#I’m in my head a lot less when I smoke

[itspupppycat]

Thank you Mother Earth for marijuana 🙏🏽

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

K

e

r

o

s

e

n

e

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

[starkeyisthelastname]

What about reader riding trailer park rafe’s cock?

that old worn couch is subject to a lot of dirty mean sex 💦😩

It had been a long day for him, working some shitty job and sweatin’ his ass off in the brutal Carolina heat, just for his truck to fuck up on the way home. He thankfully got it started up again, zooming it through the park until he pulled up to his run down trailer. You were already by the creaky steps waiting for him, lookin’ all pretty with a smile on your face. He was in a piss poor mood, hot and just wanted to sit on his ass.

“Get inside, gimme a beer and bring me my plate.” He grumbled, stomping past you with a brooding look on his handsome face. Of course he expected you to wait on him hand and foot, like a good little trailer park house wife does.

He slid off his belt, throwing it on the old wooden coffee table before lazily resting on the worn couch. You’d bring him a plate full of food you had cooked and a cold beer from the fridge. He watched you then fix a smaller plate for yourself, before coming down to sit next to him. It would be quiet except for the shitty tv playing something that his eyes were focused on while he ate his food up and downed his beer.

It was after he cleared his plate, he felt a little better and wanted to relax even more with his dick inside your cunt. “Hey, go get me another one sugar.” He said, his voice a little less gruff than when he had greeted you as he waved his empty beer can around. You always felt giddy at his sweet names he called you, prancing over to the fridge to get him another beer, like a good obedient doll. He watched that sweet bare ass peek out of your dress as you bent over, his mind made up even more as he lit a cigarette and popped the button of his jeans open.

As you approached with his beer, he reached out with two rough hands to pull you onto his lap to straddle. He took the beer from you, one hand coming up to take a drag from his cigarette before inhaling the smoke and putting the bud out. His blue eyes grazed over you, blowing out the smoke over your sweet smelling self as he drank in every inch he was gonna ruin some more of.

“I’m gonna stretch your little cunt out for a while. Kay sweetheart?” He said, hand that wasn’t holding his beer coming up to grip your jaw so that you would keep your eyes on him. You nodded eagerly, already lifting up your dress like he been teaching you.

You’d let out the prettiest whine, grasping his broad shoulder for support while he helped you ease down onto his fat length. He was huge, always stretching your pretty cunt open and making your head dizzy when you felt him inside. “T-too big.” You couldn’t help but whimper, tensing up as he filled you to the brim and placed his hands on your hips to squeeze.

You were such a tight fuck, gripping his dick as he started slowly guiding you up and down. “You can fuckin’ take it babydoll. Let that fat cock stuff your sweet hole full.” He grunted, teaching you how to ride dick so that on days he didn’t feel like putting in the work he could still get a nut.

As you began to find a rhythm, letting those beautiful moans echo of the trailer walls, he then let his hands go and rested them behind his head. He’d lean back against the tattered loveseat, dirty smirk on his face as he watched you begin to bounce up and down without any help. You were such a good little listener, dainty hands tugging at the old silver chain he wore around his neck, and letting those pretty knees work.

He’d even reach over to grab another cigarette, lighting it as it hung between his lip and nodding his head towards you to keep going when you slowed down. “Didn’t I say you could stop? Lemme’ me fuckin’ relax and get to fuckin hoppin’.” He said, his voice sounding mean again as he was gonna make you work for it before he really gave it to you.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

changes

dbf!loganxgrown!reader

a/n: my first resquest! i hope you like it <3 send me more requests pls pls!

wc:2.5k

FLUFF, AGE GAP, TABOO RELATIONSHIP

summary: you've had enough of the tension between you and Logan, your dad's best friend, so you decided to go confront him about it.

It’s funny how the past creeps up on you. One minute, you’re just a kid with scraped knees and big dreams, and the next, you’re staring down the barrel of decisions you swore you’d never make. But life’s got a way of pushing you into corners, and before you know it, you’re crossing lines you didn’t even know were there.

Logan’s always been a fixture in my life, like the smell of cigar smoke that clings to the walls long after the flame’s been snuffed out. A constant. Steady. Safe, in a way that most people never are. My dad’s best friend, the man who taught me how to throw a punch and how to take one. He was always there, just on the periphery, watching out for me in that quiet, gruff way of his.

But things change. People change. Or maybe, it’s just me. Because somewhere along the way, the way I look at him shifted. The safe, familiar lines blurred, and now I’m seeing things I wasn’t supposed to see—feeling things I wasn’t supposed to feel.

It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing full well that one wrong step could send you plummeting, but you can’t bring yourself to step back. And Logan… he’s the kind of danger you run toward, not away from.

I know better. I should know better. But when I’m around him, all that common sense goes up in smoke. Just like the end of his cigar, burning slow, smouldering—until there’s nothing left but ash.

You put down your pen with a heavy sigh.

Your diary, the safekeeping for all your thoughts and worries, had recently become your go-to place for your impure thoughts as well.

A part of you wished you could go back to the way it was before. It was simpler, more moral, and occupied a lot less of your mind than it did now.

But something had shifted between the two of you when you became a woman. 

The way you looked at him was a big one. Now that you were in the adult dating pool as well, you couldn’t help but notice that Logan was an attractive man and a single one too.

You obsessively questioned why that was because, to you, he was the complete package; More than just tall, dark, and handsome. 

You would catch yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, the way his chest and abdominal muscles flexed beneath his shirt when he moved. The protruding veins of his forearms and hands, how his fingers were covered in callouses from work.

You had memorized the way his voice dipped into a low grumble when he said your name, how his hazel eyes darkened with something unspoken when they met yours.

The way he spoke to you also took a drastic turn. Keeping the conversation preferably to small talk, or once in a while he’d tease you and call you those annoying pet names from when you were little:

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” 

“Come on princess, take a joke,” 

“Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.”  

Another thing was the way you interacted with each other; you weren’t jumping into his arms as soon as he stepped through the door or being picked up and settled into his lap anymore, it was just a nod of acknowledgement or a slight touch on your lower back if he needed to pass by you.

Even the littlest amount of contact didn’t stop you from imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t stop himself from touching you. What it would feel like if he let go of that last thread of restraint that keeps him just out of reach.

When you lay alone at night, you couldn’t help but think about sitting on that lap again one day.

The lines between right and wrong blur every time he’s near now. It’s dangerous, this game you’re both playing in your heads.

The last time he’d been over, fixing something for your dad, you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered on you a moment too long. How the air seemed to crackle with tension when you were alone in the room together.

“You alright bub’?” he’d tried to play it casually but his eyes… his eyes told a different story.

Bub, the nickname he had given you when you were younger.

“Yeah, just watching you,” you’d bit your lip, keeping your gaze locked on his. 

He nodded, but the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands gripped the wrench a little harder, told you everything you needed to know. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you left the room, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing he felt it too—the pull, the magnetic force that kept you two stealing glances here and there. 

You close the diary with a soft thud as if shutting the book could somehow lock away the thoughts swirling in your head. But the truth is, there’s no escaping them—not when every interaction with Logan leaves you trembling with a flame you cannot control.

And now, sitting in your room, your diary clutched to your chest like a lifeline, you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives. 

There is no better time than the present after all…Fuck it.

With a deep breath, you push yourself off the bed and glance at the clock. It’s late, but you know Logan’s still awake—he always is.

 Part of you was set on going to see him now, to see if the tension you’ve been imagining is real, if he’ll react the same way as you will.

But another part of you, the part that remembers the little girl who used to jump into his arms without a second thought, holds you back. 

Because once you took that step, there was no going back to the way things were before.

And maybe that’s what scared you the most.

You slipped out of your apartment, clutching your car keys so tightly that the metal might bend under the pressure.

 What were you doing? You weren’t entirely sure yourself, but it felt as if your body was on autopilot—drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Finding your car, you slid into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling as you shot Logan a quick text.

Y/N: You up?

Your leg bounced nervously as you waited for his reply. How would he react? Would his voice of reason prevail, or would he finally admit to feeling the same pull that you did?

A moment later, your phone buzzed. Logan responded with a simple thumbs-up emoji.

Very on brand. 

Simple, efficient, and direct. You thought.

With his green light, you pulled out of the parking garage and drove towards his log cabin up at Deer Lake. The hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded against your ribcage, a steady rhythm that matched the thoughts racing through your mind. 

You couldn’t stop replaying the last time you’d been alone with him, the way his eyes had lingered on yours just a fraction too long, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw when your fingers brushed his as he handed you something.

Was tonight the night everything would change?

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road that led to his place, the dense trees seemed to close in around you, the darkness thickening with each passing second.

The familiarity of the path did little to ease your nerves; if anything, it only heightened the anticipation. 

You’d been here countless times before, but tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just visiting a family friend—you were venturing into no man's land.

Finally, the cabin came into view, the warm glow of the porch light spilling out into the cold night air.

You parked the car and took a deep breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as you tried to steady yourself. 

There was still time to turn back, to pretend this had all been a bad idea, a fleeting moment of weakness.

But deep down, you knew you weren’t going to, you knew you didn’t want to.

With a quiet resolve, you stepped out of the car and made your way up the steps to his door. The sound of gravel crunching beneath your boots seemed louder in the stillness of the night.

You hesitated for a moment at the door, your hand raised to knock, when it suddenly swung open, revealing Logan standing there, backlit by the soft light from inside.

He was dressed in his usual white tank top and denim jeans. His tall presence filled the doorway, broad shoulders and familiar, rugged face, but it was the look in his eyes that held you captive. There was a flicker of something there—something that mirrored the pressure in your chest.

“Kid,” he said, his voice low and steady, but you could hear the tension beneath it.

“Can I come in?” You mumbled shyly. 

He nodded,  and you stepped past him into the cabin. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the world outside felt very far away. It was as if you’d crossed over into a place where nothing but the two of you existed.

You followed Logan deeper into the cabin, the warmth from the fireplace offering a sharp contrast to the cold, restless night outside. He leaned against the table, returning his glass of whiskey in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. “Logan… can we talk?”

He took a swig and looked up, his hazel eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. “‘Bout what?”

You hesitated, then stepped closer, your heart racing. “Logan, I see the way you look at me.”

He took a swig of his drink.

“... it’s okay. I’ve been looking too.” You stepped closer. 

“I know, sweetheart,” He looked down into his drink. “...hard to ignore what’s goin' on between us.” 

Your breath hitched: he acknowledged it. 

“It is hard, and it’s driving me crazy... we can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing here. I like you, a lot, and I know it’s wrong but I can’t help it.” You fiddled with your fingers. 

“Kid,” he began, his voice gruff, “it ain’t wrong to feel what you’re feelin’. Not with the way that things have changed between us.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you took another step closer, the tension between you thickening with each breath. “Then why have you been pulling away? Why do you keep acting like we can just ignore this?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing as if he was trying to find the right words. “I’ve been tryin’ to protect you…. Things ain’t as simple as they used to be. You’re not a little girl anymore, and I’m… well, I’m me. There’s a lot of weight that comes with this, darlin’. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it too.”

Your heart ached at his words, and a relieved sigh escaped your body. “I don’t care about the weight, Logan. I just… I want to figure this out with you. I want us to be honest about what we’re feeling, even if it’s messy.”

Logan’s expression softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through his tough exterior. “You’re sure about this, princess? Once we open this door, there ain’t no goin’ back.”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m sure. I want to see where this goes. I don’t want to keep pretending.”

Logan took a deep breath and pulled you close to him by your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “Alright, we’ll take it slow and figure it out as we go.” 

Logan’s gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. The warmth of his hand on your waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft crackle of the fire—all of it faded into the background as you both stood there, suspended in the tension of what was about to happen.

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between the desire he’d been holding back and the protective instinct that had kept him at a distance for so long. But as you leaned in closer, closing the gap between you, something in his resolve seemed to break.

His hand moved from your waist to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart swoon. Your breath caught as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission.

You answered by closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and intense, like the release of a storm that had been building for far too long. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The kiss deepened, a slow exploration of all the feelings you’d both been holding back. There was a rawness to it, a hunger that had been denied for too long, but also a softness, an unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourselves. Logan’s hand remained on your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as if he was memorizing the moment.

“Damn, kid,” he murmured, You could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That was...”

“Yeah,” you whispered, unable to find the words to describe what you were feeling. “It was.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw a mixture of relief, longing, and something deeper—something that told you that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Without a word, Logan’s hands slid down to your thighs, and with a strength that always amazed you, he lifted you effortlessly. A small gasp escaped your lips as he carried you over to the worn leather armchair by the fire, he settled you in his lap, just like you’d been longing for.

The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. Logan held you close, his hand resting on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

“What now?” he asked with a grin, his voice a little more seductive now as if the kiss had made it harder for him to hold back.

“What happened to start slow?” You tightened your grip around his neck. 

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savouring every moment. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this—just the two of you and the beginning of something you both knew you’d been waiting for.

ty so much for your request reader <3

🏷️: @megangovier, @back2thebasics

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[petersnya]

Blue jeans | Benny Cross

Pairing. Benny Cross x afab!reader

Prompt. ‘Told you when we met what you were in for.’

Warnings. Slight spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie yet!, angst (like a lot) cause that mane Benny needs a hug fr, language (cussing), one mention of character death, smoking cigarettes anddddd I think that’s it

Note. Tried to write the dialogue the best way I could to go along with the movie and how they talk in Chicago but I most likely didn’t do as well as I think I did cause I’m from Mississippi (yeah country asf living in the southern belt) and sometimes you can see it in my writing lmao. Got the inspo to write this form the song blue jeans cause it’s LITERALLY about him you can’t tell me otherwise. Also, Kathy is the star of this movie I swear. Anywho enjoy 😇

Wc. 3.2k+ (gah damn)

None of this was your speed. The grown men crowded around the bar from the front doors to the back wall, all huddled into groups like they were planning something. Earrings hanging out some of their ears while others had their belly buttons showing - the coils of chest hair damp with sweat as visible as ever, but it was obvious that they couldn’t care less. From the moment you opened the door, clouds of cigarette smoke that outweighed the amount of oxygen there was puffed into your face. It swirled around so much that you could see it in the air. And the way they spoke - you couldn’t believe your ears. It was all ‘F’ this and ‘F’ that so much that it could drive a person up the wall or make their ears bleed. 

Oh, these guys were animals. But they all had one thing in common— the jacket they wore. 

Walking in, you kept your head down as you shoved past all the bozos that made it almost impossible to get to the table your aunt was waving you over from, so you didn’t get a good look at them. You didn’t want to get a good look at them; by first glance, you’d seen enough. 

It was obvious that you didn’t fit in with a single person in that bar. Hands gripped at your hips as you passed through the crowd - a blatant look of almost disgust and fear on your face. When you sat down, a shaky breath escaped your lips as you scanned the bar, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You could hear your aunt telling you to calm down— that these guys just wanted to have a little fun.

No matter how bad you didn’t want to stare, you couldn’t help it. Gaze locked on the back of one of the guys' jackets, you could see the patches that littered it with all kinds of words and symbols; but on the back, there was a skull with big white letters above it—

“Vandals— the hell you got me in here with these guys for?” you said in a low voice like you were afraid one of them might hear you.

“Whatever, niece, these guys ain’t all that bad.”

“I don’t even know what a Vandal is,” the look on her face told you that she didn’t either. Of course you knew about these ‘motorcycle clubs’ that keep popping up all over the midwest, but you never put a second thought to it. They were a bunch of guys that had too much time on their hands— with that time, they sat around and talked about bikes all day while getting stoned and drunk. 

It was obvious that they were, in fact, one of these clubs. The moment you pulled up to the bar, there were rows upon rows of motorcycles out front. That sight alone made you get back in your car and contemplate driving off. You didn't want anything to do with any club, that's why you had been so alert since you got there. Eyes darting around to try and keep an eye on all of the men that were in your view.

“And that's exactly what your problem is, niece, you're such a square.”

“I’m not a square… I’m just not stupid.” An audible scoff came from her at your words. You could see her get up from the table out of the corner of your eye as you continued to look around the bar. She’d said something about getting a drink before she left, but you couldn’t focus on her right then - too busy trying to hear what the group of guys huddled near your table were plotting. They had to have been plotting something, cause who just gets in a huddle with their arms around each other to ‘talk’? People who plot shit.

After waiting a little while for your aunt to return, you couldn’t take it anymore. Lord knows you didn't want to be in this place any way, let alone by yourself. You stood from your seat and tried to look around people who were in your way to see if you could see where she had gone. But you didn’t.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you sat back in your chair reluctantly with a scowl on your face. Arms folded across your chest, you tried to look as unapproachable as possible to everyone who passed by your table.

“What’s with the look?”

A deep, almost gravely voice came from beside you - where your aunt had been sitting before. It should have scared you, but it was soothing to hear. You turned towards the voice to be met with a tall, lean yet muscular man who stood before you. A few tattoos littered his arms from what the sleeveless shirt allowed you to see. Two chunky-ish rings blinged in the dim lighting above the table. His dirty blonde hair matches the bit of stubble on his face.

Staring, wide eyed at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak— or to blink. You had never seen a man like this a day in your life. He didn’t look like the rest of those animals in this bar. Hell, he looked better than any man outside this bar.

Swinging a chair around towards you, he sat close enough to where you could feel his breath fan against your face. The look in his eyes was amusing and expecting as he waited for you to answer his question. But you couldn’t. You just stared at him.

From the moment you saw him, in the best way possible— he made your eyes burn.

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, resting his chin on his forearms. “I’m Benny.”

“Hi…” You said breathlessly. That same slick smile on his lips, he stood from his chair wordlessly, running his hand along the back of yours before walking away.

-

Your arms folded across your chest tightly as you waited to cross the street right outside the bar to get to your car. There were no other cars coming, but you were still waiting for the ‘walk’ signal. Crisp air blew harshly against your ears to the point where they hurt— but that was the last of your thoughts. Every other thought in your mind was clouded or disappeared. All of them were taken over by the thought of him. Of Benny.

He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His image burned into your head: the black, sleeveless shirt that showed off his tattooed arms. Dark washed blue jeans. Blue eyes that looked as if they had everything to hide. Bruised hands that had two large rings, but his hands made them look small. Stubbled face. It was like James Dean. Everything about him was the opposite of you— a match made in heaven.

The bar door opened behind you, making you look over your shoulder. Benny walked out of the bar, hand digging out a cigarette and a lighter. You watched, unable to look away as he placed the cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand around it so the wind wouldn’t blow out the fire from the lighter. He stuffed the lighter into his Vandals jacket pocket, swinging his leg over his bike before kicking it as hard as he could. The engine roared loudly that it sounded like it would break down any minute. The sound of it made you jump, pulling you back to reality.

A blinking light flashed, telling you that you could walk across the street - but you stood there - arms still folded, eyes burning from your stare, lips chapped from the air.

Benny twisted the handle of his bike, looking over his shoulder at you wordlessly. Taking a long pull before blowing the smoke out slowly. The sight made your head fuzzy, it was beautiful.

The bar doors opened again and people came rushing out. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden yelling and chanting. You had no clue what the hell they were on about, but when you looked back at Benny, you could see him scoot forward on his bike while looking at you with a crooked smile. Your steps were slow as you approached his bike, eventually reaching it and placing your hands on his shoulders gently.

Swinging your leg over and settling on the seat, you could feel Bennys hand cup around the back of your knee, moving you closer to him before he kicked at the bike again and took off through the red light.

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. As many stop lights as he's run from the time you got onto that bike-- you should be terrified for your life. Your eyes shut tightly each time he sped between cars. Each time, you gripped onto him harder.

His same laugh from earlier reached your ears. “I got you. Don’t worry, dove, okay?”

Nodding against his shoulder, you opened your eyes to see that you were approaching the highway. A smile spread onto your lips softly at the sight of the open road. No one else in sight for miles.

Just you and Benny.

-

“Benny, where are you going?” Your voice was soft, words slightly mumbled from you biting nervously at your thumbnail as you watched Benny from the doorway, pulling on his Vandals jacket hurriedly.

“Gotta go meet Johnny.” His words were almost dismissive as he picked up his bike keys, shoving them in his pocket with his cigarettes. Of course. You knew that the club was Bennys family… Johnny was like his father. But the club isn't the same anymore. It’s not how it was when you met Benny. So much had changed in a year. You married Benny within weeks of meeting him. You became a part of his life— his riding, his loyalty to the club, his hospital visits, his fights, his lawyers and jail cells.

He moved in with you and everything you knew changed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Benny in your house or a part of your life. You loved him with everything in you. Any time the phone would ring, your heart stopped, thinking something had happened to Benny… again. But now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was all you cared for. But this fucking club.

You couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn’t so bad at first. Sure, you had to get used to the drinking and smoking and Benny being out till 4 in the morning almost every. Single. Night. But the club was like a second family now. Until Brucie died.

Benny didn’t seem to be phased by any of it though. Brucies death, the drug deals being ran all the way from Canada, the new members who challenged Johnny everyday of his life. Of course, you knew Benny was seeing what you were seeing. But he still stayed with the club. Even after all the messed up shit that had been happening that made you tell him that it was getting out of hand— he still defended it.

“Meet Johnny for what..?” your words were hesitant as you took a step into the door, eyes scanning over Benny. He avoided your gaze, something he's been doing a lot recently. Since you had met Benny, he always stares into your eyes as if he were searching them. He didn’t do that anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I'll be back later tonight.”

“Benny.” You said his name. Louder this time. His Blue eyes reluctantly trailed up to yours, brows raising once to show you that he was listening. Shrugging your shoulders, you shook your head slowly. You couldn’t find the words you wanted to say. You wanted to say so fucking much. You were sick of this life— sick of worrying about where he is, if he's gotten caught up in something that you didn’t know how to get him out of.

He said your name in an almost hushed voice, gaining your attention.

Taking a shaky breath, your wide, tired eyes found him. “I don’t know how much more of this you can take, Benny.” He dropped his head, shaking it as a dry chuckle escaped his lips. “The hell are you goin’ on about, dove.”

Bennys’ voice always had so much power over you. His words and the way he used them had so much more. The way he called you dove. In the early days of the two of you, Benny told you that he called you dove cause you were too pure for him. Too different— perfect, almost. He said that you could fly away from him at any given moment, but you never did. That meant the world to him. Your loyalty to him reminded him of why he loved you so much: you’d never go anywhere, no matter what he did. No matter what happened.

“You’re gonna sit here and tell me what I can and can’t take?” He said as he propped himself up against the dresser behind him.

“No, Benny, that's not what I’m sayin’.” You stepped closer to him, arms still folded across your chest. “I’m sayin’... I can’t handle worrying about you every second of every day. I worry even when you're next to me cause everytime I look at you, I see how drained you look. I don’t like seeing that when I look at you— it hurts me”

Benny lifted his head to look into your eyes. Your eyes searched his relentlessly, trying to find something in them— but it was the same as it was when you met him. Like he was hiding the world behind those pretty blue eyes. “I’ll leave then.”

“What?” Your face dropped as your arms fell slack at your side. “Don’t do this right now.” Benny had a bad habit of every single time something went wrong, and you came to him with a pained look on your face, he would tell you that he would just leave so that you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He said it so much that it made you think he just said it so that you would beg him not to. Of course, Benny would never be that cruel to you. He never said things to just hurt you. He meant what he said, the only reason he never followed through was because he would think of you.

“Then don’t- don’t come to me with this again. We’ve talked about this before.”

“Well, we need to talk about it again. I don’t want you in the club no more, and I mean that.” You had never been so direct with your request as you were being right now, always afraid of what he would say. Afraid he would choose the club over you.

“Don’t ask me that…” His voice was cold, but you could hear the bit of pain in his words. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Do you not remember how we were before the club started changing? Don’t you remember the night we met?” Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you stood close to him now. Before the Vandals went to shit, you and Benny seemed perfect. To everyone on the outside, they would say that your relationship was far from it, but you didn’t think that. You would go with Benny to every meeting, every ride, every picnic. You would lay on his chest and sit in complete silence while you watched whatever was on TV. He would take you for rides at all hours of the night. Speeding past every stop sign in sight as he whispered to you to hold onto him tight. To never let him go. When things began to get bad, but not as out of control as it was now, Benny tried to tell you that he wasn't good for you anymore; but it was too late now. You were too in love with him.

“I barely get to see you now. You go out every night doing God knows what with them, and you don't show up until the next night. But it didn’t matter to me cause I told you that no matter what, I'll be by your side.” The tears that you held onto for dear life eventually fell, rolling down your cheeks as you brought your hand to his face. You gently tilted his head to look at you— fingers rubbing his cheeks with all the care in the world. “I love you more than any of them ever could, Benny. I want a life with you, and we can't have that if you keep up with them.”

His eyes found yours as he silently looked at you. Bennys’ lip twitched so slightly that it almost went unnoticed. Bringing his thumb to your cheek, he wiped away a fresh tear that was falling from your eye at that very moment.

“Told you when we met what you were in for.”

His words cut you more than any knife could. Kissing your finger that was closest to his lips, he wrapped his hands around your wrist, he pulled them from his face gently. He stood fully, causing you to back away, looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You were scared. “Benny? Benny, what are you doing?” You said urgently.

He walked out of the room and down the small hallway, towards the front door. “I’ll be back, dove, I promise.”

“No- No, Benny! Benny, don’t you walk out that door—“ Your voice broke with sobs as you followed behind him, tugging at his shoulders and arms desperately. He could leave. You couldn’t let him leave. It didn’t matter if he said he’d be back-- that could be days later. Weeks, maybe months. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of years. “Please, please don’t leave… I swear Benny if you walk out that door.”

He paused for a moment, standing in the open doorway. You stood behind him, close enough to where he could hear you choking back your cries. Benny hated himself for making you worry so much. He hated himself for making you cry. You were his girl, his wife, his dove. He never wanted to hurt you.

Wordlessly, he stepped out of the door, slamming it behind him before quickly going down the steps of your front porch. Getting out the keys for his bike, he sat on the tearing leather seat quickly as he kicked at it when the key was in the ignition. He sped down the road, through all the stop signs.

You wanted to scream after him, but you didn’t. Instead, you locked the door and rested your forehead against it as it pounded from your sobs. No matter how many times Benny leaves, how many times you cry over him or for him, your feelings for him will never change. You would always wait for him to come back to you.

Your loyalty belongs to him. Your love belongs to him. You belong to him.

[buckysgrace]

Hi. You’re amazing!

Do you ever write fluff? Like if you found out you were pregnant with Billy’s baby and at first he’s upset and doesn’t want anything to do with you but after you have the baby ( a little boy with blonde curls like Billy) he gets all emotional and wants to desperately be a better father than his dad was to him 😭

Hello! Thank you so much <3 I absolutely will write fluff!

CW: Mentions of abortion, mentions of child abuse, lots of Billy being scared and a lil mean.

Billy's son is also referenced as having blonde curls and his nose, but the rest is ambiguous!

He was scared.

Billy honestly didn't know what he was going to do. There had been many arguments with you about it, but you seemed fairly determined. You were going to have this baby, whether he wanted to be a part of the baby's life or not.

It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to be involved, but he could feel a crushing fear spreading through him every time he thought about being a dad.

His relationship with his own dad was strained. Things weren’t the best between them. He never really had a positive father figure, someone that showed him how to stay calm even when he was frustrated. The last thing he wanted was to end up snapping at his own child.

He couldn’t be a dad.

“Not mine,” He said once you showed up with the ultrasound, the bloodwork and everything. Denial was all he could think about, all he could process. He couldn’t fuck up your life and this child’s life if he wasn’t involved. It was that simple, “I didn’t knock you up.” 

“Uh huh,” Was your dry answer, your eyes looking less than amused, “Do you want a paternity test then, William?” Came your snarky response, because you both knew the truth. This baby was his, there was no doubt in Billy’s mind about that. And it terrified him. 

“Don’t call me that.” He said as he pushed his hair off of his forehead, feeling sick as it continued to wash over him. He was going to be a dad. He was going to end up just like Neil. 

“Then don’t act like you weren’t a part of this.” You said, looking just as fearful as what he felt. He sat down on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot rapidly as he thought about how good a smoke sounded right now. He’d need a lot more to make him relax. 

“It’s still early, right?” He questioned at last, turning his attention back to you. He watched the way your eyebrows furrowed tightly together and then relaxed again. Your eyes softened, telling him what he already knew. 

“I’m not getting an abortion,” You said at last, “I’ve made up my mind. You can make your decision, but I’m not letting you walk in and out of our lives whenever you see fit. You can be a part of this baby's life or we can end this. Whatever you prefer.” You were gentle with him, setting out the options softly like you always did. You understood him better than anyone else, made him feel safe. It made him sick to think about how he was hurting the one person he really cared about. 

“Can I think about it?” He asked at last, feeling like there wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t have an answer yet and he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing. He was growing angry at himself. He could only imagine what Neil would say once he found out. 

“Yeah,” You replied gently, eyes softening as you nodded your head, “But I can’t wait forever. I need to know your answer soon.” Your voice slightly wavered but he looked away, not wanting to see you so upset. 

“Yeah,” He responded as he nodded his head and placed his fingers tightly together, “I’ll let you know.” He said at last, staying put until you left. Everything was falling apart, breaking down around him. He couldn’t deal with it right now. 

Ignoring you was harder than he’d thought it would be. He looked for you everywhere he went, even though he knew he couldn’t have you. That was his own fault regardless. He’d made up his mind. It would be easier this way.

Yet, when the invitation for your baby shower arrived in his mail he felt his walls caving in. They crashed into him, making him break down as he stared at your handwritten notes on the card. He could tell just by reading it that you were excited, not afraid. He wished he could be more like you. 

In the end, he decided to go. He needed closure, as he was sure you needed to. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to stand living in the same town as you, knowing that his child would never know him. Somehow, that made him feel even worse.

He felt lonely as the months drew on. He had no one to confide in for his problems; especially Neil and Susan. He didn’t know what to say when they questioned about your disappearance and he felt even more at a loss when they asked him if you were pregnant. A shrug of his shoulders was his answer. He really didn’t know. 

The walk up towards the little gymnasium felt odd, like he didn’t quite belong as he stared at the little balloons and elephant decorations that were spotted throughout the room. There were familiar faces; your friends and family. Some other people that weren’t quite as well known. He still felt awkward, like everyone knew that he was the one who had knocked you up and ran. 

“Hey,” You drew out as you approached him, your palm flat against the bump in front of you, “I didn’t think you’d be here.” You said slowly, literally glowing as you stood in front of him. You had a sundress on, your cheeks were warm and forehead a little sweaty. He wondered if it was from the baby. 

“I didn’t think I’d come either.” He admitted at last, hating how horrible that sounded. He just felt like he was in a rut, buried deep inside of a hole with no real way of coming out. You were like sunshine through the dirt, warming his skin as he watched you. 

“What does this mean?” You asked him at last, tilting your head as your eyes softened over his features. He wished that he had a real answer for you, to tell you how he felt. He was in love with you; deeply. He just didn’t want to hurt you either. It was complicated. 

“I really don’t know yet,” He mumbled, “It just felt right.” He decided on, unable to tell you just how much he missed you. He was nearly desperate enough to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He would if you pushed him hard enough. 

“Billy,” You drew out in exasperation, “I can’t have you doing this, being so wishy-washy. What do you want?” You asked him seriously, looking like you were close to cracking too. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to hold you. He needed to apologize. 

“I just want to be better,” He replied slowly, “I want to be here. For you and for-,” He stalled for a moment as he looked down at your baby bump, feeling like he was at a loss once again. He wasn’t sure if you wanted him in his life or not. 

“Him,” You said quickly, “We’re having a little boy.” Your eyes were glazed over in tears, your lips pulling into the tightest smile. You were clearly emotional, making him feel awful as he reached his hand forward. Your fingers met slowly, molding against one another. He felt sparks traveling up his arms, leaving him resentful of the past few months he’d wasted. 

“That’s-, that’s good,” He answered after he cleared his throat. He was already scared to be a dad, but to have a son? He feared that even more. He was sure he was following directly into Neil’s shows, “Have you decided on a name?”

“I kind of like Cash,” You stated as you rubbed at your belly, “Just feels right. C’mon, you can open the presents with me.” You explained as you tugged him along, leaving him a little jittery. He thought about pulling out a cigarette, but figured it wasn’t the right place to do it.

He felt a little lost but slowly grew more and more keen on what was happening. It was still a lot to process, but it felt right being there by your side. You were clearly excited despite everything that had happened. He was grateful that you were so open, that you didn’t hold a grudge against him.

“Where are you living at?” He asked instead, curious as to whether your living situation had changed or not. You were still living at home the last time he checked. He was slightly nervous, wondering if someone else had slipped into his spot. 

“Still with my parents,” You admitted as you shrugged your shoulders, “They were upset, but they’ve come around.” Your lips were pulled into a smile, looking less than worried. Apparently things had been fairly well for you.

“They probably hate me.” He said a moment later, sure that it was true. He couldn’t see how they wouldn’t. He had practically left you. You snapped your eyes up towards him. 

“Hate is a strong word,” You told him quickly, “But yeah, they’re not the happiest. Especially dad.” You explained slowly as you continued to rub at your baby bump. 

“Great,” He mumbled as he placed his hands in his pockets, “I’m really sorry.” He breathed out slowly, knowing his apology was more important than everything else. He meant it too. He shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

“You just disappeared,” You started slowly, “I thought you were gone.” Your voice was soft, full of hurt and distress. He felt his throat tightening, burning as he thought about how much he missed you. He was a fool to ever stray away from you, to leave you on your own. 

“I thought about it,” He told you honestly, knowing there was no point in lying, “I don’t want to be like my dad.” He replied at last, getting down to the root of the issue. He didn’t want to accidentally lash out at you or at your future child. He never wanted that for him. It would be better to be alone. 

“You won’t,” You told him quickly, sternly as he exhaled deeply, “You’re not like your dad. I promise you.” You cupped his face softly, your hands smooth and gentle against his skin. He leaned against you, craving the feeling. 

“What if I lose control?” He asked at last as he drew his eyes over your features, taking in the way you were watching him. You sighed deeply as you rubbed your fingers across his skin. You looked deep in thought as you pressed your nails gently against his stubble. 

“You never did that at your swimming classes,” You reminded him, “You should come stay with me. Move in. It would be good for our baby.” You moved your hands to his neck, then to his shoulder and down to his hands. You gripped them slowly, pressing them against your growing tummy.

He stalled for the longest time, blinking slowly as he felt like the world was freezing around him. Underneath your skin he could feel your baby moving. He gulped, eyes wide as he felt the smallest smile curling against his lips. He exhaled deeply as he looked towards you again. 

“I don’t know.” He replied nervously as he felt his heart hammering roughly inside of his chest. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking that it would be easier. He’d be closer for you, for the baby. If he was really going to do this, he needed to be near you. 

“You don’t have to marry me or anything,” You started, “Or be with me if that’s what you want.” You said sheepishly, looking embarrassed as you quickly looked away. He felt his heart shatter a bit again, worried that he had truly hurt you. 

“You have someone else?” He asked at last, worried that you had moved on. He had done wrong, but he really did love you. You were the only one he was passionate about. He wasn’t sure how to move on if you had found someone else. 

“No,” You responded with a smile, “But I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with us.” You nodded your head, but looked like that was hard to admit. He didn’t want you to be alone. Not anymore. 

“You make me happy,” He said at last, “We’ll work this out. I promise.” He said as he brought your hand up to his lips, savoring the feeling of your skin against his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling very regretful. He wouldn’t lose you again. 

When he returned home he felt odd, but not like he had in the past few months. He didn’t drink away his feelings, or drown his anger out with music. Instead, he worked on packing. He wasn’t going to be like Neil; not at all. He was going to be there for you. He was going to be there for his son. No matter how scared he was. He couldn’t let either of you down. 

“Where are you going?” Neil’s voice made him jump, surprising him as he paused with the article of clothing in his hands. He turned slowly, looking at the way Neil was leaning against the door frame. He had his hands crossed tightly over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly. His features were stoic, like he was deciding whether he should be angry or not. 

“I’m moving out,” He said as he turned away, shoving the clothes back into his bag, “I uh, found a place.” Billy replied slowly as he finished zipping up his bag. He wondered how much he’d really be able to take with him. Probably not much if his dad got angry. 

“You moving in with that bitch?” Neil tilted his head up as he spoke, like he was trying to make himself taller. His eyes were sharp, cold as his gaze cut into Billy. He felt sick as he gulped harshly, trying to keep his tone at bay. 

“Don’t call her that.” Billy responded hotly, feeling defensive of you. You weren’t anything like that and you were letting him back into your life; just like that. You were everything and more to him and he wasn’t going to let Neil speak ill of you. 

“Is the kid yours or some little bastard?” His lip curled up in disgust as he spoke, his features filling with disappointment. Billy didn’t care. He was going to be happy with you. He wouldn’t be like Neil. Not ever. 

“Mine,” He said roughly, “And don’t you ever call him that.” He snatched up his bag, taking his few items with him as he moved forward. Neil scoffed as he shook his head, irritated as Billy pushed forward.

“She’s going to ruin your life,” He grumbled as he gripped Billy’s shoulder, holding him in place for a moment, “And don’t even think about crawling back. I won’t have you.” He said threateningly, like he might change Billy’s mind.

“I won’t come back.” Billy promised, stern with his answer as he walked past him. He wouldn’t let his son suffer the same way he had. They both deserved better than this. 

The rest of the months passed breezily, making him come to terms a little easier as your due date approached. He had done a lot of ass kissing, pleading and groveling until he got back on your good side. He brought you flowers every day, rubbed your feet after work and gave you plenty of kisses.

You complained about how you looked as the final weeks approached, but he thought that you looked beautiful. Stunning. In his opinion, you were glowing. He loved rubbing your tummy too, feeling like he got a deeper connection that way.

Your labor was messy, a little chaotic. Billy was terrified something would go wrong, but stayed close to you regardless. By the end of it, his hand was numb and his wrist aching from how tightly he’d been gripping you.

“Look at him,” You breathed out as you held the little boy in your arms, “He’s so cute.” You sniffled, looking like you were seconds away from breaking down again.

He stared and stared, memorizing his son's features as he came to terms that he was a father. He had a little boy, someone to take care of. He looked so fragile, so tiny. It made him nervous. He was fearful that he’d accidentally hurt him by holding him wrong, or by dropping him. He wasn’t sure how his rough hands were supposed to hold something so soft. 

"Billy," You breathed out quietly, making his throat grow raw as he stared down at the little boy. Soft blonde curls and the same sloped nose he had. Everything else about the little boy reminded him of you, "Are you crying?" You asked gently, making him feel even more emotional as he shook his head. 

“No,” He said hoarsely, doing everything in his power to keep from breaking down, “S’just a lot.” He mumbled as he wiped at his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose as he tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking, his heart thumping roughly inside of his chest. 

“I know,” You replied softly as you sat up a bit, gesturing the bundle in your arms towards him, “C’mon. You’ll feel better.” You reassured him, but he still felt hesitant. He pressed his fingertips together before he nodded, accepting the little baby from you.

Names hadn’t quite been figured out yet, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He looked healthy, his cheeks full and fists clenched together as he stretched his arms out. Billy felt a small chuckle leave his neck, fighting over the sob that was threatening to burst free.

He suddenly couldn’t remember why he had been so nervous, or scared. As his son curled against his arms it felt natural, like he already knew what he was doing. He savored the warmth, the way the little baby cooed as he adjusted him in his arms. Everything felt right suddenly.

“I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you,” He promised as he kissed his little head, sighing deeply as he snuggled his little son towards him, “Not ever. I promise.” 

[artdcnaldson]

In part 2 you mentioned Patrick x reader having makeup sex after they got into stupid argument…. Can we get a flashback to one of those moments🤭🤭 domestic Patrick starting an argument with reader and reader calling him out about it but they end up making up in a cute way. Like Patrick making it up in a corny but cute way??? Just a suggestion, part 2 was amazing btw!

Rating: T

Warnings: just a minor argument, language ofc

A/N: thank youuuu!!! No smut in this little blurb, just a snapshot of domestic Patrick x reader in the changeover au 🫶🫶🫶

Also working on art x reader first time and also Patrick x reader first I love you blurbs for the changeover au :) so those will be coming sooooon

It was easy to let the stupid arguments devolve. It started with a facial expression when you brought up your college roommate’s wedding. An eye roll, an I-don’t-want-to-fucking-deal-with-that. And that became your, “why do you treat my friends and my life as less important?”

“I can’t fucking believe you got that out of me wanting to ditch Katie’s wedding to her dickhead loser fiancé.” Patrick’s words came out so flippant that it infuriated you further. “You don’t even talk to her outside of Facebook comments.”

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I didn’t realize that you’d be so fucking opposed to free food and booze considering you live off of it.”

Patrick set his jaw, glaring at you. It was a low blow, one you knew would sting. “I’m opposed to wasting my time flying out to bum fuck Iowa to because Katie— who has always hated me, by the way— is marrying some dickhead who’s a shill for a corrupt asshole in congress.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe she would like you, Patrick, if you ever put in an ounce of effort with anyone besides me.”

“Right, because I need to be friends with the kind of people whose proposal was a flash mob.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Right, because you’re just too cool for stuff like that.”

It was so fucking like him— making fun of the lame proposals your friends got, or their baby names, or their engagement shoots. Sometimes they were lame— flash mobs were fucking stupid— but sometimes they were sweet, and romantic, and there was Patrick acting like he’d rather blow his brains out than ever publicly admit he cared.

“Yeah, I am.” He said back.

You rolled your eyes and stood. “Whatever, Patrick. I’ll RSVP for one, again, and you can bum around my apartment alone.”

You had slammed the bedroom door before he could respond, which left him alone and seething in the living room.

You heard the front door open, then slam shut, signaling that Patrick was going out for a smoke, or a walk, or something.

You opened Facebook and scrolled through your feed. Katie’s engagement photos, a coworker’s new baby, a college friend’s bachelorette weekend. And there you were, fighting so your boyfriend would finally be your plus one to something.

It wasn’t always his fault— he had tournaments, and commitments. But a lot of the time, it was an active dismissal of things you found important— engagement parties, friends visiting the city, the increasingly common baby shower.

You didn’t blame him. Adult stuff sucked, and it was almost always boring and agonizingly slow. But you just wanted him to show up with you for things that were big.

It would be stupid to break up over Katie, who you genuinely weren’t even that close to. She’d been a decent friend Freshman year, you supposed, but that was the extent of it. The invitation to the wedding was probably a formality.

All you wanted was an excuse to show off your super hot, super cool boyfriend. To get tipsy over free booze, then leave the wedding early to fuck in the shitty Best Western hotel room that wedding guests would get a discount rate on.

A few hours later, the front door opened, and you sat up against the headboard, waiting eagerly to see if he’d be the first to break, or if you would.

You heard four gentle knocks against the door, saw Patrick’s sneakers beneath the door. “You can come in,” you said softly.

Patrick slipped into the room and joined you on the bed. He kept space between you, just in case you were still mad, but met your gaze with the sad eyes of a kicked puppy.

“I bought a suit,” was all he said. “And I tried to buy you a huge bouquet of flowers since I was a dickhead, but my card declined since I just bought the suit, so…”

His hand was resting on the empty expanse of mismatched bedsheets between you. You moved your hand into his, tangling your fingers together. “You bought a suit, huh?”

He nodded, squeezing your hand lightly. “I’ll stop being a dick about Katie’s wedding.” He paused, turning away from your gaze. “I think… I’m away so much that when I’m home, I just want it to be me and you.”

You leaned forward and kissed his nose. “I just want to show you off to everyone I know,” you said lightly. Your forehead stayed pressed to his, and you relished in the closeness. “I don’t give a fuck about Katie or her ugly loser fiancé’s stupid wedding.”

Patrick grinned. “Oh? So you just want a hot, professional athlete to be your arm candy, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always cheapening the moment.” You leaned forward kissing him sweetly, which always seemed to devolve into a hungry mess of tongues and spit when Patrick was involved.

“Wait—“ you said suddenly, right as Patrick began peeling off your top. “You said your fucking card declined? You drained your bank account for this stupid wedding?”

He paused, his hands warm on your bare skin. “Uh… it felt like a grand gesture kind of moment.” You leaned in and kissed him, pulling your shirt off the rest of the way.

Not smutty but I neeeeeeeded to write some domestic Patrick x reader 😁🫶 my pookies my babies my loves

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

[revasserium]

nxx #1 - waking up with you

artem.

you wake up to find him watching you, the summer sky of his eyes fixed on you as you smile and yawn and curl closer. “sleep well?” he asks, his voice still husky and rough, the silk and gravel of a jazz singer in a smoke-filled bar, delicious and intoxicating. he asks you about your dreams, traces soft, abstract lines into the bare skin of your waist, smiles at the way you get shy when you realize what a mess your hair is, tugs you back when you try to pull away from him to straighten it out — he says, “no… let be it,” he says, “it looks good like this… just like this…”, he says, “sometimes… i think i’m still dreaming when i wake up next to you,”, he says, “look at me…” and he smiles, cups your cheek, holds you still as you stare back at him, searching his eyes only to find love and love and love.

luke.

you wake up to find him watching you, though he’s still clearly barely awake himself — there’s a shy, lazy grin caught on his lips and he slips over to slip his arm around your waist to pull you closer, nuzzle into your cheek if only to make you laugh. “hey! what’s so funny?” he asks, a pout already pressed between his lips, his eyes drawn large and puppy-like, but you smile and shake your head, tell him that it’s nothing, kiss the tip of his nose just to see him blush before he dives on top of you, pinning you beneath him with a bright laugh, “ah, so that’s how you wanna play?” he says, his honeycomb hair falling to frame his face and you — you stare up at him, breathless. he has the decency to blush again before collapsing at your side and tugging you closer, “mm… it’s too early for that, isn’t it?” he asks, looping his arm around your middle and pulling you close, “let’s sleep in for just a bit longer, hm?”

vyn.

you wake up to find him watching you, his cheek propped up on the heel of his hand, his eyes like twin stars, bright and burning and inquisitive, “ah… good morning, my sleeping beauty,” he says, smiling as you bury your face in your pillow to stifle a yawn, feeling you cheeks heat at the thought of him watching you sleep for god knows how long and — were you drooling? he laughs as you peer up at him over the top of your pillow, your hair a birds nest sitting atop your head — he reaches out to muss it up even more, a fond smile gracing his lips as he leans in. he kisses both your eyelids before pulling back, “good dreams, i hope? you were smiling a lot so…” he cocks his head to watch you, ever the scientist as you are ever the butterfly, pinned to the cushion beneath him. “s-something like that…” you say, averting your eyes as you try not to recall the details of your less-than-kosher dream of him, but he only leans in, his smile widening slightly as he pulls you closer, “mm… tell me about it… and maybe… we’ll be able to make some of those dreams come true, hm?”

marius.

you wake up to find him asleep — or so you think, but the grin on his lips tells you otherwise, and when you try to pull away, a pair of arms reaches out to tug you back against his warm chest, his hold on you tight and steady as you feel him nosing into the back of your neck, “ah… jiejie… how mean — trying to leave me before i wake up…” you laugh to yourself before flipping over to meet his dazzling, gemstone gaze, pursing your lips as you take him in, “if you were asleep, how’d you know i was trying to leave?” you ask, but he only crinkles his nose and leans in to bury his face in the crook of your neck, whining even as you feel him smirk against your skin — “so mean, jiejie… bullying me on a weekend morning… after everything that happened last night…” you feel yourself go hot at his words, thinking back to last night — to the heat and friction, to the give and take. you swallow as he chuckles, pulling back to pin you with those saturday night eyes of his — “don’t you think you owe me just a little, hm?” he asks, pulling you beneath him and pinning you there, “didn’t you promise you’d make me feel good too?” and you can barely nod before he’s grazing his lips along the bare skin of your shoulder, letting out a soft, wanton moan, “so… how about we start… right now?”

tot MARIUS reqs are officially open u__u

[sweetyyhippyy]

Meeting Mom. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie tells his girlfriend about his mom for the first time. He also takes her to go visit her on an important date.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Mention of Eddie smoking weed. Eddie talking about his mom and some cute stories about her. Eddie obviously being sad about his mom being gone. Eddie and reader being at a cemetary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The storm had knocked out the whole apartment complex's power, luckily Eddie decided to stay the night with her to keep her company and keep her safe- he would use any excuse to spend the night with her.

She shuffles back into her room, turning her flashlight off once it lands on Eddie in her bed, an ashtray laying on his stomach and a half smoked blunt between his lips.

The ember end of the blunt guides her back to the bed, laying next to Eddie and resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie takes one more large hit before coughing heavily. “Shit.” He mutters once his lungs fill with clean air. Putting the small stub in the glass tray and placing it on the bedside table.

She giggles against his warm skin, looking up at him. “You alright there, Smokey?” She teases.

He huffs out a laugh as he settles into bed with his girlfriend’s bed with her, resting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m testing out a new strand Rick got. It’s a little strong but good.”

She hums happily against him, kissing the pale skin. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you were a worm, yes I would still love you. I’d love you a little less, but I would still love you.”

She giggles at his response, playfully pushing his side. “Not that question you dweeb. And good to know you would love me less if I was a worm.” She scoffs.

Eddie chuckles deeply, stamping out the end of the blunt in the ashtray. “What do you want to know?”

She flips onto her stomach, lightly touching his undershirt. “The other day when I came over, you were talking about going to Crawford and you sounded sad. Was everything okay?”

The room grows quiet for a while, just low thumps coming from the apartment above hers.

“I’m sorry, did I bring up something I wasn’t supposed to?” She asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Oh, no baby, no. It’s just um… you just overheard kind of a deep conversation.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He says. “Um… the anniversary of my mom’s death is next weekend, so I’m going to go visit her at the cemetery.”

Eddie never talked about his mom with her, it was one of the walls that he still had up. She understood that it was a hard subject and she never pried. The only thing that she knew was that her name was Elizabeth and she had big curly dark brown hair, just like his.

“Aww, baby I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She moves up the bed, kissing his cheek softly.

“I think she would have liked you.” He smiles to himself warmly, touching her lower back, drawing small circles under her shirt. “She, uh,” He laughs to himself. “She liked to paint and draw. I would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes- I was a bad sleeper as a kid- I think I got it from her, because she would be in the kitchen at like 3 am with all of her paintbrushes, her paints, and canvases. She liked to paint nature a lot, like the woods in our backyard and if she took me to the park in our neighborhood, she would paint the field that was next to it, it was full of these yellow flowers she loved. Yellow was her favorite color.” He was glad that the room was dark because he could feel tears fill his eyes.

“That’s where you get your love artistic stuff from, hm?” She says, touching his face softly, hearing the sadness in his tone.

“Yeah. She tried to teach me how to paint stuff, but I was better at painting the linoleum floor in the kitchen.” He laughs deep from his belly. “She started to teach me how to draw, and that I was good at. She would get so excited when I would draw stuff on her Mother’s Day cards or her birthday cards. There was one Christmas, it was the Christmas before… before she passed… I worked on this picture of these yellow flowers that had this like pink trim or something around it. I surprised her with the picture and she loved it, she put it in a frame, hung it on the wall in her and my dad’s bedroom.” Eddie sniffles, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, honey.” She whispers, kissing his cheek.

Eddie wipes his eyes, clearing the hoarseness that was in his throat. “She loved it. She kept all the shit I drew for her. After my dad got locked up and Wayne came to get me, I found this huge box with all the cards and drawings I did for her. I was such an angry little shit head at that time, I wanted to throw it in the trashcan and burn it. But Wayne put it in the back of his truck and took it with us, he has it somewhere in the trailer.” He stays quiet for a few seconds before sniffling. “I loved her so much… she was my best friend.”

The lights flick back on, making her jump slightly. The lights illuminate Eddie’s wet brown eyes, his dark eyelashes damp from his tears.

She swipes her thumb across his cheek, her other hand wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you for telling me about her. I can tell where you got that big, loving heart from.”

Eddie nods his head, smiling at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“About you being a worm?” She jokes, trying to take the heaviness off his heart.

Eddie laughs, his round eyes scanning her face slowly, looking at every little detail carefully. “Do you want to take the ride with me to go see her? Introduce you guys to each other?”

“Oh, Eddie.” She coos. “You really want to?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to meet her. The only two women I’ve loved in my whole life.”

Her heart flutters at his words, making her own eyes water. “I would love to come.”

***

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Munson. Loving sister, daughter, wife, and “mommy” Born: May 2, 1939. Died August 28, 1972

“Hey, mom.” Eddie smiles, taking the dead flowers from the hole next to her headstone and replacing them with new ones. “I brought someone for you to meet.” He turns to look at his girlfriend, motioning her to come closer.

She smiles at Eddie before walking next to him, laying her own flowers that she bought down. “Hi.” She says, looking at the picture of her etched into the headstone. “Wow, you do look a lot like her.” She says to Eddie, smiling fondly at the black and white picture.

Eddie chuckles, sitting on the green grass below them. “Yeah, everyone said that I stole her entire face. My dad’s genes didn’t stand a chance. Here, come sit.” He pats a spot next to him.

“Hold on, I have one thing I wanted to show her, if you don’t mind.” She says, digging into her back pocket.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her in confusion.

She unfolds the long wrinkled piece of paper, flattening it out as best she can against her leg. “Eddie told me about how you taught him how to draw. He’s drawn a lot of pictures for me since we’ve been together, and I keep everything just like you did. He told me about this picture that you were so proud of him doing and I asked Wayne to find it for me.” She bends down, placing the paper right under the headstone and grabbing a few rocks on top to weigh it down. “I wanted you to see it again.”

Eddie peeks over her shoulder, seeing the drawing he did back Christmas 1971 of the yellow and pink flowers he drew for her. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling while he openly cried. “Babe.”

She turns to look at him, her own eyes wet too. “I wanted it to be a surprise. For both of you.” She sits next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She lifts her head up and kisses his jaw lovingly. “Of course.” She says softly. “You know, for you only being 6 when you drew that, you were really good.”

Eddie smiles warmly, looking at his girlfriend. “Been a long time since I drew stuff like that. After my mom died, I started doing ‘darker’ stuff. Characters I would come up with and stuff when I started doing stuff with D&D, writing campaigns was easier when I had faces to names. Then when you came along, started drawing stuff for you and my art got happier. You made me happier than I had been since I lost my mom.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his last sentence, somehow falling more in love with him. “I’m glad I can make you happier, baby. I always want to make you as happy as I can. You deserve to be happy.”

***

“Put your trash in here, I’ll go throw it in the trash.” She holds open the paper bag they brought their picnic lunch in, throwing the discarded items in.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t we head out? It’s going to start getting cold soon.” Eddie says.

“Yeah, okay. I”ll meet you at the car.” She smiles as she stands up, turning toward the headstone. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Munson. Hopefully I can come back soon. I’ll take care of your boy.”

Eddie watches as she walks away, warmly smiling at her. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m planning on marrying her, mom. She’s the right one.”

[sweetimpurity]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ day nine!! surprise! I made a few changes to the masterlist and this is a new one! it's a lot more angst so I hope you enjoy! wc: 1.6k ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I thought you went to California…” He scoffs. A look of surprise when he sees you standing there. In this rundown motel room. Rain beating down on the windows like a teasing joke. He shuts the door behind him, running a hand through his hair. His other hand occupied with a cigarette. Between his thumb and pointer finger, shielding the fragile embers from the rain outside with his palm. Lifting it to his mouth and letting it hang from his lip, puffs of gray smoke leaving his nose as he pulls his damp jacket off.

“I thought you quit smoking…” You sigh, your wet jacket still on from the rain. Sitting on the edge of the bed. You don’t plan on staying long. Just long enough. So leaving the jacket on is one less step, one more push to leave. He grins at your words, setting his jacket on the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up. The ink and markings on his skin, bringing back memories. 

“How can I quit?” He laughs darkly, he’s annoyed, he’s upset. “How can I quit when you rip my heart out and beat it to shit?” He sighs. His grin souring to a scowl. Looking you up and down. “I didn’t come here to talk about that. And I’m still going to Los Angeles I just… I just…” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You just what…?” He steps closer. Getting a better look at you. The way your hair moves from getting wet in the rain. Your cheeks from the cold outside. His eyes trailing down, down your body. To that damn ring on your finger. He frowns, looking away. Taking the last drag and putting it out in the ashtray. “You just wanted to rub it in my face, huh?” 

“No…? Why would you-” 

“That’s what you want, right? You’re gonna go off and play perfect house, perfect family, perfect life, perfect wife… with someone else. And you couldn’t just save me the pain and leave. You had to come back here and shove it in my face.” 

Your heart breaks. Why must he make this so hard? Why is this so hard? “I told you what I needed… what I need… and you can’t give me that. You can’t stop this deathwish you’re hellbent on and I won’t watch you kill yourself or get killed over gang pride!” You exclaim. If he thinks this is hard for himself, he hasn’t thought of you. How this breaks your heart. If he could just try… just try and live a normal life. Not a life of crime and killing. Away from the gangs, away from his position as leader. It’s tearing him apart anyway. You could be so happy. Together. 

“Well this is who I am, baby… this is who I am. I don’t try to change you, why do you try to change me every chance you get?” He questions, raising his long arms up in defeat, letting them fall back to his sides. 

“Because you’re gonna die, Miguel!” You stand up from the bed. Why doesn't he understand? Looking up at his tall height even when you’re standing up to him. A tightness in your throat. A promise of tears soon to follow. “I can’t watch it… it breaks my heart…” Your voice breaks, your eyes stinging. 

His hardened resolve softens. He can’t help it. He should be stronger than this. But you make him weak. He sighs, listening to your broken words. 

“I just came here to… to say that it’s not too late and… you deserve to live and not be looking over your shoulder, that’s all…” Your voice turns to weeping as soon as the words fall out. You’re worried for him. Even if you can’t share a life together. Even though you're leaving tomorrow for something more secure, something safe, you’ll be damned if you let him waste his without even trying to get through to him. 

He stands there quietly. Watching you sniffle and break down. A sight he was convinced he’d never see again. Not after all the tears you’ve already shed. And your departing words the last time he spoke to you.  

“C’mon baby… don’t cry… you don’t need to cry…” He hums softly, taking a few steps forward and trying to find your eyes. As much as he’s angry, he hates to see you hurting even more. “I’ll… I’ll be alright… it’s all gonna be okay…” He whispers, he lies. He won’t be okay. Taking your hands from your face, pulling them to his chest. “It’ll be better if you stay… if you stay with me, babydoll… it’ll all be better…” He whispers. Looking in your eyes when you finally look up at him. Your tears make his heart ache. A spark of hope in his chest at your expression. 

“You give me another chance, doll, I promise… I promise we can- we’ll be safe… I’ll keep you safe and we can get a house- you want a house, right? I’ll get you the biggest house in the city and… and we’ll get married, doll. In that church, the one you grew up in, babe…” He whispers, wiping a tear off your cheek with a swipe of his thumb. “We’ll get married and… and babies, babe. You want babies?" He smiles at the thought. Looking down at you warmly. "We’ll have babies… as many as you want. I’ll give you whatever you want… you want that?” 

Your heart pounds and cracks. Listening to his words, wondering whether you can trust him or not. You’ve got a ring on your finger. A promise for a new life. Away from all this. Far away. With a different man who’s okay. He’s just fine. A gentleman. On track to be a fine father and a fine husband. But will you ever be satisfied? 

“I want you… to want that…” 

You whisper. Swallowing hard and feeling his thumb gently caressing over your cheekbone, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close. A tear tickling your skin as it falls. And you watch his eyes flick to the droplet… watching as it dribbles over your cheekbone, down to your jaw. He can’t help himself. 

He leans forward slowly, lips pressing to the tear and kissing it away. Letting his lips ghost over your jaw, your face, pressing his forehead to yours. Your breath hitching and withdrawn from his actions. You were also convinced you’d never be this close to him again. 

“I want you…” He whispers. “I want you… and all the things… all the plans… all the… tears…that come with you, baby.” He manages a small smile, pulling back slightly to look in your eyes. “I can’t let you go, baby… and I don’t care what it takes. I just want you to be happy… and I know that I make you happy... I know I do... that I'm sure of... ” He swallows hard, choking back tears of his own. Looking down at your expression.

You can’t help the soft sobs that wrack through you. Your gaze falling and feeling his grip on you tighten, his hand on your neck and his head tilts, pressing his cheek to yours, humming by your ear. “I've been selfish… I’m sorry… please forgive me. You’re more important than… than anything… and I want us to be safe. I need us to be together.” 

Your arms finally rise to wrap around him. Pressing yourself to his chest. And he reacts, pulling you in tight. His shirt tightening around his biceps and his broad back as he engulfs you in his embrace. Hand on the back of your neck, holding you so safe and secure. Like nothing could ever hurt you again. Not him, never again. His words go right to your aching heart. You’ve never heard him say such words until now, so you’re confident he means them. Or he’s at least fighting for you now. 

“Then you’ll stop this… you’ll stop and… and we’ll figure things out together. For us now…” You whisper into his chest. He finds himself smiling at your words. Your acceptance. Your forgiveness. “Anything, we’ll do it… anywhere you want to go, we’ll go. For you… for us…” He hums. 

“And no more smoking…” You whine, sniffling, pulling your head up and looking up at his face. 

“Yes, ma’am…” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours, tilting his head, lips meeting in a desperate, yearning reunion. His tongue delving into your sweet mouth. Tasting you, sucking on the tip of your tongue, biting down gently on your lips. He can never get enough. Not until he’s dead and buried. 

…

“Mm! Miguel!” You moan in softly fluttering whimpers. Your fingers entwined like your bodies in the sheets. Rain pelting the windows in a constant soothing noise. Thunder rolling overhead. Perfect protection and together at last. The motel alarm clock, red numbers blaring 4:32am right beside your discarded engagement ring. No need for it. No need to force yourself into a lie. Not when you know Miguel will be true to his word. And finally he won’t hide away from the promise of a good life. 

His hips snapping between your quivering thighs, making you gush and squirm. Filling you up and pumping you full, your heels digging into his lower back, shaking legs wrapping around his waist. Moaning his name. Listening to his sweet soft whispers into your ear. Squeezing his hands holding yours so tight. His love and devotion. He won’t waste any more time.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[cas-writes-stuff-ig]

Regina's Pet

CONTENT:

Word Count: 10,210 words

f!/nb!reader x regina george (dom!regina sub!reader)

-reader and regina smoke weed and cigarettes, but reader has never used a bong before

-drinking

-the reader has a shoulder tattoo and Regina finds

-cady and janis are friends with the plastics

-smut (she collars you later) (mommy kink) (degrading and praise) (semi-public stuff) (a bit of BDSM) (she eats you out and fingers you, and she rides your face) (edging and overstim)

-gross guy hitting on Regina, reader helps her

-fluffy shower aftercare

-she dates you in the end

-regina is kinda more nice here, but she still calls you a dumbass

(btw the smut is at the beginning and the end if you want to skip to it, but there's a lot of teasing build-up between there.)

Hi, i’m really new to writing so sorry if its shitty. I hope you like it. I might make a Part 2

(small unrelated note: I accidentally posted this while I was still writing it out yesterday, mb to those 15 people who saw this and didn't read the finished version, I'm kinda new to writing on Tumblr [i also haven’t written anything since i was 13 so bear with me])

——————————————————————————————

In university you were more or less a wallflower, leaned against a wall near the kitchen counter watching people come and go with drinks, watching the dance floor. Your friends had disappeared somewhere in the house leaving you unintentionally. It was Friday, and the night was young.

You looked into your red solo cup and downed it all, then walked to the kitchen counter to pour yourself another cup of liquid courage with coke.

Just as you were about to resume to leaning against a wall a hand tapped your shoulder from behind and you saw her, Regina George. You assumed she just came from the crowd of people dancing since you hadn’t seen her before that.

She’s been in some of your lectures and had taken a liking to you, her normal spot was always near you or next to you, so you could share notes, but she always had friends around her. With others, she was snarky but with you she was snarky in a more friendly-flirty way. You couldn’t tell if she was actually flirting or not. But she often invited you out to study outside of class.

She was taller than you and you looked up a bit at her, then she stepped forward and you stepped back against the wall “Hey little wallflower,” she grinned as she saw your face of surprise, “Didn’t expect you to be here” and looked you up and down. This was one of the only times you saw her in a non-educational setting.

While of course she looked stunning, you looked down at your own outfit and scratched the back of your head, you wore just a T-shirt partially tucked in jeans. “Yeah kind of, I don’t know where my friends went. I got a little lost.” You admitted.

“You smoke?” she asked.

“Weed or Nicotine?”

“Either, I’ve got both if you want” her voice enticed you like a siren call.

Tired of standing around watching like a loner you nod “Preferably weed right now, just warning you, I’m a bit of a lightweight, but sure” you said

“Hmm, okay loser, c’mon” Regina smirked took your free hand, and led you through the crowd toward the side yard, where two girls were sitting around a table passing a bong, finishing up a bowl. You recognize them as part of Regina’s pack of friends, but you never formally talked to them.

Regina let go of your hand, “Hey guys you know Y/N, Y/N you know Gretchen and Karen right? Right.” she sat down on an empty chair and beckoned you to sit in the empty one next to her.

Gretchen stood “Actually we were just about to go get more drinks and find Cady and Janis, we’ll be back Gina” Karen also stood and handed Regina the bong and the lighter.

When they were out of earshot you whispered nervously to Regina, “Um, Regina? I’ve smoked weed but I’ve never used a bong before” you were bright red wondering if she’d judge you or something.

She had stared packing a small bowl and laughed at you a little “Sweet little thing” her voice was flirty but you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol in both your systems. She turned back to you “Move closer to me, I’ll help you” she ordered. You pushed your chair toward Regina and sat in front of her, knees almost touching. “Hands out flat hold the bottom, sweetheart” then she placed it on your hands. “Now, breathe in” you did as you were told and the water bubbled. Then, she lit the bowl and looked straight into your eyes, and then finally took the bowl out and nodded signaling for you to stop breathing in.

You breathed out the smoke which felt smoother than any smoke you’d ever had in your lungs “Good job Y/N, baby” her voice was a little condescending, but you warmed inside still at the praise. She took it out of your hands and used it herself. You alternated turns using it, with her still helping you and only giving you small short hits.

Feeling more at ease, you relaxed more in your chair and melted in it a bit. Regina looked at you cunningly, obviously enjoying that you were starting to let loose. “Regina, why are you hanging out with me I’m not exactly the most riveting thing at this party” you circled your hand insinuating that she was the riveting thing here.

“You intrigue me sweetheart” she said nonchalantly “Do i need another reason?”

“No I guess not..”

She added sarcastically “Oh, I remember I only keep you around for lecture notes and help with homework.” you laughed and she spoke again “you don’t look half bad either.” Was that Regina saying she thought you looked good? You ignored that thought and took a sip from your solo cup.

“Hey Regina” you slurred your words a bit while she took another hit herself “Can I have another hit, please?” and grinned at her.

You leaned forward so you could hold your hand out again, instead she grabbed your shirt collar eliciting a gasp from you, lips as close to hers without kissing, she started blowing smoke into your mouth and you obliged breathing it in. Then pulled you in for a quick kiss, leaving you speechless. “Cat got your tongue loser?” still holding your shirt, keeping you from moving backward.

Pausing for a moment trying to process what happened and to find the words, you spoke softly your inhibitions lost “No, you do” and she pulled you in again for a deeper kiss tasting her lipstick. She let go of your shirt and her thumb cleaned your lips of her lipstick.

Your head spun from the alcohol, weed, and adrenaline, your body was warm and fuzzy. “Fuck, you’re amazing” you said under your breath without thinking. Your heart hammered.

“Of course I am Y/N” she stood up and held her hand out to you, a silent order for you to get up and take her hand.

“You’re like a goddess” she stared down at you, like you were her obedient servant. Then you took her hand.

“I know loser”

——————————————————————————————

She called an Uber for both of you and brought you back to her dorm. She told you that her roommate wouldn’t come back tonight, since they head home on the weekends.

She led you inside and you asked “You sure your roommate isn’t gonna come back?” you closed the door behind you.

“Ugh no, shut up don’t ruin the mood just kiss me” she shoved you against the door and tilted your head up to look at her “You gonna be good for me?”. You just nodded and kissed her, she pushed her knee between your thighs and you whined into her. You opened your mouth more to let her tongue inside.

With your core aching for more touch, you started grinding on her thigh and she pushed her knee up higher into you. Regina broke the kiss with a bite to your lip eliciting another moan from you. “Shit- Regina” you buried your face in the crook of her neck and moaned out, she took your face to look back at her.

“Do you want more?” she asked, but you only nodded. “Ah ah” Regina scolded you “use your words.”

“Shit, please Regina? Please, fuck me. Be mean to me” You begged her not thinking about your words.

She smirked at you feigning disgust “Oh? Shy, innocent, little wallflower is so dirty” She removed her leg from between your knees and started undoing your belt and pants. Then she walked away from you towards the bed and started removing her shirt, while you did the same. She then sat on the bed with only her panties on and spread her legs. “You want me to fuck you? Get on your knees and earn it”

You both were still very crossfaded and you eagerly went on your knees kissing her from her knee to her inner thigh biting as you went. You looked up and saw her flushed face and kissed above her clit through her panties. “Take them off. Make mommy feel good.”

“Yes mommy” You loved her telling you what to do. You slid her panties off and she spread her legs for you. Regina’s pussy was wet, and hot. She looked down at you expectantly. “You’re beautiful” you said before pressing your tongue to her clit. Regina moaned out and you squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve your own ache.

You tongued at her clit and pulled away to use a hand to rub circles around her bud “Can I use my fingers inside you?” and she let out a yes between moans and you watched her face as you slid two fingers easily inside her wet cunt and curled them pressing her g-spot her head threw back. You then returned your tongue to her clit pressing and licking harder.

“Shit baby, I’m close, don’t stop” she grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer suffocating you between her legs a little bit. You rubbed your thighs together trying to relieve yourself and moaned into her pussy while you curled your fingers inside of her.

A loud “Fuck” between pants and moans was the last thing she said before she arched her back, one hand pressing you hard into her pussy the other supporting her while she came on your fingers, you continued the assault on her clit while she rode out her orgasm. When she finished you licked her pussy and thighs clean.

"You have a tattoo, I never took you for a tattoo kind of person" You looked up at her as she traced your shoulder. Regina found it hot "You never told me" It was always well hidden behind a normal tshirt

You replied "You never asked" and gave her a smile "It's not finished yet though"

She pulled you up onto the bed with her and you straddled one of her thighs. “You did such a good job pet” She still breathed heavily, and she kissed you tasting herself on your tongue.

You grinded down on her thigh a bit while you worshiped her body, a little whine escaping your mouth. Though your core aches for attention you dare not ask in fear of upsetting the goddess. Instead you worshipped her body with a trail of kisses from her neck to her breast. Leaving hickeys and marks only on places that could be covered easily. When you leaned back to look at the marks you left, you just stared looking at her perfect figure.

You heard Regina let out a scoff “You done gawking at me sweetie?” you reddened realizing how long you stared for. Smirking at your embarrassment, she decided to give you mercy “You ready for your reward baby?” her voice sickly sweet and domineering.

“Please” you said under your breath, you couldn’t take waiting any longer, it ached between your legs.

Regina laughed a bit at you “So needy” She took a hand and signaled for you to lift your hips, her other hand placed on her thigh where you’d been grinding slightly. “Ride it, ride my fingers slut.”

You lowered down onto her hand and as soon as you took her fingers in she curled them hitting your g-spot, a loud moan escaped from your mouth and then you started to grind your hips. You covered your mouth with your hand and closed your eyes, your other hand on her shoulder supporting yourself. Riding her hand, the base of her palm rubbed against your clit “Shit- Regina..” you moaned out but muffled against your hand.

She stilled your hips and threatened “Move your hand, let me hear you or I’ll stop” you opened your eyes half-lidded and let your hand drop to Regina’s other shoulder supporting yourself with both hands now. “Good pet seems like you can follow orders hm”

She started guiding your hips against her hand to start you back up again. You didn’t break eye contact with her. You moaned out loudly when her hand from your hip found one of your nipples and pinched it hard. “Regina” you panted out desperately and she just bit her lip.

She curled her fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot and let you grind, you synched your hips with her movements. Each press inside and each time your clit moved against her palm sent pleasure shooting through your body, and heat started to burn in your core “Fuck, Regina- please I’m close. I can’t” you were almost tipping over the edge

“Cum for me baby, go on” She instructed and your legs shook and you moaned out her name over and over, she continued to guide you through your orgasm still pressing against your inside until you stopped grinding against her hand.

When she started to pull her hand away, you lifted your hips to let her, Regina let her fingers slide through your slit and rubbed hard against your overstimulated clit. A loud whimper escaped, but you tried not to move away “Shit- Regina, I’m sensitive” You looked at her pleadingly, legs trembling

“I know baby” she smirked deviously as your legs shook “come one more time for me, can you do that?” she circled your clit faster.

“Yes, fuck- anything for you” you weren’t going to last long, especially when she talked to you like that.

Regina hummed “Such a pathetic toy for me aren’t you?” you whined out a yes and she pressed harder. She loved seeing you come undone.

“Regina, please, I’m close again” you managed to get out, then she started rubbing horizontal strokes right against your clit and you felt like you saw stars “Mommy- please I can’t, I can’t-”

“Go ahead pet” she purred in your ear and you came all over her hand again. This orgasm was more intense than the first, white-hot pleasure struck through you. She whispered praises and encouragement while you came, but she never slowed down wanting to prolong your orgasm as long as possible.

When you pulled your hips away you she brought her hand in front of both of you. “Look at how messy you are baby” then she made a show of licking your wetness off her hands.

You sat on her lap still straddling her and she sat up to kiss you, she wrapped her arms around your waist and your arms went around her shoulder and neck. She kissed your jawline and then your neck leaving a sizable hickey that would be hard to hide. She pulled back to look at you.

“That was incredible” you said breathily coming down from your orgasm high and the weed. “Thank you” you murmured quietly.

“You did say I was amazing” she pulled you close to her lips again, “of course I’m incredible in bed” sounding cocky as ever.

Regina let you climb off her and she helped you clean yourself up. You sat on the bed while she rummaged through her drawer and she threw a pink t shirt and a pair of sweats at you. She decided to keep the stray in her bed. “Stay tonight”

“Thank you” you said as you stood up and got changed into her pjs.

She rummaged more through her drawer and pulled out a small tape measurer “Sit up” she instructed and you did, then she wrapped it around your neck measuring it quickly.

You were confused, but before you could ask what it was for, she lifted the covers to get in bed and anxiety suddenly took over you. You were about to sleep in this gorgeous woman’s bed. But your mind raced. Was this just a fling? Were you really just kept around for homework and a good fuck? Your expression changed and you furrowed your eyebrows a tiny bit. “I’m gonna go get some water really quick” you grabbed her water bottle.

Before you could walk out, she said “Okay nerd, just come back” she sounded irritated, but the way her hand had tugged on your shirt showed you she wasn’t really upset.

“Of course” you grabbed your phone and walked out to the communal bathroom. You went to the sink and splashed water in your face. “Fuck” you said to yourself looking at the mirror, you then tilted your head to the side looking at the hickey she left on you. Your stomach fluttered, you’d just fucked one of the most beautiful people and she wants you to come back to bed.

You opened your phone to worried messages from your friends

Y/N: so sorry guys I’m at someone’s dorm right now

Max: shit we were worried about you, we tried finding you at the party but you weren’t there

Y/N: you guys have my location you know

Jade: whose dorm r you at? did you, yk?

You hesitated before texting back, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Your friends knew that Regina had taken a liking to you and gave you special treatment, they also knew what a huge crush you had on her

Y/N: i’m with regina...

Max: so you’re the one people saw with regina huh

Jade: hope you had fun

Y/N: mm details later, i’m going to bed goodnight

Jade: goodnight

Max: night

Next to the communal bathroom, was a small water fountain and you filled it.

You walked back to her room and she put her phone down quickly and lifted the covers for you to come in. “Hey Regina?” you said nervously as you got shifted to be comfortable in her bed.

“Yes” she replied while she took your arm around to hold her. You were cuddling her, and she scooted closer to you.

“I was just wondering, is this just a one time thing or..” you paused anxiously wondering if she was mad.

She turned over in your arms and looked at you “You’re a good fuck, you’re good with school, yes.” Regina said a bit sternly, almost offended at you asking. “but you don’t look half bad, and I actually happen to enjoy your company” she said under her breath. You wouldn’t know if she actually said that last part if you didn’t feel her breath on your lips.

“And if you want this again, which I know you do, then you’ll get it, understand?” she said cockily again, you didn’t reply but just passionately kissed her, and her hand came to cup your face. “I’ll take that as a yes” This was the nicest Regina ever was up till now, and it warmed you.

She turned back over for you to spoon her and you pulled her close this time and kissed her neck and shoulder. “Thank you, goodnight Regina” you murmured, sleepiness taking over your body.

“Goodnight loser” she replied with no malice in her voice. You nuzzled your face into her shoulder and Regina felt you smile into her shoulder. You were her loser, hers. And hopefully hers for more nights.

——————————————————————————————

In the morning you realized where you were, in Regina George’s bed and reddened at the realization. In the night you switched positions with her, and she really just held you like a teddy bear. You awkwardly slipped your phone out from under the pillow and checked the time, it was around 10AM.

You felt her stir and pull you close to her, and your heart beamed, the snappy Regina George likes to cuddle you. “Good morning” You felt her breathe against your neck.

“Good morning Regina, did you sleep okay?” you replied and turned over to look at her.

She let go to stretch her arms out a bit. “Good, you?”

“I haven’t slept that good in a while” You admitted, her smile full of pride.

“What? You worn out from last night baby” she teased and you just didn’t reply and turned your head into the pillow. You felt her get up out of the bed then you looked at what she was doing. She handed you your clothes from last night.

She threw you a glance and told you “Get dressed we’re going out.” She sat in her desk chair and started putting on make up.

“Wait what?” you asked surprised.

She turned around annoyed and looked at you “We’re going shopping loser, get dressed” she turned back to her mirror and teased “Don’t worry I wont look at you change, not like I didn’t see you naked last night right?” you flustered and got changed.

You sat on the bed waiting for bed to finish getting ready, kicking your feet a bit “Hey Regina, you got any coffee?” you said as she was slipping on her heels.

“Some in the fridge” you kneeled down to get some and opened a bottle of cold coffee.

“Thanks” you turned and saw her put on her black leather jacket, then she walked up to you, and used a finger to tilt your head up.

“You ready to go?” she smiled looking down at you, the heels she wore made her much taller than you. Your face was red and she reveled in the effect she had on you. You just nodded.

——————————————————————————————

You sat in the front passengers seat, and of course Regina had a sexy car too. You had chugged your coffee out of nervousness. Regina told you that Gretchen and Karen ended up at some frat guys house, and picked them up.

When they got in you really stuck out like a sore thumb. Three pretty girls and there was you. While they all talked amongst themselves about their night, you just stared at the road.

After arriving at some mall parking lot, Regina led the three of you through an expensive clothing store, you were in the back following them like a lost dog. Regina instructed them to find clothes for you, and you were stunned, you thought they were here for themselves, and you were there to tag along.

“Y/N, sit there got it?” She pointed at some chairs near a dressing room “We’ll be back.” You went to go sit and waited for them.

Gretchen and Karen came to you first and surprisingly they let you pick the clothes that you felt comfortable wearing. They put the clothes you didn’t choose on a rack and dispersed again to pick out clothes for themself. You yelled a “Thanks guys” before they were out of earshot.

Regina came back and walked toward you, “Hey try this on” she handed you a white wife beater and some ripped jeans and she looked through the clothes the girls had chosen for you, and removed some items from the pile. You saw a plastic bag so she had already bought herself some clothes while she was a walking around.

“Okay” You stepped into a dressing room and slipped the clothes on, you saw how expensive they were and grew anxious. You looked good but you still felt nervous and self-conscious, the shirt revealed your tattoo, which you never showed off. You poked your head out and saw Regina looking at you and raised an eyebrow, wanting to see the outfit.

You stepped out and she got up from her chair and approached you, circling you like prey. It made you nervous. Her hand touched your waist and she spoke, “Wear this with your belt” Regina walked in front of you and tucked the front of the shirt into the pants “You look cute” she put a finger on her lip and looked you up and down.

“Th-thanks” you replied nervously.

Regina then walked behind you and smacked your ass lightly. It made you yelp a little, and she let out a soft chuckle. Her fingers laced through the loops on the jeans on either side and pulled your hips into hers and whispered in your ear “Your ass looks nice in these jeans, wear this outfit tonight” Then she nipped at your ear, and you suddenly felt hot. She traced your shoulder again "Also show this off more often"

You stammered out “What’s tonight?” She let go of you and smiled.

“Another party of course” she sat down in the chair and crossed her legs “Get changed again, then let’s go pay”

When you stepped out, Regina took the clothes from you and handed you her bag of clothes to hold, and went to go to the register to pay for you. “You really don’t have to do that Regina it’s fine,” you said, feeling bad if she paid.

“If I’m going to be seen again with you tonight, especially on the dance floor, I want you to look good.” she glanced at you and inserted her card. It was nice that she paid even though it was for her own selfish purposes.

“You sure you don’t want me to pay you back” You felt bad because it was pricey.

“Don’t question me baby” She threw you a glare and walked past you handing you the bag of clothes making you hold both bags but you didn’t really mind that. And you nodded obediently.

Gretchen and Karen were also paying and when you all were reunited at the entrance, you offered to hold their bags as well, which they let you. You walked around more with them at the mall, Gretchen and Karen ended up walking off on their own to another part of the mall, then it was just you and Regina again.

You both were talking comfortably, even though your heart was racing, you wanted to tease her back a bit. You sat at a table, sitting across from each other, drinking some soda, then you leaned forward, elbows on the table resting your head in your hands smiling “So you really do enjoy my company don’t you”.

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever you think”

“Oh come on, you said it last night, I remember it” You tilted your head to the side and grinned wider.

She crossed her legs and her arms and was frustrated “I did, so what? We were drunk and high” She spat, and it almost hurt your feelings. She then put on a devious smile “And if you keep acting like a brat about it, you’ll regret it tonight, understand me, baby?”

Heat instantly went between your legs at what she was insinuating but you continued your facade of confidence “Regret it how?” you laughed and said “Should I fuck around and find out? or be good for you?”

She returned your sentiment “Up to you, either way you’ll end up begging” That made your facade crumble away and you felt your face grow red, and she just relished in your shyness, knowing she won.

Once you were reunited with them again, Regina drove Gretchen and Karen to their respective dorms, and you last. Before you got out the car she grabbed your shirt again and pulled you in for a quick kiss. “Meet back at mine at around 7, got it? I’ve got another errand to run”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there, thanks for taking me out today” You stepped out and waved.

“Mmhm whatever, thank me later” her tone was mean but she pulled her sunglasses down a little and gave you a look that made your heart flutter for a moment.

She drove away and you walked into your dorm where your two friends were. “Hey guys” you put your bag of clothes down and kicked your boots off.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in” Your friend Jade said to you.

“Yeah a bag of clothes Jade it isn’t a big deal” you replied tired of walking around “Turn around I’m changing”

Max and Jade turned around but still probed at the topic “But you were with the Regina George last night” Jade said.

“And you slept in her dorm” Max added, you changed into your comfortable pjs to lounge around in until 7 o’clock approached

“You can turn back around now” you said and they turned toward you arms crossed

“Details please” they both said and you sighed defeated.

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul” you put your pinkies out for them and the promised.

“Of course Y/N”

You sat on your bed and they sat across from you on Max’s bed, and you huffed out “Fine, she found me, we smoked a bong, and then we left, got an Uber to her dorm and we fucked” you sighed.

Max smiled “I would say sorry for losing you last night, but It seems like you had a great time without us” and pointed to your neck. You had completely forgot you had a hickey there and you were cherry red in the face. Jade and Max laughed at your obliviousness.

“But come on was it good?” Jade pressed.

You had grabbed a pillow and stuffed your mouth and nose into it “yes, she liked my tattoo” you said through the pillow.

“Does she like you? Was it a fling or does she want you again?”

“I don’t know, but she’s insinuated she wanted to fuck again” you mumbled.

Max and Jade high-fived each other “Y/N getting laid with the prettiest girl around” Max said teasing you.

Jade and Max were actually pretty sociable and had connections to parties, so when they got you as a roommate they took you on as their token introvert.

Jade laughed and added wiping away fake tears “They grow up so fast” You threw the pillow at them and their laughter only grew. Once they regained composure, Jade asked “There’s another party tonight, you coming with? Regina might be there” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you held up your middle finger.

“Actually, Regina invited me out to the party with her friends..” you grabbed the bag of clothes and took out the outfit Regina bought for you “that’s what this is for, she bought it for me”

They whooped and cheered, then Max spoke “She must really like you then Y/N” They paused and looked at your anxious face “Don’t sweat it, you’re gonna be hot shit tonight”

“I hope so” You ran your fingers through your hair.

7 o’clock approached faster than you expected, it was already 6:20 and you had gotten some notes done for a class. Then you started to change into the outfit Regina chose for you, you ripped off the tags and threw them in the recycling trashcan near the mirror, putting on your clothes. Max whistled when you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “Regina has good taste”

“In clothes or people?” you asked, while putting your belt on

“Both Y/N” Max walked up to you and fixed your hair a little. You sat and bounced your knee anxiously “Breathe you already fucked her once you’ll be fine” you just felt silly, your outfit wasn’t too out of your comfort zone but you were scared again.

Max patted your shoulder. “You’re fine, you should wear that gold cross necklace you have, it’d look good with your outfit” you grabbed it and handed it to Max to clasp around your neck.

It was an indulgence purchase from months ago, you saw it and decided you needed it, it was actually expensive and real gold too. You were rather attracted to shiny things, and people like Regina.

Jade was absorbed in some video on her laptop and Max beckoned her “Jay look at them” She paused her video and looked at you.

“Wow go get ‘em tiger” Jade said jokingly, you rolled your eyes and cringed at her

“What are you my dad?” you grinned and then looked at your phone, “Ah shit I should head out now guys” You grabbed your small cross bag and slung it over your shoulder.

“We’ll see you at the party!” Max and Jade called out, you waved them goodbye. Then you walked to Regina’s dorm, it was about a 10-15 minute walk away and you texted her to let you into the building. You were only 3 minutes early.

Y/N: Hey Regina i’m outside, mind letting me in?

Regina G :0 : Be down in a sec

You didn’t wait long as she opened the door for you and led you back to her dorm. She didn’t look at you just yet, she was in a hurry to get back and finish getting ready. When she was finished getting ready, she stepped in front of the mirror and ensured her outfit looked good. She wore a pink shirt that complimented her breast well and black leggings and heeled boots. Then she turned around to you.

She hummed in approval and then you were red again. She traced the gold cross you wore. “Nice touch”. She grazed your arms which were nicely toned but not super muscular.

“Thank you” you stood awkwardly as she was staring at your outfit and your body. You avoided eye contact.

“Real gold?” she took the cross into her hands and looked at the fine details, you nodded. “Consider me impressed” you breathed out a sigh of relief only for her to pull you by your belt into a kiss. “You ready for this little wallflower?”

“Yeah” you said quietly.

She handed you her leather jacket “Hold this for me, don’t lose it” the she leaned over to apply her lipstick and walked back over to you pressing a few kiss marks to your cheek and neck. “Don’t wipe that off either” She pulled her phone out “Just waiting for Gretchen, Karen and Cady now”

——————————————————————————————

You left your bag at Regina’s since you assumed you’d come back for it anyway but took an unopened pack of Marlboros and a lighter and put it in Regina’s jacket. It was about 8 o’clock that you all left, Cady drove you all to the house party. Regina sat in the front leaving you with Gretchen and Karen in the back. You held Regina’s jacket in your lap.

Karen and Cady were the more amicable of the four in the car. Karen leaned and looked at your back "You've got tattoos Y/N" Suddenly Gretchen leaned over and looked at you.

"You do" She was also surprised "looks good on you"

You swore you saw Regina glance over at you raising an eyebrow, it screamed 'told you I was right nerd'.

Karen complimented your tattoos and asked many follow-up questions you weren't prepared for, but she leaned in and whispered "Regina likes them, she keeps staring at you through the mirror"

Before you could reply back thanks, Cady parked at the curb near the house where you could already hear music, the houses in this neighborhood were huge. Gretchen opened her door first hopping out, and let Karen out. Karen sent you a wink before shutting the door.

Regina led them to the door and opened it, all eyes were on her again. But since you walked in together it felt like they were on you. You all grabbed drinks before Karen and Gretchen dragged Cady to the dance floor. You grabbed some Jack and Coke and Regina just poured herself some Pink Whitney. “Hey Regina can I try some of yours?” you asked trying to loosen up before the alcohol kicked in.

“It’s vodka sweetie, aren’t you a lightweight?” you nodded She placed her cup down and picked up the bottle of Pink Whitney and a clean shot glass and poured you a shot, handing it to you “Bottoms up” You drank it and it burned on the way down but it was sweet and decadent much like Regina herself. She mouthed ‘Good pet’ and smirked then dragged you to the dance floor where you were already tipsy.

“Regina, can I wear your jacket for now so I don’t lose it?” you said loud enough for her to hear through the music and people, she nodded and continued to dance. Your bodies were close together and you were drunk. Alcohol was the best social lubricant.

You danced together and at some points she took your hand and let you spin her around. You had to extend your arms a little bit more than if you were her height and if she wasn’t wearing heels.

You turned your back for a little when you heard Jade and Max call after you and you greeted them, they said they saw you and Regina together and playfully punched your shoulder, and then heard Regina’s voice “Get off me weirdo!” you turned to see some frat guy with his arm wrapped around Regina’s waist.

“Dance with me” he slurred his words very drunkenly but he wouldn’t let go of Regina and she wiggled her way out of his grasp.

“I'm here with someone, get lost” Regina spat.

“Yeah where is he then huh?” The guy stepped up to her, this guy was easily almost a foot taller than you, but Regina didn’t care and she pulled your arm and you instinctively hooked your arm around the back of her waist.

You glared at him and Regina pulled your face towards hers kissing you in front of him and someone others watched, a shy little nobody that no one’s seen is kissing the Regina George. You were drunk and didn’t care, you were pissed this guy wouldn’t leave her alone. Your hand trailed down to her ass momentarily and you both broke the kiss.

He was about to say something else but Gretchen, Karen, and Cady showed up, “Leave her be, fucking jackss” he just scoffed as more people were watching and walked to another girl. You and Regina quickly let go of each other, you wiped off her lipstick from your lips.

Her friends were checking on her and she was just dusting her outfit off obviously irritated as well but she just kept saying she was fine. You were seething inside and chugged the rest of your cup but maintained composure “Regina you okay?”

She looked up at you and snapped “I’m fine Y/N” and she looked at her friends “I’m fine, gonna get more to drink” She stormed off and her friends just stood looking at each other but you weaved your way through the crowd following her.

“Regina” you put a hand on her shoulder, she poured more alcohol into her cup, and she ignored you “Regina let’s go outside for a second” You saw an open case of water and took one out. “Come on Regina please?”

She gave you a death stare but she found the backyard, opened the sliding door, and you followed her when you were alone she sneered at you “I’m fine seriously lay off it” You dare not take her alcohol but you handed her the bottle of water and she sat in a folding chair.

You took out the cigarettes and the lighter and then slipped the jacket off to place around Regina’s shoulders. You sat next to her and opened the pack of cigarettes, placed a piece of gum in your mouth so it wouldn’t taste bad, and lit the cigarette. She drank a third of the water you gave her.

“Smoke break?” you passed her the cigarette and smiled a little, she took it from you wordlessly. You just looked down at your phone and let her have her silence. You got a couple messages from Max and Jade including a picture of Regina and you from the 2nd floor window. You looked at Regina who was turned away from you and then you looked up behind where you saw your friends giving you thumbs up, you flipped them off quickly.

Regina passed the cigarette back to you and you took a long puff. Then she spoke “Men are such jack asses, ugh” she crossed her legs and complained, you listened. “Like get the fuck of of me” she rolled her eyes and then you flicked the ash off and passed the cigarette back to her.

She ranted on for a while before she turned back to you, and murmured a soft “Thanks though” she flicked the cigarette butt away but it landed toward your feet, you picked it up and stuffed it in your pocket to throw away later. Both of you were still thoroughly intoxicated so you felt like you could tease her a little bit.

You put a cigarette in your mouth used one hand to protect it from the wind and one hand lit it up, you took a long puff before smirking. “Regina George? Saying ‘thank you’? I can’t believe my ears” You passed her the cigarette again.

“Shut it nerd” She took a deep breath of the cigarette and blew it at your face. You were glad to see her back to her snarky teasing ways.

“Or what?” You challenged her with no intention of winning. “You gonna punish me, Regina?” You leaned back in your chair and spread your legs to get comfortable, but she stood up.

She walked in front of your chair and towered over you “It seems like that’s what you want” her knee pushed harshly between your thighs, one hand on the back of your chair and the other still holding the cigarette. She looked down at you and you smiled wider, knowing she was back in a better mood. “You better wipe that smug smile off your face L/N”

You tried leaning up to kiss her but she straightened herself out of your reach and shoved her knee harder into your cunt. You whined “Regina” You looked up at her and she held the cigarette to your mouth and watched you inhale, you turned your head to not blow the smoke at her. She looked at you expecting you to say or do something. You put your hands up in defeat “I’m sorry Gina please forgive me” You wanted a taste of her lips.

“Again” she said smiling down at you cruelly, and you swore she could feel the pulse between your legs.

“Regina please, I'm sorry I was joking, I’ll be good now” You put your hands down on your thighs and leaned forward again “Please kiss me”

Like yesterday, she breathed smoke into your mouth. Regina leaned down towards your lips and you inhaled what she gave you, and she pressed her lips to yours. She pulled away and said “You’re forgiven, I suppose”

“Thank you goddess” You smiled at her more timidly. She removed her knee from between your legs and finished off the last of the cigarette. Before she could flick it onto the ground somewhere, you put your hand out to take it from her.

“Oh a good Samaritan too aren’t you?” she taunted you and handed it to you to put in your pocket. She looked you up and down again her eyes lingering at your necklace, then she smirked “Well, God bless you baby” she said seductively, and started to walk away “Let's go back inside shall we?”

She walked ahead of you and you looked up at the window to see if your friends were still there, and they were. Jade mouthed to you ‘bottom’ and you rolled your eyes, then speed walked to catch up with Regina.

Regina got a message and then took your hand and led you upstairs, to a room with a pool table and in the corner, Gretchen, Karen, Cady, and Janis, with two guys you assumed were gonna go home with some of them tonight. They passed around a bong and Regina looked back at you and said quietly. “Hope I trained you well last night, or does my stray need help again?” She sat down next to Cady on the couch and you sat on Regina’s right.

Regina got her turn and then it was yours thankfully you did it right. You passed it around maybe three times and talked and didn’t get awkward or anything, when it was your turn again Regina leaned to whisper in your ear, “Let me know when you wanna go back to mine, I have a surprise” a hand lightly traced the back of your neck and you coughed out then she leaned away to talk to Cady.

You stayed a while, just chatting, and you were pretty sobered up, but you felt needier. You let Regina finish her conversation before tapping Regina’s arm and nodding your head. Then Regina stood up “Cady, me and nerd are heading home now, just gonna take an Uber” You and Regina said bye to everyone else and walked out. Walking out the door she interlaced her fingers with yours.

——————————————————————————————

Regina traced the inner part of your thigh in the car and you had to bite back a whine when she got too close to your core, and you returned the favor pulling her leg apart slightly as well. Your stomach filled with butterflies.

When you got to her dorm she took her jacket off and kissed you relentlessly, both of you kicking off your shoes. Regina undid your belt and slipped a hand underneath your underwear and felt how wet you were. “Been waiting all night for this pet?” she dragged her finger from your entrance to your clit and pressed lightly.

“Yes, I want you, please” you begged, she took her hand out and licked her finger clean.

“Strip for me and kneel in front of the bed, like yesterday” She commanded and you were happy to follow, you took your gold necklace off and placed it on the desk and rid the rest of your clothes. Her back was turned to you and you heard her opening something while you stripped and went on your knees.

“Hey Regina? Can I keep a shirt on?” she turned to you and you were in nothing but held her pink t-shirt you wore last night.

She was amused to see you wear her clothes “Yeah, sure” she went back to fumbling with something and you put the shirt on and stared at your knees.

When you glanced up at her, she wore only her shirt and lace panties now which made you blush and look at the ground, then you heard a clink of metal. Regina sat on the bed right in front of you, and you looked up and saw what she held. A pretty black collar with a tag on the front engraved with the words “Regina’s Pet” and a ring on the back and front of the collar for a leash or for her to tug on.

“Hey you sober right?” her voice was soft and caring, which surprised you.

“Yes, I am” you replied quietly you were eager.

“Do you want this around your neck?” Regina unclasped it and held it in front of you.

Your mouth went dry and you said “yes” weakly.

“Good” she leaned down and fastened the collar onto your neck. “You’re my pet now, yeah?” she hooked her finger through the loop on the front and pulled you close.

“Yes” is all you could manage to say as she beckoned you to straddle her lap. Your legs were spread as you sat on her and she inspected the collar on you.

“is it too tight?” she yanked on it a little and stuck two fingers between your neck and the collar.

“No- no, it’s good thank you” you were nervous again.

“You’re familiar with the color system, yes?” Regina asked.

You nodded “Green for good, yellow for slow down and red for stop”

“Good you’re gonna need it” She replied and kissed your lips

She let go of your collar and one hand was against your back and the other trailed up your thigh and pressed lightly on your clit. “So about you being a bit bratty earlier today..” she circled your clit gently and she stared into your eyes, “I think I have to discipline you a bit, yeah?”

You were willing to do anything she asked really, and said “Yes” She rewarded that answer with her moving pressing slightly harder, you ached wanting more “I’m sorry Regina, I’ll be good” she let out an approving hum.

“Tell me when you’re close baby, don’t finish unless I say so,” She said, “can you do that for me?”

“Yes” and she rewarded you by pressing against your clit faster “Ah, Jesus- Regina, it feels good” you moaned out and rested your head in the crook of her neck. “Faster please,” you begged needing more friction.

“God you’re so fucking pathetic” but she obliged and touched you faster. “You like when I call you pathetic baby?”

“Fuck, yes!” each thrum against your clit sent you closer and closer to orgasm, and you felt your stomach tighten and your legs trembled “Regina I’m close,” But as soon as you said that her fingers were off you and you whined “No.. please, let me come” your orgasm dissipated and your clit ached.

“Mm no” she responded back, “Lay down spread your legs” You climbed off her and spread your legs, and she lifted the shirt to reveal your wet cunt to her. You closed your legs when she stared, but she pried them back open. She started at your inner thigh and left kisses, marks, and bites all the way up to your pussy, where she licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You arched your back wanting more.

She licked your clit gently at first and then harder, “Regina” you gasped out, and you bucked your hips into her face then she pushed them back down. You looked down and you saw her looking back at you while she ate your pussy out. She flicked her tongue across your clit and you said her name between moans and pants.

While her tongue abused your clit she gathered your slick around her fingers and slid two digits inside you, making you gasp. Pumping her fingers in and out hitting your g-spot your legs began to shake again “Fuck, I’m close. Please don’t stop mommy” But she pulled away leaving you on the edge again. She moved up and kissed you, tasting your wetness on her tongue.

“You’re doing so good for me, pet” She praised and kissed you again letting you rest before she edged you again. “Color?”

“Green” you replied, the ache between your legs hurt but it felt so good to be at the end of her wrath. Then she went back down to lick your clit again, slower this time wanting to draw out your agony a little bit.

She pulled away to look at your cunt “You have such a pretty pussy, you know that pet?” she then thrust two fingers back inside you before you could respond, curling them against your g-spot, your back arched again, making your collar clink slightly and she went back down to lick your clit again.

Her tongue slowly increased speed and pressure as she licked circles around the bud, her fingers still moving inside you. Suddenly she sucked on your clit and you almost fell over the edge “Wait! close- fuckk” you said to her and she stopped again, you didn’t want to come without her permission, you wanted to be good for her.

You were sexually frustrated, tears pricked at the corner of your eye and she took her clean hand and wiped them away “Does your pussy ache sweetie?” her tone was sadistic as she smiled. You just nodded and she cooed “My poor pet” you whined as she teased you. “One more time, can you handle it?”

You nodded eagerly and she lifted your shirt revealing your tummy and left marks down your stomach to your pussy once more, you involuntarily bucked your hips and she slammed your hips down against the mattress, she was stronger than she let on. She started licking once more and it drove you crazy, your clit was sensitive from the edging, she sucked on it occasionally. Then slid two fingers inside you again. “Regina” you drew out her name and she bit gently at your clit. “You feel so good..” then you were sure you could feel her smirk between your legs.

Your legs trembled again as she licked over your clit directly and relentlessly. A third finger stretched your pussy, and you moaned her name again and again. You pleaded “Regina please, please let me come, please” you whined out and looked down waiting for approval, but she just looked at you and sucked your clit hard. “Regina, please- fuck! I can’t, I can’t hold it, please I’m all yours please”

You were about to come crashing over the edge and then she lifted her head replacing her tongue with her thumb and she strummed your clit quickly “Go on baby, come for me” You almost screamed her name but she kissed you and muffled your sounds, she pulled away from the kiss.

The only words that came out of your mouth as you came was her name “thank you” and “don’t stop” She loved watching the scene before her. Her collared pet writhing and coming under her touch. Regina only stopped when you pushed her hand away, overstimulated.

She put her fingers in your mouth “Clean up your mess pet” you sat up and licked her fingers clean.

When you finished you kissed her hand and murmured “Thank you for letting me finish” she smiled and grabbed a water bottle from her table and held it to your mouth. Your mouth was dry from moaning her name so much.

“You okay there nerd?” she asked gently. She was worried she was too rough on you.

“I’m all good, my legs just feel like jelly” you gave a soft smile and she leaned down to kiss one of your legs. She smiled back at you.

“You up to return the favor?” she straddled your hips as she waited for your answer. You pulled her by the collar of her shirt like she’s done to you and kissed her.

You let her pull away and said “Of course” and she pulled her panties off.

She moved up so her pussy was right over your mouth, she was practically dripping “Be a good doll and make me feel good” She lowered herself onto your mouth and you greedily licked her pussy, you loved how she tasted and you grabbed her hips to put her full weight onto you.

She groaned and began to grind against your tongue, you guided her hips back and forth and she started to move her hips faster “Oh fuck Y/N” you saw her close her eyes. “You’re such a good fuck toy aren’t you?” you moaned at her words and it sent vibrations through her clit “Do that again baby, touch yourself while I ride you” You reached a hand down between your legs and moaned against her again. Your body was sensitive too and you moaned loudly at how overstimulated your clit was.

Your other hand now moved to her ass and you squeezed it digging your nails into her ass and pushing her further down into your face. “God, you’re so good at pleasing me” she gripped your hair and moaned “Don’t stop, please” she sounded desperate and who were you to deny her pleasure when she asked so nicely?

As she approached her orgasm you felt her legs start to squeeze your head a little, and you also got closer, thrumming your finger against your clit. “Fuck I’m close, are you close baby?” she looked down at you “Can you come with me?” you nodded and sucked her clit harder she moaned your name and streams of obscenities, “Fuck- baby” is what she got out before her back arched and she tilted her head back. You moaned into her as your orgasm followed quickly after. She rode your face prolonging her ecstasy as long as possible and then she lifted off you.

You wiped off your face a little before she kissed you again “You’re perfect” you got out between her kissing you.

She climbed off the bed and held her hand out to you, “Let's get cleaned up, how’s that sound?”

You just took her hand and followed her to the bathroom attached to her room. She turned the shower on and got rid of her shirt, then turned to you, undoing your collar. Then you also stripped your shirt off.

She was so sweet it actually caught you off guard. She let you into the shower and asked “You sure you’re okay?” then started to wash your hair.

“I’m way more than okay Regina” you looked up at her and she continued to wash your hair gently “Did you have fun?” You wondered.

“Mmhm, I rode your face and came all over it, of course, I had fun” She rinsed your hair and you began to soap her hair up as well. You turned her around washed the ends of her hair and kissed her shoulder. "I also enjoy making a mess out of you, I hope I wasn't too rough on you"

"You weren't, it felt amazing" you whispered and placed another kiss on her shoulder.

She took a washcloth and washed her own body. Then turned you around, Regina started to lightly wash your back and shoulders "You're so cute" you heard her say quietly, while she washed the rest of the suds away.

When you hopped out of the shower she handed you a towel and you dried yourself off. You wrapped the towel around yourself and followed her back to the room where she got you clean clothes once again.

Instead of crawling into bed right away, Regina was seated on the edge of her bed and actually patted the empty space next to her, you sat next to her “I want to be very clear to you” her voice was serious with an air of worry to it.

Suddenly you felt like you did something wrong and apologized “Shit Regina did I do something wro-“

She cut you off “No! no, you didn’t,” she said quickly “Just listen okay?” Regina was nervous, and you knew she didn’t like to feel coddled but you grabbed her hand trying to support her and she let you. “I like you Y/N, not just to fuck or for homework” Your jaw dropped and she got defensive. “We don’t have to do this-“

“Regina, you like me like…” you paused to breathe “Crush like me?” you gripped her hand tighter hoping you interpreted that right.

“What other kind of ‘like’ is there for a confession, dumbass” she was rude and then apologetic “Sorry” you just laughed.

“You’re fine Regina, I can take when you’re mean to me” and brought your hand up to your lips and kissed it gently “But why? You have so many other people lined up for you other than me, and I’m like, socially awkward and weird”

“The awkwardness is a little charming” She claimed. “You were also hard to read at first, so quiet too. Like a little mouse”

You smiled "Glad you think so" and you kissed her hand again “You’re a little scary Regina”

“I know it’s a blessing and a curse” She just smiled back at you.

You stared at your intertwined hands “I didn’t know you liked me, like that” you bit your tongue “I thought you were just kidding, I’m kind of slow, aren’t I?”

“A bit,” she smiled “It’s okay loser, I know I send mixed signals sometimes, but I was flirting with you all those times before yesterday just so you know” Shit you were really slow.

You leaned in and kissed her “I like you a lot” You broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. You opened your mouth to say, ‘Please be mine’, but nothing came out.

Regina still looked a little nervous "I meant what I said you know, you're mine" She said possessively, she paused and was about to say something else but you cut in.

"I want you Regina, and I want to be yours as well." You declared

She poked fun at your statement "You're so cheesy" and pushed you away slightly and playfully. "Just get in the bed" You stood and lifted the covers and climbed in and let her in as well.

You laid on your back and she was on her side, she looked at you like she was admiring your features. Then you turned to ogle in realization, dumbfounded, "Wait you're my girlfriend now right?"

She flicked your forehead earning an "Ow" from you. She rolled her eyes "Yes loser, and for someone so smart, you're kinda dumbass too"

You grinned wide, "Your dumbass though right?"

The corners of her lips tugged up slightly, showing she enjoyed your small cheesy banter with her "Shut up"

"Fiiine" You inched closer to her and kissed her passionately, "Goodnight Regina" She turned over and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her.

"Goodnight nerd" she said tiredly.

You smirked and mumbled quietly "Your nerd" and you just heard a tsk sound and fell asleep with this beautiful goddess in your arms.

(sorry the bong thing might be a little corny, but the first time i used one, my girlfriend held it for me because i was scared of dropping it)

(heyyyy just wanted to add here at the bottom, that i moved really fast with all the kinky shit and collar stuff. this isn’t a perfect representation of bdsm, so please do your research! [I might rewrite a version of this over on ao3 to be longer so i can better portray that stuff realistically {also it’s because i feel bad}])

[mviswidow]

more than you know

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Nat and R get high together & fuck (a tiny bit of fluff at the end)

Content Warnings: NSFW!! switch!natasha; oral; fingering; marijuana use

A/N: i don't write smut often but i'm hoping this is good🫠

“I’ll take another hit,” Natasha murmurs after a couple minutes of silence, and you nod in response, taking your cart out of your pocket and handing it over. 

“Thanks.”

You manage to look away from the window that held a beautiful view of the city’s skyline that had captivated you both and look over to Natasha, who was just as beautiful (if not more). You watch her inhale, her tolerance is impressive since she doesn’t seem to smoke often. 

“Are you like a secret stoner or something?” You probe, turning to sit facing her, sinking further into the couch.

“I used to smoke when I got back from missions for a couple months but I started to get a little dependent on it so I only smoke weed when I’m offered now. For the most part.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “I have to smoke to get to sleep every once in a while.”

Natasha lazily turns her head in your direction, it urges you to continue.

“It’s usually when I don’t have missions that I have the most trouble getting sleep. I’m less exhausted and my mind kind of just goes everywhere and I get stressed - it becomes a lot to handle sober sometimes.”

“I know the feeling,” she nods, a sad smile on her face.

There’s a lull between the two of you and you study her face. Her eyes look a little squinty but they shine in the darkness nonetheless; her cheeks are tinged a gentle pink color that’s difficult to make out. You’re in a bit of a trance, letting your eyes gaze upon Natasha as you did the city’s skyline - refusing to miss any details. 

The corners of her full lips quirk up into a real smile and she shakes her head, feeling slightly scrutinized by your gaze but knowing better than to believe that you mean for her to feel that way, “What?”

“I’m just looking at you,” you say, as if you’d looked at her that way many times before. (You have, she’s just never caught you.)

“Why?” her brows pinch together.

“I want to. You’re beautiful.”

Natasha’s cheeks are a deeper pink now. Her pupils are dilated and her lips part as she glances down to your own.

“I told myself I wouldn’t do this with you,” she says, and it sounds like she’s reprimanding herself.

“But you want to?” you hum, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised.

“More than you know.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” she rasps, pulling you in by the back of your neck and crashing your lips together.

Her lips are softer than you could have imagined but Natasha is rough, eager to explore every inch of you. 

You moan at the sensation of her tongue in your mouth and it spurs her on. She kisses you feverishly and you try to keep up. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing discomfort between your legs.

Natasha bites and pulls at your bottom lip for a quick moment before moving to attack your neck. Your hand comes up to her hair and gets lost in her red tresses, rolling your hips into hers on instinct when you feel her nip at your pulse point.

She hums in satisfaction at your reaction and is quick to situate her thigh in between your legs, giving you some friction.

You suddenly feel her warm fingertips underneath your shirt, ghosting up your torso. They graze the bottom of your breast as she leans back up to kiss you once again, “You’re gorgeous.”

Natasha is more gentle this time and she smiles against your lips when your breath hitches in response to her finding your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and tugging.

“Nat, please,” you gasp when she pinches your nipple, your brain fuzzy from your high and your arousal.

“What do you want, detka?” she murmurs, lifting your shirt over your head. She almost moans at the sight of you. 

Her hot mouth connects with your nipple with haste and your breath leaves you.

Nat chuckles before sucking a hickey on your breast, “C’mon, baby. You can tell me.”

“I need you,” you whimper. “Fuck me, please, Nat.”

She groans against your chest and tugs your sweatpants off. Her hand finds its place between your thighs quickly and you arch into her when she enters you with two fingers.

“God, yes,” you pant, head thrown back as your nails dig into her shoulder.

You can see the satisfaction on Nat’s face as she watches you desperately buck your hips to meet her fingers as they thrust into you. She can’t believe how wet you are for her and it only makes her go faster.

“Can’t be too loud, detka,” she warns you after noticing you’d become pretty loud, drunk off her fingers. “Don’t want to wake anyone up.”

Natasha leans down to kiss you once again, muffling the expletives and moans that had been leaving your mouth. 

You’re sure that your lips will be bruised in the morning but you can’t bring yourself to care because you feel so good. Natasha’s fingers are curling inside you at a fast and steady pace and you know it won’t be long until you’re cumming on her fingers. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth and you’re biting it so hard you think you may bleed. 

All you can do is pull Nat closer to you as you throw your head back in ecstasy. She knows you’re close when she starts feeling your muscles clenching, “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat.

You whine as Natasha works you through your orgasm. She won’t stop until she’s milked as much of it as she can, “That’s it, detka.”

Once you’ve stilled, she removes her fingers from inside of you. You can barely form a thought as you watch her suck her fingers clean before she takes another hit of your cart and blows it up into the air.

Watching her lights a fire inside of you and before you know it, you’re pushing her back on the couch and stripping her of her shorts.

You can tell that her head is swimming from the hit she just took and how fast you’re moving but you don’t give her time to react. You quickly pull down her panties and situate yourself between her legs.

You want to spend time kissing as much of her thighs as you can, but Natasha tangles her fingers in your hair, pushing you down to where she wants you and leaving no room for argument.

You don’t find time to be bothered because all you want right now that you’re in front of her is to hear the beautiful sounds that she makes while you’re bringing her to her climax.

You moan as you lap up the wetness that has collected between her lips, making her hips rut forward.

Nat’s brows knit together when you start to circle her clit with your tongue. Your eyes are glued to her beautiful face as she whimpers quietly, mouth open in pleasure.

Her thighs feel delicious, tightening around your head, and you think this must be what heaven is like. 

Upon entering Natasha with a finger, her heel begins to dig into your back, urging you impossibly closer. 

“More, please,” she croaks, and who are you to deny her of what she wants? 

Nat is reduced to moans when you enter her with another finger and the only thing she seems to remember how to say is your name. You couldn’t be happier.

You pay extra attention to her clit, alternating between sucking and flattening your tongue to give her as much friction as possible as she practically rides your face. 

Without warning, Natasha throws her head back, red fiery hair splaying out on the couch, and lets out a long, low moan. Her fingers tighten in your hair and she holds you in place as she rides out her orgasm.

When she releases your hair, you lick her clean before coming up to kiss her slowly, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

You break away to look at her, really just wanting to admire how beautiful she is for a minute, but you notice that she looks a little sad all of a sudden.

“What is it?” You whisper with haste, now worried that you did something wrong.

“Please tell me this isn’t the last time I get to kiss you.”

You smile in relief, “It won’t be, I promise.” 

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

ok like my last ask but opposite

f!greaser who looks all pretty, haunted and scared and the gang + Tim and Curly being attracted to her. She has big doll eyes, low haunting voice- you have fun

Heck yeah I’m thinking like pretty dead girl aesthetic kinda vibes

Ponyboy Curtis

-thinks you’re super intriguing

-liked just watching you and seeing what you do

-he draws and paints you fr

-he just finds you hauntingly beautiful and fascinating

-you immediately stood out to him as a person

-you have super deep conversations with him at night

-looking at the stars with him while he softly kisses your cheek

-has written poetry about you and never showed you

Johnny Cade

-you both met at the lot

-he saw you sitting there, just looking at the fire you’d created

-he saw something in your eyes… sad and beautiful

-you reminded him of himself

-he tentatively walked over to you, and got the strongest urge to hold your hand

-which he resisted, silently sitting next to you as you turned your attention towards him

-with your big doll eyes

-they reminded him of Two Bits sisters only doll growing up, an antique porcelain one, a bit creepy

-you both have a silent understanding of each other that no one else quite understands

Sodapop Curtis

-sun and moon istg

-you were in the gas station, stopping by to grab something quick to drink

-as soon as he laid eyes on you he was pretty much in love

-he loved the way you looked

-people often told him his eyes were something you could get lost in

-but man, they didn’t meet you

-he immediately started hitting on you

-and when you reacted a bit startled and unsure of what to do

-he was like okayyyyy won’t do that again

-but over time his comments made you smile more and more

-until you somehow managed to say yes to a date with him

Darry Curtis

-he was walking to the store to pick up things for breakfast

-when you walked past

-no one else was out this early in the morning, everyone was inside having breakfast or sleeping in late

-but you were strolling through for whatever reason

-and you turned his head

-he noticed the subtle way you flinched

-when he tried calling you for your attention

-and when he finally looked at you he thought you were surely one of the most pretty broads he had ever seen

-something so mysterious yet beautiful, scared yet brave

-he does most of the talking for you, and yall are very cute together

-he’s so overprotective

Dallas Winston

-he was smoking in an alleyway when he saw you

-he whistled at you, and you flinched as he continued with some remarks

-“Well that’s a damn fine broad if I ever saw one”

-you seem uncomfortable

-“C-can you please stop?”

-you say, not much louder than a mouse, flashing him those big, scared, haunting eyes of yours

-it hit him like a bus

-and he did stop

-less out of respect and more out of shock but whatever

-later he approached you still with a cocky grin, but a less… asshole attitude

-you didn’t like him at first

-but he learned to have a soft spot for you just like Johnny

-you guys are so cute, and he’s super protective over you like Darry and Tim

Two Bit Mathews

-when he first met you

-he made a shit ton of jokes what do you expect

-“Damn, Dolly, how do you fit those eyes on your face?”

-“I bet you have some 20/20 vision with those telescopes.”

-“My sister has a porcelain doll just like you.”

-and at first you were a bit uncomfortable

-but shyly started cracking a small grin at his quips

-which boosted his fucking ego my guy

-made it skyscraper high

-you guys are cute together tho

-you always be there to silently giggle at his jokes

Steve Randle

-it was his shift at the gas station instead of sodapops

-and when he saw you he was like whoa

-he would pretend not to care and secretly memorized lots of things about you

-he notices the small behaviors everyone misses

-your flinching, your quiet nature, the way you always paid in only coins for everything

-your pretty brown bag you carry everywhere with you

-one day he asks you out, and you say yes

-you liked Steve quite a bit

-such an awesome couple

Tim Shepard

-ok so yk how you and soda are opposites like sun and moon?

-well you and Tim are opposites like fire and ice

-he saw you whenever he was in the middle of jumping a Soc

-you looked terrified and ran away at the mere sight

-he dropped the soc and instantly ran after you

-which you noticed and silently picked up your pace

-eventually he caught up and asked you to slow down

-you hesitantly did

-you looked up at him with those big doll eyes and he knew he was in love

-you flinched when he tried to grab your hand and he instantly felt bad

-he explained that was only someone who didn’t pay him back for something and he’d never hurt you

-you’re quite wary of him

-but the moment you kinda realized you liked him back was whenever he defended you

-from some creeps saying vulgar things

-you help ground him and calm him and he helps you be a bit braver

Curly Shepard

-you met in detention

-you were getting in trouble for something that wasn’t your fault because you couldn’t speak up for yourself

-and he was in there for lord knows what

-he’s never seen you around before or noticed you

-but now that he does…. Wow

-you look like you belong in a poem

-one of those fancy worded ones he’ll never understand

-you start playing with the paper on your desk, folding it as he kicks your chair you jump up

-“Sorry. Didn’t know you were so… uh- jumpy.”

-“Please don’t do that again.” You say softly, giving him earnest eyes

-he nods, not really paying too much attention to what you said and more focused on your eyes

-when you sit back down, he realizes how much he’s intrigued by you

-he moved to sit next to you, smirking

-over a bit of him trying to get to know you and you ignoring him

-you finally tell him your name

-“Y/n.”

-“Y/n, huh? I like that. It fits you”

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 1

Art Donaldson x reader : slow burn friends to lovers

I finally wrote chapter 1, I hope you all enjoy it! I’m excited for this slow burn

You widened your eyes at Patrick’s casual declaration. As his words: ‘Art’s gonna come live with us for a while’ hung in the air, you watched your best friend of ten years destroy a churro like it didn’t matter. Flat No.42 had been your sanctuary for four years with nothing but Patrick’s film commentating disrupting your peace. The two of you had a rhythm. An understanding of how the other lived and wanted to live, a schedule for taking out the recycling that Patrick stubbornly ignored.

You had game nights, movie marathons all without anyone having to third wheel. You weren’t ready to give that up, not even for Art Donaldson a man you’d been acting a fool around since Patrick introduced you.

‘Y/N,’

As usual your face concealed nothing.

‘Be good about this okay? Liam kicked him out to move in with his girlfriend, the least I can do is let him live with us for a while.’

You tried to picture watching tv with Art or looking up from your cereal in the morning to be greeted with his sleepy, cute face and messy curls. It took half a second before Patrick asked why you were smiling and even less for you to force a complexed frown.

‘Okay so when’s he moving in?’

Patrick wiped his sugar dusted hands on his ‘I told ya’ shirt, gaging your reaction with amusement. ‘Today, probably 6.’ So much notice - not that you were surprised the man once woke you up 2 hours before a flight he forgot he’d booked for the two of you.

‘Thanks for the heads up.’

——————————————————————

Forever the most organised member of the fire and ice duo, Art was at your door at 6pm exactly. Patrick opened the door as if it was Christmas Day and Art was Santa himself, you’d seen him smile brightly countless times but he actually glowed around Art. It was sweet, only sometimes sickeningly, and you understood the obsession. Art was the type of person lonely people craved.

‘Have my room, I’ll take the sofabed.’

Art broke away from Patrick’s bear hug to widen his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at Art’s reaction to his friends generous offer. Patrick had a way of being there for his friends in such a way that never made them feel like they owed him. He had always been kind because of who he was, not for any accolades yet it somehow seemed to amaze Art every time.

‘Y/N,’ He turned to look at you, walking over confidently. The two of you had only started hugging in the last month, and usually only at the end of days spent with Patrick. He always hugged Patrick first.

‘Welcome to our piece of shit flat,’ you chuckled, as Art pulled you into a short but sweet hug. It took all of your strength. and did every time, not to pull him even closer to you. He always smelt of strawberry scented shampoo and the occasional cigarette which on anyone else you would have hated, you didn’t smoke, but on Art was heaven.

Art liked his own space, as did you, so for a few hours you let him unpack and relax on his own whilst you caught up on work. It wasn’t until Patrick ransacked his/Art’s room for a tie that the equilibrium of the flat was disturbed. ‘I’ve got a date!’ He exclaimed, ignoring the horror in Art’s face. He’d been on his twentieth push up and hated being watched.

Rushing out the door, using one hand to dress himself and the other to text the girl he was going to be late, Patrick made a lot of noise. You and Art were stood in the living room watching his antics with equal amounts of amusement and judgement. When he finally made it outside, Art watched you lock the door behind him.

‘Lucky girl.’

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was joking.

‘She won’t feel it when he eats all her food as well as his.’

Art smiled at your quip, knowing it was absolutely true, and thought to himself how nice it was going to be to get to know you better.

Chapter 2

Masterlist

[tinytennisskirt]

Cottage Culture

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader, Art, and Patrick have been best friends since fourth grade. Older now, the three of them spend some time at reader’s cottage and it’s a few nights of buildup, a few nights of drinking, a few nights of misplaced tension until it all unfolds in Art’s favour.

Warnings: they all flirt with each other casually (it’s part of their dynamic), casual touch, mentions of sex, mentions of physical arousal, suggestions of masturbation, smoking, drinking, lots of fluff but also a lot of suggestive material… slowburn. unedited from my notes app.

They say trios never last, but yours managed to for years. You, Art, and Patrick had been close since grade four on and were still as strong as ever. Finally, after a month of planning, the three of you pulled up to your (now deceased) grandparent’s cottage that your parents maintained. It was mid-July and the heat was at its peak with hot days and warm nights with cool wind. The plan was to spend some time up here kayaking, swimming, playing pool, paddle boarding and fishing.

You each hauled a good amount of stuff from the car and began unpacking it. Everyone was tired from the drive, there were a few words spoken but hardly any altogether which was rare for the three of you, but once things were away there was less to worry about the next day and the three of you crashed on the couch.

Patrick sighed heavily as he sat down feet on the floor, arm draping over the armrest like a rag doll. “I’m out of my mind tired,” he yawned. “Since when does driving five hours count as a lullaby?”

“I think it might have been having so much fresh air with the open windows,” you said, sitting next to Patrick, body slightly turned. Patrick shoved your head and you only grinned, leaning back against him. Art followed suit, falling over the other arm rest, his head landing perfectly in your lap. He shut his eyes. You placed your hand right on his forehead and he smiled.

“He’s dead,” Patrick said. Art opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Patrick.

“Not dead, but dead tired,” he said. “I think it was the fresh air.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been so tired after driving up here and I know we all slept well last night.” You said, resting your hand on Art’s shoulder. He placed his hand overtop yours. “But at least we know we’ll be fine tomorrow. No way I’m not falling asleep in the next twenty minutes.” You sighed. “If I can get off this couch.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Art groaned.

“Too much,” Patrick groaned just the same. You all shared a small chuckle, too tired to laugh. “Plus I can’t get up until you two do, I’m stuck here.”

“I’m never moving,” Art groaned. You smiled at his closed eyes, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

“That means I can’t move. Sorry Patty.” You shrugged. Patrick just groaned and covered his eyes and with a mighty push he unwedged himself from the couch arm and you tipped a little without someone to lean on.

“What? I’m strong,” Patrick said, flexing a little. You and open-eyed Art both grimaced at him, fighting a shared smile. “But that took the rest of my energy. I call dibs on the bedroom by the kitchen.” He said, walking away, you followed him with your head turning.

“Goodnight, Patrick!” Art called.

“Goodnight, Art!”

“Goodnight, Patrick!” You called back.

“Goodnight Y/N!” He yelled as he shut the door. There was a lot of yelling involved when these two were around. You sighed, tipping slowly so your head could rest on the arm rest opposite the one Art’s legs were draped over. You looked at him, his eyes shut again, his head still happily in your lap.

It was just you and him. They say a trio never works because there’s always a duo, but for the three of you, every duo had its purpose. From an outsiders perspective, Patrick and Art as a duo were best friends, pals, tennis freaks who shared their passion and worked together. Fire and Ice.

You and Patrick were something else. Some people would say something like you and Patrick had a love-hate relationship but it was all love and all hate all of the time. Little quips and jabs at each other, debating things all of the time.

And from an outsiders perspective there was no way Art wasn’t completely in love with you. There just wasn’t a chance that he wasn’t. Nobody ever looked at you and Art and thought first that you were only friends. You didn’t act like friends much. You were usually touching in some form but it was like that with Patrick too, but admittedly not as much.

You stayed still a while and you were pretty sure that Art had fallen asleep on your lap. “Art,” you whispered. Nothing. He was asleep. You wondered if you ever looked so peaceful when you slept. You felt terrible leaving him there but you were nifty in replacing your thighs for a pillow, not even making him stir in the slightest. You grabbed him a blanket, covered him up and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.” You whispered, heading to your room. You flopped down on the pillow and it was lights out.

Falling asleep at nine thirty had the perks of helping you wake up early. You woke up quietly, still in the clothes from the day before so you changed into your jean shorts and a big t-shirt, brushed your hair and did a little bit of makeup- cottage style because you didn’t need much out here.

The boys liked to sleep in, so you knew they’d be up a little after you, given the time they all fell asleep. You got up and walked past Art, still fast asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. You quietly started on breakfast, chopping peppers, cutting pre-sliced ham, cracking eggs into a pan. He was far enough away that it wasn’t too loud and he stirred on his own. You heard him get up and turned to face him.

He cracked his neck as he stood up and walked wordlessly over to you cooking your omelets. He yawned before he spoke, stretching his arms up into the air, a peek of the v in his waist and happy trail just barely showing. He dropped his arms to his side. “Good morning,” he said, yawning again. He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, trailing it over to your other shoulder as he opened the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Good morning,” you replied as he grabbed two cups and poured the juice into both. He slid one over to where you were cooking. “Thank youuuu.” You smiled. He kissed your shoulder and slid past again.

Patrick opened the door of his bedroom, “I smell food.” He said. It wasn’t like him to say good morning anyway. His eyes panned to the stove, then you.” Oh hey housewife.” Patrick said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the cup of orange juice Art had poured you. Art took a seat at the table just behind where you were cooking.

“Hey househusband,” you said, giving Patrick your spatula, swapping it out for the juice and taking a seat next to Art. “Oh you don’t like cooking? Too bad.” You said.

Patrick fake-sneered at you before smiling and finishing up the eggs. You looked at Art and clinked your cups of orange juice together. Art cleared his throat, “I think we should play scrabble and head down for a swim after breakfast. Thoughts?”

“What about snakes and ladders instead?” You pitched, Art’s eyes widened and he grinned a yes.

“Sounds good,” Patrick agreed. “Though you know I’ll kick both of your asses. I’m really good at snakes and ladders.”

Art chuckled, “You can’t be good at snakes and ladders, buddy. It’s a dice game.”

“What can I say?” Patrick said, swinging the spatula around. “I’m good with dice.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at Patrick. He stuck out his tongue right back at you and you turned, tongue still out to Art, who tried to nab it, but was too slow.

Breakfast was good, the morning into afternoon plans set. Patrick, of course, came last in snakes and ladders. You all went and changed into your swimsuits when things had digested. You brought a book and a towel down to the little beach of the cottage but you knew you wouldn’t be reading it. You took pride in being faster than the boys because you did get to sit in your coverup for about five minutes, just you and the water and the roar of boats on the lake. Your grandparents owned a boat but you’d take it out later, probably.

The boys didn’t just come down to the beach, they came rolling. Patrick shoved Art right into the shallows, splashing you and your coverup. Time to yourself was over, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an ass!” Art called from a few feet in. Shirt off, blonde curls soaked down. He slicked his hair back. “I’ll get you back for that, I swear to god.”

“From there?” Patrick laughed from the boat dock. “You’re going to get me from down there?”

“No, but I will,” you said, shoving Patrick into the water from behind. He fell from the dock and right into the shallows, splashing Art. You and Art couldn’t contain your laughter watching Patrick blow water from his nose.

“It burns,” he said, chuckling and wiping water from his eyes. You and Art kept laughing like you were mad. You, planning on jumping in, dropping your coverup on the dry deck and you kept laughing, but neither of the boys did. You didn’t notice, though.

They, however, noticed you. Being friends for so long, they knew what you looked like, but they were still boys. You in a bikini was a treasure neither of them could pass up on for themselves. If anyone asked yeah they’d deny it, but they both thought you were quite hot from time to time…. Art, more so.

Patrick nudged Art twice in the arm as they both, open-mouthed watched you walk to the end of the dock into the deeper area. Neither of them took their eyes off you, Patrick grabbing Art’s arm for some form of support like ‘you’re seeing this too’ for the new bikini moment.

Art was seeing it for sure. The bikini. You. He was seeing you for sure… You turned at the end of the dock and both boys had to pretend like they weren’t staring. “Are you coming?” You called. Both boys snapped into it and started swimming as you jumped in, splashing them both.

You surfaced and it turned into a full blown splash fight, all of you treading and swimming around trying to avoid each other swimming underwater. You went a little more shallow where you could all touch and it was worse then, gaining the ability to dodge better, stand and fall.

Wordlessly, Art and Patrick called a truce and both turned on you, Art holding you like a shield as Patrick used all the force of his arms to splash you. Art let go a little early so you wouldn’t feel how he was feeling about so much of your skin against his. He couldn’t help it- it was you

“Okay! Okay, please! Truce!” You yelled above the sound of churned water, spitting lake water from your mouth. You held your hands in front of you and wiped the water from your face, moving your wet hair from your face. Patrick obliged, his arms were tired. You started laughing, finally able to breathe, standing up in the water, your bikini in full view again, you in full view. “Oh my god, you’re ruthless.” You sighed, hands on your hips.

“Only what’s deserved for that stunt on the dock,” Patrick retorted, stepping forward and tapping you under your chin. He was in your face, you stuck your tongue out and got his nose. Patrick lunged for you but you leapt back into the water to escape, back toward Art who was quietly hyper-fixated on how your the sides of your bathing suit were only tied in a bow…

You swam around behind Art and wrapped your arms around his neck, wet skin on wet skin. “You have to save me,” you giggled in his ear and he was glad you were behind him instead of in front. Instead, Art just tilted himself backwards, dunking you under the water.

After an hour of swimming, you were all sitting in the wooden lawn chairs near the beach, surrounding the fire pit. Patrick and Art were engaged in some conversation about their last tennis game and you got to lay in the sun, eyes shut, body stretched out.

Patrick kept his voice low, “You see the bows on the side?”

Art’s eyes widened, “Yes! Yes I saw them.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you ever forget what she looks like?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I usually see her the same way I did when we were in grade four, but sometimes I wonder about it and you have to admit, she-“

“Looks great. Yeah.” Art agreed, glancing over at you sunbathing.

“How many boners do you have left, goddamn,” Patrick teased Art, shoving him a little from his chair. Art just laughed.

Come dinner, you changed out of your bathing suits and into comfier clothes. You sat around the fire and roasted hot dogs. Patrick ate an entire pack shamelessly and you and Art each had two. You debated zombie apocalypse survival tactics and you and Patrick were getting a bit heated and you both ended up standing up. Art just watched, leaned back in his chair. You were passionate.

You huffed when Patrick won the debate, not listening to your side of reason and you decided it was better to just sit on Art’s lap. He didn’t expect it, but it was somewhat normal. You had your legs sideways over the chair and you in your shorts was sitting on him. Naturally, one hand of his went against your back and the other rested on top of your thighs. He was praying to god you couldn’t feel the seventh boner of the day. “Realistically, don’t you think the apocalypse would die down? They’re rotting people, they’d probably decompose anyways. Your theory sucks.” You said, finalizing the argument.

Art nodded, shrugging. “I think she’s right.” He nodded.

“You’re dick-riding,” Patrick told Art. “Tell me it wouldn’t be cool to have a bunker anyway.”

“It would be cool to have a bunker,” Art reasoned with you, looking up at you from under you.

“It would be cool, but necessary? Probably not.” You said. “Plus it’s not about being cool, it’s about being alive.”

Patrick shook his head, “I think being cool and alive are both important.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. The crickets chirped and the sun set and you stayed out there until the mosquitos became too much. Patrick put the fire out and you all headed up for another few board games and rounds of crazy 8’s until you were yawning.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” You passed by Art, kissing him on the top of the head and by Patrick, roughing up his hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Art said, following you with his eyes as you slipped into the far bedroom. Patrick echoed the goodnight. Art put his head in his hands immediately. “She’s insane.”

“I was going to say-“ Patrick said, voice down. “That lap move was crazy. You in your swim trunks too, man that has to be hard.” He chuckled at the double entendre. “I would be too.”

“It was so bad,” Art groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just pretending she felt nothing.”

Patrick grinned and slapped him on the back, “I would too, buddy. I would too. Good luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Art said. Patrick stood up and turned a few of the lights out. “You heading to bed?”

Patrick grinned, his dimple crawling up his face. “Ehh… something like that.” He winked and said goodnight, shutting the door to his room. Art wondered if he should do the same, considering. He chose against and just went to bed… hard again.

You woke up first again. The morning was chilly and the clouds covered the morning sun. You had packed a sweater but it was thin and you still shivered in it as you made up the pancake batter. You swore Patrick slept in just to be off of cooking duty…

You shivered over the stove, but Art’s big Stanford sweater was draped over the back of the couch. God, you were so glad. You pulled off the thin one and put on the big sweater with your comfortable leggings. It was much better. Your hair was still messed and wavy from the lake water, but you’d managed to clip it up again before pouring the batter into the pan. Like clockwork, Art was up.

He did a double take when he saw what you were wearing. He didn’t mind, but he had to admit he liked that you were wearing it. It smelled like him, you noted. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hair a mess of blonde curls, perfect bedhead. You hated how boys could just wake up gorgeous, it wasn’t fair. “How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Like a baby,” you replied. “You?”

“I don’t even think I rolled over once,” he said, smiling. He started to set three plates on the table along with the cutlery. “My sweater?” He teased, tugging at it as he went by.

You grinned, “Yes I stole it, but it’s freezing this morning. I needed it.”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he shrugged. “Looks better on you than me.”

You played the pancakes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Keep it if you want, honestly. Lend it to me now and again, but you can have it.”

Patrick opened the door to his room, yawning. “This is why you’re my favourite,” you spoke up, eyeing him in his doorframe, loud enough so Patrick could hear. Art laughed watching Patrick’s expression change.

“I thought I was your favourite,” Patrick said, arms up in the air in mock-disbelief. “You just go around telling every guy that?”

You tossed Patrick a pancake like a frisbee which he caught. “Nice try. It’s only Art.”

“Is it?” Art said, grabbing the syrup. He looked you in the eyes, pretending to judge. “I’m okay with Patrick and I being sisterwives. We’ve been sisterwives before.”

“Y/N and I are the only sisterwives here,” Patrick said, mouth full of pancake. “Both married to you apparently. So are we day drinking today or what?” He sat at the table.

You laughed, extending your legs so your calfs rested on Art’s lap like a human footrest. You and Art chuckled, “I think that’s something for tomorrow.” Art said. “I want to take the boat out.”

“And you don’t want hard lemonade on a boat?” Patrick gasped, leaning in and putting both hands on the table. “Boring!”

“Okay, maybe,” you nodded. “But we have to have one night dedicated to being drunk that’s why I brought what I did.” You grinned. “Gotta save the supply.”

“Good plan,” Art agreed.

A day spent on the boat was fun. It was a lot of laughter and card games and maybe a hard lemonade or two. You wore a one-piece this time that had shorts built in so it was a little easier for Art and Patrick. Patrick wasn’t afraid of any seaweed and jumped right into a patch and Art found it cute how you could barely look down at the water in the seaweed patch. Seaweed grossed you out.

You and Art sat thigh to thigh almost the whole time aside from when you’d gotten up to twirl a bit to the music on the boat’s radio. He watched you in your bucket hat and sunglasses sway and spin and you were so gorgeous…

Sunset burned red in the sky and you headed back, having spent the whole day either in the shade or the sun on the boat. You were tired, more tired than either of the boys, you leaned against Art in the driver’s bench of the boat as he steered the boat back to the dock. He was acutely aware of your eyelashes as when you blinked with your face smushed against his arm he could just feel it. It was sweet. Patrick anchored the boat and Art scooped you up no problem from where you sat.

“I’m not that tired,” you complained, but you secretly liked it. Patrick smacked you in the foot that was raised in the air from the way Art had you. “Hey, stop it!” You called. Patrick stole you right out of Art’s arms and your tiredness faded for a moment as you fought him- Patrick nearly fell in the water. “God you’re such a freak!” You called out as Patrick hopped up the steps to the cottage. “Art, help!” You called out.

Art just grinned and followed. Patrick did set you down and you went and showered the day off in the shitty little cottage bathroom. You came back out after your shower in just your shorts and Art’s sweater. He could tell you didn’t have a bra on. It was cute.

He took his turn to shower, leaving Patrick with the cold water shamelessly. He complained, but it was funny. You and Art laid on the couch, this time your head rested on his leg. Art gently traced the brighter bits in your hair, just the pieces that shined a little extra while wet, with a gentle finger. You were tired. Art pulled your hair back from out of your face, “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” All your dancing and swimming and boating and sun just about wiped you out. This time, Patrick in the shower, nothing stopped Art from picking you up and taking you to the room you’d claimed. He awkwardly but surprisingly was able to move the blankets back with his foot and he set you down gently on the sheets, making sure your pillow was under your head. You were hardly awake, the way you were so completely and utterly exhausted. He moved your hair from your face just once more and pulled the blanket over you, but as he got up from the edge of your bed you stopped him.

“Just one more minute,” you said. It didn’t make much sense, one more minute of what? But how could he say no?

He left when you were fully asleep and intended on going to bed himself but Patrick challenged him to a game of cards and he obliged. Patrick grabbed Art’s knee. “You’re looking at her way too much, man.”

“Uh huh and you don’t? I see you stare just as much as I do,” Art smirked, playing his good cards. “She’s pretty, it’s hard to see past that.”

“A little too pretty. I wish I brought a porno just so I can remember that she’s not actually all that.” He didn’t mean it in a mean way, he meant it as in you weren’t the only girl in the world. He said it, but it was part of the loving insults he liked to throw out.

“Mmm,” Art nodded. “We should head into town tomorrow for some cigarettes.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, squeezing Art’s knee and grinning wide. “I need that and a few shots at the local bar and the sight of a woman. ’m sure Y/N would like a few hours to sunbathe.”

Art grinned too, “Yeah, I think so.”

And the next day rolled around just the same. The boys explained their plan and you were more than on board with a few hours to yourself. They headed out and you went down to the beach to sit under your umbrella and read.

Patrick grabbed Art’s leg in the car as they pulled up to the local bar. “I don’t even care who I see, I just need to remind myself there are other women in the world.” Patrick jogged in and Art decided to wander to the nearby convenience to pick up some cigarettes. He grabbed those and some red liquorice, knowing it’s one of your favourites. He also grabbed some more matches and a lighter just in case, paying for it all and walking back to the car. Patrick stood outside it, looking a little sulked.

“Not a single woman in there. I give up. Had two shots though,” he grinned. Art held up the cigarettes and Patrick brightened right up. They shared one and got back in the car for the trip back.

You went swimming again, so you showered in your bikini and were walking around in it when the boys came back. Your coverup draped and tied around your waist. You had a plum in one hand, your book in the other and you were visible at the side of the house where the boys had parked the car. The two of them were coming out of the car when they both laid eyes on you at the same time, both instinctively putting their arms out to stop each other in their tracks. Patrick’s arm across Art’s chest and Art’s arm across Patrick’s.

Their arms dropped simutaneously. “Fuck.” Patrick said.

Art nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

You didn’t notice them until they walked in, Art holding the new lighter, cigarettes and some red liquorice. You grinned. “That was fast. You were gone, what? Two hours?”

Both boys were a little dazed. You put your book down, wiping your lower lip of the juice from the plum, but it was on your chin, dropped onto your chest. They both just watched you, mouthes a little open. You looked down, confused. Immediately both boys went separate ways.

You shrugged, tossing the pit of your plum out the window and into the garden.

Dinner was nice, by the fire again. You’d broken out the hard lemonades again and vodka and orange soda. Unfortunately for Art and Patrick, you’d stayed in your bikini and skirt-like cover up. It was hard to not be.

Patrick shook his head, “At what age did you guys start finding girls attractive?” He questioned, raising his can in question.

“Twelve,” you replied faster than Art did. Art and Patrick raised their eyebrows.

“Uh… Twelve, yeah,” Art agreed, taking a sip of his drink, eyes on you. You just smiled.

You finished your drink, “I think that’s around when Patrick taught you that neat little lesson.” You teased, reaching over and rubbing Art’s shoulder.

His head fell into his empty hand, “Please, no. Not that.” He groaned, but he was smiling.

“Teach a man to fish,” Patrick said, trailing off and cracking you another can, exchanging it for your empty one. “You can never say I’m good for nothing on that one, Art.”

“Okay, well who was doing it first?” Art questioned Patrick, tossing a stick he’d been fidgeting with.

“Me, I just knew from an early age,” he grinned. “I’m curious though, when did that happen for you?” He asked you, shifting a little in his seat and grinning directly at Art, who shifted just the same.

You bit your lip thinking, “I think around thirteen, maybe. The shower head.” You grinned. Art hid his face. “I was a little bit creative.”

“Does that even count?” Patrick said. “If you’re not putting in the work yourself.”

“I think so,” you replied. “That followed soon enough after.”

Art adjusted himself again. Patrick was watching him squirm, teasing indirectly. He knew the effect this conversation would have on him. You brought it up anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

“First kiss at sixteen,” you sighed. “Was not fun.”

Art turned to you, “I thought it was fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Bella James. Then I kissed a guy for the first time about a few months later.”

“I forgot about that,” Patrick said, huge smirk on his face. “I still have that photo of you and Bella somewhere in my room.”

“Shut up, you do not,” you gasped, grabbing the arm of the lawn chair. “Art-“

“He’s seen it,” Patrick nodded.

“It’s true.” Art cringed. “Hot, though.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah,” Art smiled over at you. You rolled your eyes at both of them, standing up. “Where are you going?”

You shook your head, “To get my watermelon vodka.” You stated. “I need something stronger.”

Both boys watched you go up the steps to the cottage, shamelessly. The second you were inside, Patrick moved from his chair over to Art. “That was too good.”

“It was not,” Art groaned. “She’s too much.”

“It’s not just me, then,” Patrick said, leaning into Art, crouched next to him in the chair. “I should have picked up a magazine when we were out earlier.”

You returned down the steps and Patrick returned to his chair. You’d changed back into Art’s sweater and a skort. You had a shot on your way down the steps and sat right back in Art’s lap like the day before.

Patrick laughed out loud and clapped but Art death stared him into silence. You three drank until it was hard not to laugh at simple things and Patrick and you got back into another debate about which flavour of sour patch kid is best. Art sided with you because nothing beat the blue one.

You were standing up, thank god Art could fix where his dick was in his boxers while you yelled at Patrick over the orange sour patch kids. Art just leaned onto his hand, watching you, watching Patrick. It was the stupidest thing.

Patrick got in your face as per usual and you stared right back. His intimidation would never work on you. “Orange tastes like ass,” Patrick said, voice lowered now.

“And you’d know, bottom-feeder,” you chuckled with a smirk, getting closer to Patrick’s face. Art grinned. You were so perfect.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking down at you with the heat of the debate in his expression. “At least I actually get ass and don’t just have one.”

You laughed, “That’s supposed to offend me? That’s a compliment, Patrick. A good attempt, though.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nobody said it was nice.”

“Art will testify,” you said, nodding back at Art. His eyes widened. “Tell Patrick it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Art obliged.

You turned back to Patrick, “See?”

“You made him say it,” Patrick shrugged, tapping the side of his own nose. “If he meant it he’d say it for himself.”

“I hear what you say about me behind closed doors, Patrick, and I think you do think it’s nice.” You taunted him. Patrick’s smirk only grew bigger and he tapped you under the chin again. Art sat up. Heard them? That wasn’t good…

Patrick, half-lidded, looked at you like a meal. Art, who was adjusted well enough, got a handle on your hips and pulled you back away from him and back onto his lap. You thought nothing of it, just getting comfortable back on Art’s lap like it was the simplest thing on earth. Your arm around him you played with the curls at the back of his head. The debate was over, it had gone a little too far.

Patrick, hard, sat back in his chair and mumbled, “I still think orange is the worst out of all of them.”

“Dead wrong,” you mumbled as well.

Art huffed, his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing up and down your skin. You looked him in the eyes, a bit of a pout to your lips. Art wondered if you’d heard what he had said about you, wishing maybe he’d phrased things better, wondering if they bothered you. He stared back, looking at how the flickering flames danced across your face.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much.” Rare words from Patrick, but it was a debate you both lost this time and maybe it was a little discouraging. Patrick was a big drinker so of course he stumbled up those steps. “See you guys tomorrow.” He said.

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Goodnight,” you spoke, attention back on Art. You and Patrick were a few drinks deeper than Art, it’s why the debate was a little much. You looked back at Art, your hand still playing with his curls, twirling them, pushing his hair behind his ear. One of his hands rested on the back of your arm, thumb still rubbing over your soft skin and the other hand resting on your knee, doing the very same. “You’re quiet.” You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair gently.

“You’re drunk,” Art replied with a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“Mhm, what about?” You asked, eyes still locked on his. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bright and matching his small, sweet smile.

He looked at you, over you, softly. “Just you.” He replied.

“What about me?” You prodded, hand still gently twirling his curls.

“You’re pretty,” Art told you. You grinned and pressed one hand over half of your face shyly. “And I think I like you a lot more than I knew... Or would admit.” He admit slowly, but he grinned.

You grinned right back, but you shook your head a little, “I hate that I’ll forget this. You have to tell me again tomorrow so I remember.”

He laughed, “I will, I will.” He didn't want to- he didn't know if he could. And he looked at your perfect lips in the orange glow. He could have kissed you, but he would have hated for you to forget it. Your lips pulled with that same smile and Art patted your leg twice. For now, I think we should get you some water.”

“Do you really think my ass is nice?” You asked him, climbing off of his lap. “Just since we’re on the topic, I mean.” Art nodded and it seemed to be the right answer. He put out the fire and helped you upstairs. After a glass of water, you thanked him at the door of your bedroom. “Goodnight, Art.” You said. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went perfectly around your torso and he squeezed you tight. You kissed his cheek to say a final goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Art told you. He went to bed after that.

Art and Patrick had a moment alone the next day. They knew you were out of earshot for sure this time, watching you down by the beach, pulling out the kayaks.

“I’d have her babies,” Patrick said, looking at you. “Please tell me something good happened after I came up here and passed out.”

Art couldn’t tell Patrick what he’d said last night. “Mmm no. We only talked a minute and came back up here. You guys need to chill out on the debate stuff, that’s all I know.”

“Oh you wish you were in on all that. She’s in my face, Art, you saw it. It’s so easy to rile her up, you should try it.”

Art shrugged, “Maybe, yeah, but come on, she said she heard what you said about her behind closed doors. We can’t be objectifying her just because she’s the only girl around.” He said.

Patrick twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, I thought she liked it.”

“Maybe, but I mean… can’t be too safe.” Art shrugged again. “I just don’t want her uncomfortable. Not with us.”

“She couldn’t be, come on. It’s us. She’s used to it by now I’m sure.”

“Just ease up,” Art said. “Make sure she’s far out of earshot otherwise.” They were both men, they knew how they acted when a woman was hot, but Art was a little too worried.

The day passed and it was good. More swimming, more eating. Patrick ate four burgers, buns and all like it was nothing. You had an afternoon nap on the couch, Art falling asleep with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your legs. Patrick chuckled to himself as he passed it- it was a sight for sure.

Dinner was simple, then it was over. Art wondered if you remembered what he’d said. He guessed not, taking your drunken word that you hadn’t remembered. You were in the kitchen talking to Patrick about your watermelon vodka and he was leaned against the marble, face close to yours. Maybe it bothered Art how close he was to you. It wasn’t anything new, Patrick liked to lean into whoever he was talking to.

Art had to remind himself you hadn’t said anything to him last night after he said what he said. He usually watched you and Patrick talk because it was funny, but this time something in Art’s chest tightened.

Maybe it was the fact you were the only girl around, he thought. It wasn’t though. Art has liked you for years upon years without admitting it to anyone, hardly to himself. You were just best friends, that’s how things were. Yeah, he thought about kissing you. Yeah, he wondered what you’d look like under him. But he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t the fact you were the only girl but rather the fact you were the only girl. If that made any sense.

Art walked over, standing beside you. You instinctively put your arm around his waist and leaned against him like a pole and it brought some ease to Art’s moment of jealousy as he draped his arm around your shoulder. Patrick and Art locked eyes and with a furrow of his brow, Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So are we drinking again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, handing him the bottle. “Art?”

“Sure, yeah,” Art nodded, looking at you. He liked the way your hand rested on the opposite side of him, around his torso. “Let’s not start debates tonight though, mkay?”

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “What was last night’s?”

“Sour patch kids,” Patrick said, opening the vodka and taking a swig. He passed the bottle to Art, who did the same. “That’s so good, what.”

Art nodded, “That is good.” He passed you the bottle, but you only had a sip. You weren’t looking to not remember the night again. Plus waking up in the morning was hard enough. “Not drinking?”

“Not much,” you nodded.

“That’s okay,” Art nodded back.

The night went forward and the boys were getting drunk and you only the slightest bit tipsy. Part of you knew that both of them drunk meant babysitting so they didn’t try and reach for the boat keys and die.

You sat on the coach the drunk boys had dragged outside and only the back porch of the cottage- you stopped them from bringing it down the stairs. Patrick sat next to you pulling you in and messing up your hair. “Hey- come on,” you laughed. It was impossible to mess up a boy’s hair, especially when it was curly. “That’s not fair.”

“Alls fair in love and war,” Patrick replied.

You laughed harder, “Where did you hear that?” It was so weird to hear from Patrick’s mouth. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird?” Patrick said, letting you go but keeping you close. His hand fell to your thigh. “If anyone here is weird it’s you.”

“Uh huh?” You smiled. “Me? Not you who decides to bring a couch outside? Not you who ate an entire pack of hot dogs after saying you weren’t hungry?” You smiled and twisted into sitting on your knees, facing him.

Art came back from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, opening them to see you and Patrick the way you were. He was drunk, more so than the night before and that was a bit much. Patrick did the thing he’d done forever, tapping you under your chin, but your faces were so close…

“You have so many freckles,” you observed. “You can hardly see them if you don’t look.”

“You’re really ugly up close,” Patrick retorted and you hit him upside the head playfully. Art stood by the screen doorway. “Okay, I’m sorry! You’re really pretty!”

“Oh you think I’m pretty?” You questioned as if it was something to challenge. Patrick, half-lidded tapped under your chin again. Art felt sick. If there was something to be jealous about it’s that you would probably remember Patrick calling you pretty, not Art.

“Maybe,” Patrick leaned closer and he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t, not yet. Art swallowed hard. Your faces were inches from each other’s. Even through the alcohol Art felt the twinges in his chest and stomach.

“Patrick,” you started, slowly backing away. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe to that too,” he shrugged. You backed away more. Art couldn’t do it, he opened the door and stepped out back onto the porch. You turned your head and grinned at his reproach. Art didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the vodka and took what looked like a painful two gulps.

“Oh-“ you started, but Art wiped his lip and sat back down on the couch next to you and you rearranged the way you sat immediately to be closer to Art. Art didn’t even look at Patrick, instead, he just pulled you onto his lap. This time, it wasn’t of your own volition. You didn’t think anything of it. Patrick just used the extra space on the couch for his feet.

The conversation was fine. Civil with a lot of laughter, Art could get into it but the extra vodka he’d had was being pumped around his bloodstream without a doubt. Instead of his hand resting on your upper knee, it rested on your thigh and his thumb grazed back and forth like it did the night before. He was lucky to have a moment to adjust himself because even with the amount of alcohol he’d had, his body still held enough attraction. You were smiling, so beautiful, Art thought.

Patrick knew he’d fucked up but the alcohol helped to make him not worry about it too much. You pat Art on the cheek, “You and Patrick have kissed, right?” You asked out of the blue. The two looked at each other.

“Uh- hm- yeah,” Art said, clearing his throat, looking at Patrick.

You smiled, finishing a can of point five alcohol. “Okay so I have a question. Would you guys call each other a good kisser?”

Art and Patrick shared another look and you just giggled. They both didn’t know what to say- Patrick shrugged and Art opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Both boys went through a few stages in a matter of seconds and Patrick let out a strangled sort of, “Yes?”

“Yes?” You gasped, turning to look at Art.

“Sure?” Art shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really… remember. It was two years ago.” He slightly slurred.

Patrick agreed. “It was a while back.” You giggled again, Patrick shrugged. “I mean, you’ve kissed Art for fun, you’d know if he is or not.”

You gasped a little, “Oh that’s right! The spin the bottle in senior year, I totally forgot about that!” You turned back to Patrick, “It was only a peck, though. Just a quick kiss.”

Art hadn’t forgotten it. Today he was thinking that would be the only time he got to kiss you. He stared at your lips now, their colour perfect, so soft, he was a little dazed. You and Patrick talked about how you only joked about being sisterwives, but it was more true than you remembered. Art just stared, his hands moving over your hips and wrapping around your waist, looking up at you. God, you were so perfect and he was very drunk.

He felt oddly at ease with how you’d been with Patrick earlier. You’d refused him, backing away when he got closer and Art could be happy with that. You didn’t mind Art’s hands around your waist. At first it was positioned like a hug around the waist but now it was just hands, his grip. The curve of your waist was so perfect, you were so perfectly structured. His finger slid across the hem of your shirt and touched a sliver of your skin and you were so soft, too soft. Art, sweet, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he felt, fixed your shirt so that he couldn’t feel your skin anymore. You bent from where you sat and kissed the top of his head.

There was a shared cigarette amongst friends and you got up from Art’s lap and trailed your hand across his cheek as you went inside to get your sweater on. His sweater. It was the first moment Art and Patrick were alone since the morning.

“You like her,” Patrick said, taking a drag off the near-end of the cigarette and handing it over to Art. Art, dazed, drunk, nic-buzzed, just nodded. “Thought so.”

Art inhaled, exhaling the smoke and passing it back, “Might just.” He said, a bit slurred, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m so fucked, hm?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Patrick chuckled, leaning forward and ruffling Art’s hair. Art flushed a bit, turning just the slightest bit pink. It was a sort of unspoken apology for getting so close to you, is what that action meant.

“This sucks,” Art mumbled. He admit it, somewhat, out in the open for the first time. Art closed his eyes and the world spun around him and he flopped backward on the couch. Your hands are what woke him- he’d passed right out, so tired.

You pat him on the cheek, “Hey, let’s get you some water and to bed.” You said. Patrick helped Art to his feet and he leaned against him walking into the house. “That was a lot of vodka.” You said, giving him water. You held it with him just in case he dropped it. You made him drink the whole cup.

“Mmmhhm,” Art smiled. You were so pretty, so sweet, so caring. “You know you’re a remarkably beautiful woman.” He said, slurring. He said it very matter-of-factly. You chuckled at his choice of words.

“Thank you, lovely,” you smiled, helping him to bed.

“Goodnight drunk Art,” He heard Patrick like an echo. Patrick left the room. He didn’t say goodnight back. He was focused on the lovely part.

Art took his shirt off, throwing it across the room and immediately fell limp on his pillow again, you’d stayed. You put your hand on his chest and he grabbed it. The last thing he remembered was saying, “I’m so fucked.” Before it was suddenly morning.

Art groaned and rolled out of bed, not even caring that he rolled onto the carpet on the floor. He just picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, leaving the bedroom. No headache, just super groggy.

He opened the bedroom door and you and Patrick were sitting opposite sides of the coffee table, different couches. It had been moved back at some point. Art was a little relieved to see how far apart you were. He remembered most of last night, to his dismay. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, getting up. “How are you feeling?”

Art was so glad he had hit or miss hangovers. “Gross, but fine.” He replied. You walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot, making it exactly how he liked it. You put it in his hands, “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Of course,” you smiled back. You both went to sit on the couch and the conversation about the day included plans of swimming and going back out on the boat once Art was feeling better.

The day was good, warm. The same as any. Art felt better about noon. You were on the boat yelling lyrics to an Avril Lavigne song and Patrick was unabashedly singing along. Art felt so much better, clapping when you shoved Patrick right off the boat at the chorus. You raised your hands above your head triumphantly and jumped a few times.

Art, of course, helped Patrick get back onto the boat, only to get pulled into the water. You couldn’t stop laughing but it was only a matter of time before both boys manage to wrangle you into the water with them, Patrick throwing seaweed at you as you screamed. You clung onto Art in the water as if he was a stable point. Your eyes met, eyelashes wet and you fought your smile as best you could.

Dinner was hot dogs again by the fire and it was followed by s’mores. All day you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of the way Art had held your waist last night. You knew he was out of it, he called you ‘remarkably beautiful’, but in every moment you had to yourself you were trying to relive the feeling, almost like the ghost of his hands were still there. You thought about when his hand slipped under the bottom of your shirt and touched your bare skin…

Patrick snapped in your face. “Earth to Y/N. I’m beat, I’m heading up to bed early tonight if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You said. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Night guys!” Patrick went upstairs and turned the lights out. That left you and Art down by the fire alone.

You stood up, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Another night in Art’s sweater and your shorts. “You coming?” You asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

You shrugged, “With me.” And you smiled just a little, walking down the dock. The moon reflecting off the lake was the brightest light around. It was warm, yellow, nearly. Warm July moonlight, chopping itself up in the gentle waves. Art followed you, why wouldn’t he? “I don’t think I want to go back to the city after this.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the dock. Art sat next to you.

“Me neither,” he chuckled, moving some hair from your face. “Patrick might go stir crazy, though, so if you planned on keeping us with you, don’t.”

You grinned, letting him tuck the hair behind your ear in the soft wind. He stayed focused on every move of your features, the way your eyelashes moved when you looked up, then down, then back at him. “You think you’d miss tennis?”

“I probably would eventually,” he said. “But this week, no. I don’t miss it. It’s good to be away from training and practicing and all the pressure and just be with friends.”

You nodded, “I understand. It’s been good to get away from things. Reminds me of when we would spend the summers in the forest, before tennis, before work, before school. All that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think Patrick misses that a lot. He lives in the past a lot, thinking about when things were ‘better’. I mean he doesn’t do much aside from tennis at all so I get it, but he’s very hung up on it. Misses it.”

“You don’t miss it?”

He met your eyes, “I do miss it. But like in a fond way, not in the way where I wish I was still there.” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy thinking about how I looked when we were running around those forests.”

“Braces and buzzcut,” you smiled. “I remember.”

“You shouldn’t,” Art laughed. “How could I forget about the three tank tops you layered on top of each other?”

“Fashion statement versus buzzcut…” you hummed, teasing, leaning your head into his shoulder and rocking back. “I miss it.”

He looked at you with everything he thought about you resting on his tongue. You, here, moonlit in the night, so perfect. He smiled, only the simplest, most fond things filled his mind. You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew. “What’s on your mind?” You asked.

Art took a moment to answer. He was too sober to tell you, you were too sober to tell. It was you, just as it was the other night. You on his mind- his best friend, one of his closest friends, keeper of his boyish secrets, one of two people in this world who could read his mind. He wondered if you could read his mind right now as his heart beat hard in his chest over the question. You could, but he kept wondering.

You took his sweater off and underneath was only your bikini top. You stood up from where you sat and rid yourself of your shorts as well. Art was confused until you jumped into the water. Gracefully, easily. It was dark aside from the moon and nearby fire and for a second or two you were gone, but you resurfaced, hair wet. “You coming?” You asked again, the other question postponed. Art smiled and took off his shirt, already in his trunks, and jumped in after you.

You were in the middle, so you were both just up to your waists. You cupped water in your hands and poured it right over his head. You were so cute… he slicked his hair back and grinned his crooked grin. It was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Mhm?” Art said, wiping water from his eyes. “That’s how it is?”

“Mhm,” you replied. It was only a matter of seconds before he grabbed you and took the both of you underwater. You came up laughing and wiping your eyes. “Really?”!you said, lunging forward at him in the water- the intention was to do the same to him, but you really just wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped, dead in your tracks.

The pause was only seconds, a full action became a full stop, his eyes met yours, and not even a second later, your lips met. You kissed him, he kissed you, mutually, with the same force. Your hands moving from around his neck to his jaw and his hands on your waist. You’d kissed before but it was nothing like this, it couldn’t have been. This kiss was years in the making, subconsciously wished for, teased, thought about late night, thought about in quiet moments… and not just by Art.

His hands slid over your wet skin, over your back as your fingertips met the roots of his wet hair. He pulled you closer, his hands at the crook of your waist. From an outsiders perspective it was always supposed to end this way- and from an outsiders perspective, some would say it wasn’t just a kiss without any way to explain exactly just what it was, because they weren’t you. And they weren’t Art.

And they couldn’t ever be able to understand just how it felt when it was just you, just Art, alone in the shallows with a kiss that was strong and heavy with the weight of years and compiled collections of casual touches.

He hummed into it and you both smiled with every breath between. It was perfect, it was magic, it was sweet. The air warm, the water cool. God, you were perfect, you were so perfect and it was all Art could think about as your hands moved down and his moved up, taking his turn to cup your face between his hands and kiss you harder than before as your hand slid down his chest, across his bare stomach. You giggled at the way he kissed you harder and it made him smile but neither of you stopped for a moment, neither of you missed a beat. He pushed your wet hair behind your ear when you eventually pulled away, keeping his face close, just hovering.

Lips wet, sweet breath, a mutual sigh, that lead to a shared laugh. Art, hands still on either side of your face, kissed you again, just because he could. You kissed him back just the same and he pulled away gently once more. This time you kissed him again, like it was a newfound addiction. He chuckled and pulled you closer once more and the kiss went on a while longer, not hungry, not desperate, just easy. Waited for.

Eventually it did end and you decided to get out of the water, it was with knowing smiles that you collected your clothes and dried off again. You pulled a towel off the clothesline, drying your hair, “I have to admit I’ve wanted that for longer than you know,” you admit, fighting your lips from pulling upward.

Art, with the largest crooked grin on his face, moved closer and grabbed his own towel from earlier. “Really?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. Art was reduced to a boy the way you looked at him, your lips pink from the kissing, semi-wet hair still just blowing in the wind. Gentle. He dried his own hair and threw the towel back on the line. “How long?” He pulled you in by the crook of your waist again, batting away the fact that he as a grown man had butterflies. You just smirked.

“Too long,” you said, slipping out of his grasp and running up the steps. You spent a moment apart to get changed properly and quietly, as to not wake Patrick. He met you on the couch again, unable to stop thinking about you in any capacity. You, fully clothed, comfortable, tired, lack of makeup, hair still damp, were the most beautiful person he had ever seen and he just wanted to stare at you the way he always had, but this time knowing.

He chuckled as you leaned against him without words, draping an arm around you as you settled in against him. No more words were needed, there was not much more to say. You ended up talking until you both somehow fell asleep.

Patrick woke up before you, having gone to bed first and seeing you laying on Art’s chest, both his arms around you, one of your legs draped over his lower half, he knew.

It was the difference in distance that told him- when one of you fell asleep there was always enough respect to have levels. He got himself a cup of orange juice, came back and he knew, chuckling to himself. They say trios don’t last, but it wasn’t the end of it when you and Art got together after that trip. Just meant you and Patrick were even closer sisterwives and he was fine with that. Art was fine with that. You were fine with that.

From an outsider's perspective, they would have said nothing changed.