for the OOC-ness. I'll come back to this later.

#solo leveling #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #only i level up #solo leveling jinwoo #fanfic #fanfiction #solo leveling fanfic #sung jin woo #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

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i2ycat · 8 months ago

Text

mr. obvious

pairing friend!jay x fem!reader synopsis jay as ur friend who secretly likes you genre friends to lovers(?), fluff warnings mentions of jumping off a cliff (jokingly), not proofread main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

you and jay knew each other by being in the same circle of friends, but it’s only recently that you’ve started to get closer

between the small talks and late night group movie marathons, jay starts to question his feelings towards you

jay wouldn’t admit to his feelings for you at first, probably because of 3 things; 1) he wants to save himself the embarrassment: 2) he’s scared of rejection: and 3) he’s scared of losing you as a friend

he would constantly have to stop himself from staring at you way too long, from thinking about how cute you are even when you’re not around, from falling in love even deeper than he already is…

after a few tortuous months

jay would come to full terms with his feelings after seeing you the week after easter holidays;

it would be mid spring, wind rustling the trees and petals falling onto the concrete pavement

you and the rest of enha are walking back home, bikes in hand instead of riding it, just enjoying the spring breeze and each other’s quiet company

he would look over at you and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer… the way your hair fluttered just like the petals around you, the warmth in the apples of your cheeks…

he was a gone man FOR SURE

there was just no way he could deny his feelings for you anymore

so from then on, he decided that he would just love you as silently as he could

and that he did

more under cut!

he didn’t want ANYTHING to get out, not even a single word about his feelings for u so he didn’t tell any of his friends about his crush on you, not even his mom who he tells absolutely EVERYTHING to

he wouldn’t be taking any chances of you ever finding out

he would jump off a cliff with this secret if he had to

jay would be the type to subconsciously try to match your fashion sense, or anything you do really

you like wearing greyish tones? jay would be finding clothes to match that

you like wearing semi-casual clothing? jay is already buying slacks, a dress shirt and some other pieces of clothing that fit the vibes the you go for

he wouldn’t even notice that he’s doing that until someone else points out how you guys are always matching

“eh? you guys are basically wearing the same outfits.” jungwon teases, nudging jay at the sides

jay would be blushing HARD, trying to shut jungwon up by slinging an arm around his shoulders and pushing the poor boy down

little does jay know that his little crush is PAINFULLY PAINFULLY obvious to all his friends, INCLUDING you

someone save my poor boy from his misery PLEASE 🙏🏻

if it wasn’t already obvious enough, jay has an extremely soft spot for you, always taking your opinions as his very first consideration

“where should we eat?” jay would ask

“i kinda wanna eat sushi…” sunoo replies, scrolling through his phone as the rest of you wait in front of a 7-11, deciding on what to eat for dinner

“i wanna eat italian!” you beam

jay is immediately searching for all the nearest italian restaurants in the area

“italian it is!”

everyone, except you, huffs and rolls their eyes in disbelief at how jay folded so fast

like BOY STAND UP!!

you think you know the extent of jay’s feelings? WRONG, you don’t even know the half of it…

he can’t even get mad at you because to him, you could do no wrong or harm… you’re too cute for that

jay would even let you be the first to taste test anything he cooks before everyone else, because he silently wants you to know just how much your opinions matter to him and that you’re the most important person to him, above everyone else (not including his family that is)

to him, it would be action >>>>>> words

you wouldn’t expect this but he’s probably the type to watch romance tarot readings with you in mind, giggling to himself whenever something remotely related or similar to you comes up

he’s just a silly little lover boy :(((

he’d even ask his mom how he could help when a girl is on her period because he wants to take care of you the best he can, bringing you chocolate, ice cream, all the snacks you could ever want

he would keep an extra pad in his locker just in case you needed it

he’d give you all his hoodies because you just look so much cuter in it, even if they were his favourite ones or he just bought them (he secretly buys them for you)

jay as your friend who secretly likes you can’t even keep it a secret, even if he tries to hide it

you’d eventually decide to put him out of his misery and confess to him first

“i like you.” you bluntly say, not nervous enough because you already knew how he felt about you

jay’s mind would completely short circuit, his feet stopping, his heart stopping, everything stopping

and when he finally comes back to his senses, he would jump around like he’s won the lottery or something

“I FINALLY GOT THE GIRL OF MY DREAMS??!?”

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

Note

Three object event for Terry Silver. Pregnancy test, restaurant and earrings. ☺️ Please and thankyou.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

Prequel to:

Water - Terry wakes up to the sound of you singing to the baby.

Snow - Terry's son Sebastian experiances snow for the first time.

Another morning, another negative pregnancy test. You stare at the little electronic screen as the word flashes at you mockingly, making your eyes sting and your heart break.

You and Terry have been trying for over a year now to have a baby without any success and it kills you deep inside that you can’t give him the child you both so desperately want. You don’t understand what the issue is, you’re in your mid-thirties, healthy with an active sex life, there’s no logical reason that you shouldn’t have conceived by now.

It’s at the appointment with the fertility specialist that your fears are validated, it’s you that’s the problem. Endometriosis you’re told by the doctor. You’ve always had heavy periods, it isn’t until now that you realise there’s actually a cause for it.

The two of you sit in a restaurant afterwards. You can tell that Terry’s still in a state of shock by the turn of events, it’s in the silence as he pushes his food around his plate. You can sense his disappointment from across the table and your chest grows tight because you know what this means for the two of you.

“We need to talk about what the future means for you.” You say quietly as you toy with your earring. “If you want a child, if you want that legacy that you’ve always talked about then it’s not going to be with me, I can’t give you what you want Terry…”

Your voice cracks and you can’t force yourself to continue because this whole thing, it’s just too painful.

“Oh my love, this isn’t your fault.” Terry murmurs as he reaches across the table and brushes the tears from your cheek. “It’s just nature, it’s fickle and it’s cruel and it’s something we both have to come to terms with, in our own time, together.”

His hand clasps yours, squeezing tightly.

“It’s going to take a little while but the two of us we’re going to be ok Georgia, I promise you that.”

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 11 months ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 1: The Fall-Down House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, alligators, kids, parenthood, smoking, cupcakes!

Word Count: 7.2k (she's very chonky for a first chapter).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Since this is the first chapter of a new series, I'm going to tag a bunch of usual readers, but I won't tag you again unless you want me to. 💜

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“What do you want to do to me?” you whisper through the phone, stretched out across your bed like a cat as George Michael’s Faith plays from the baby pink Panasonic boombox out in the kitchen. It’s late afternoon, and fading daylight falls in tiger stripes through the window blinds. The May air is hot, muggy, golden; cicadas hum in the southern live oaks, an ancient earthen music like rattling bones.

A few seconds pass before he can reply. It was a bold way to begin. You are admittedly a little impressed with yourself; an idea like this has been pacing around in your skull like a beast behind bars for years, but you’ve only now set it loose. “That’s difficult to explain in words,” he says; and in the low, teasing purr of his voice you can hear that your gamble paid off like striking oil. He has a British accent, which you never would have expected. You only recognize it from clips you’ve seen of Prince Charles and Princess Diana on 60 Minutes. “But I’d enjoy showing you.”

It’s laid open beside you on the bed, his personal ad in the Bayou Journal: Educated white male in his mid-20s. Single and not looking to change that. Seeking an open-minded, adventurous, and spirited lady for short-term D/s arrangement. Be prepared to answer the following riddle: I’m small but loom large, I’m Italian but French, I give away much to gain little. Who am I? Best regards, An Indecent Gentleman. “I’m waiting.”

“You understand what is meant by D/s?”

“Of course,” you say, your best feigned flippantness. You only know because Amir told you; he’s been daring you to call for three days.

“Thank God,” the man on the other end of the line sighs. There is an inhale like a drag on a cigarette. You imagine what he might look like: broad or slight, dark-haired or blonde, striking or average or homely, treacherous or safe, forbidden fruit or just plain forbidden. “I’ve had four different women ring me thinking I’m going to be their boyfriend, dinner and flowers and everything. They’re functionally illiterate down here.”

How unfortunate, you think. He’s highfalutin. But alas, no one is perfect. That’s no prohibitive obstacle. He doesn’t need to be faultless; it’s not as if you’re planning to marry the guy. “I like when someone else is in control.”

“Why?” This is a test, you can feel it. You can sense his rapt attention across the wire, through the electricity and the lush treetops and the rust-amber sky.

“I have a lot of…responsibilities in my real life,” you explain. “A lot of pressure. I make the decisions, I look out for other people. Sometimes I want to be the one who’s told what to do.”

“I can make that happen. And the riddle?”

“It’s Napoleon.”

The grin is sharp and triumphant in his voice. “Good girl.”

“He was short but an emperor. He was born in Corsica to an Italian family, but he ended up ruling over France. He sold off a bunch of French colonies to focus on conquering Europe and still couldn’t quite manage it. But the U.S.A. got this charming little corner of the world as part of the bargain.”

“You’re a historian,” the man says, sounding pleased.

“No sir, we all had to learn about him in school whether we wanted to or not.”

“Sir,” he echoes, tasting it, savoring it. You imagine a pink tongue flicking out to skate across his lips. Then he is abruptly cool, impersonal, businesslike. “Listen, I’ve got a scar down the left side of my face. It’s thin, it’s clean, but it’s noticeable. The eye is glass, although you can’t really tell unless you look closely. Is that a problem?”

A scar? Is he a veteran? A lion tamer? A motorcycle enthusiast? You try to remember what kinds of hobbies British people have. Isn’t there some kind of sport where men swing sticks around while riding horses? That sounds like it could put an eye out. Perhaps to your own surprise, you find that you are more intrigued than uneasy. Oh, you realize, dull like dawn through mist. I like him. I want him. Not just THIS, but HIM. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Brilliant. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

“That’s fine.” You hesitate. “There’s actually something I should tell you too.”

“Hm?”

The hum of his voice is arrogant, hungry. You try not to get distracted. Blood rushes hot and ashamed into your cheeks. “Um, well, uh, sometimes it’s difficult for me to…you know. Finish. Not when I’m alone, just when I’m with a guy. Especially if I’m anxious. And I don’t want to feel worried about faking it or making sure it happens or dealing with you getting offended or upset or whatever. Because it’s fine, really. It doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time. I’m just…stuck in my own head.”

There is a sound you can’t quite match to an expression, an exhale, a scoff. “Obviously I wouldn’t be mad at you. But you’ll come. I know you will. I’ll make you.”

And you’re flooded with a relief that you never dared to hope for. A confession spills out in a trembling whisper: “Please.”

“When?” he says, eager, urgent.

“I think if we don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”

There is a razor-thin pause, and then he asks for your address.

~~~~~~~~~~

You haven’t had a man in your bed in years; you are abruptly and unkindly reminded of this when you paw through the top drawer of your bedroom dresser and find only practical, deadly unsexy cotton Kmart underwear. You dash to the closet, yank open the squeaking door, and—tucked away in a cardboard box of winter clothes like sweaters and jeans, forgotten, needless—unearth a sprinkling of insubstantial silk and lace, all in luxurious gemstone hues: amethyst, ruby, sapphire, onyx, emerald.

“Oh, hallelujah.” You throw off your sunshine yellow shorts and tug on what were once upon a time your favorite panties. They don’t fit nearly as well as they used to; they fit horribly, in fact. They evaporate the thrill and leave nauseous trepidation in its place. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.” You steal a harried glimpse of the clunky black alarm clock on your nightstand. The flashing red numbers inform you that you have approximately ten more minutes until he arrives.

You jog pantsless to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of sweet tea—ice cold, bright with a squeeze of lemon juice—and pace back and forth across the wooden floor as you sip it. The pine boards slope at just the slightest angle; if you laid an apple by your feet, it would roll. The house is sinking. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, but it won’t live to see the next. Ailing sunlight casts your shadow against the wall, mint green, spider-leg cracks inching through the paint. Outside cicadas buzz and doves coo in long, mournful whirrs.

You pick up the phone—pink to match the boombox that is now playing Poison’s Nothin’ But A Good Time—next to the refrigerator and dial with one finger, your other hand still clutching the frosty glass of sweet tea. It rings twice before he answers.

“Wassup?” Amir says distractedly. You can hear a commotion from his living room on the other side of town: his grandmother squawking, ambient applause, Wheel Of Fortune.

“Quick, what should I wear?”

“Huh?”

“The guy! The guy from the ad! I called the guy! What should I be wearing when he shows up?”

Amir cackles. “Ho, you must be truly desperate, why the fuck are you asking me?” There is some shrill protestation in the background. “Grandma, don’t you dare try to act like you’ve never heard that word before, we just rented Aliens.”

“You know what men like,” you plead.

“Not the straight ones!” And then, not to you: “Grandma, calm down. Grandma, Grandma! It’s my homegirl. She has an emergency. She’s got a man coming over and she doesn’t know what to wear. What did you wear for Pop Pop? What? What?! You expect me to believe you got seven kids out of that dude with just some old floral nightgown?! Prairie girl fabulous? Looking like you’re on your way to join the Donner Party? Okay, if you say so! Phyllis knows best!” Amir’s attention returns to you. “Grandma suggests a nightgown.”

You are skeptical. “That seems slutty.”

“You’re inviting some stranger over for an all-expenses-paid ride on the Pussy Express and you’re concerned about looking slutty?!”

He has a point. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“You wear that nightgown with confidence and you take that random kinky man directly to bed, do you understand me?” Amir orders.

“Totally,” you say, gulping sweet tea with a shaking hand.

“Good luck. I gotta go, it’s the Bonus Round. Hope you have a few rounds to tell me about tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

Back in your bedroom closet, you find a black satin slip that runs to your ankles and flows like a ballgown. You put it on some nights when you’re feeling desirable, after a bath of bubbles and steam, candles and Madonna, freshly shaved legs and shimmering with Pond’s, when you want to lounge around daydreaming, when you want to remember the fantasies you once had about what your life might turn out to be. Now you wear it in the fading daylight, nothing underneath and golden sunbeams turning your skin to something that warms and glows.

You appraise yourself in your dusty dresser mirror, and you think: Not too bad, actually. You’ve had your hair up in a haphazard bun. You reach to take it down, then stop yourself. You like the wayward wisps, the I-don’t-care-too-much casualness. Your breathing is slow and calm again. There is a noise outside: tires crunching on gravel. Your glass of sweet tea, now mostly just ice cubes, is sweating on top of your dresser. You grab the glass, swipe the Bayou Journal off your bed, and take both to the kitchen counter, still speckled with flour, powdered sugar, flecks of cinnamon. Then you pad across the sloping wooden floor in your bare feet to open the front door. Amber dusk streams in; you can hear bullfrogs croaking and the hoots of the long-eared owl that lives in the collapsing, overgrown shed behind the house. Spanish moss hangs like cobwebs, like chandeliers. The tree swing rocks idly in the breeze. The first notes of You Shook Me All Night Long play from the kitchen boombox.

His car is red, sporty, with a logo on the grill that you don’t recognize, a series of circles intertwined like rings. He cuts the engine and steps out into the driveway as you watch from behind the screen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. He’s tall, trim, blonde, wearing Adidas sneakers and light-wash jeans and a Marlboro jacket that it’s far too hot for. He peers around, taking in the trees and the house through his black aviator sunglasses. He puffs one last time on a cigarette before putting it out on his own windshield and starting towards the porch. And immediately, primally, you crave him like water or air.

He climbs the groaning steps, splitting wood and rusty nails. You open the screen door to meet him in the threshold. And he takes off his sunglasses so he can look at you, stowing them in a pocket of his jacket, his gaze not wavering from yours, his lips not saying a word. Yes, he has a scar, but it doesn’t diminish him in the slightest. Yes, his left eye may be glass, but you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already told you. You’re too tangled up in the right. His iris is a brisk greyish blue, not like the ocean, not like the bayou, more like the sky before a hurricane, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. His face is strong, jarring, beautiful in a rare way. His full lips are curling into a grin.

At last, you speak first, an inane observation that feels somehow significant. “You found me.”

“I did.” He nods towards the large lavender sign out by the mouth of the gravel driveway. Hand-painted on it are the words Hummingbird Bakery and a logo that Amir designed, a hummingbird feeding on the frosting swirl of a cupcake as if it’s a flower flush with nectar. “You told me to look for the sign. That helped.”

“What kind of car do you drive? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an Audi Quattro.”

“Audi,” you repeat, like a hopelessly distant place, New York City or Los Angeles or Paris or the moon. “Is that British?”

“German, actually.”

“You’re from a very different world.”

“Yeah, I am.” His eye flicks up and down your body, black satin that curves and clings; his grin widens. “But I could learn to like yours, I think.”

You step back so he can follow you inside. The screen door shuts with a bang. Under the shadows, as the sun sets into the west, he unzips his Marlboro jacket and tosses it onto your living room couch. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt. We’re opposites, you think dazedly, wondering what he will taste like when he kisses you. He grazes his fingertips down the front of your throat, continues to your chest, stills when he hits the satin of your slip.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to,” he murmurs, and you breathe in his smoke and cologne and dauntless, dizzying self-assurance. “But until you say stop, I’m gonna keep going.”

Your heartbeat is drumming beneath his hand, part exhilaration and the rest nerves. You are afraid of disappointing him; you aren’t sure what to expect. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Aemond.”

Aemond. Foreign, like Audi, like Paris. You give him your own in return. He leans in, presses his hips to yours, denim and satin that you can feel his heat through. And you think he’s going to kiss your neck, or bite it, bruise it, mark it, claim it, claim you; but he only ghosts his parted lips from the edge of your jaw to your bare shoulder, inhaling slow and deep, drawing your atoms into his lungs until they tumble down the narrowest corridors and into his capillary beds, into his bloodstream. You moan softly, helplessly, and turn your face to kiss him.

“No,” Aemond growls, teasing you, catching your chin with one hand to hold you still. His other hand glides down the front of your slip and stops between your legs. Through satin the color of a starless midnight, his fingers stroke you roughly, commandingly. Animalistic yearning bolts low to weaken your knees, high to rip a gasp from your throat. “Nothing underneath,” he notes in approval.

Oh, I like him, you think, in equal parts ecstatic and petrified. I REALLY like him.

But are you going to be able to impress him too? Are you going to ruin this?

You whimper, unintentionally and almost inaudibly. Aemond is studying your face; furrows appear in his scarred brow, so faint and fleeting you might have imagined them. Then his hand retreats as he says: “Show me your toys.”

You gape up at him; this is not what you anticipated. “What?”

“I want to see how you make yourself come. You have toys, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admit, though you’ve never used them with anyone else before.

Aemond smirks mischieviously, then commands: “Show me. Right now.”

You lead him to your bedroom and slide open the middle drawer of your dresser. You glance at his reflection in the silvery glass of the mirror; he’s staring, not at your body but at your face, his gaze locked with yours, his mouth open, entranced, hungry. You move to stand against the wall, smiling sheepishly as Aemond shoves aside folded sheets and pillowcases to reveal your collection. It’s nothing too adventurous: five vibrators in different colors, styles, sizes.

“Quite the assortment,” he praises.

“They were gifts from a friend.”

Now Aemond is dubious. “A friend?”

“Don’t be jealous. He doesn’t like women.”

Aemond laughs, warm and boyish like he’s breaking character; and you are alarmed by the wave of fondness for him that crashes through you. It’s something that could pull you under. It’s something you could drown in. He picks up the largest vibrator: long, thick, pink like soft feminine vulnerability, like love. Then he is darkly, deliciously stern again. “On the bed.”

“No.” Not because you’re genuinely protesting. Because you want him to make you.

Aemond grabs you around your waist and drags you towards the bed as you squeal, giggle, fight him halfheartedly. He throws you down onto the wildflower-patterned duvet and climbs between your thighs, parting them as he pushes the hem of your black satin slip up to your waist. Abruptly, you are bare for him, exposed, fiery dusk air cool against your wetness. Aemond is still fully clothed, white shirt and pale blue jeans. He is holding your legs open with his own. You can see the bulge of his cock beneath the denim: at least as large as the vibrator and hard with insistent longing.

I want him, you think as you hear the vibrator click on. I want him, I want him…

Aemond brings the pink silicone tip to your flesh, and instantly you’re ravenous. It shocks you how much more erotic this is when someone else is holding it, when someone else has you entirely at their mercy. You cry out, loud and shameless, euphoric. Your back arches; your fingers twist into the duvet. As he presses the vibrator down more forcefully, Aemond braces his hips against yours, grinding into you through his jeans, taunting you, conquering you.

You fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans. “Please—”

“No,” Aemond snarls, beaming, snatching your hand and pinning it up by your head. His other hand is still circling your clit with the tip of the vibrator. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Aemond, please, I need you—”

“No,” he says, defiant. He makes the rules. He has the power; he’s in control. Suddenly, he pulls the vibrator away. You yelp in dismay. “You know,” Aemond quips cavalierly. “It’s a shame you have such a difficult time finishing when you’re with a man. I bet you’re not even close.”

“I am,” you whine, in agony, in ecstasy.

Aemond pretends to be surprised. “Hm.” He returns the vibrator to your skin, slick, hot, aching in the most wondrous way. You sigh as the pleasure surges through you, as you soar up to the previous plateau and then begin to ascend beyond it. You must have repositioned yourself without noticing; Aemond releases your hand to smack his palm against the inside of your thigh. “Keep your legs apart. I want you wide open for me.”

“I will, I promise.” I’ll do anything you tell me to.

Aemond’s hand ventures lower. Two of his fingers glide inside you and thrust in time with his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses, breaking character again; and something rocks through his shoulders, his spine, a divine temptation that he is battling.

“Aemond, more,” you plead, looking at the massive outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Not yet,” he pants, fucking you with his fingers as the vibrator hums against your clit. “You have to come for me first, baby. You have to earn it.”

And you’re close, you really are, you’re closer than you ever would have imagined you’d be with him tonight, this stranger, this elusive British man, this man from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal that you almost never replied to. Your hair has come undone and is wild around your face; your heart is pounding frantically; your skin is bathed in a sheen of victorious perspiration. When was the last time someone made you feel like this? You can’t recall; the answer might be never. There is a spellbinding, intensifying sensation of warmth, of opening, you’re only seconds from the brink, you’re ready to step off the precipice and into open blue air the same color as his eyes—

Aemond yanks the vibrator away again, grinning toothily down at you.

“No!” You scrabble for him with shaking hands, pulling yourself up as you reach for the vibrator. Aemond pushes you back onto the bed. Despite your protests, you love the feeling of his weight on top of yours; you love the organic symphony he’s built of, muscle and bone and skill and power. His fingers are still pumping in and out of you, keeping you soaked and throbbing, pinning you to the edge of an orgasm without permitting you to succumb to it.

“It’s going to be so good for you like this, baby,” Aemond insists, low and raspy. He’s reading your face, attentive to every detail, drinking up your desperate body and quivering voice. “I swear I’m not torturing you for no reason. Let me show you. Let me take care of you. When it happens, it’s going to blow your fucking mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes, now, please, do it now,” you whimper as you lie beneath him, open, bare, senseless, vanquished.

Aemond drags his tongue over the tip of the vibrator, moaning with lust as he tastes you. Then he at last presses the pink silicone to your clit once more. In your electrified nerves, in your scalding blood, there are sparks and momentum and currents rushing towards the cataclysmic breaking of a rogue wave. “Nice and slow,” Aemond murmurs. “Let it build.”

Instead of the peak, you reach another plateau, so high and so rapturous you can’t stand it, you can’t fathom climbing any farther. It’s becoming so sharp and intense it’s almost painful. Fresh anxiety flashes in your mind like lightning. The momentum begins to dissipate like dewdrops under the late-morning sun. Oh no, I’m going to lose it, I’m going to disappoint him—

Aemond lifts the vibrator off you again; before you have time to collect yourself enough to speak, to apologize, he’s slipped his fingers out of you and carefully guided the vibrator inside, stretching you, filling you, thrusting rhythmically but not too viciously or too deep. He places his thumbprint on the place where the vibrator was just seconds ago and circles quickly, once, twice, again, and then…

You try not to scream, but you can’t help it, can’t stop it; the climax wrenches out of you indescribable pleasure, vanished fears, awe and relief, twisted muscles and gasping breaths, every electrical impulse of every atom, and each time you believe it’s over it rolls a little farther like an endless summer afternoon. When it’s done—truly done—you aren’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly you’re sitting upright on the bed and the vibrator is lying forgotten on top of the duvet and Aemond is laughing, kissing you—sweat and nicotine, smoke and salt—and caressing your face with his hands, saying: “You were such a good girl. You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you exhale unsteadily, smiling. You nod to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn.”

“No,” Aemond says primly.

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. “Not today.”

“But…but…why?”

The curl of his lips is crooked and playful. “To prove I’m not just here to get myself off.” He kisses you again, far more tenderly than any random dom from a personal ad should. “You don’t trust me. But maybe next time you will.”

“How could I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“We’ll have to spend more time together.”

“You seriously aren’t going to fuck me right now? Me? A mostly-naked stranger you met up with exclusively for the purposes of fucking?”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

In truth, no; your pulse is slowing, your thoughts are calm, your lust is satiated, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve sprained no less than four muscles. You feel like the sky after rain: emptied, unburdened, untroubled, at peace. “Not at all.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

You reach out to touch Aemond’s unscarred cheek and he smiles. You try to ghost your fingertips over the left side of his face and he flinches away, leaves the bed, takes the vibrator to the bathroom to scrub it with soap and water. “Can I at least pour you a glass of sweet tea or something?” you call after him. “I feel guilty. I feel like I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.”

“You exceeded all of my expectations,” Aemond says with a strange sort of somberness. “But sweet tea sounds great.”

You take five minutes to clean up and change into real clothes—ratty denim shorts and a red, white, and blue Pepsi t-shirt, chaotic hair, no bra—and then meet Aemond in the kitchen. He’s surveying the large circular table, which is littered with covered cake plates in a hodgepodge of sizes and colors; you found most of them at yard sales and thrift shops. The sun has set and the stars have risen; the kitchen is illuminated by yellow-hued florescent light. Night air flows in through the screens of the open windows. The boombox is currently playing Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now.

“What’s the deal with that?” Aemond asks about the cluttered kitchen table.

“They’re the baked goods. For my bakery.”

“Right,” he says, remembering, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The sign out front.”

“Would you like anything? Today we had butterscotch chiffon cake, coconut custard cake, blackberry dark chocolate cupcakes, pecan pie, red velvet brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, lavender black tea cookies, chocolate meringue pie, butter pecan muffins…”

“How about those?” He points.

“Oh! Those are banana bread cupcakes. One of my favorites.”

“Banana bread…cupcakes?”

“Here.” You plop one on a plate for Aemond, then go to the refrigerator to pour two tall glasses of sweet tea. “A lot of people put chocolate chips in their banana bread, but I feel like any chocolate really eclipses the banana flavor. It’s so subtle, you know? So what I do instead is cinnamon, honey, cream cheese frosting, and a tiny bit of sea salt mixed into the batter. If you get the ratio just right, there’s this really great blend of saltiness and sweetness, and the banana is still the star of the show. Of course I’ve fucked up plenty of times too and almost given myself dangerously high blood pressure. If I ruin a batch, I’m the one who has to eat it. We can’t let anything go to waste. Our profit margin is thinner than a crescent moon on the best months.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He’s taken a bite and is now gawking at the banana bread cupcake. “You made this?” He gestures to the table. “You made all of this?”

“My best friend Amir runs the business with me, but most of the recipes are mine. My mom used to bake all the time when I was little. Now she has rheumatoid arthritis and has given it up, more or less, but that’s where I learned a lot of what I know. And I try to come up with new ideas each week to add to the rotation.”

“This is exceptional,” Aemond says. His mouth is full of the rest of the cupcake. He washes it down with a few gulps of sweet tea; ice cubes jangle in the misty glass. “This is, like, insanely good. Can I have another one…?” He’s already lifting the cover off the cake plate.

You chuckle. “Yeah, seriously, have as many as you like.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“The cupcakes are $1, but you don’t have to pay me. You get the unrequited orgasm discount.”

“Just $1 each.” Aemond is incredulous. You aren’t sure what that’s about. He sets the second cupcake down on the table, tugs a black leather wallet out of his jeans pocket, and gives you a $10 bill.

“Aemond, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Take the money. Stop talking about it.”

You smirk up at him. “Is that an order, sir?”

He grabs your jaw with one forceful hand, kisses you roughly, bites your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He tastes like cinnamon, honey, sugar, sex. “Yes,” he says, grinning wickedly. Then his hands drop to unbutton your shorts. The idea of stopping Aemond doesn’t even cross your mind; your desire for him—him specifically—is back, flaring red and primeval and irresistible. “I want you on top of that counter—”

Outside there are footsteps bounding up the front porch, loud on the creaking boards. You tear away from Aemond and hurry to re-button your shorts. What? Already??

You know exactly who it must be.

Well, now I’m definitely never going to see Aemond again.

He’s terrified, he’s wondering whether he should try to jump out of a window. But really, he’s already been spotted; his Audi Quattro is still waiting for him in the gravel driveway. “Please don’t tell me that’s your homicidal armed boyfriend or something.”

“No,” you say. “It’s my daughter.”

“Wait, your…?!”

The door swings open; you hardly ever lock it. Cadi trots in just as you are flipping over the copy of the Bayou Journal on the kitchen counter so Aemond’s personal ad is no longer visible. Instead, what now faces up—dotted with flour, powdered sugar, cinnamon, grease stains of butter—is a column about the rigs opened in Lake Verret. Just what this town needs, you think distractedly. An environmental disaster.

“Mom, whose radical car is that—?” Then Cadi spies Aemond and blinks at him a few times. She is ten years old but thinks she’s your age, short hair, short temper, denim overalls and a t-shirt underneath patterned with multicolored horses.

“This is Aemond,” you explain. He waves awkwardly and then resumes nibbling on his second banana bread cupcake, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s a friend.”

“But you don’t have any friends,” Cadi replies.

“Watch it, Child Of The Corn. I have friends.”

“You have like one friend.”

“What happened to your sleepover with Mawmaw? I thought you were excited to trick her into watching Hellraiser.”

“Blockbuster didn’t have it. Then Great Aunt Ethel called and said she broke her hip. Mawmaw dropped me off here on her way to the hospital.”

“And she didn’t even think to check with me first, huh?”

“As if you’d have anything better to do.” Cadi races to the refrigerator—careening around a shellshocked Aemond—and heaves open the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think we have some Swanson’s meals left. Oh, and spaghetti.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Who made it?”

“You’re in luck! Not me. Amir.”

“Yay!” Cadi trills, then drags out the pan and begins spooning mounds of spaghetti onto a plate. Aemond looks to you, intrigued.

You say: “I bake, I don’t cook.”

“She really doesn’t,” Cadi concurs.

“Completely different skillset.”

Cadi places a few paper towels over the heaping plate so sauce doesn’t splatter all over the microwave and then sets it to three minutes. As she waits to eat, she wanders over to where the Bayou Journal is lying on the counter and scans the page: Viserys Targaryen, three state-of-the-art oil rigs, Lake Verret, an additional 50 employees hired, Jade Dragon Energy. “Those bastards are going to get their way, I guess.”

You sigh. “Yup.”

Aemond is alarmed. He polishes off the last of his cupcake, frowning as he licks frosting from his lips. “You don’t approve?”

“They’ll blow up the whole town,” Cadi says matter-of-factly.

You smile wanly at Aemond as you sip your sweet tea. “You work for Jade Dragon, right?”

He stares back at you—stunned, perhaps even fearful, a deer flooded with headlights—but doesn’t speak.

“It’s alright. I figured you must. Some smart British guy way out here in Cajun Country? It’s gotta be for a job. Don’t worry. We won’t shoot and skin you or anything. It’s not your fault. You’re just collecting a paycheck, it’s not like you’re running the company.”

“Right.” Aemond grabs a third cupcake and gnaws at it. After a moment he adds: “I have a degree in petroleum engineering. I just moved to Napoleonville last week.”

“I knew it,” you say.

“Boo!” Cadi heckles jokingly. The microwave beeps, then she disappears into her bedroom with her plate of spaghetti. You hear Cadi turn on her little television and flip through the channels until she finds Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond watches her closed door for a few seconds—still processing, you assume—and then turns back to you.

“Her name’s Katie?”

“Cadi. C-a-d-i. It’s short for Arcadia.”

He is impressed. “Greece?”

You titter nervously. You don’t know what he means. “It’s a town up by Shreveport, it’s where Bonnie and Clyde were arrested or killed or something. I’m not sure. Her father picked it.”

“You didn’t have an opinion?”

“Um, I wasn’t really…uh…conscious for a few days after she was born. By the time I was up and around again, he’d already filled out the birth certificate.”

What is that you see flicker across his face like the transient surge of a lightning bug? Curiosity? Apprehension? “I see. And her father is…” Aemond raises a blonde eyebrow, the one his scar cuts through. “On an aircraft carrier somewhere?”

You laugh. “He’s not deployed. We’re divorced, Willis lives about fifteen minutes down the road. It’s amicable.”

“So I don’t need to worry about him showing up on your front porch to murder me with a 2x4 full of nails.”

“No. Although he is the town sheriff.”

Aemond smirks. Is this a challenge or an inconvenience? “Why’d you two split up?”

You shrug, glancing at Cadi’s bedroom door. She is quite aggressive with her television volume; you’re confident she won’t be able to listen in if you keep your voice low. “It’s not that interesting a story.”

“I’m extremely interested.” And he sincerely appears to be, head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on you (though you know the left one sees nothing), thoughts whirling like storm winds.

“Well…we only ever got married because of…” You gesture towards Cadi’s room. Aemond nods, following along. “And I was too young and I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man, I didn’t even know I had the right to set standards to measure a husband by. Willis wasn’t terrible. He didn’t hit me. He just wasn’t really who I wanted.” You chew at your lower lip, peering down at the kitchen counter, drawing circles in the sparse flour dust. “He never even proposed to me. Not properly, I mean. I told him I was pregnant and he said: Well, guess we oughta get married, huh sugar? and then drove me to the Kmart up in Gonzales to pick out a ring.”

“Classy,” Aemond mutters.

“I had to buy it myself, actually. Willis didn’t have enough cash on him. He paid me back later, but still. It wasn’t about the ring. I don’t need gold and diamonds. But I need someone who really sees me and understands me and chooses me, you know? I’ve never felt chosen. And I decided I didn’t want to settle for that. If I ever get married again, I want the whole goddamn thing. The real thing. I want the candles and the flowers and a boombox blasting Heaven Is A Place On Earth. And if that’s not in the cards, I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

“And you’ll make do with occasional visits from your friendly neighborhood dom.”

You grin up at Aemond. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You really hate Jade Dragon?”

“Companies like that…they just use us. Our land, our labor. And then when they decimate the place they pack up and disappear overnight, no pensions, no retirement, no unemployment, no meaningful cleanup, just Thanks for the millions! Bye! and we’re left to live in their filth.”

“That’s a rather cynical perspective,” Aemond says.

“It’s a realistic perspective,” you counter. “In 1965, there was a pipeline explosion in Natchitoches, in ‘79 there was an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, in ‘80 a Texaco rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Lake Peigneur and destroyed the whole ecosystem. Two weeks ago there was a refinery explosion an hour east of here in Norco. 4,500 people had to be evacuated from their homes. So no, the jobs sound nice, but in my humble estimation they’re not worth dying for.”

Aemond considers you, a look that is not patronizing or combative but not convinced either. And there’s something else too: a caginess, a nervousness.

“And these Jade Dragon people, the Targaryens? They have a history,” you continue. “I read about it in the Bayou Journal. Last year they had an oil spill at an offshore rig near Ketchikan, Alaska. They poured hundreds of thousands of barrels of poison into the ocean and killed a bunch of dolphins and whales and everything. Fishermen went bankrupt, people committed suicide.”

“Mistakes happen.” Aemond places his empty sweet tea glass in the sink.

“But they didn’t make it right. Their lawyers blamed a defective piece of equipment and kicked liability back to the manufacturer. They’ll be battling it out in court for the next decade. And meanwhile, the people of Ketchikan get nothing but misery. I don’t want Napoleonville to end up like that.”

Aemond gazes out the kitchen window and into the cicada-rattling night, faraway, pensive.

“But seriously,” you say, more casually now. “I get that it’s not your fault, Aemond. I don’t hate you or anything. You’re working for a living like anyone else. You can only do so much.”

He looks back to you and smiles vaguely. “I just go where they tell me to.”

“And that’s why you like to be in control when you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Aemond says; and on his face—strong, scarred, perfect—you can see that he is reminiscing, that he is planning what he wants to do to you next. But he can’t do any of it. Not here, not now.

“I’m sorry about…you know. The kid thing. I really didn’t think she’d be home tonight. I would never subject her to something like that, walking in to find a strange guy in the house. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m sure you think I’m lying, but I’m not. I’ve had two boyfriends since I got divorced seven years ago, and both times it didn’t last long and Cadi never met them. And it wasn’t…like it is with you. The dynamic, I mean. The…control thing. They were just normal dudes.”

“And they couldn’t satisfy you,” Aemond says, taunting, proud, setting your blood on fire.

“No. They couldn’t. Not even close.”

You both stand silently in the kitchen amidst a cascade of inconsequential noise: Eurythmics from the little pink boombox, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from Cadi’s room, cicadas and bullfrogs and the long-eared owl from the world outside that is primordial and feral and green. For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel not like the piecemeal potential of a desirable woman but whole. Aemond’s right eye traces every curve and edge of you in a way that makes you think: Maybe I will see him again after all.

“Come on,” you say, turning towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when he steps onto the creaking porch—pulling on his Marlboro jacket, watching lightning bugs bloom like daisies in the yard—Aemond seems to be stalling. “This is lopsided,” he says, tapping the wooden boards with his Adidas sneakers.

“I know. The whole foundation is, it’s sinking. We’ll have to move eventually. But we’ve been in this place since Cadi was five, it has a lot of memories. She calls it the Fall-Down House.”

“Cute,” Aemond says, but he’s pondering something. “Do you own it?”

“Oh no, God no. We rent.”

“Are you saving for a down payment to put on a new house?”

This is a rude question. “A little,” you reply curtly. Not enough. You need to make money to save money.

“Okay.” Aemond senses your discomfort. He’s good at that; it’s an advantageous skill for a dom to possess, knowing when he’s approaching a limit long before you have to shut him down. He descends the porch steps. “I’ll be back for more of those cupcakes—” There is a shrill, alien hissing from out by the tree line. Aemond shouts and scrambles back onto the porch, throwing an arm in front of you to shield you from his enigmatic nocturnal adversary. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just a gator,” you reassure him, amused.

“A what?”

“An alligator.” You show him the shadow that lurks beneath a young oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “She’s over there. Just stay on the gravel once you get off the porch.”

Aemond is puzzled. How does anyone live in this hellscape? his face says. “How do you know it’s a female?”

“She’s not too big, and she doesn’t bellow. But she sure loves to hiss.”

“I think alligators should have gone extinct with the rest of the dinosaurs.”

“Well, there’s a secret to dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

You smile, skating your fingers into the sleeve of Aemond’s Marlboro jacket and up his forearm until you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “If she gets mean, you just have to bite back.”

Aemond chuckles, turns your face towards his, kisses the apple your cheek…and then, for only a moment, his teeth close around the sensitive flesh there leaving a whirlpool of pulsing, forbidden heat. He whispers through your hair: “See you soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” he says, severely now. It’s a commandment, it’s a need. “I absolutely will.”

Aemond leaves you, strides across the gravel driveway without glancing back, ducks into his car, lights a cigarette; you can see the rust-colored glow through the windshield as he takes a drag. You wait in a flurry of moths under the dim florescent bulb of the front porch until his Audi Quattro veers onto Route 401 and disappears.

I hope he meant it, you think as a lightning bug lands on your knuckles and illuminates there like the gemstone of a ring. I hope I’ll see him again.

Then you shake away the insect and go inside to see if Cadi wants to help you clean up the kitchen and get a brown sugar pie baked for tomorrow. As compensation, you’ll offer her the $10 bill Aemond gave you for the cupcakes.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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valwrote · 1 year ago

Text

A PREPOSTEROUS PREDICAMENT

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader

summary: a baker gets framed for a crime she didn't commit. neuvilette comes to her aid as they embark on a crime solving journey full of banter, mysteries and connections.

contains : mention of poisoning, murder and death, usage of she/her pronouns, hurt/comfort if you squint, playful banter, a bit crack energy, neuvillette is such a softie, mentions of voicelines from neuvillette's chatacter quest (no major spoliers), more of a story than a romance based but it has its fluff moments, slight ooc, alot of dividers (sorry), may be incorrect in terms of court proceedings and laws overall because I am not a law student :')

a/n: this was based on @sxttoruu 's idea. thank you for inspiring me to write something. This isn't as romantic because I want to keep it realistic as people who are getting to know each other closely for the first time don't immediately fall in love. Enjoy!

p.s. italics are for flashbacks or events that have already taken place.

not proof read.

w/c: 4.5k words

I heard they were enemies turned lovers."

“Rotten to the core!”

“You are the murderer!”

Neuvilette has beheld this sight yet again. His deep hues gently rested their gaze on the commotion before him. Despite upholding his position as the Ludex of the Fontaine Court – it seemed nothing more than a theatre segment.

Recently, cases were mundane and yawn-evoking. Lady Furina had attained severe apathy towards all conflicts.

However, one thing which had created the slightest amusement in his life was one bakery and perhaps the best bakery in the Court of Fontaine region. The owner was a kind soul with the brightest smile and the sweetest loaves of bread in her arsenal. That baker was Y/N.

Though Neuvillette never exchanged words with her, that smile was enough to brighten his day. The bakery was always bustling with not a single moment of solitude. Many asked the secret behind these one-of-a-kind baked goods, to which she would always reply with “Love.”

Yet things spiralled into turmoil on one faithful day.

It was the 50th anniversary of Fontaine’s most prosperous business company. Mr Cornielle was a reputed man with expertise in his niche. He had commissioned the baker as his caterer for the occasion, to which the baker complied.

The party was a grand set-up. Fontaine’s most influential people had been invited as the guests but would be deemed incomplete without the Ludex and the Archon herself.

The blissful environment with bubbling refreshments was a sight to behold. Neuvilette acquainted himself with few folks, yet his eyes drifted across the room, searching for something or perhaps someone.

Was it the baker he sought? He didn’t know himself. Neuvillette constantly had his head boggled with numerous unanswered questions that he kept to himself. Yet it was unequivocal that the baker piqued his interest. Neuvillette just couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

The laughter that surged through the hallways turned into chaos and screams of distress as the host. Mr Cornielle crashed to the floor, mid-conversation, seemingly foaming at his mouth.

“Everyone, please remain quiet and step away from the victim,” Neuvillette spoke up, creating distance between the guests and the fallen man. “Such gal! To commit such a heinous crime that to in my presence. The perpetrator must not fear anything.” Lady Furina marvelled at the audacity of the offender while taking in the situation up-front.

Neuvillette brushed over her antics and turned to face the person conversing with the victim before the incident, his eyes searching for answers.

“He was talking about the company and its achievements while sipping on the wine before…this.” The person in question stammered out, shaken from the whole ordeal.

“Anything else?”

“Well, he was taste-testing the delicacies before the wine.”

Gasps erupted from the crowd as the heads turned towards the baker, who tended to the service trays. Y/N lifted her head, a sweet and proud smile dancing across her lips that soon disappeared after noticing all the eyes on her.

“She did it! She killed Mr Cornielle.”

“Arrest her!”

“Lady Furina, do something!?”

“Seize her,” Furina spoke up, pointing at the baker, whose eyes had widened like saucers. “No, please! I didn’t do anything, I swear! Don’t take me away!” The baker's pleas received no sympathy as the guards dragged her away. She could hear the murmurs amongst the crowd.

“Such heinous act.”

“Wonder if all those years of goodwill were a mere facade?”

The baker’s head hung low from shame. “I have failed you, father.” she grieved and was taken away from the scene.

The stage lights flashed open, highlighting the accused. Trials in Fontaine are like drama, is a saying that lived up to its name.

“Charges have been pressed against the baker regarding murder through poisoning. All shreds of evidence are in opposition to the condemned. Would the accused like to speak up for themselves?” Neuvillette’s voice bellowed throughout the hall as all eyes narrowed at the person in the middle.

“I didn’t do it, I swear!” the baker pleaded.

“Nonsense! Who else would dare poison such an influential man?”

“I would like everyone to maintain the decorum of the court.” Neuvillette commented. “As all evidence seems to line up against Ms Y/N. I hereby declare her guilty until further investigation on this matter. Guards to escort her to the Fortress of Meropide. The court is adjourned.”

The rainfall after that trial was full of doubt, leaving a gloomy aftermath.

“Oh! hydrodragon, hydrodragon. Please don’t cry.”

The Fortress of Meropide, in all its grandeur, was the last place the baker wanted to be in. She longed for the bright sun and brisk winds. The cold shackles clung to her hardworking palms as she sat behind bars. It was not long before footsteps echoed down the dark hallways. She could make out a faint outline of a familiar silhouette.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” the baker croaked out. She could see the Ludex of Fontaine in all his glory right in front of her eyes. An aura of authority followed him. The baker found her words stuck in her throat.

“I want the truth.” He said, getting straight to the point.

“I didn’t do it. I made those dishes with my own two hands. I swear upon my father’s legacy that I lack the spine to commit such a felony.” The baker stated without a single falter. Neuvillette seemed pleased with the answer. He admired the baker’s willpower to stand up for herself. Humans were unpredictable.

“Answer this. If given a chance, would you do anything to prove your innocence?” He asked that question. Humans were peculiar in terms of communication. One word may sting them to their core, while the other may send them over the moon.

“You are going to grant that baker a monitored bail?” Furina asked, baffled.

“Yes. I hope you don’t object to my actions, Lady Furina.” Neuvillette nodded, reinforcing his previous statement.

“But why? All the attestations are against her?”

“...” Neuvillette remained silent before getting up and leaving.

“HEY! NEUVILLETTE! Where are you going!?” He could hear the last of her words before exiting the room.

You will see much in the human world, from the delightful to the depressing. One day, when you have dwelled amongst humanity long enough, you will bring judgment as a spokesperson for Fontaine’s past.

Those words made Neuvillette question his emotions. He was in a battle between his sense of justice and morality. Part of him couldn’t accept the baker as the culprit. There had to be something that was missing. Something purposefully hidden from the public.

“I will. Anything to prove my innocence.” the baker affirmed his question. Neuvillette had to suppress the smile threatening to show itself. “Very well. Then, I shall grant you a monitored bail during the next hearing.” He spoke, maintaining the formality in his tone before turning around to leave.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Monseiur, who will monitor me?”

“Ah yes, That would be me.”

"As per the law, a person without a lawyer has two choices. Either get a government-assigned lawyer to defend them or fight for their case themselves." The Court was crowded and bustling. It irked Neuvillette just a bit. To these people, trials were drama shows they could flock to. Neuvillette never liked trials being dramatic affairs in his time as the Chief Justice.

"How would the accused like to defend their stead?"

"I will fight my case myself." Y/N spoke up, slight uncertainty in her tone.

"Is that woman crazy?'

"No way. This case keeps getting interesting!"

The cacophony of mockery and laughter made her confidence plummet to the ground. It was hopeless. How could she possibly fight her case alone? She should go with the lawyer.

"Granted. You have two weeks to gather evidence to prove your innocence under a monitored bail. If you fail, life imprisonment for homicide will be your sentence.”

"You will be monitoring me, Monsieur?!"

"Yes. Any objections?"

"No, just why?"

Neuvillette remained silent. He seemed to be threading his words carefully.

"....to find answers to certain questions. So far, morality is winning."

"Huh?" The baker tilted her in his cryptic response.

"Nothing. The hearing will begin at 8 a.m. sharp. Be punctual."

"The Court is adjourned."

Y/N stood in the now-empty courtroom before she spotted Neuvilette approach her. “Here, this should help you on this journey of fighting for your innocence.” He handed her the book and bid her farewell. Y/N brought the book closer to her face to analyse it better.

GUIDE TO CONDUCTING INVESTIGATIONS AS A NOVICE.

ANYONE CAN FOLLOW THIS QUICK AND EASY GUIDE!

Y/N blinked in utter confusion before chuckling at his antics.

STAGE 1: FAMILIARIZING YOURSELF WITH THE PAST

Additional: Familiarize yourself with the Chief Justice.

The clock was now ticking.

The investigation had kicked off. Y/N found herself more immersed in her thoughts. She was digging out potential clues and links. Delving deep into Mr. Cornielle’s past gave her an insight into the whole matter. Who was he meeting? What were his plans? Which people did he get into a disagreement with often? All questions seemed to answer themselves one by one.

Y/N sat in her room, deep in thought. She was under house arrest as of now. Neuvillette would accompany her around when she was outside. When busy, she would just hang out in his office. Y/N had developed a sense of truth when it came to Neuvillette. He had certainly earned it with his actions. He was a man clouded with mystery.

Though, he did seem to have a strange liking towards melusines and magic shows. She found that endearing about him. Neuvillette was a man, gentle and poise, gracing every place he went to. Though he was a dork when it came to said things.

He would mutter curses each time his hair or robe got stuck in one of the chairs. He tended to be a food critic. He may be polite about it, but he wasn't the best at hiding that he disliked dry food. If the food wasn't wet, he didn't want it. Both of them had grown to appreciate the other’s company.

"If my memory serves me right, Mr Cornielle in a political rivalry with Mr Etienne? They both clash heads. Their history is notorious among the locals. He can be a potential suspect."

"I have worked for that Etienne fellow. Before I started my business as an independent baker, I used to work for him to earn my daily meals. I knew that man is never up to any good. I have heard him threaten to kill Mister Corneille on multiple occasions."

"That is a big lead. You can work on that and visit the crime scene to scope the evidence."

"Wait. Are you helping me, Monsieur?" she mused- a smirk creeping onto her face.

"No. I am mere brainstorming. All the brains applied here are yours. I am simply giving my input."

"Uh-huh..."

"The investigators found a discarded poison vial. It had moisture on its exterior. From the taste of the water, it must've been transported here from Sumeru to Fontaine's port."

"I see. That can be a big clue if we find the receipt- wait, did you say– from the taste of the water??"

"..."

"Monsieur Neuvillette, are you implying that you licked the bottle and figured out it came from Sumeru? More importantly, how do you even know the difference between the waters of different nations?!"

"I think Lady Furina is calling me. Farewell."

"You aren’t denying that you licked the bottle! HEY! COME BACK! I NEED ANSWERS!"

STAGE 2: GOING TO THE CRIME SCENE

Additional: Getting jump scared and falling into a secret room only to get spooked again.

Y/N felt like she was an incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. She kept inspecting every surface for potential clues, scoping out corners in classic detective fashion. She couldn’t spot anything connected to the crime. That was until she entered the changing rooms. Something didn’t seem right to her. She didn’t put anything in the delicacies. It must’ve been one of the waiters who must’ve tinkered with the food.

The room was dimly lit and elegant. The lockers were neat and had mirrors on the end of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“You are supposed to inform me before wandering off by yourself. Might I remind you that you are still under monitored bail,” Neuvillette approached her from behind. Y/N, startled by his appearance, lost her footing and fell towards the mirror. To their shock, the mirror flipped open. She crashed into a dark, dusty room.

“Are you okay?” Neuvillette asked with worry before entering the room behind the mirror. It was hard to make out what was in there.

“I am okay.” She groaned before opening the flashlight. The room was empty. She walked a bit further, swaying the flashlight left-right to emit any corner hiding some clue. She spotted what seemed to be an identification sigil.

“Monsieur, I found something.”

“Hm? What is it?” Neuvillette approached her and inspected the sigil. “It is a Fatui sigil. One which operatives use.” She made a mental note of it and flashed her flashlight up ahead, only to meet a horrifying sight that made her shriek and cling to Neuvillette’s tall stature. He was startled as well.

“What’s wrong?”

“Up ahead! It’s a man tied up.”

The statement raised his guard as he took the flashlight and pointed it straight. It was a man tied up with ropes and a gag in his mouth. He seemed to be unconscious and only in his underwear. “I would like to propose a theory.” He started. “It would appear that the culprit caught his man and disguised themselves as a waiter to sneak into the party undetected.”

“That can be a possibility. After all, I did suspect that one of the waiters messed with the food.”

“I will call the concerned authorities to get this man to a doctor. You can get off me now. I never knew you so easily frightened.” Neuvillette mused. He thought he had been amidst humans long enough to know about their behaviour. However, every time, a new antic would reveal itself.

“Scared? Me? Of course not! I was just making sure you weren’t scared!” She defensively retorted.

“By clinging on to me for dear life? How so?” Neuvillette mused at her.

“How about we save the man in bondage first?” She brushed over his question and changed the topic. Neuvillette chose not to pry further and left to call for assistance.

STAGE 3: ONE CLUE LEADS TO ANOTHER

Additional: Quality bonding time with the Ludex.

“I am not fighting a Fatui Operator. I am a baker! Do you expect me to fight someone with a baguette!?” Y/N gaped at him.

“If you fight with a baguette or any pastry for that matter, the Operator will first chuckle at your antics and then proceed to dispose of you,” Neuvillette stated the obvious and kept walking straight. Mont Esus East was a mountainous terrain. The walking made the baker’s leg feel like jellies.

“How much longer do we have to walk!” She whined and stopped walking. “A bit more. Don’t give up now. We can’t let this turn into a futile attempt.” Neuvillette ushered her to keep going. After traversing for what felt like an eternity, they spotted a small camp.

“Okay. Monsieur, I am serious. How are we going to fight those tough guys.” Y/N patiently waited for him to explain his plan, but nothing came. “We go and engage in battle. It is a straightforward plan.” Neuvillette began approaching the camp. He didn’t strike her as someone who could fight off bad guys. She watched as Neuvillette made quick work of the Operators.

“Woah- you don’t come off as someone who can brawl!” Y/N marvelled, her eyes twinkling in admiration.

“I don’t recall ever reading about a judge who can fight.” Neuvillette shrugged.

“You are right, Monsieur. The stereotype of all judges being oldies is quite common among people. No offence.”

“Offence taken.”

“What? HEY! We both know I was joking!” Y/N quickly replied. She didn’t want to anger him unintentionally.

“So was I.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind,” Neuvillette sighed. It appeared to him that he had to work on his people skills. The baker brushed over the awkward atmosphere and examined the records inside the camp. There were all sorts of legal documents. Old, damp or torn, you name it.

“Gosh, so hard to make out what exactly is written on these.” The baker rummaged through the piles of paper only to find a slightly torn document. It was from a small-scale herbal pharmacy in Sumeru. The document talked about a poison capable of killing someone in under a minute. What stood out the most was the signature at the bottom of the recipient.

“This is it. That is no doubt Etienne’s signature.” Neuvillette spoke, seeing the document himself.

“Let’s go. We must show this to everyone.”

“Not so fast. Night has caved in. We should stay here and leave tomorrow at sunrise.” He quickly shunned her advances.

“But Monsieur!”

“No buts.” He remained firm on his decision. Had it been just him, he would’ve departed despite the darkness, but now, with a person by his side, he felt responsible for their safety and chose prevention instead.

Silence engulfed the camp before the baker spoke, “It's funny how quickly people change opinions. All this time, I have done nothing but feed people and bring smiles to their faces, yet I got accused of something I didn’t do. People can be so shallow.” Neuvillette’s gaze soften. He understood the feeling of becoming an outcast better than anyone. “I agree.”

“Monsieur, why are you helping me?”

“I apologise if it comes off as something I am doing for my gain, but I am doing this to help you. I can’t explain it, but some part of me kept telling me that there is more than what meets the eye and that I must delve deeper. As the Chief Justice, I can’t afford to be shallow and only go off based on what I see. There is always more to the truth than rumours and gossip.” Neuvillette voiced his reasoning. He could hear hiccups from the baker, an indication of tears.

His heart ached. This situation was Neuvillette’s flaw. He always seemed to get emotionally affected by the plight of people. “I am aware that I am not in a position to say this, but you are worth fighting for. Everyone is. Each individual deserves a chance.” He wasn’t the best when it came to comforting people. He could only try.

“Y-you think so? I don’t know how I will rebound from this incident. My business will be in shambles. I won’t be able to fulfil my promise to my father.” she wiped her tears away. “I may not be the best at giving solutions, but if you trust my judgement, I’d like to quote, “When there is a will, there is a way.” That captures my advice for you.” Neuvillette mustered his best uplifting tone, a contrast to his usual authoritative one.

“Thank you." The baker paused before continuing, "Oh! Look, it’s raining.” The baker pointed out. “Apologies, this is going to be an inconvenience tomorrow.” Neuvillette sighed.

“Why are you sorry, Monsieur?”

“No reason.”

The baker sighed. Neuvillette was a tough one to figure out.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” The baker muttered under her breath, which caught his attention. “You believe in that local legend as well? I don’t get why people think that the hydro dragon weeps. Perhaps he gets stirred by all the tears that fall on this land.” Neuvillette pondered about the legend in slight exasperation.

The baker chuckled at him. “Perhaps people think that the hydro dragon deserves comfort as well.”

Monsoon had dawned upon Fontaine.

"When is this rain going to stop?"

"My vacation plans are spoilt."

Neuvillette could hear them all. A solemn feeling engulfed him as the raindrops collided with the floor, creating pitter-patter Sorrows, grievances, questions, mysteries and conflicts, all get washed away with the flowing waters.

The human world was both delightful and depressing. Neuvillette had grown accustomed to his responsibilities, yet when the clear sunny skies shined above him, he was mindful of enjoying the warmth they brought, reminiscing the memories of his friends who wished him stress-free days.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” he heard a young boy yell that phrase amidst the rain.

“Archenoul! Honey, come inside. You will get wet!” his mother called out.

“Coming! I was just comforting the hydro dragon!”

He couldn't stop his lips from curling up into a smile.

He had always questioned his existence. He tried to connect his past, answering questions that remained unanswered. Yet the sunny days and small moments like such burnt all those thoughts away with their radiance and brought light to his life.

“Comforting the hydro dragon? A silly idea. It is endearing.” Neuvillette spoke after breaking away from his thoughts.

“I know. Wonder who came up with it.” The baker chuckled. The rain slowly came to a halt as time progressed.

STAGE FOUR: FIGHTING THE CASE

“I would like to request Mr. Etienne to come up front.” The baker stood with confidence in front of all eyes.

“Very well. Why exactly do you require my presence?” Etienne stepped up. He was an equally influential businessman. His involvement only made this trial more interesting. “You are known to have a long history with Mr. Cornielle. Both of you were involved in a toxic rivalry.”

“Are you implying that I killed him?” The man’s face showed hints of anger.

“I never said that.” The baker quickly replied and moved on. “There was a vial in one of the dustbins. It contained the poison that killed Mr.Cornielle. It originates from Sumeru.”

“How can you prove that it is from Sumeru? That is unless you purchased that bottle yourself, Ms. Y/N.” The man turned the tables. It was now a game of volleyball. The only question that remained was, who’s court will the ball end up in by the end?

“You are right. I can’t prove the bottle’s origin, but this paper does.” The baker pulled out the torn sheets found earlier at the camp. “These are receipts of purchases. Multiple items were imported from Sumeru, including a vial. These documents happen to have your signature on them.”

“Let’s be real Mr.Etienne. Either you confess your crime, or I will narrate your ‘masterplan’ in front of everyone,” Y/N looked him dead in the eye.

“Fine. I did kill that bastard with my own hands.” Gasps echoed in the hall. Lady Furina had an expression of shock on her face. “That stupid Cornielle. He always found a way to be an obstacle on my way to success. If he had kept his nose out of my business…”

Everyone could tell at that given moment that the man was a lunatic.

“I did sneak into the party that night. I disguised myself as a waiter and snuck the poison into his food. The Fatui were very helpful in the import of the goods without raising suspicions. Just as I had planned, all the blame was pinpointed at you, Ms.Y/N.” He started laughing sinisterly.

The atmosphere had turned eerie and cold. People could feel goosebumps on their arms. “My plan was perfect, but an anomaly snuck in.” The businessman gazed at Neuvillette, who sat in his chair, eyeing the entire scene.

There was a moment of brief silence.

“It seems that it is clear now. Mr Etienne killed Mr Cornielle out of sheer jealousy. He used his alliance with the Fatui to obtain the poison to kill him in cold blood. Then he skillfully made it appear as Ms Y/N’s fault who was sent to jail while Mr Etienne roamed free. Mr Etienne, you are declared guilty of homicide, framing the innocent, inflicting violence and importing illegal goods across national borders. You are sentenced to life imprisonment till your execution date.” Neuvillette stated and ordered the guards to take the businessman away.

“I know you were involved in this Ludex! I will make you pay!” the man screamed till taken away by the guards. Neuvillette sighed before continuing,

“I declare Ms Y/N not guilty and wish her a prosperous business from here on. The court is adjourned.” He finished as the Court slowly began to clear out. Y/N let out a breath of relief. It felt like a huge boulder was taken off her shoulders. She had proved herself innocent.

STAGE FIVE: CELEBRATE YOUR VICTORY

Additional: towards the future with a new special someone.

It had been a few months since that fateful incident. Everyone's tongues had the same question. How did the baker do it? Neither the baker nor the Ludex reveals it. The bakery’s business was booming more than ever. People came, enjoyed their meals and left. Life was back to normal.

The evening sun was making its descent. The shop was now empty and Y/N was busy cleaning the counters.

“Is the shop still open?” a familiar voice made her ears perk up. “Monsieur Neuvillette!” The baker turned around to see the familiar blue and white robe and tall stature. “Greetings I hope you haven’t faced any unpleasantries up till now.” the man asked as the baker tackled him into a hug. It caught the Chief Justice off guard, yet a warm feeling spread across his chest.

“Oh- sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” the baker profusely apologized.

“I believe it is fine. We have spent time together long enough to be well acquainted.” Neuvillette waved his hand dismissively.

“Come! Sit down! I will get you something.” The baker offered, but Neuvillette shook his head and politely declined.

“Maybe next time. I was just passing by so, I thought I would pay a quick visit. My schedule is full till next month but I will be sure to come whenever time permits.”

“You better come! I will serve you all of my bestsellers!” the baker shot him a toothy grin.

“Is this perhaps a way for you to mug me off my money?” Neuvillette raised a brow at her. Will she get his attempt at humour this time?

“Mug you? No! It is called a business strategy.” The baker proudly chimed with her hands on her hips. She did take his joke this time.

Neuvillette was enjoying this small yet sweet conversation with the baker. It was lively, and lighthearted and felt nice after a long day. He could get used to the baker’s effervescent personality.

He feels a bit queasy. What are these feelings? Such unrestful emotions are similar to what humans feel when they enjoy someone’s company. Why is this happening all of a sudden?

"Neuvillette!" His thoughts are cut short by her gleaming smile. "Thank you."

It had been a while since he heard those words. His statement from earlier had now become a concrete thought in his mind. The baker was worth choosing his morality over his judgment for.

A smile finally shined on his face.

"You're welcome."

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