#I already got asked about maybe picking up a shift which might be a red flag? but I know how to say no if I need to so I'll be fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writinandcrying · 11 days ago

Text

How does the 2003 turtles react to crushes - part 1

Just a little thing cuz I miss writing, i miss tmnt and I haven’t got the time to do a full one shot or mashup in MONTHS 😔, I’m still on season 1-2 so if anything is a bit too ooc, I apologize! I love reading about crushes, first kisses, first loves, so this is for my puppy love stage lovers out there!! p.s: there's a poll for the next turtle by the end of the headcanon, make sure to vote your favorite! <3

(English is not my first language and I have dyslexia, I try to check everything before posting but sometimes grammar mistakes still happen, I apologize in advance if you find one!)

Leo

That’s some deeply repressed, effortless devotion energy right there, Leo is a pro at pretending that everything is fine, keeping it cool, but on the inside? so freaking nervous it’s not even funny

it's almost creepy how quiet he suddenly gets near you on your first visits, he acts in such a secluded but... odd way that everyone know something is up with him, but no one really knows what.

His younger brothers are all 🤨 over how he’s acting, at first, they noticed tiny shifts in his behaviors, they weren’t big enough to raise a red flag of such change, but when Leo shows how inpatient and careless he has become in training or meditating, then they KNOW something was really off . he has been careless for the silliest things as well, breaking the toaster more than once a week, forgetting to nag them about the open toothpaste, stuff he usually wouldn't miss it, but suddenly he doesn't mind it anymore.

None of them have the guts to ask him (Raph and Mikey might tease here and there, but you know, it’s Raph and Mikey) Don might find himself studying his brother from time to time, interested to why his older brother is being way more introspective than before, he wonders if maybe he’s going through a natural turtle process of some sort April is the only one who truly leaves him be, but as your visits become more frequent, it all clicks when you randomly stop by to deliver some groceries by Master Splinter request.

The pure lovesick look he glances at you when you first enter... you caught him completely off guard as he was leaving the dojo with Master Splinter, his dementor shifted back rapidly to stoic, but April noticed it, her eyes widened slightly as it all made sense, softening right after. Leo helps you with the groceries with agility, as Master Splinter excuses himself after he thanks you, he even dares to make small talk after an extremely long and awkward moment of silence (which he researched his possible lines in his head several times, made up several scenarios in which topic it could lead into, I might add) We have seen how Leo reacts to Usagi in the series (he has a fat crush on each other and I’m right) so you know even if he is indeed nervous, Leo is so dedicated to your well-being, attentive to your needs and inputs to missions or even movie debates, it’s heartwarming to see how inclusive he can be of you. He notices everything – Not in an obvious way, or a loud way, but in a way that means you’ll never have to ask him twice about something important to you. You mention offhand that you like a certain type of tea? He remembers. You’re shivering? He’s already handing you his jacket before you can say a word. The exact moment you get tired even before you admit it.

One day at training after sparring, you absentmindedly rubbed your wrist. You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain at the pain you might have felt, but later that night, you find a perfectly wrapped bandage roll left on top of your bag. No note. No explanation. You glance at Leo, and he’s just calmly cleaning his takana, pretending like he has no idea what you’re looking at. He’s not the type to shower you with words, but his actions speak volumes. He makes sure you always walk on the safe path while coming back from a mission or scorting you back home, he picks whatever condiment out of your food because he remembers you don’t like them. He’ll “coincidentally” be around when you need help, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He's gentle, kind, and a true gentleman, he makes sure his presence is there. He effortlessly puts so much thought into you, it’s just how his mind works.

He disliked how nervous he first got around you, but after a while, he didn’t even realize how he had grown used to thinking about you. He grabs an extra bottle of water without thinking because you might be thirsty later. His brothers joke that he’s got favorites, and he just denies it, but deep down? Yeah. It’s you. Eventually, he has to talk to someone, and he chooses to confide in April about… well, everything? regarding feelings, about how to be sure, what does it feel like to love someone and how should he react to it? wait, did he say love? How can he stop his hands from getting so sweaty? this is ridiculous, should he feel anxious and at ease around you all at the same time? From time to time, he tells himself he doesn’t like you like that, that he’s just looking out for you because you’re part of the team, part of the family. that's just him being a leader, That’s all it is.

his train of thought is broken as he hears Mikey chuckle “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Leo stiffens, cleaning his throat as he turns he page of his book a bit too slow “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you SO do.” Mikey grins. “The ‘eyes-follow-them-every-time-they-leave-the-room’ thing? The ‘silent-knight-hovering’ thing? classic move, real smooth.”

Leo exhales through his nose, forcing himself to focus on back his book. It’s not like that. It can’t be. "Maybe you should tell them, who knows, they might be looking back right at ya" Mikey winks at him, biting on this apple as he sits on the couch, turning on the tv. Maybe he was looking at you too long, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, or his brothers just, unfortunately, know him too well and finally caught up. He prided himself and his control, his calm exterior, carefully managed. but maybe you slip through the cracks. He can't help but to continue notice how eyes shine brighter when you smile, remembering every little thing about you, doing things that only you get to see. Deep down, he knows. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

#2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt headcanons #giulia writes #tmnt 2003 headcanons

130 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 6 months ago

Text

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … HOT TO GO! ♡

5, 6, 5678!

the day had come — and of course, at the busiest hour of pizzadeliveryboy!popes shift. they still had this janky red landline phone from the 80’s in the kitchen of the restaurant, with possibly the most obnoxious ring one could fathom. like, really — it was no wonder these things weren’t household items anymore. the sound was ear piercing.

popes too busy sprinkling cheese to pick up — so you’re greeted with a disinterested thirty-something year old who barely got out his ‘you’ve reached HTG Pizza how can i help ya—” before you were blasting his ear off with—

“PUT POPE ON THE PHONE!”

you had broken up with your boyfriend. one year of toxicity, pain and torment all in the name of saving face. kook life was cruel, and appearance so often mattered more than feeling — and though your boyfriend treated you terribly… the life was safe and sweet.

maybe you were the cruel one for making pope wait. he’d been too patient for his own good— watching you try to uphold your perfect reputation whilst confiding in him on the side. he knew you were a sweet girl, simply making a bunch of not so sweet choices, and pope would never condone cheating — but soon the two of you started fooling around, which lead to you screwing around (which is just fooling around without dinner.) and just like that, he’d caught feelings.

he’d do anything to break the two of you up. no really — the term ‘praying on someone’s downfall’ was never something that the heyward boy was familiar with until he met you. it started off as petty things, reporting every instagram picture of the two of you together. this quickly evolved into sending you check in texts at angel number hours like 11:11, so that maybe you’d think some divine figure was trying to guide the two of you together. terribly enough, he even dragged kiara down to that crystal shop downtown so he could ask the nice lady with pretty feathers in her hair what crystal he could use to break you up with your boyfriend.

kiara told him in was bad karma to pray on peoples downfall.

but now he’s cycling to your house, your empty house might he mention and all but dumping his bike on your front lawn because for once it doesn’t matter who sees. hell, he even ripped off the uniform visor on his head and tossed it. you’re there at the door waiting for him under the warm porch light in just a skirt and bra like you’d already worked on getting your clothes off for him.

“i’m so sorry i had to finish my shift i obviously would have come as soon as—” he’s rambling before he’s reached you, but you’re shaking your head with a purely lustful look in your eye, breathing out a—

“— shut up.”

and as soon as he’s reached you you’re diving into his arms, legs round his waist — lips to his and you really, really didn’t care who saw. you fumble for the door anyway, the two of you bumping into things as you slam it shut behind the two of you. he takes his lips away just for a second to suck in a breath and whisper “i didn’t bring any pizza this time—” but you clearly didn’t care, stuffing your tongue back into his mouth. well, that settles that. it was never about the pizza.

every surface. pope heyward was doing you on every flat surface of that egregiously large house of yours — and soon, after much loud and bordering on aggressive sex, you’ve finally wound up on your back in bed, staring into eachothers eyes as he rolls his hips, little “ohhh, ah, ah…”’s leaving your sore and sensitive mouth.

“god i’m so glad to have you now. i can have you now, right?” popes brows furrow, looking desperate and urgent. the two of you had sweat so much he doesn’t even smell like stuffed crusts and garlic dip anymore.

“was always yours. m’sorry pope i’m so sorry!” you sob when the curve in his cock nudges your cervix because he can’t help but bottom out fully when you say it. he kept anticipating that he’d wake up to his alarm and this had all been a beautiful dream, reminding him to hang on just another day.

“you’re okay i— i’d wait forever for this. fuck.” he shudders, face dropping for a moment to press an earnest kiss to your collar bone.

“can i tell you something?” you grasp him, speaking in a hushed tone, saved for a vulnerable moment like this.

“anything!” he promises, back to eye level.

“i…i really don’t like the pizza you’d bring, i mean papa johns is just way better—”

“no yeah that’s completely understandable. i mean totally—”

you’re rolling him onto his back now. the undying urge to make up for lost time taking over and instantly you’re sinking down onto his length and grinding like your life depended on it.

“shit. oh my god.” he groans, dishevelled in your pink sheets. a hand comes to his forehead in disbelief at the sight of your naked body riding him like this, so different from your usual rushed encounters before anyone returns home or in the back of his pizza fan — and the other thumb grazes your clit, eyes glued to the way you’re swallowing him, leaving a creamy ring at his flushed base.

you follow his gaze, reaching down to spread yourself for him. quite the sight.

“who’s is it?” he presses your clit and you howl, clutching his wrist. “who’s baby? tell me please.”

“yours pope!” you cry.

“who’s?”

“s’all yours pope! it always was!”

perhaps he knew this already, but god did it feel good to hear.

#chicago mentioned….. iykyk #hotpizzadeliveryboy!pope #pope heyward prompt

336 notes · View notes

littlemissmiller · 8 months ago

Text

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) with your graduation party around the corner, coriolanus is nervous to see you again. and with summer flying by, it’s doubtful he’ll get to have you as his own before college. after your party, your boyfriend throws a house party and you decide not to go. meanwhile, coriolanus sees something that involves your boyfriend and knows it might just be the end of your relationship…

Warning: 21+ (drinking, use of drugs, smoking) underage drinking, eventual smut, fluff, mentions of smut, boob groping (not done to MC), slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: hi…… (•_____•) ok it’s finally here. i was trying to get this out sooner but now that billy is done (which ugh cant wait for the next season already 😩) i’ll have more time to delicate to this series. also i was getting a request done and still have another coming up. so chapter three…not much to say other than oh boy the plot is getting juicy and im so happy with this one! ok that’s it ummm sorry for the time length on these but i will be writing it all summer so enjoy ❣︎

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

A few weeks had gone by and Coriolanus’s high hopes of having you to himself was dwindling. It’s not like he saw much of you anymore, and had no idea how to hang out with you alone without your boyfriend stirring up shit. He received your graduation party invitation and was mentally preparing to see you again. Each time he went to Sejanus’s house, he would check to see if you were home, and sometimes you’d be outside. He would awkwardly wave and you’d smile back. Something he noticed however, was the fact that he seems to see less and less of Devon’s car. Coriolanus would try not to get ahead of himself, but he could help but think maybe you and Devon were closer to breaking up. Still, that gave him little hope since he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

As he sits with Sejanus in his room, he slowly blows out the smoke from his joint, through his window. Sejanus coughs and turns his head.

“You know you could use this from time to time. You might be less anxious.”

“Maybe…”

The high flows through him, his mind going numb, his body feeling light and calm. He takes another hit before knocking off the ashes and settling it on his ashtray. Another euphoric wave washes over him again and he leans back in his chair and sighs. He takes a swig from his Red Bull and picks up his controller.

“Wanna do teams this time, kinda wanna get some online stats up.”

“Yeah”

As the two boys continue their game, Coriolanus is glad to not feel as pent up and angry. He finally feels like his mind isn’t obsessing over you for the first time all day. It has become a daily, if not hourly occurrence. His mind racing with thoughts. Thoughts of you, naked before him, your beautiful mouth agape and ready and you begging to suck him off. He would also imagine you on all fours, your perfect ass stuck up in the air, pussy on full display. What he would give to rub his face in it, bury his tongue deep inside you until you came.

Coriolanus shifts in his seat, his thoughts now fully back on you. Just as he thought he was doing better with his fantasies of you He takes another hit to drown out his feelings.

“Aw man these guys are good.” Sejanus exclaims

“We can beat them…”

The two boys finish the round, beating the other team. They play a few more rounds, then Tigris knocks on the door.

“Oh god, how can it still smell with the windows open.” She asks, face scrunching up

“I lit a candle” Coriolanus quips

“Still, anyways, I got you an outfit for tomorrow.”

“Oh you’re going too?” Sejanus questions

“Why wouldn’t I?” Coriolanus shrugs

“Because of Devon.”

Tigris leaves momentarily and comes back with a nice white button up, decorated with small red roses. Even with the design, it’s still masculine enough for Coriolanus liking. They were small enough to look like scattered polka dots and honestly it’s very sophisticated and sexy.

“It should fit. I borrowed your graduation shirt for measurements and I think that nice pair of your dad’s of black khakis will look perfect.”

“You made this?” He asks

Tigris nods with a big smile.

“Well I thought that she’d like it. Leave Devon for you. You’re far more handsome anyways.”

She, referring to you. Of course Tigris knows without him saying anything. He doesn’t mind. Coriolanus' heart skips and he smiles back at his cousin, appreciating the kind gesture.

“I appreciate it, Ty.” Of course

Tigris waits as he tries it on. He takes his shirt off and buttons up the new one. Coriolanus looks in the mirror. It fits him just right and he likes how it cuts into his figure.

“Yeah. It’s perfect.” He moves his arms around making sure it wasn’t too tight in any places.

Tigris smiles and leaves the room. Coriolanus hangs up the shirt and sits back down on the bed, putting his old, worn white shirt back on. The two boys continue playing their game.

“It looks nice.” Sejanus remarks

“Thanks man.”

“Oh guess what!” Sejanus perks up as he hits a combo attack

“What?”

“I uh think Devon and them might be done soon. “

“Why?” Coriolanus inquires

“I hardly see him anymore. And last night he stormed off big time. I could hear them yelling from my window. I think it might have been about you, but I wasn’t too sure.”

“Really. Like what?” The blonde leans in closer

“He was mad that someone was coming to the party tomorrow, and shouted at her that she needs to do something about him…”

Coriolanus’s mind fires up again. Through the fog of his high, he refocuses, and he feels sharp with this new found knowledge. He smirks to himself, satisfied that Devon feels pissed off by the very idea that Coriolanus Snow will be in attendance at his graduation party. He likes this feeling. The power he holds from afar and the fact that he seemingly lives rent free in Devon’s head. And maybe even in yours. Coriolanus would selfishly love to see you two break up. He would do anything to have you.

He smashes one of the other players off the map, winning the round. Feeling victorious, and not just from the video games, Coriolanus lights up his joint again. He places it in his mouth, inhales, and blows it out the window. He falls back into a dream-like state. He takes another hit, inhaling deeper this time.

“Fuck dude.” Coriolanus whispers, the smoke escaping his lips as he talks

“What?”

“You think I have a chance with her?”

“Maybe.” Sejanus shrugs

The next day comes fast and Coriolanus once again drives to pick up Sejanus. You are already gone, setting up for the party. Coriolanus feels confident, cocky even as he rolls past your house. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. His favorite Cage the Elephant song, Back Against the Wall, was playing and he couldn’t be happier. With his new shirt and the new cologne Tigris got him for graduation, he felt irresistible.

“Hey man! Looking good!” Sejanus exclaims as he hops into Coriolanus’s truck.

The two boys ride off to the country club. Money, Power and Glory by Lana del Ray starts to play as they roll up and Coriolanus hums along. As they are parking, a man in a black polo waves them down and Coriolanus assumes he’s a valet. He rolls down his window.

“Hey! Are you maintenance? You gotta go around back there should be some signs…”

“I’m here for the graduation party!” Coriolanus quips sharply

The man looks stunned and gives an apologetic expression.

“I’m so sorry! You can park down that way umm the valet should be…” he looks around frantically

“Thanks!”

Coriolanus drives past him and huffs in frustration.

“That was rude.” Sejanus remarks and Coriolanus simply rolls his eyes. They park a little further from the rest of the cars and walk up the entrance. As they walk up Coriolanus notices Sejanus is carrying two little gift bags.

“Ma got them $200 for Bed Bath and Beyond…”

“Well I didn’t bring anything.” Coriolanus mumbles as they walk in.

The country club is huge. Wide windows looking out onto the golf course, with nearly polished mahogany wood floors, and the main entrance leading into several areas to sit and eat drinks. The furniture is equally as grand, with red chesterfield chairs and couches and sitting on top of Persian rugs. The walls were a crème white and the whole place smells of old money. Various waiters and waitresses are walking around with flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

“I’m surprised that guy outside didn’t recognize me. I’m sure he knows we are members here…”

“It’s hard to believe that people like you would run around with anyone like the likes of me and my family anymore.”

“What do you mean? Your dad used to come here too?”

“Used to…”

Coriolanus didn’t talk much about his dad and it wasn’t a subject Sejanus would bring up often. It was true, before both his parents died, they had been wealthy, but his dad had worked with Mr. Plinth as Vice President of marketing, but tragically both his parents had died in a plane crash on vacation with Tigris’s parents, leaving them both orphans and in the care of the grandparents. However, Coriolanus would learn growing up that his father had blown most of his money away on gambling, leaving the Snow family name in debt and broke.

Sejanus quiets down and takes a caramelized onion, cream cheese tart from a waiter. He takes water as well and nervously sips it.

“Sorry I don’t mean to mention him.”

“It’s fine man.”

Then you flow into the room. You’re wearing a delicate, pink, strapless dress that flows as you walk. Your hair is slightly curled, bouncy, and has a pink satin bow to match. You’re absolutely precious, his eyes practically undressing you. You turn and smile at him. Coriolanus waves and you come greet him and Sejanus.

“Hey boys, glad you could come!” You beam

“Hey, where can I put these?” Sejanus pipes up

“Oh there’s a table by the entrance.” You point

Sejanus smiles, leaving you alone with Coriolanus. He tempers his breath and you step closer to him.

“You look nice.” He nods

“Thanks. You do too. Did Tigris make that?”

“She did” he beams back at her

“That girl is gonna work for Gucci one day…you uh smell nice again too.”

“Thanks. This is a good color on you.” He states, rubbing the fabric between his forefinger and thumb. You giggle and look at his hand. He immediately pulls back, a rush of embarrassment washing over him. Coriolanus feels his face getting red and he runs his fingers through his blonde buzz cut. But you still just smile at him, finding it charming that he’s slightly embarrassed.

“So where is my graduation gift from you?” You perk up, teasing him

“Oh I feel stupid saying this but I didn’t bring one I guess…”

“It’s fine. I have enough things anyways.” You joke

“Well this is nice of you to invite the whole grade. This place is lovely.”

“Yeah it’s nice to be able to rent the space. And it was cheaper to do it with Devon, so I guess it worked out nice.”

“I guess so.” He chuckles

You and him stand in silence for a moment until Sejanus returns. The three of you make conversation, Sejanus informing you that his mom got you a gift card and you thank him. Coriolanus starts to ask what you are looking forward to the most about college and you light up. You start talking about how amazing the medical science program is and how you simply can’t wait for the biology labs. Coriolanus couldn’t understand how anyone would be truly interested in what you’re talking about, but he loves how much it interests you. He loves how passionate and smart you are on the subject, and clings to every word. You brush your hair to the side and Coriolanus can’t help but let his eyes trail your shoulders and collar bone. He would love to kiss the bare skin in front of him. Just in the divot of your bone and then, all the way up to your neck. Would you whine for him? Moan at his lips on you, as he shows you how beautiful you are. How much he loves you. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t even notice Devon making his way towards the group

Sejanus nudges Coriolanus who looks at him, then sees Devon. He calls to you and you spin around. You smile, but Coriolanus knows it’s a facade.

“Hey! Mom wants pictures so I’m stealing you away.”

Devon rubs your arm and pulls you to him. You start to trot away and follow him.

“Ok. Well I’ll see you boys around.” You call out

Devon glares at Coriolanus, before leaning down to whisper something in your ear.

“Prick…” Coriolanus mumbles

As the party continues, Coriolanus and Sejanus make their way around, catching up with a few classmates. The country club has a nice, spacious outdoor patio and a big lawn for yard games. Eventually the two boys find their way to a Bags game and play against each other. You see him and find one of you girls to join you and Sejanus.

“Need some more players?” You ask

“Of course!” Coriolanus smiles.

You opt to stand on the same side as Coriolanus, while your teammate stands next to Sejanus. Coriolanus looks around for Devon.

“Where’s Devon?” He asks, trying to sound casual

“I think his dad said him and his buddies are going to do a few holes on the golf course.”

“At his own graduation party?” Coriolanus jokes

You shrug your shoulders.

“I’m just happy to be able to talk to you without him being a vulture.”

“Yeah he can be a bit much”

“Besides, I like being able to actually talk to you.”

Coriolanus feels his face get hot again, and bites his lip. Fuck. His breath hitches as he tries to casually toss a bean bag across the lawn. It lands on the board with a fat smack.

“Nice!” Sejanus calls out

“So are you going to Devon’s house party tonight?” You ask

“He’s having another party tonight?”

“Yeah I guess his parents are going out of town like immediately after this so he wanted to throw a banger” she sighs, putting the last few words in air quotes, mocking him.

Coriolanus snickers as you toss a bag over. It hits the board and slides off. You frown.

“I was trying to knock you off!” You giggle

“Gonna have to try harder.” Coriolanus remarks then pauses “ But umm…I’m not sure about the party.”

“I’m not either, but I might go. I know I’ll be kinda tired after today.”

Coriolanus ponders the offer for a moment. The possibility of hanging out with you longer is tempting, but not guaranteed. He sighs as he tosses his last bag, making it in.

“Man you’re good!” You exclaim.

The game continues and the two boys win by a far margin. After, Coriolanus chats it up with you, feeling comfortable and relaxed knowing Devon is off playing golf. You and him walk around and he wishes he could hold your hand, kiss your forehead and tell you how stunning you look. Touching your dress would be the closest thing he thought he would ever get to touching you in that intimate way. And here he is, talking to you about something besides physics or biology. You’re currently telling him about your Pinterest board for your dorm decor, a conversation he would normally find mundane, but coming from you, he’s utterly captivated. Eventually you and him find yourself alone inside, mostly isolated from the other guests. You stand there and he can’t help but want to steal a kiss from you, but he knew you’d never cheat. And he wouldn’t try anything of course, but your face, your beautiful plump lips, they look so soft. You are like a siren to him and he feels mesmerized.

Around 4 o’clock, Sejanus and Coriolanus say their goodbyes and head out. In the car on the way back to Sejanus’s house, the two discuss if they should go to the party. As they pull up to the driveway, Coriolanus’s phone dings. It’s one of his classmates, texting him about the party.

Hey, you selling tonight

Wasn’t planning on going

Ah ok then

He stares at the text, contemplating the offer.

“Hey you know what, let’s go tonight…”

“You sure.”

“Someone wants to buy. You think you can steal a couple of Valiums from your ma?”

The evening rolls around, and Coriolanus has changed into a pair of jeans and a black shirt. He puts on one of his Cuban link chains and some more cologne, just in case you’re there. As he rolls back into Sejanus’s neighborhood, he checks his pockets. He’s got a few ounces of weed on him, a few pills of ecstasy, and some acid tablets. Hopefully, Sejanus got the Valium. Coriolanus rolls back up to the Plinth house and turns down his music. Sejanus comes out, hands stuffed into his pockets. By the way he is glancing over his shoulder and awkwardly moving, he got the pills.

“You got them?”

Sejanus looks around and hands Coriolanus a small bag with six blue pills.

“Oh nice! Good work Sejay.” He takes the bag from his hands, stuffing in next to his weed.

“Thanks I guess.”

“You could use one of these. Probably more than a nice solid hit of flower.” Coriolanus suggests

“You’d feel bad too if it was your grandma or something.”

“Yeah, but c’mon your mom needs to get off these anyways. They aren’t doing her much good.”

“I guess so.”

The two pull up to Devon’s house and the music from the basement is booming. He looks around for your car, but it’s nowhere to be found. A few girls head in and Coriolanus watches them. It’s a group of your friends, but you’re not with him. He hangs his head and sighs. You’re probably not coming, he concludes. He curses at the steering wheel, hitting it. A part of him feels like he’s wasting his time, but he would like to make a little extra cash. Fuck it. Sejanus looks at him with concern, but exits the car. They enter through the front door, and find the stairs to the basement. The music blares loudly and the main lighting is replaced with LED strips glowing all along the walls. It’s packed and smells like indica and beer. Coriolanus searches around for a solo cup and a bottle of Captain Morgan. He finds both next to the beer pong table and pours himself a drink. He takes a swig, loving how it warms his body.

“Are you gonna need me to drive home?” Sejanus inquires tentatively

“I’ll be fine. Here.” Coriolanus shoves a cup into Sejanus’s hands and pours him some rum. He takes a small sip and scrunches up his face. He lets out a heavy cough, causing Coriolanus to roll his eyes. He looks around and you're still nowhere to be found. He takes another drink. After a few more sips, he feels woozy and eventually a classmate of his approaches wanting some weed. He sells him an eighth of an ounce for $35 and then a few more people approach. He sells a few tabs of acid for $65 each and a Valium for $40.

“Fuck dude, you really know how to make money.”

“It’s a simple job if you’re not too uptight.” He eyes Sejanus.

They walk around, a few more people buy from Coriolanus and about an hour later, he had about $430 dollars. Eventually, one of your friends ask for a Valium.

“Here.” He hands it to her, taking the $40

“You drive a high price. Can't you give me a little discount?”

“Why.”

“Cause you like my friend.” She bats her eyes

“Yeah and if you were her, then maybe. Are you buying for her?”

“If I said yes would I get a discount?”

He shakes his head. She rolls her eyes and walks away. Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you had done a drug stronger than Tylenol. He wasn’t aware of any surgeries or injuries you had, so it was doubtful you had even taken morphine for pain. He imagined it though. Your little pink tongue sticking out, a tab of acid hanging from the end. How sexy would you look in nothing but your underwear like that too. Or maybe you’d be more sophisticated, and he thought of you naked in your bath, joint hanging loosely in between your fingers. He’d love to see you like that. All naked, clean and high.

He walks around to find Sejanus, who is trying his best to drunkenly flirt with one of his classmates. He walks past a back room in the basement, glances in for a moment and instead finds Devon. At first he stands back, hides, and scoffs quietly to himself. Then he hears a giggle, followed by a moan. He peeks his head in slightly and finds Devon making out with some girl. And it’s definitely not you. He’s slowly teasing the girl’s shirt down her body, and he reaches down to grope her breast harshly, kissing her neck.

“Fuck…” he whispers into her

Coriolanus is stunned, can he really believe his eyes. He’s not surprised given Devon’s reputation, but still. He thinks for a moment and then, silently pulls out his phone. He opens it and pulls up his camera. He hits record. Coriolanus angles it to hide the camera, but makes sure that he can still see the girl on top of Devon and his face. She moves on him, moaning his name and whispering about how “Miss perfect” couldn’t please him like this. Coriolanus’s blood boils at that remark. He slowly backs away and then when he finds a secluded corner and reviews the video on his phone. Coriolanus turns the volume down just enough so he can hear and leans in. He rewatches the video and can clearly see Devon’s face and can clearly hear the other girls voice. It’s perfect. But how to use it.

Coriolanus makes sure the video is saved on his phone, before rushing off to find Sejanus again. Coriolanus walks around, pushing past people, until he finds him awkwardly chatting it up with some girl.

“Hey” Coriolanus announces himself

“Hey Snow…” the girl says

“Dude c’mere! I gotta show you this” he demands, dragging Sejanus away.

“What! What’s up?”

Coriolanus whips out his phone and pulls up the video. Sejanus leans in, confused at first, but then, realizes. Eyes wide, he tilts his head in to hear the audio. He looks at Coriolanus in shock, mouth agape.

“Is that?”

“That’s Devon yeah…”

“Holy shit dude!” Sejanus laughs, stumbling into Coriolanus slightly

“Yeah. Hey are you ok?” You wanna get outta here?”

Sejanus shakes his head drunkenly and Coriolanus takes his arm.

“Come on dude, let’s go.”

“But I was talking to someone…” he slurs

“Yeah, she seems busy.” Coriolanus nudges

The girl Sejanus was talking to is now preoccupied with another man’s mouth, aggressively making out with the other guy. He frowns and walks to the stairs, Coriolanus dragging him along. When the two boys get into the car, Coriolanus doesn’t feel drunk and honestly feels fine to drive. Truthfully, seeing Devon cheating sobered him up and he was still thinking of what he was going to do with the video. He turns the key, starts up his truck, and rides back to Sejanus’s neighborhood. On the way back, he thinks about the best way to get it out without having his name tied to it. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, looking over at a passed out Sejanus, he gets an idea. He’s not sure who will see it or if it will work but he’s sure it will be anonymous. A popular app used at school to spread gossip anonymously, Yik Yak, Coriolanus thought it might just work to post it there. They finally reach Sejanus’s neighborhood, and Coriolanus glances at your house, a plan now in mind. As he pulls into the Plinth’s driveway, he wakes Sejanus up.

“Hey…we're home”

“Oh that was fast.” Sejanus mumbles, yawing

“For you. I’ll walk you in if you need it.”

“Nah man, I’ll be good.” He opens the door, waves and heads inside.

Coriolanus takes a deep breath and pauses for a moment. He whips out his phone and pulls the video up again. The lewd sounds of Devon’s moans start up again and Coriolanus cringes. Then, the thing that really pissed him off.

“I bet Miss Perfect couldn’t please you like this.” The girl moans

Coriolanus glances at the mirror, gazing at your house. He spots your car parked in the driveway as expected and realizes your most likely sound asleep. Sound asleep as your good for nothing boyfriend is sticking it in another girl. Fuck it. He pulls the app up and impatiently waits for it to load. Coriolanus pulls up his school’s group. And He taps the green plus sign, watching the cursor as it blinks. He then hits the video button and pulls up the video. It uploads and then he waits, looks back at your house again and frowns. He knew you didn’t deserve him and you needed to know that Devon was an absolute ass. You deserve better. He hits the post button and it sends.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

73 notes · View notes

moon-goddess-posts · 2 years ago

Text

First Dates

dom! Rhea Ripley x sub! reader

18+!! smut and fluff : strap on (reader receiving), vibrators, ribbon restraints, slight bratty reader (just a tad), multiple orgasms, squirting

guys it is smutty and nasty and toe curling

also it’s my first time writing smut and it was actually kinda difficult 😰 but i hope you guys enjoy lol

You were on your break and Rhea had just got done with the match she won so you ran up to her to congratulate her. Once she caught sight of you her smile grew and oh how you loved when she smiled. Whether it would be in a dark intimidating way on the ring, or a sweet genuine one. You couldn’t help but blush either way and Rhea chuckled when she noticed.

“Congrats Rhea! You were amazing out there!” Your eyes sparkled with admiration for her.

“Thank you love, and isn’t it time you’d start calling me by Demi? We’ve know each other for a while” She looked at you grinning while crossing her arms. Rhea, or Demi called you love often in a platonic way but it would still catch you off guard because of how you felt towards her.

“Ah i’m sorry Demi, i’m so used to your ring name haha, but if you don’t mind i was wondering if we could get a few drinks or maybe some dinner after? Of course if it’s ok with you and you’re not busy” You looked away, fidgeting with your hands.

“Aw are you asking me out on a date?” Demi spoke in a teasing manner and you were shocked.

“No no no it’s not a date! Well i mean unless you want it to but i’m sorry if it sounded like that i um…” Your face was red as a tomato and Demi couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re cute you know? Yeah it’s a date” Her gaze soften as she looked into your eyes, she walked away into the locker rooms. You can’t believe what had just happened, Demi agreed to going on a date with you and called you cute. You were for sure these feelings were just something silly and one sided. Sure you guys were friends for a while but you never caught that kind of vibe from her. You texted her the place and time and she hearted the message making you smile.

While getting ready you were thinking on how bad you wanted Demi. You wanted her in so many ways, sometimes you would daydream about her and play out your sexual fantasies in your head. You wanted her to touch you, to tie you up and fuck you senselessly. You wanted her to be ruthless and dominant yet you also wanted it to be sensual and sweet. Like lovers do, and maybe you were wishing for something that might not happen but you were hopeful as you were getting ready for your date.

You put on your sexiest red dress and gold heels to compliment. Soon later you got a text from Demi saying she was on her way to pick you up. This caught you off guard as you were just willing to drive yourself, but you loved the gesture. You grabbed your purse and kissed your cat goodbye as you walked out the door.

“Hey Demi! I wasn’t expecting you to pick me up but i really appreciate it.” You got into the passengers seat and you could immediately feel Demi’s eyes on you which made you gulp.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know i’d do anything for you” She gave a smile and you smiled back. Not much sound was going on but the music from the radio. Even so, it was oddly comfortable just having Demi’s company. You felt something touch your hand and looked over to be greeted with the tips of Demi’s fingers meeting yours. Your heart fluttered and your eyes looked away as you slowly shifted your hand towards hers. Demi hummed in content as she continued driving. The music on the radio had fit the perfect mood for you two, it felt so unreal to be with Demi. You wanted to tell her how you felt, if you didn’t make it obvious already.

“Demi?” you spoke only to stop yourself when you guys arrived at the restaurant.

“Is everything ok?” Demi looked at you after she was done parking. Your words wanted to desperately come out but it was as if your throat was dry and closed up. You were so nervous until Demi cuffed your cheek with your hand.

“Look at me” Demi coaxed you into meeting eye contact. The strong will to obey what she says took over and you did your best to keep your eyes focused. Her face was so close to yours, it felt like you forgot to breath as she came closer and grazed her thumb on your bottom lip. Letting the feeling take over, you closed your eyes. Demi’s lips met yours carefully as to test the waters. Once she felt like you were ok with it, she deepened the kiss and you gave out a small moan. You haven’t had a kiss like this in a long time but you were so relieved it was with someone like Demi. She pulled away and you were slightly disappointed.

“Don’t worry, i know” Demi teased, you couldn’t help but cover your face to hide the redness that creeped up on you.

“We…we should go to the restaurant” If you wanted Demi to take you, you didn’t want the first experience with her to be in a car. Demi laughed at your flustered expression and kissed you on the cheek before exiting the car. You we’re about it to get out too but she opened the door for you and took your hand.

Dinner was amazing with Demi. You guys talked about all the little things you were interested in and talked about how amazing she always was during her matches. You and her were friends for a few years but you worked backstage so it wasn’t always often that you guys would see each other. But when you did, you and no problem being with one another. Demi’s feelings had grown overtime along with yours for her. It was soon shown just how intense her feelings went when you went back to her house to finish where she had left off.

“hah…demi..” you gasped separating from the kiss but she only pulled you back in, over powering you. You loved it. She pushed you on the bed and turned you over to lay on your stomach so she can unzip your dress. Demi held you down and she was painfully slow with removing the article of clothing.

“Demi please, i want you so bad” you desperately whine and Demi just gave a teasing grin.

“I move at my own pace” she whispered in your ear making the wetness between your thighs even worse. Finally when she was done unzipping, her hands wandered all over you. Fingers tracing your spine all the way up to your bra which she unclipped. Then she moved down, one hand moving to your lower stomach and other hand teasing your chest.

“ugh fuck, please please” you begged. She slowly kissed your neck and you shivered feeling the pleasure all over your body. She knew exactly what spots to make you feel good and you questioned how she was so skilled. You stopped thinking when Demi’s fingers finally came to your clothed pussy making slow circles. You gasp and you felt her smile on her neck. Your hips pushed back into Demi as she quickened her pace. It was so good, so so good. It was everything you’ve been imagining and more. You needed her fingers inside of you.

“Look how wet you are darling, and i’ve barely started with you” She pinched your nipple and you let out a yelp. Flipping you over, demi then slide off your pink panties, the cold air hitting you. You looked down at Demi’s fingers still on you but this time her pace quickened you closed your eyes. She put your hands around your neck and forced you to look at her. Face contorted with pleasure, you felt a familiar feeling coming up and Demi knew. She took her fingers off your clit and you whimpered until she suddenly shoved two fingers into you.

“Ah! s-shit, Demi it feels so good nnng” you wanted to touch her but she didn’t let you

“Who said you’re allowed to touch me hm? Hands to yourself princess” Her deep voice was engraved into your brain. Her fingers curled up into you hitting that spot within and you felt as if your brain was melting. Pleasure was felt all over your body, your stomach, your thighs, hands. It was so much but you loved it. Demi made you feel so much pleasure.

“Demi i cant.. im gonna-“ You threw your head back as your orgasm hit you unexpectedly. Voice now growing as you moaned.

“That’s it, such a good girl” Her fingers didn’t stop right away even after your high, you couldn’t stop shuddering and twitching. Demi just laughed at you and gave you a kiss on your lips. She pulled her fingers out and sighed as you were finally able to calm down but only for a bit.

“You keep your legs open, or else i’ll keep it restrained” She gripped your thigh and gave you a dark look. You nodded and she smiled. You weren’t sure what she was about to do but she was about to make it very clear as you saw her head go in between your thighs. Your breath quickened. Demi licked a stripe up your wet cunt and wrapped her lips around your now sensitive clit. You couldn’t help but shake and tense your legs. Her mouth felt so damn good on you, you were spewing moans and whining Demi’s name like a broken record. She moaned into your pussy and you gripped her hair by accident.

“What did i say about touching me?” Demi stopped pulling your hand off.

“m sorry, im sorry, please don’t stop, im sorry i’ll be good” you begged and begged but it didn’t stop Demi from reaching for something. She revealed a red ribbon, it was meant to restrain you.

“turn around, don’t make me wait.” you felt like being a little bratty and shook your head while smiling. Demi gave a sinister grin and grabbed your face firmly.

“I said turn the fuck around, or we stop here. I know you don’t want that love so listen to me” And that was enough to get you to follow orders. Slowly, you turned around placing your hands behind your back.

“I won’t tolerate brats, don’t try that stunt again ok slut?” She gave your ass a little smack and you jumped. the slap stung, it was a reminder that Demi was the dominant one right now. You loved how she had control over you, that you are so willing to please her and let her do what you want. She must have picked up on your submissive nature a while back.

“If i’m too rough please tell me ok? I only want you to feel pleasure” Even though Demi was sure this is what you wanted, she still reassured you that there is no shame in asking to stop or slow down.

“please don’t stop Demi, it’s perfect. You’re perfect” redness bloomed from Demi’s face from that as she was putting the restraints on your hands. She flipped you over to your back and gave you another passionate kiss. You felt so much love from it, you desperately wanted to touch her. You struggled through the restraints only to no avail. The kiss became sloppier and Demi’s hands roamed your body once again.

“You’re so beautiful, i want you all to myself. I want this body all to myself” Demi verbalized her desires for you

“It’s all yours, i’m all yours demi” you gasped

“Say it again.” She demanded

“i’m yours, i’m all yours” you repeated over and over. Each time getting more desperate, demi placed her head in between your thighs once again. She place her lips around your clit and you groaned. You were so needy for her, you loved how amazing she made you feel. Her tongue was making you feel so good and you desperately tried to grab anything to keep you steady. You were on the edge of your second orgasm, Demi thrusted her two fingers into you. She was being so rough but you didn’t care, this is what you needed. As soon as you were about to cum, she stopped and pulled out her soaked fingers.

“noooo Demi please…stop teasing” you wiggled around hating the loss of pleasure but demi ignored you and reached for something else. It was a black strap on and a vibrator. Looking at it just made you wanna moan.

“Tell me what you want angel, i want to hear you say it” Demi was putting the strap on, not breaking eye contact with you. You were too embarrassed to say it but you spoke anyway to obey her.

“I want- i want you to fuck me with your strap i want you to fuck me until tears run down my face, please just make me feel good” you pleaded, demi was happy with that response and gave you another kiss. Everything felt so overwhelming, your body felt like it was on fire. You felt fucked out even though Demi didn’t even fuck you fully yet. She lubed up the strap and lined it up with your entrance, you waited in anticipation.

“Hurry plea-“ you were cut off from a moan that ripped out of you as she slid in quickly and smoothly.

“FUCK!” you arched your back. It was so big, you couldn’t believe it was able to fit. More like hardly fit.

“Demi it’s s-so much fuck it feels…oh s-shit” You could barely form sentences anymore

“That’s it, you’re doing such a good job taking it. Look at you all messed up because of me” Demi was gripping your hips, slamming into that sweet spot of yours and it was unreal how much pleasure racked through your body over and over. Tears formed at your eyes and Demi sweetly kissed them away while still fucking you senselessly. Demi put pressure on your lower stomach and you felt the knot in your abdomen break once again. Your eyes rolled back and you squeezed your legs around Demi tightly.

“That’s it sweet angel, give it to me. One more time ok?” you didn’t even come down yet but her pace remained brutal and ruthless.

“Dem…ghhhh” You couldn’t even manage to speak her name property, you were so fucked out. Your legs felt like jelly but you couldn’t help but still want more and Demi gave you more. Her hands were playing with your chest again, rolling your nipples between her fingers. All you could do was shudder and whimper from her touch. You didn’t think it could get any better until she turned on the vibrator.

“I’ll make you feel even better love, i want to give you everything” She looked at you with loving eyes and you just couldn’t refuse. She put the vibrator on your chest and you twitched from the vibration. Moving down, the vibrations now to your lower stomach. Demi turned it up by one before placing it on your sensitive bud. The rough fucking and the intense vibrations were too much to handle for you, you just wanted to hold on to Demi.

“d-demi! ugh untie my hands please…i just want to hold you please untie them” you were crying from pleasure

“Ok ok darling, its going to be ok” Demi reached under you to remove the ribbon and your arms shot up to engulf her. She gave a small laugh from the gesture and continued to move her hips into you. The vibrator was still on your clit, Demi felt every sudden movement from you and she loved it. She loved how much she can ruin you and get you to feel like this. Hot tears landed on Demi’s shoulder and she began to bite your neck. You gave a small whine in response. Every second Demi was fucking you with the vibrator on you, the more you got closer and closer. Your body tensed once again but it was so much more intense this time. You weren’t sure what was coming

“Demi! oh fuck oh fuck i’m cumming don’t stop ddont f-fucking stop” You held on tighter than before as waves of pleasure washed over you, your stomach tightened one last time but something came out. Demi looked down to see her stomach drenched and the bed sheets wet.

“You squirted” Demi had the biggest grin plastered on her face and you hid your face in embarrassment

“Demi i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to it was just so..”

“I’m that good huh? I fucked you till you squirted”

“Demi please don’t say that!” you hid your face even more but demi stopped you

“Don’t cover your face love, you’re beautiful just like this” She gave you kisses all over your face

“everything’s a mess…i’m sorry i’ll clean it up” You tried to get up but demi held you down

“i didn’t give you permission to get up did i?” you pouted and demi giggled. She littered kisses all down your body, and to your inner thighs. Then to your core, cleaning you up with your tongue

“ohh demi- mnn still sensitive” you panted, demi gave your thighs one last kiss and got up to carry you into her bathroom where she cleaned you up properly. She ran a nice bath for the two of you and you both shared a loving make out session.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked me earlier?” Demi questioned while you were on her lap

“I just…i didn’t think you’d want a relationship or even liked me like that. Even if we were close, i still thought how i felt was one sided” You buried your face into the crook of her neck, Demi patted your head

“Well i hope that you got your answer” Demi snickered and you groaned in annoyance.

“Yeah it did, you gave me an amazing time” You looked at Demi, kissing her once again as she embraced you.

-end

#rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley x reader #demi bennett x reader #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley #rhea ripley fluff

633 notes · View notes

waspenned · 6 months ago

Text

scenes from an italian restaurant • part ten • peter parker

in which you and peter clear the air • 5k

warnings: language as per usual, angsty

now playing: bleecker street by simon & garfunkel

part one / the ao3 version

a/n: long time no see!!!!!! full update in the notes of the ao3 post but what a crazy year

You’ve been stood in front of Peter’s door for five minutes now.

That’s on top of the five minutes you spent working up the courage to go inside the building, and then the other ten minutes you spent pacing the block - just to try and shake some of your nerves out onto the pavement. It’s just knocking, just seeing the same face you’ve been seeing nearly every day for months now, but it feels bigger.

You hadn’t been to a coworker’s place since the fire; not gone for coffee after a morning shift, or drinks after close, or a Red Bull run before the open. It made things easier to deal with. Sometimes it stung a little more than usual, especially when most of them were particularly inclined to come in all hungover and messy on a Saturday, with a whole new roster of inside jokes - but it felt safer, somehow. You’d been friendly with a few of them at some point, close almost, and even though they kept inviting you out with them, they all eventually stopped asking. Some understood, some didn’t - and once you'd overheard Sal hushedly call you ‘troubled’ to somebody through the gantry hatch, you were basically the point of no return.

But Peter, as always, is different.

You glance at your phone. Seven minutes. Some awful part of you twists at the idea that maybe he’s wondering where you are, if he’s waiting for you; or if he’s being normal about it, like a normal person. Peter’s more normal than you, he wouldn’t take seven- no, EIGHT minutes to knock on someone’s door, even if his hands were clammy and his heart was thumping so loudly in his ears he thought his eardrums might burst. You’ve still got your earphones on even though you paused whatever you were listening to long ago, the sound of your breath thrumming through your head. When you move to finally take them off, you fumble and swear as they clatter loudly to the floor.

Immediately, you cringe, wanting the floor to swallow you up as muffled movement stirs behind the door in front of you. You’ve probably got about ten seconds to pull yourself together and appear fine enough for him not to be immediately concerned - a difficult task, considering that you have dark circles the size of plates, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got some sort of stress-related rash breaking out on your hands, but the door is already opening, and life (as it turns out) isn’t merciful.

All of a sudden, Peter is there, and you’re on the floor, frantically chasing your earphones as they scatter across the lino. When you look up at him, you’re suddenly relieved to find that he’s mostly just confused. Lamely, you flap your mouth for a second, and then blurt out the first thing that pops into your head.

“I was just about to knock.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Peter’s apartment smells like Peter - which is obvious when you think about it, but it didn’t cross your mind until this moment how painful this might be. There’s his soap, his deodorant, the faint oil fryer smell of any Joe’s uniform, which is currently half hanging out of a laundry basket near the door. It was like you were seeing him properly for the first time; this new, unknown Peter who exists beyond the confines of a kitchen. This isn’t the Peter you know or Spider-Man - this is Peter outside of Joe’s. Peter who does laundry. Peter who has a coffee mug on the drying rack that says ‘World’s Greatest Pop-Pop’, and some complicated calculations splayed out in sheets on the rickety little dining table.

“It’s a bit of a mess right now, I haven’t had time to clean up, because of the-“ He’s babbling and flitting about, picking up different bits of odd clutter only to put them down again. His hair is damp against the collar of his sweatshirt; shiny and dark and curling up in little spirals around his ears that you had the sudden urge to wrap around your fingers. You step inside, and Peter’s pottering about the kitchen, preparing mugs and rooting through his cupboards. When you make your way into the main space of the apartment, barely a separate room, Peter looks up at you through his hatch and brightly chimes, “Would you like anything to drink?”

You quirk your brow. Suddenly, whatever haze had fallen over his face dissipates, and he blinks, dazed.

“I’m still in Diner Mode.” Peter rubs his eyes, then rakes a hand through his hair, disturbing the wet clumps of curls. No wonder it's always so frizzy, with the amount of times you've seen him tug and ruffle at it. The movement exposes the tips of his ears, shiny from the moisture, and their usual shade of flustered pink. He’s back into the cupboard in an instant, searching through boxes and jars before he finds what he’s looking for. “Okay, so I have coffee and…”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“…Actually, that’s it.”

“Then I guess it’s my lucky day.”

You can’t help it, but your voice comes out dry and flat, and his eyebrows knit, something shifting in his expression. Your fingers go numb, and you remember what you came here to do - you just didn’t think you would get into it so quickly. Peter sets his shitty instant coffee on the side (and you would know it’s shitty, because you buy the same stuff) and just looks at you. You’re not sure what sort of look it is, something between his usual awkwardness, and some entirely new face you’ve never seen before. He’s planting his hands on the counter now, squaring his shoulders, and your breath hitches.

Maybe, you think, this is the face behind the mask.

“I don’t know what to say.” It sounds awful and croaky, and it’s nowhere near covering the sheer amount of thoughts currently rushing through your head, but it’s all that comes to mind.

What is there to say? Nothing much had really happened; coworkers hook up with each other all the time (granted, usually not on shift), but even then, you never even had sex. You can’t call him a ‘hook up’, he was somehow both more and less than that - just some guy you’ve kissed a couple times. Whatever the hell the two of you have been doing for months has never been labelled anything past ‘friends’, which you’re now quickly realising is nothing like what you actually are. You’ve been tormenting yourself, tormenting him, all because you couldn’t suck it up enough to admit to yourself that you care about him more than you want to, and because it’s easier to live with the possibility that something could, might happen.

And now a new, worse feeling is looming over you; the possibility that Peter might not feel the same way about you.

Deep breath. Push it down. Bury it.

“Then let me say it.” Peter is clearing his throat now, your heart rate spiking like a hummingbird, your teeth clenched shut. It takes one, two, five, seventy drips of the faucet before he speaks again - or maybe he doesn’t hesitate at all.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said a while ago, before…” He trails off. Before everything. You grimace a little, suddenly feeling nauseous when you remember how rude you were to him, all the times you’d snapped at him when he was just trying to help. He’s the kind of person who helps people, and you’re the kind of person who pushes them away, apparently. All of the hate and grudges you’d held against him, all of the resentment, instantly falls onto your shoulders. You punished him for the crime of being happy and content, when his other job is being beaten to a pulp and worked to the bone, and you were stupid enough to not realise it was only because you hated yourself.

“You said something about how shit happens, and Spider-Man won’t always be there. How I’m ‘just some guy’.”

“Peter, I-“ Your lungs are burning so hot you think you smell smoke again, and you try to hold your breath, even though you currently feel like you’re suffocating, “I didn’t… I don’t think that anymore. I’m-“

Deep breath. Push it down.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m fucked up.” You’re laughing, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, or Peter’s. 'Fucked up’ is an umbrella term, apparently, for having nightmares about a fire that happened over a year ago, shutting everyone out of your life, smelling smoke in every dark corner or pantry. ‘Fucked up’ covers being so desperately lonely that you have to compulsively hurt the first friend you make after isolating yourself for so long; stringing him along in some ‘will-they-won’t-they’ bullshit and letting him down every step of the way. He probably wants to cut you off. It’s probably better if he does.

“You’re not fucked up,” His face is soft, like ricotta against your tongue. Like the skin across his collarbones. “I just… About the fire-“

He’s not broken eye contact with you until now, but his gaze flicks to the dish rack, the walls - he fiddles with the faucet for a fleeting moment. You wait.

“I want to apologise for everything,” It’s slow to start, but once the dam is broken, it all comes out in a rush and drowns you. “I know we didn’t know each other then, but I want- I need you to know that I’m sorry. It’s my duty to protect people, and I didn’t protect you, and I’m sorry.”

“Peter-“

“Hold on. Last night, when you were talking about how it was your responsibility to-“ His voice wavers. You realise you’re still holding your breath. “How you had, like, a sense of duty towards Joe’s, and you were so brave, and all I could think about was how I let you down. Even before I knew you, it killed me just knowing that there was someone who needed me, and I didn’t come through for them. It- It messed me up.”

There’s a pang where your heart used to be, when you realise he’s not talking about you specifically, but just someone in general. Some poor citizen needing to be saved. There’s nothing else there, just hollowness and cold, stretching back and back into you like an abyss. This must be what heartbreak feels like, you realise; you’re not special to him, you’re just something else on his plate. Maybe, something in the back of your head leers, maybe you’re nothing to him after all.

Spider-Man, your coworker, is staring into you so intently that you can feel the weight of the city on his shoulders.

“I nearly quit.” His voice hangs like a loose thread - like the ones on the diner tablecloths that if you pull, make the whole thing unravel. You twist your finger around it and tug, even though you know you’ll come apart too.

“Joe’s?”

“Being Spider-Man.”

“Oh.”

Peter huffs a breath, twirls the faucet knob between his fingers with the same dexterity and fluidity he demonstrated between your legs last night, and your gut churns. The pipes groan to life, and he shuts it off again before any water has the chance to flow through. Then, he’s coming around the corner, out of the kitchen, and all of a sudden you’re in Peter’s living room, with Peter, and that's what he looks like at home. There’s no pretence, no uniform, no employee code of conduct between you.

“I want to be just some guy. More than anything.” He’s so close to you now that you can smell lime body wash and shampoo, see a drip forming at the tip of that one curl at his left temple that’s more like a ringlet than the rest of them. And you only know it's there because you haven’t stopped thinking about him, looking at him only when his back is turned and no one could catch you staring. You can barely hear him over the shame spinning in your ribs like a catherine wheel.

“But after the fire, I sort of took it as a sign that I was meant to be Spider-Man. You were there, you lived it. It’s my responsibility to stop that from happening.”

You can’t help it, but your eye twitches. It’s the same thing that’s been bothering you about Spider-Man since before; the promise of selflessness and responsibility and duty that Peter is now forever bound to. Before last night, you would have told yourself that you hated Spider-Man because you felt like he abandoned you, because he broke some kind of stupid, city-wide promise - but now that you know it’s Peter behind the mask, blaming him feels too harsh when the world gives him enough shit to begin with.

He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve the beatings, or the sleepless nights, or the working minimum wage just to go home to an apartment that will only get more expensive to rent. And all it does is make you angry. It’s unfair - everything’s unfair - and now it feels like your life, your near-death, was the event that made him keep giving himself and getting nothing in return. At the end of the day, you’re both just two twenty-somethings, trying to keep their heads above water.

It’s your fault that he’s still here, still hurting.

He’s still staring at you when you realise you’ve been silent for some time now, your mind blank and stuttering as Peter just looks on, almost concerned. The vice that’s been slowly tightening around your chest for months gives one final clench, and some long-buried string in your heart finally, finally snaps.

You’re so tired.

You knew it would happen eventually; that you’d run out of steam, or your knees would give out, and you wouldn’t be able to keep this up anymore. You’d always expected it to be while you were alone, or in Sal’s office, when you wouldn’t be able to keep up with all the silly little lies you’d been telling yourself - but not here, not in front of Peter, and not like this.

And you’re not sure you’ve ever said any of this out loud - but the same tug in the back of your head that wanted to protect him last night is now thrumming away like a rubber band pulled taut. That pull, that itch, that simmers in your lungs and makes you feel like you’re responsible for him, or that he’s responsible for you.

When you think about it, it’s guilt. Guilt that burns hot and acrid at the back of your tongue - guilt that puts you in debt to him, to everyone at Joe’s. You don’t just owe him an apology for lashing out, and running around the diner like a shithead; you owe him the truth.

Deep breath.

“Peter, I have to tell you something.”

Your voice sounds miles away - echoing in his box apartment, or maybe just in your head. You try not to notice the way his face twitches, or the way he stiffens slightly, or his eyes darting over you. His voice is tense, but not quite strained when he speaks.

“What is it?”

Something scratches at the back of your throat, squeezing, constricting, scratching. This is it, this has to be it.

Say it.

“The fire was my fault.”

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Sure, you’d imagined this scenario multiple times, all of them ending in various, and increasingly wild forms of punishment - losing your job, being arrested, getting cut off from the people who had been your whole life for years - but you’d at least imagined some form of relief. Perhaps the relief was the driving force of this whole confession, laying yourself bare and raw and bleeding in front of Peter in the hopes that he’d do something about it, take it all away, and still like you enough to speak to you afterwards.

Only now, in practice, the relief never comes, and Peter just keeps staring at you. Instantly, you want to vomit.

"What?”

You can’t read his voice. You can’t read his face. To compensate for this, your brain cedes all control, and your mouth keeps moving.

“I was smoking out the back door and Sal called me in for some stupid reason - something about the pans or the sauce, or whatever - and I forgot to stub it out, and-“

That’s done something. Peter holds his hands up, eyes drawn wide, as if you were some sort of wild animal. Maybe you are. Maybe this is all some sort of twisted defence mechanism - spilling out the one thing you swore you would never tell anybody, in one last-ditch attempt at pushing him away.

“Hey, hey-“

“I didn’t get to see the full report, but I’m not stupid. I know it started near the back door, and that some- some spark, or something, caused it. If I'd just-“ Your voice sticks like glue in your dry throat, like you’re trying to swallow cotton. “I nearly killed people. So much of it was destroyed - stuff that had been there for decades, family pictures, wedding presents.”

You think he says your name. You don’t hear it.

“That burn on Sal’s arm is only there because of me. Because- Because he tried to get me out of there.”

It’s all too much now - even here, even in Peter’s apartment, you can smell the smoke, feel the heat. Through the hatch into the kitchen, you swear you can see a flame, licking up the walls, swimming in your vision like molten glass. It’s burning in your eyes, curling in your throat and nostrils, burning and burning and

“Please, look at me.”

When you finally make eye contact, a breath forces its way past your lips. His hands are steady and warm on your forearms, slipping down to clutch at your palms, as if weighing you down to reality. It’s as if everything else had slipped away, and he’s in the middle of it all, grounding you like a tether. You cling to him.

“I’m sorry.” It tumbles out like an impulse. Peter shakes his head, soft and smudged in the lamplight.

“Don’t be.” He says, firmly. Every wet curl shines and shimmers as he shakes his head, and the smell of soap pushes the soot that little bit further away. Maybe if you were to look out of the window, you’d see plumes of dark smoke rising from a building a few blocks away, but your gaze is stuck to Peter’s like a magnet. “You didn’t do anything wrong."

“I did,” The awful creature that’s been churning in your chest rears its ugly head again, “I caused so much hurt. And I’ve been hurting you, too - holding a grudge for something that was my own fault. You- You don’t deserve-”

“No.” Peter hasn’t let up, watching every twitch and flicker on your face. Is this how he speaks to the maniacs he fights in the street? Is this how he handles every catastrophic responsibility that falls into his lap? “You didn’t.”

“Peter, I did-“

“You didn't.” He says again, only this time, something sticks. The look on his face, the sadness in his eyes - it snaps your mouth shut. It’s the way he hovers around it, the unsureness in his face, that almost confuses you. “I… After the fire, I did some investigating.”

Your feet have gone numb. So have your hands, and arms, and legs, and just about everywhere else. When you don’t protest or interrupt, Peter continues tentatively.

“I got access to the NYPD files, I watched the clean-up like a hawk, I-“ He cuts himself off, clearing his throat. His fingertips worry over your knuckles, back and forth, like a pendulum. “I did some stuff I wasn’t necessarily allowed to, but I needed closure. Joe’s was- It was one of the last things I had left of Ben’s, and…”

“What do you mean?” Your voice comes from another room, another planet. How could he know something you don’t? How could he have answers that you don’t have? Sal never told you anything about the report, about the cause, about any kind of investigation. Something is clawing inside your stomach. How? How? “Peter, what are you saying?”

His voice is softer than anything you’ve ever heard when he finally answers.

“It was a fault with a fryer. Some electrical issue.” You can barely hear him, but he keeps talking anyway, even though it sounds like he’s on the other side of Manhattan. “Suppose it’s why Sal is so insistent on fryer training now, and- hey-?”

It takes a moment to register what you're doing, but you realise that you’re laughing. You can’t help it, but you’re laughing. Peter's utterly lost, his eyebrows tangled into that familiar furrow, the one you only see when you've completely perplexed him.

All this time, all this energy, spent tying yourself in knots and swallowing bile - and it was all the fault of a fucking fryer. Even now, the relief doesn't come, doesn't take all of the pains and aches of it away. Instead, it melts and morphs into something new - awful, burning, searing shame. And there's Peter in the middle of it all, just waiting for you, wanting the best for you. There's something hot on your cheeks, and it turns out that your laughter has quickly merged into crying.

You're actually crying. In front of him. You'd probably prefer being vaporised into a million pieces by whatever supervillain is calling themselves Spider-Man's arch nemesis these days.

"Oh my God," You blurt out, every cell trembling. It sounded like the beginning of a sentence, but any other words dissolve on your tongue.

Something warm wraps around you, and of course, it's him. He's holding you, and while you've had the odd bit of skin contact with him here and there - hands clapping on your shoulders, fingertips as he passes you ketchup bottles, lips pressed to yours in the snow - you'd never expected it to be like this. This close, you can hear his heart pounding away, the scent of his deodorant drowning out any scrap of smoke or burning oil, and your hands - against your will - fist into the back of his t-shirt.

You stay like that until it subsides, whatever it is, Peter murmuring things you can't quite hear with your ears muffled by his arms. Eventually, though, he pulls back, and fixes you with a look you can't really identify. It's the same one from last night, where he'd stood in the middle of your apartment in his spandex and his mask, wanting something from you that you aren't sure you can give him.

"I know that doesn't... fix it," He says, his voice rumbling through you like a wave - like you were one of his webs, and you can feel his feet tugging at the threads, knowing exactly where he was, and how far away, with one tiny movement. Even if you weren't a web, if you weren't coworkers, if you weren't people (though you suppose, he technically isn't, at least not all the way) you'd probably still be able to find him. "But it's the truth."

Even if you could dredge up something meaningful and coherent to say, you don't think you'd be able to actually say it - not with your tongue feeling so heavy and sluggish in your mouth. You settle on the first thing that comes to mind - the onlything your mouth can remember the shape of.

“I’m sorry.”

Peter shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Your diaphragm is still convulsing with the aftershocks of tears, and your breath trembles in your lungs. It's all coming out now, and you don't think you'd be able to stop it if you wanted to - not now that dam is broken, and Peter hasn't gone running for the hills. Apparently, that's given your brain the go-ahead to spew out pure, babbling nonsense.

“I was awful to you.”

"You really weren't."

"I, I just-" Your breathing hitches again, your face burning hot and bleary, “God, this is pathetic. I’m supposed to be apologising to you.”

You're bowing your head, avoiding eye contact, but you can hear the way his face looks, just from the gentleness in his voice, the concern that soaks the room like gasoline, threatening to be set alight.

“You really think about yourself like this?”

“I’m- I really am sorry Peter. I was so mean. You don’t deserve that.”

It’s instant. It's genuine, and it's absolute. “I forgive you.”

There goes that familiar feeling again, the one that claws at you from the inside, and hates how nice he is, how soft he is when the world is so hard to him. You swallow thickly, forcing it down, and choke out a dry laugh, your face scrubbed raw from the heels of your hands. You probably look awful, but he's still looking at you like he always does - whatever that is.

“You know you’re allowed to hate me. You don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m snotting all over your couch.”

“I could never hate you.”

There's a pang in your chest, and you're bent double, winded, by the gentleness of his tone. It hurts like a knife.

“Don’t-“ Another shaking breath as you shake your head, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Look, I don't-" He begins, before he reshapes the words in his mouth, shuffling them like a pack of cards. That's how he's better than you, you think, he thinks before he speaks - he approaches things with kindness and care, instead of months of anger and resentment towards nothing in particular. "With the fire, even if we didn’t know each other then, when I think about what could have happened, if, if you-“

There it is, the unspoken part. The part that keeps you up at night with nightmares and the smell of ash in your hair that you can’t scrub out. Peter looks almost pained, his face screwed up as he debates between speaking his mind and holding his tongue - he seems to go on a whole journey in his head that’s plain as day across his face. He’s tense and strung tight, hands wringing themselves over and over and over, like he’s cleaning the countertops at the diner, and all of a sudden he’s your coworker again, and you think you taste bile. Eventually, he makes a decision, and speaks.

“I guess I'm trying to say that I would miss you."

You’re almost winded by it. He says it so plainly, but it stabs you through the chest like a knife. Whatever emotion you’re experiencing right now is entirely new to you, and hurts like a bitch.

Peter would miss you. He saves your life, he kisses you at work - and he would miss you. He just says it like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t knock the air out of you.

It’s stupid - whether it was because he frustrated you, or confused you, or made you get that funny, swooping feeling in your stomach, you haven’t stopped thinking about him since you met him, and you’ve never even stepped foot in his house. And he looks like an angel by lamplight. And he would miss you.

You don't remember much of the rest of the evening, between mumbles and awkward sips of shitty coffee, and the city growing louder outside as the sun sinks below the horizon.

Perhaps this is why people go to church, or believe in something bigger than themselves - in pure, desperate hopes that despite whatever they've done, there will be someone at the end who will forgive you, and treat you kindly. But Peter isn't one for spite, and his kindness is all the more special to you because of that. His forgiveness, however, is something closer to sacred - washing you over in its totality, its absolution. For the first time in a while, Manhattan's clatter and din isn't overwhelming, or undercutting all the shit going on inside your head, it simply exists; cutting through the wind and rustling the trees, like the pigeons that scavenge the back end of Joe's for pizza crusts and stray fries.

It's been a while, but when you leave Peter's, and take in another deep breath on the steps of his building - it feels clean and new. It's only on the walk home, when his voice is pinging around inside your head, that you realise - and it hits you like a train.

He’s been more than a co-worker this whole time.

How could you not have realised that? You used to have your head screwed on, the sensible one, and here you were; only just realising how absolutely, positively stupid you’ve been. Of course everything has felt so frustrating and complicated - you’ve been so blind to your own feelings that the realisation of it practically knocks the air out of you.

You’re not even sure when the world started looking brighter and the city started smelling sweeter, and you’re not even sure when that feeling became so all-encompassing and vast and deep and hot and cold all at the same time - but you know it’s all Peter’s fault. You want to hate him for it, at first, but you’re not sure that hating Peter would even be possible. Not when there’s no one in the world that looks at you like he does, no one who goes out of their way to make you smile. He makes you feel special, special enough for you to wonder why no one else has been looking at you like this all along. It’s not that the job has gotten easier, or the fancy coffee you can afford with your pay rise; it’s just that you’ve been stupid enough to develop stupid fucking feelings for the stupid guy you work with.

Realising this feels like falling off of the Empire State Building. A familiar feeling, yes, when you tally up all of the emotional turmoil you’ve experienced - except now, there’s a small part of your brain that really, truly believes that Spider-Man would catch you.

Somehow, that was scarier.

50 notes · View notes

password-door-lock · 7 months ago

Text

As soon as Saeran gets his hands on his new driver’s license, he makes the drive into the city to pick you up from work.

A lot has changed since Saeran was first liberated from Mint Eye three years ago. After leaving the hospital, he was given a simple new identity, a passport inscribed with a name that did not belong to him. He could use it for doctors’ appointments and other necessary paperwork, but it did not permit him to operate a motor vehicle. For those first two years, it was clear that Saeyoung didn’t trust his brother in a car. He didn’t say those words exactly, but the sentiment was made obvious by his refusal to furnish Saeran with a driver’s license of any kind.

A year ago, however, Saeyoung started to get more comfortable with the idea of Saeran driving, and he began to suggest that Saeran take the wheel for short trips between venues where law enforcement was not likely to be present. As Saeran’s natural red hair began to grow back in, Saeyoung began to grow more confident in the universal utility of his own falsified driver’s license, should the need arise for the twin behind the wheel to provide identification. He also came to understand that Saeran wasn’t likely to get pulled over, though he still had nerves about unsupervised trips.

Then, everything changed. A few months after Saeran started driving again, somebody at C&R discovered a flash drive containing a file marked with Saeyoung’s name. Within a week, the Prime Minister was arrested for holding vast sums of money in offshore accounts. Within a month, such items as high treason, conspiracy, and even attempted murder were added to the list of charges. By the time the bastard was finally brought to justice, he was being held accountable for almost all of his crimes.

This, at least, was what you reported from your conversations with top personnel at C&R— neither Saeran nor Saeyoung had any interest in opening the file knowing where it came from. Who it came from, in particular, but Saeran tries not to think about that. He’s come a long way, but his journey to healing and self-forgiveness is far from over. It’s better not to dwell on the things for which he still blames himself, especially not on happy occasions such as this one.

So now, Saeran has a brand new ID, and he can’t wait to show it to you. He drives Saeyoung’s least garish car— which is still painted an annoyingly bright color, but jewel-toned purple is a lot better than tomato red, lemon yellow, or neon fucking green— to your workplace and parks it outside. Saeran has practically memorized your schedule by now, so he knows he got here at the perfect time. Not only do you write your hours on the calendar hanging on the wall beside the spice cupboard in your kitchen, but you always make sure to call Saeran right away when you get done.

Like clockwork, his phone rings as soon as he shifts the car into park. “Hey,” he greets you. He’s not really one for gushy pet names, but you know this about Saeran already. “Don’t buy a train ticket.”

“Why not?” You ask, sounding concerned. “Did something happen? Is there—”

“Nothing like that,” Saeran cuts you off, not wanting you to worry. He may not be the most vibrant person in the world, but that doesn’t mean he’s cold or heartless. “I’m outside.”

He watches as you step out of your place of business. You look around, confused. “Where? I’m at the east side of the building, by the back entrance— are you out front? It might take me a minute to get over there.”

Saeran smirks, prepared to drop his bombshell. He’s looking forward to your passionate response. “I’m in the purple car.”

“The one with the after-market tail lights and the orange racing stripes?”

Unfortunately, yes. “Mhm.” Already, Saeran is thinking about the possibility of getting his own car— he’ll be sure to pick a black one. Maybe grey, if he’s hard-pressed. Even a champagne-colored car would be better than this.

“I only see one of you.” You rush over nevertheless, lugging your heavy work bag. Your phrasing is a bit awkward, but Saeran knows what you mean. You've never seen him behind the wheel before without Saeyoung also in the car. “Is Saeyoung hiding in the backseat? This isn’t some kind of prank is it, love?”

Saeran’s lips twitch the way they always do when you call him love. Pet names and terms of endearment tend to feel clunky in his own mouth, even after all this time, but he doesn’t hate them when they come from you. “No. I’m waiting for you on my own.”

You slide into the passenger seat and hang up the phone. “You’re telling me you voluntarily took the car with the after-market tail lights and the orange racing stripes?”

Saeran wrinkles his nose. He likes when you’re silly, but he doesn’t want to hold you in suspense about his good news any longer. “I’m telling you I got this in the mail today.” He grabs his driver’s license and holds it out to you.

Your eyes widen as you read the text on the card. “Saeran… Choi,” you recite, “This is… this is your real name! Does that mean—”

“The government knows about us now,” Saeran confirms. He and Saeyoung are finally free to exist out of hiding, living their own lives with their real names.

“Oh no, poor Saeyoung,” you contradict your utterance with a grin, handing the card back to Saeran, “He’s gonna have to start paying taxes now. So sad.”

Saeran snorts. “C&R could still help him evade them.” He’s grown comfortable with your sense of humor after spending so much time with you. It’s nice to play back and forth now that he has a better understanding of the world he lives in.

“Well, see, now, that would just be tax evasion,” you laugh, easily and languidly, “Which is highly frowned upon, you know? Anyway, congratulations on your license. Now you can go anywhere you want, any time you want… with anyone you want.”

“And I could get my own car,” Saeran muses. That’s going to be his next order of business, now that he’s told you the good news.

“A black one, right?” You already guessed what he’d want without him having to tell you. “If you want, we can keep it at my building— we’ve got a garage. You know, just so it’s in the same place as your toothbrush and your library books and your significant other.”

Saeran laughs at that, too. He knows you could be more subtle if you tried— you’re making this type of joke because you’d be perfectly content whether he accepted the offer or not. You've never pressured him to do anything before, and you're clearly not about to start now. “Now that I can prove I exist, you could add me to your lease.” That’s another thing he’s been thinking about a lot. He sleeps at your place most nights anyway, so it wouldn’t be very much of a change.

“Well, that’s just common sense.” You lean over to kiss him on the cheek before pulling away. “Anyway, I’m starving— should we go get some dinner? But you’ve gotta drive, since I'm already buckled in." You make a big show of buckling your seatbelt.

Saeran rolls his eyes at your playful comment. He’s never felt more free.

#thinking a lot about good days for SE Saeran #And what a happier healthier life might look like for him a few years after the end of secret 2 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran #saeran choi #fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

rockermybuddie · 5 months ago

Text

Comfort

A/n: this might be the first story i actually post. I have one finished and one in the works in my drafts im just too scared to post them lol.

Tommy x Evan (Buck)

Summary: When Tommy comes home and sees broken glass everywhere his first thought is Evan. He finds Evan pretending to be asleep in bed after a really rough shift and comforts him.

—————

~Bucks POV~

The moment the engines came to a stop in the bay i jumped out and went straight to the locker room grabbing my bag. “Buck!” Eddie calls out. I’m supposed to help stock the engine back up on supplies and clean up since its after shift but i’m too upset. “Leave him be.” Cap told Eddie.

I felt everyones eyes on me as i threw my bag in my jeep slamming my door shut. I drove out of there fast and went straight home.

When i arrived at home i saw that Tommys truck wasnt in his spot. I remembered that he said he picked up a shift which means he wont be home till later. That just made me a little more mad.

I unlocked the door and threw my bag down, I immediately went up stairs and took a shower to wash all the blood and soot off. I watched the red and black color go down the drain.

I got a flashback from the call and its all i could think about. My anger building inside of me about to burst. I got out of my shower and I couldn’t tell if the steam coming off of me was from the hot shower or if i was just that angry.

I walked downstairs to make dinner so i could try and get my mind off of the call. I got out the ingredients to make chicken parmesan pasta, Tommys favorite. I figured if i could just focus on Tommy i could get past this.

I got out a glass pan for the oven but set it down too hard out of anger causing it to shatter.

I didnt feel bad. It was just a glass pan. Usually i would be upset that i broke it but i dont feel anything but anger, not towards the broken glass.

Next thing i know im ripping open the cabinets knocking out everything, hearing the glass shatter on the floor and the need to break everything that can break.

I don’t remember anything after that, whatever happened after that was a blur.

————

~Tommys POV~

I pulled into the driveway and saw Evans jeep in the drive way, making a smile appear on my face because my love was home.

I walked into the house, i saw Evans bag tossed on the floor untouched which is weird because he always unpacks it and does the laundry.

“Evan?” I call out. No answer.

I put my bag next to his and make my way into the kitchen. I stopped in short when i saw all the cabinets open and they were empty. When i walked in further i saw all the broken glass everywhere. My first thought was we had an intruder. My instincts went straight to Evan. Where is he?!

“Evan!” I yell. I ran upstairs and swung open the bedroom door. My heart beating fast but slowed down a little when i saw him laying in the bed.

“Evan?” I say turning on the light, its only 7pm theres no way hes already asleep. “Evan i know you’re not asleep.” I walk over to his side of the bed.

I see his tear stained face as he looks up at me, his eyes are filled with sadness and his hands are shaking ever so slightly.

“Did someone break in Evan?” I ask him, maybe thats why hes so shook up. He shakes his head no.

“Whats wrong my love?” I crawl over him sitting on the other side. Buck moves to sitting between my legs leaning against me, his head resting on my shoulder.

He tells me about the call he was on about the call he was on and the whole time i just rubbed his head with my hand.

“I’m so sorry Evan. That had to of been rough.” I say when he finishes talking. “I know everyone there did their best. But sometimes those things happen. You had no control over that.” I tell him trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry about the mess downstairs. I’ll clean it and buy new stuff.” He says. “Shhh, dont worry about that. I’ll deal with it okay?” I tell him, I kiss his forehead wishing i could take all his pain away.

“Thank you for this. I really needed it.” He says nesting his head deeper into my shoulder.

“Anytime.” I plant a kiss on his lips as we sat there a little longer.

———

A/n: i know this is a basic story, but my first ones gotta be a little rough to read. I hope you thought it was ok, lol. I will write more because of my non-stop brain but if this gets positive feedback i will post the others when i write.

#911 #911 fandom #911 fox #911 fanfic #buck x tommy #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tommy x buck #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #911 abc

30 notes · View notes

lavelans · 1 year ago

Text

so i got to rewatch the fall of the house of usher today since some friends wanted to watch it and picked up on some things i didn’t notice before (some of these might be obvious but i just like pointing things out!)

1. we already know that the lighting shifts to that particular usher’s representative color during their death scene, but what i didn’t notice on my first watch was that not only do their wardrobes correspond with their colors, their furniture and home/work environments are in the same color too! (and when they’re not wearing that color they’re wearing a color that’s one step adjacent on the color wheel)

the most obvious is camille’s white, but i noticed this time prospero’s red car and jacket when he gives his first business proposal, the red suit he wears to the meeting with frederick.

i also noticed leo wearing a lot of yellow, the lights outside his apartment, the box he keeps his drugs in and the sofa he finds the dead cat behind are all yellow (he also mentions taking yellow pills).

victorine also wears a lot of orange, and so are the scrubs she and al wear in the operating room, the shelves in her office and the fruits on her dinner table at home.

tamerlane is another obvious one, with all the green she wears, but i also noticed there’s a green neon sign outside her apartment, and bill’s BILLT gym also had green accents.

and frederick wears a LOT of blue, i would say maybe he’s the third most obvious? his house has a lot of blue aquariums, and the room he keeps his wife in is blue as well. morrie also wore a blue dress when she went to perry’s party. and not 100% sure if this was intentional but the folder perry drops off at his house was blue too.

1a. bonus detail i noticed, what verna wears when she appears to each of the siblings just before they die also matches up with their respective colors. the red cape with perry, the white security guard uniform with camille, her uniform when she comes to leo’s apartment to pick up the cat, the green dress when she appears as tammy’s double and the blue vest she wears during freddie’s death. vic’s is a stretch but she wears a light orange cardigan when she meets with her and asks to talk to dr. ruiz.

1b. another bonus detail! perry’s party was lit mostly in blue before the lighting turned red just before he died, which visually ties it back to freddie’s death later on. freddie’s and perry’s deaths were already narratively intertwined, with morrie’s choice to go to the party triggering the events that caused freddie to slowly grow more and more paranoid and cruel throughout the series, ultimately leading up to his death in the same place. i just think it’s cool that this narrative connection is also reinforced visually.

2. when verna first arrives at tammy’s place as candy, she speaks with a uk accent, but as soon as the roleplay starts she shifts to an american accent and does an uncanny as fuck impression of samantha sloyan’s performance as tamerlane (which, CARLA GUGINO??? you LEGEND) (also as a non american who generally does not hear american accents outside of tv and movies, the accent switch did not register to me on my first watch lmao)

3. in the last episode, verna places the items on each usher’s gravestone carefully, you could even say with respect, EXCEPT for frederick’s cocaine packet (which she just unceremoniously drops onto the gravestone LMAO as he deserves). it does match the speech she gives him during his death. for the usher siblings she was sometimes kind but generally neutral when she spoke, always offering them chances to say no, but with little remorse when they fail to prevent their own gruesome deaths. EXCEPT for frederick, for whom her spiel is absolutely dripping with contempt for him.

4. minor detail, but in 1980 when verna was talking to the twins about putting their drinks on their tab, she says ‘buy now, pay later’ which basically foreshadows the deal the two of them later make with her. ‘buy now’ meaning saying yes to getting away with all the illegal stuff they did throughout the years, and ‘pay later’ with the lives of his entire lineage.

#tfothou #the fall of the house of usher #sorry for the wall of text i just have a Lot of Thoughts.#shut up kat

90 notes · View notes

smittywing · 1 year ago

Text

FicBit 10: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

OH MY GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER. However, there is only one more part and it's already mostly done. Whew.

Red Robin was in Red Hood’s territory, and he was brandishing a greasy paper bag of Big Belly Burger.

“What are you doing on my turf?” Jason demanded, trying to ignore that he could *smell* the onions from two feet away.

“It’s been pointed out to me,” Tim said wryly, “that I may have been a shit to you.”

Jason shrugged because he fucking hated that Tim’s questions had gotten to him and he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“I hear burgers are the going rate for an apology,” Tim added, shaking the bag a little.

“And fries?” Jason asked, relenting.

“And fries,” Tim confirmed.

Jason swept the bag out of his hand and dug out the top burger. Loaded with onions. Perfection. “So let’s hear it,” he mumbled around the first bite.

Tim lifted the lenses on his domino and rolled his eyes. Jason coughed out a laugh around his double beef patties.

“I’m sorry I got all up in your business,” Tim said. “I wanted - I wanted too many things and I tried to make them all work.”

Jason lifted his own lenses to share his side eye. “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked.

Tim scratched the back of his head. “You had me pretty fucked up, with that kiss,” he admitted.”I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I guess I wanted to be part of what you were going through, like…Bernard was for me.”

“No names in the field,” Jason scolded, shoving some fries into his mouth. “And Cannon Fodder is your actual boyfriend. Were you going to be my actual boyfriend?”

“No,” Tim said immediately and blushed. “I just.”

“Help!”

Jason snapped his attention away from Tim. “Hello?” he called. “Do you need help?”

A child, a little boy, maybe seven or eight, ran out of the alley, his hands fisted in his sweatshirt. “It’s my mom,” he said. “She needs help.”

Jason flipped the lenses on his domino back down and tossed the bag to Tim. “Show me where she is,” he directed.

“This way,”the kid said and ran back down the alley. Jason followed, his long strides eating up the distance between himself and the kid, and then he saw a woman huddled over some cardboard boxes. She was protecting her stomach and Jason’s heart pounded as he assumed the worst.

“Let me see,” he said, kneeling next to her. “Help is here.”

He heard, rather than saw the taser as she fired, and he barely had time to say, “Fuck,” before everything went black.

Jason gained consciousness slowly and regretfully. For starters, he was upside down and his nose was running. (It seemed like a problem that would solve itself, but no.) Moving on, he was lashed to Tim, who was also unconscious. His head was tucked under Jason’s chin, his mouth breathing short puffs of air against Jason’s neck. At least he was breathing. Their hands were tied, Jason’s behind his back and Tim’s in front of him, which basically put them right in Jason’s groin. For fuck’s sake. As if Jason didn’t have enough problems with wanting Tim, some absolute psycho went and put Tim’s hands in Jason’s lap and was probably laughing while Jason tried to be cool about it. Finally, Jason craned his head down to see what they were dangling over. Acid? Alligators? Something that started with the letter B?

Nope. Concrete. Great. He groaned and Tim stirred against him.

“Wake up, Baby Bird,” he said because the jig was up and he might as well have company in immortal humiliation. “They got us.”

“Temporary situation,” Tim said crisply, even though his voice was muffled by Jason’s skin and his own shirt.

“Let’s not fall on our heads,” Jason suggested when he realized Tim was picking the ties on his own hands. Actually, falling on his head sounded pretty good right now, with Tim’s hands shifting and twitching *so fucking close* and his cock aching for those hands to hold it. Only Jason could get a stiffy while dangling over certain death.

“Just stay really still for a sec,” Tim said, and then he twisted around and wrapped his arms around Jason’s back. Jason tried not to die inside. Tim tucked his head into the small of Jason’s back - it was really weird to get turned on by this, right? - and rotated his body so he was facing upright, his knees hooked around Jason’s shoulders. “You need my pick before I jump?” he asked.

“I have a knife,” Jason replied, choked.

Tim pushed off and somersaulted to the floor. His landing was light, not as soundless as Dick’s, but far less noisy than Jason’s was about to be. Tim had freed Jason’s feet, which had been tied with his own, so Jason wrapped one leg in the hanging chain before he sliced apart the ropes holding his hand. He grasped the chain and swung himself down, landing beside Tim with a quiet thunk.

“I don’t know what kind of candyass bullshit that was,” he said, rubbing at his chest which still tingled from the taser. “But we need to kick some asses.”

“I got tased by a third grader.” Tim sounded salty. “I’m guessing it’s not my drug ring.”

“We weren’t even in costume when we pissed them off,” Jason pointed out. “It’s gotta be somebody else.”

“Smart enough to use decoys, dumb enough to leave us alone,” Tim added.

Jason tried to remember the woman’s face as he bent over her. “Mind control?” he asked. “Hatter’s still in Arkham, isn’t he?”

Tim tapped his earbud. “Oracle,” he asked. “Is Mad Hatter still in Arkham?” He looked at Jason and shook his head. A metal door screamed open a thousand feet away and about a dozen people marched through the opening. “Oh. That fits. Yeah, Red Hood and I will take care of it.”

“Who is it?” Jason demanded, unholstering his guns.

“Professor Pyg,” Tim said. “He escaped sometime this afternoon. He probably hasn’t had time to turn anyone into a Dollotron yet but he has some method of mind control.”

“Dammit.” Mind control meant no bullets. Not even rubber ones. “All right, let’s find this guy and put him back where he belongs. You still owe me a burger.”

“I gave you a burger,” Tim protested. “It’s not my fault you got duped into abandoning it.”

“I handed it back to you,” Jason pointed out. “It’s not my fault you got tased by an eight-year-old.”

“Ugh,” Tim said. “There are offices up there, on the catwalk. Pyg’s probably up there. Let’s skip the henchmen and go straight to the source.”

Jason didn’t often use a grapple but Tim was already on his way and there was no way Jason was letting him face Pyg without backup. He grappled up to the catwalk, ducking under the metal guardrail, and took off after Tim. They started clearing offices and had covered the east side of the warehouse when Jason heard a footstep behind him and spun around.

Pyg, brandishing a cleaver, and a syringe, had emerged from the next office down and was trying to rush Jason. Fortunately he was neither fast nor accurate and Jason managed to side-step him and take him down with a judo throw. He kicked the cleaver down the catwalk but Pyg lunged at his with the syringe. It wouldn’t have pierced his armor, but it didn’t matter. Tim was there and he cracked his bo staff across the back of Pyg’s head. Pyg went down and Jason picked up the syringe. “We’re gonna want to analyze this,” he commented.

“Later,” Tim snapped. “We’re getting him back to Arkham before he can do anymore damage.”

Sirens were already wailing. Jason zip-tied Pyg’s wrists and checked the back of his head. “You got him good, baby bird,” he said, finding a sizable goose egg. “Cops are on their way. They can give him a lift back to Arkham.”

“We need to figure out what this is and how to counteract it,” Tim said, nodding at the syringe still in Jason’s hand. “We’ll have to take it back to the Bat-Cave.”

“I’m not going there,” Jason said automatically. “Which office was he using? Are there notes?”

The notes were in the third office they checked. Tim took the notes and the syringe and slipped out of the warehouse to tell some cop he was friendly with how to synthesize an antidote.

Jason grappled to the roof of the next building and watched Tim from a distance as he spoke stridently with a detective. Then, he slipped into the shadows and went home.

#batbrats #jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #jason todd/tim drake #red hood #red hood/red robin #red robin #jason todd's potty mouth #batfam #fic actually

43 notes · View notes

i-arch-my-backula · 1 year ago

Text

Grocery store massacre: Ghostface and Leslie Vernon x reader

Just a little something I wrote, nothing too glorious. Not exactly romantic or anything other than the reader being chased around. I needed to post and this is the best I got for y'all right now because I'm still busy.

Content warnings: Murder, blood, violence, swearing, reader in distress

Working at a grocery store wasn’t your ideal job, but because you live in a small town, it pays well enough for you to afford rent and most other things you need. Today nothing much happened. Normal customers, a couple of teenagers being stupid, and one man who said he was a journalist. The conversation you had with him still sticks in your mind.

“I’m new in town, I need a local to show me around.” He said to you as you hand him his grocery bag.

“Maybe I’ll have to do that sometime when I’m not working.” You replied, giving him a smile.

The digital clock on your register strikes ten and you grab the microphone for the intercom.

“Attention Phill’s market shoppers, the time is now ten pm and the store is closed. Please come to the front to be checked out. We will reopen tomorrow at nine am. Thank you for choosing Phill’s market and have a great night.” You say, turning off the intercom and the music being played comes back on over the speakers.

You’re closing tonight with two other people, which you haven’t seen either of them for the past half hour, but that isn’t too big of a deal considering barely anyone has been checking out. You tap your fingers on the counter at your register and footsteps are heard. You look over and see an older woman you know coming up to check out.

“Hello Y/N. Working late tonight aren’t you?” She asks, setting down her things on the moving belt before you grab them and start to scan them. You give her a smile and nod your head.

“Yeah well I don’t mind taking the closing shifts. It’s not too busy and I like my coworkers.” You say, putting her few items into a bag as she puts her card in to pay.

“Oh I heard some awful noises coming from the back when I was over in the dairy aisle. I don’t think it was anything too bad, but there were some strange noises going on back there.” She says, taking out her card and putting it back in her wallet. You hand her her bag and nod your head.

“I’ll go check it out. Have a good night Mrs. Baker.” She smiles and takes the bag from your hands.

“You too dear.” She walks over to the door and you finish closing up your register before locking the doors at the front of the store. You turn back around and make your way over to the back, pushing open the swinging doors and looking around. All the lights are off, which isn’t too unusual considering only you, the owner of the store, and two other coworkers are here right now. You take out your phone and put on the flashlight as you make your way over to the back office.

The owner isn’t in her office and you shake it off as her being busy with something else. You clock out and flip the switch to turn the lights back on in the back, but it doesn’t work. You try a couple more times but it’s not working. You frown and turn on your phone flashlight again. You try to shrug off the feeling you’re getting as you walk out of the office and over to the back doors. Your phone starts to buzz and you look down to find an unknown number calling you.

You shouldn’t pick it up, but it might be one of your coworkers. You hesitate for a couple more moments before you pick up and put the phone on speaker, still needing to use the flashlight.

“Hello?” You ask, making your way around the boxes of products.

“Hello.” A distorted voice says over the phone. “Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Y/N. Listen if you’re calling about where I am I already clocked out. I locked the front doors too, you shouldn’t have to-” You’re in the middle of your sentence when you step on something wet. You look down and find a large puddle of red liquid. You pray it’s just some kind of leaking strawberry syrup but that metallic smell can’t lie. You look over to your left and find your coworker's body, stabbed over and over again with kitchen knives from a nearby box.

A dark chuckle is heard from your phone as you drop it, splashing the blood on the floor slightly.

“The question now is, where am I hiding?” You hear that distorted voice say. You shake your head and start to run, your feet sliding slightly from the blood still on the bottom of your shoes. You’re too focused on trying to breathe to scream. That is until you discover your other coworker's decapitated head, sitting inside an industrial fridge.

You scream and all the air inside your body gets knocked out at the sight of that. You shake your head and move your hands to your mouth as you keep running to the back door. You make it there only to find it locked. It won’t budge and you feel tears roll down your cheeks.

“God damn it!” You shout, slamming your body into the door, trying to push it open. You’re still slamming yourself into the door, trying to open it when a hand held scythe lands next to your head. You freeze and look over to where it came from. A man in tattered clothes and a strange looking mask making his way quickly over to you. You shake your head and push yourself off the door.

“Leave me alone!” You shout, as if that will do anything. You look around in the dark, trying to remember where everything is when you see the distant glow of the office again, where a phone is. You look back at the man who’s grabbing his scythe again before you rush towards the light of the office.

“Help! Please! Somebody help me! Help!” You shout, knowing the man is still pursuing you. You rush past the body of your coworker and back into the office, slamming the door shut and locking it. You dash to the filing cabinet and push it over, blocking the door before you rush your way over to the desk and you pick up the receiver of the phone, dialing 911.

You’re panting and shaking as you wait for someone to pick up. You can hear him outside the door, slamming on it, trying to get in. Finally someone picks up on the other end and you immediately start talking.

“Yes, oh my god I’m at Phil's grocery store on 82 street and there’s a man trying to kill me! He has a weapon and he’s already killed two of my coworkers! Please hurry!” You shout, hearing the person over the phone try and calm you down. Your heart is pounding and you’re trying to control your breathing when you remember there’s a window in the office. You turn around but before you can do anything else you’re greeted with the standing corpse of your boss, her throat slit and bleeding.

You drop the receiver and scream, jumping back as the pounding on the door continues. You watch as the corpse gets tossed aside and another man presents himself. This time you know who he is, Ghostface. The man who’s been going around and killing other people for the past couple of weeks. This time he must have gotten help from someone. Your already racing mind is left with too many questions to process right now.

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” You shout as you make your way over to the corner of the desk, the door to the office finally starting to crack as the man who chased you first makes his way in. You shake your head and look around the desk for anything you can use to defend yourself with.

Ghostface raises his knife and charges for you. You’re able to doge him, only getting a slight cut on your arm from his knife as you grab a lamp on the desk and smash it over his head, sending him falling to the ground. The man behind the door is clawing his way through the thin wood with his scythe, making the hole bigger and bigger as he goes.

You spot a letter opener and you quickly grab it, taking off the cover and holding it out as the man behind the door pushes his head through the hole. You spot the window and rush over to it when Ghostface stabs his knife into the window inches away from your head, shattering the glass, a couple shards getting stuck in your arms and hands. You scream and slice his hand with the letter opener, earning a shout of pain from him. You push him back and climb your way out of the window and onto the ground outside, running as fast as you can when you see the promising glow of the red and blue police lights. You drop the letter opener and put your hands on your forehead.

“Please! Please help me!” You shout as you notice the large amount of tears streaming down your face. Police rush out of their cars, a couple running into the grocery store and a couple rushing over to you, trying to calm you down. You try to breath in as much air as you can as they walk you over to an approaching ambulance. The nightmare is finally over.

Later at the hospital you’re lying in your bed, in a light sleep. You’re woken up by your phone buzzing. You pick it up and put it to your ear.

“Hello?” You ask, expecting it to be your mother or someone calling to check up on you.

“You got lucky tonight.” That same distorted voice says from before. You hear your heart monitor beep loudly as your heartbeat picks up rapidly. “You better be careful, you never know what might happen next.” The voice says with a dark chuckle. You shake your head and drop your phone. Soon enough a nurse rushes in and checks your heart rate on the monitor.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, keeping a calm tone as he feels your pulse.

“I- The phone- The voice- He called me before- I just-” You stammer out, trying not to break out into hysterics. The nurse puts a hand on your forehead and takes a deep breath.

“You’re safe here, you don’t have to worry about any of that now.” He says with a reassuring smile. “Try to take deep breaths and I’ll be back with some ice for you.” He stands back up fully before walking over to the door.

“What’s your name?” You croak out, trying to take deep breaths like he instructed you to do. He turns his attention towards you and smiles, a hint of malice now on his face.

“My name is Leslie.”

#ghostface x reader #leslie vernon x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

doctorgirlsblog · 5 months ago

Note

Hello!! I was wondering if you might do a doctor reader x max where she is a junior doctor working long shifts and feeling very tired but doesn’t tell max because she knows he also has a very tiring schedule? But he takes care of her and makes sure she is well looked after? Maybe a bit spicy in the end if you are ok with that!!

Hello! Was written in the pause actually, as you got my situation explained there too 🤣🫡🩺 only thing missing is Max coming to take care of me 😴😂

Hope you like it! 💙

________________________________________

Taking care

(Those who always care about others, sometimes need some care too.)

Another night, another double shift. The only regular meal she'd had in the past couple of days was black coffee, and the Red Bull cans were strewn all around her office. Even exhausted, she smiled to herself, thinking about how she was promoting her boyfriend's team and consuming probably more Red Bulls than he was.

She was getting ready for her last round of checking up on patients at the crack of dawn when her phone pinged.

[One new message]

Love: "When should I pick you up from work, babe?"

She was surprised that he was awake so early, but she figured that he wants to go on a jog.

She didn't want to be a burden to him at the moment. She knew how much stress he alone was under, with all the training, debriefs and she wasn't doing her best lately in supporting him, with her shifts getting in the way. She knew the pressure that he was under. He didn't need to worry about her too.

So, she tried to spare him.

She texted back quickly:

"All good, love. I'll probably stay a little longer; I got lost in the paperwork. You go home and get some rest. I love you."

She was quite disappointed when he left her message on "read," but she was already on the verge of sleep. Deciding to go back to work and let it go, she knew that he was likely already out jogging.

A couple of cans of Red Bull and two cups of coffee later, in the deathly silence of the office, she nearly jolted from the table when she heard a loud, hard knock at the door.

She quickly ran her fingers through her now-messy hair in an attempt to tame it and straightened out her coat.

"Come in."

What she hadn’t expected was to see Max standing at the door, his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair disheveled. He held two takeout bags and a Starbucks coffee in his hands.

“Got some time for one more patient, Liefje?” -he asked, smiling at her as he put the things on the nearest cupboard before she ran into his arms.

"Max? Baby what are you doing here? I thought you'd gone out for a jog." She pouted at him, but he pulled her away from him and toward one of the two comfortable armchairs.

"You were never a good liar, especially when you're sleepy. You texted me half the letters wrong (which she didn't notice in her moment of sleepiness), and I had a good feeling that these all-nighters would mean coffee for every meal without the actual meal. So you're not moving from that spot until you eat this." He opened the box with two sandwiches and the other one with croissants. Starbucks lay on the table beside her.

"I'm sorry, Max. I never meant to worry you. I just..."—she huffs—"...it got really tough the last couple of days, and I couldn't even find time to watch your race and support you, and..."

She doesn't get to finish her sentence because he's already towering over her, his large hand on her chin and the other gripping her thigh.

She lets out a gasp at the contact, craving it nonetheless, but unable to move.

"You always take care of everyone, especially me. Now, it's my turn," he said, leaning down further and cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her so gently, but passionately that she couldn't help but let out a whimper.

He quickly pulled her up from the chair and changed their positions, pulling her on his lap, tracing his fingers up her thighs, all the way under her coat..

____________________

It is safe to say that the sandwiches lay long-forgotten on the table, and the proper meal had to wait a bit longer while Max had his own dessert.

|P.S. Sorry for any grammar mistakes; the next one will be longer i promise 💯 |

#mv1 x reader #f1 one shot #max × doctor!reader

10 notes · View notes

chilelemonz · 8 months ago

Text

Joel's Secret Talents

HBO!Jackson Joel x NB/MASC reader

Chapter 3

Prev Next

Tuesday night patrol came and Chris didn’t want to seem to excited but they had paced outside Joel’s house as they showed up five minutes early. Now that they thought about it the two of them never set a time Chris just assumed an hour before they would have to switch shifts should be enough time for a meal and to walk to post. Finally walking up to the porch just before sundown, the screen door swings open. “I had seen ya walk up five minutes ago but I figured yerneeded aminute.” His words slurring together sultrly do to his southern drawl. A tan statuesque man standing in front of Chris wearing a blue&green flannel tucked into jeans with his sleeves cuffed. His hair almost looked greased or he just got out of the shower.Either way it was clear he wanted to make an impression. At this moment Chris felt a little under dressed, they had worn a clean set of patrols clothes, a black long sleeve slighlty formfitting and jeans that have tears exposing their thighs and a scar alining with the rip. “Oh that’s not embarrassing at all” Chris says sarcastically as Joel steps aside to usher them into his home. “Oh don’t worry, I thought it was cute” Joel whispers in Chris’s ear as the door thwacks close behind the two of them. Causing Chris to jump a little. “Alright smooth talker let’s if your cooking is as good as your tongue” immediately realizing what that sounded like and turning beat red “Wait ! I didn’t-” “Trust me Sugar” Suddenly there was an inch between them Joel lowering his lips to their ear. The tension of them alone in his kitchen finally peaking, no prying community eyes or children to rangle “You don’t even know how good my tongue could be” slipping one his hands the small of the Chris’s back ,making them involuntarily gasp before flipping them around and saying “Now let’s eat!” *time~skip* Joel had made a venison roast, something him and Tommy caught the other day, mashed potatoes and peas. It was actually quite good which he found offense. “You didn’t think I was gonna give ya a nice a home cooked meal” eye brows raised in fake offense “All I’m saying is you didn’t talk it up mister, don't want the whole town hearing you can cook? Might get stuck in kitchen instead of patrol?” Teasing Joel’s secret talent while shoving mashed potatoes in their mouth. Chris does alot of late nights and volunteering and usually doesn’t have much time to sit and enjoy a full meal or have one so this was more than enjoyable. “What?” asking with a mouth full of food. “Nothin, just you know ya know yerallowed seconds right?” The older man,head in hand smiling behind it,watching them in genuine awe, eyes following every lip movement or moan of delight from his cooking. “I know your teasing” still not done chewing “but this is best meal I’ve had in a really really long time. Thank you” A brief pause between,not awkward or trying just sitting with each others presence. Letting the moment linger as long as it can before they must face reality. “Anytime,Sugar” Joel leans in,tucking a small curl behind their ear, then picking up both plates “Better geta move on, it’s almost dark.” placing them in the sink. Chris turns to the window seeing the sun go down and the moonlight taking over. Had it already been an hour? They scramble to the boots on as Joel hold the door open for them. Now heading out the door to spend a different kind of night together. Maybe less romantic,maybe not?

A/N: hey guys thank you for taking the time to read this!!! thinking about having a more regular posting schedule for this story since people seem to like it.

love, lemonz

**DO NOT STEAL, REPLICATE, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. **

I strictly FORBID any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

#fanfic #fanfiction #nonbinary #they/them #original character #nb nsft #joel miller #hbo joel miller #fandom #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou #lgbtq community #the last of us #they/he #curly hair

9 notes · View notes

hungover-and-broke-student · 9 months ago

Text

A little something based on an old thread with @malpractitioner that I've had rotating in my brain for a while. Cut for length!

After one last look around and with some irritated grumbling, Riley finished the last of her night shift and headed home into the night. Winter had arrived in full force and in the earliest hours, well before the plows and salt trucks got out to clear it, the snow made the city almost unrecognizable. Street lights now offered a hazy glow instead of harsh shadows and the usual car honks and sirens were replaced by the soft hiss of snowfall and crunches underfoot.

Block by block, she made her way home, enjoying the scenery as snow filled in her footprints. But as she approached the outermost edges of campus, with the oldest and most neglected buildings and almost a dozen blocks still to go, a cruel wind began picking up. She was prepared for a few flurries, not a blizzard, and her layers were proving insufficient.

Cold. Burning, numbing cold crept deep into her bones, chasing all sensation from her hands and feet as she stumbled up the steps of the old, imposing medical building and tested the handle. Expecting it to be locked, Riley was almost startled at the ease in which it opened, the warmth inviting her as she slipped in.

"Hello?" Riley quietly asked the sprawling darkness. But only silence answered back. Perhaps the cleaning staff forgot to lock the door when they left? Were they still here? Was she not loud enough?

"Anyone here?"

No response. Just cold, quiet, darkness and the soft drip of snow melting onto the floor.

A bit odd, but nothing to worry about. She was just grateful for the chance to warm up enough to get the feeling back in her hands before braving the rest of the way home.

Wandering deeper through the halls, she had just turned to leave when she heard it. When walking through the woods, people will sometimes jump a bit before realizing that they've noticed a snake in their path, and this was eerily similar. Her eyes widened, hair stood on end and heart raced before she could even register the single scream ringing through the hall, clawing its way to escape, to anyone who might hear it. A single, desperate, and terrified, "HELP ME!" Came from down the hall behind her.

And then it was quiet again. Nothing to be heard over her own heart in her ears. Leave. Immediately. But who could be down there? Doesn't matter. What would have made them so scared? Do you want to find out? Maybe I can help them? Your phone died hours ago. Isn't it better to know what danger may be there?

Riley crept deeper into the dark, taking care to step lightly and listen for any sign of who or what screamed, but it was just her footsteps and the silence around her. Until she noticed a soft glow from a small window on a door to one of the labs and crept close enough to peer in.

It was hard to tell what was going on at first, some papers on a desk, some chemistry equipment, an empty coffee maker, some chairs tipped over... and a body on the floor. Horribly still, eyes rolled back and mouth agape in a post-mortem scream. Locked in horror, time slowed around her until movement caught her eye. Someone else was in the room, and he saw her.

At once, she turned heel and raced back to the entrance, stumbling blindly through the shadowy labyrinth. The halls seemed to have gotten longer since she first wandered through, she couldn't have really walked so far, right? Did she pass through these classrooms already? Did she take the right one? Before she could despair, she saw it, the soft red glow of an EXIT sign. With a loud 'CRACK' she ran into the handle, but the door didn't budge. It wasn't locked. It was frozen shut.

"Riley?"

So caught up with the door, she hadn't heard him approach, now blocking the main hall. Despite the darkness, she recognized the long limbs, large glasses and imposing stature of her psychology professor, Doctor Jonanthan Crane.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't sound angry, moreso confused and almost amused. Like they ran into each other at a gas station out of town, instead of getting caught for murder. He looked slightly disheveled compared to his lectures during class, eyes bloodshot and shirt untucked, but the way his gaze pierced through her was all the same.

"I swear to God, I didn't see anything." The words spilled out without control.

He paused for a moment, before simply stating with the authority of an educator getting a confession from a problem student, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

She stared for a moment, so wound up with her own fear she had to organize her thoughts enough to go through that night's events. Starting with her shift ending, the freezing walk and her stumbling back to their current conversation. Whether he believed her, or cared enough not to, she couldn't tell. He just stood there. "I swear, I won't tell anyone."

There was a flash of amusement as he took a few steps toward her. Riley had nowhere to back up. "I can't see why you would, it's your word against mine, isn't it?" Who would you believe? He didn't have to say it, she already knew the answer and it made her insides twist. A celebrated doctor and professor, head of the psychology department versus a mentally ill drug addict. Who would you believe? Who would you believe?

He closed the gap between them and terror wrapped itself around her neck like a noose, slowly growing tighter. "Please dont kill me." It was hardly louder than the soft buzz from the sign above, but it wouldn't have mattered. She was going to die, alone and terrified, just like the other student. But this time, without anyone snooping around to find out what happened. Would anyone even notice she was gone?

Terrified and with no way out, a memory flashed through her mind, a final hail Mary. It couldn't make things worse, could it?

"I'll help you! Y-you need help with your experiments, right? If you don't kill me, I swear I'll help you." There was a flash of surprise as he studied her face, leaving her in the agonizing limbo between life and death. Time dragged as he clearly relished her uncertainty, before turning and gesturing for her to follow.

"Alright then, let's get started. "

#riley-isms #malpractitioner #miss ya buddy! hope you're doing well #little unsure how to tag this but always happy to hear feedback #maybe ill make this into a comic someday #after all my other projects get done first #i like the idea that what youre doing to try to keep control is what causes you to lose it

12 notes · View notes