#also I left it a little late in the game to find out what piece might be appropriate for them to be playing

[dingoat]

Phew! I've had this piece bouncing around in my head all month and finally got it out; the Cortes Trio for @painted-bees who I was stoked to find on Art Fight! I've loved watching these three get developed and strike so many chords (hehe) with so many people. Less of an attack and more of a 'thanks for putting your creative joy fearlessly into the world'.

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑺𝑵𝑨𝑪𝑲 | 𝒕. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒕

summary: you thought you would be alone when sneaking into the school kitchen late at night - you were, until someone joined you. - based on this request.

warnings: smut, Hufflepuff reader, fingering, orgasm denial (once), dirty talk, protected p in v, cursing

words: 2,8k

It's almost 2am and I couldn't stop myself but sneak into the kitchen when my stomach literally screamed at me to eat. Well I couldn't take it personal, wasn't my best idea to ditch dinner to study.

And to be honest, it wasn't the first time also, sneaking into the kitchen because I ditched dinner and got hungry at night. Since I already knew my way to the school kitchen without getting caught, I grabbed the coat I borrowed from Harry yesterday and walked through the dark halls of school.

When I arrived I quickly got in and closed the doors behind me. I smiled to myself when I looked through the shelves and fridges. Jackpot, a cake. With some cookies from the cupboard and cake in other hand I walked over to the kitchen island and started eating the cookies. I quietly moaned at the taste, doing a little happy dance at the taste. „Damn these are good.“ I say to myself, then looking at the cake. It wasn’t much left but would definitely be enough for me. I took a piece and licked off the icing, when out of nowhere:

„Wow..“ I turned my head to the second voice with wide eyes, seeing four boys in front of me. I sighed in relief when I noticed who they are and had to hide a smile at their looks when they saw my outfit. I didn’t thought too much about it when I stayed in my underwear and a top. „Like what you see?“ I asked them, smug smirk on my face.

The only one who didn’t looked impressed was Draco, pushing through the boys and walking over next to me, taking a piece of the cake and shoving it into his mouth. „ My girlfriend’s hotter.“ He says with a full mouth, making me grin. „I know Draco, me and Pansy are friends.“ I always loved the way he stayed loyal to her, wishing to be in her shoes sometimes. But not to be with Draco, but to have someone who only has eyes for me like he does for her.

I then glance over to the other three boys, still staring at me. "I definitely like what I see." Mattheo comments with a grin to it. I notice Theo shoving his elbow into his rib before pushing past him and walking over to me. "How are you, principessa?" he asked, tilting his head a little to the side and stared down at me with his puppy brown eyes. God his eyes.

" 'm good, what about you?" I stated innocently then biting off a piece of the cake slice in my hand. He ignored my question, his hands finding their way to each side of me on the kitchen isle. He caged me in between his body and the isle, smirking a little when he see's the realization in my eyes.

That wasn't a new game between us. It's also not the first time that we met here or on the astronomy tower at night. But it was always coincidence.

"Haven't seen you in a while at the astronomy tower." he whispers to me, lowering his head a little. So he was hoping to see me? "What? Did you miss me?" "What If I did?" he asked.

I hadn't had an answer to that right away so I looked over his shoulder to Mattheo and Enzo, still staring at my choice of clothing. He follows my gaze and glares at both of them. "Get the fuck out." he growls at them in an annoyed tone to which they just smirked knowingly and grabbed Draco eating some pudding he had found.

While walking outside Mattheo said "Don't destroy the kitchen." Draco finished it with: "Oh and use protection, kids." he started laughing and walked out with Mattheo and Enzo, leaving silence behind them.

I glanced back up at Theo, who's eyes were already on me. "So, what If I missed you? Did you miss me too?" I ignored his question and turned around in his grip which meant my back was now pressed against his since he pushed against me. I grabbed a strawberry from the cake grinning when I turned back and bit off a piece, making sure my lips wrapped around it just right while my eyes hit his.

I could see his jaw clenching and the muscles in his arm moving when he grabbed the isle a little harder. "Why do you keep teasing me all the time hm? Am I just one of your little victims?"

I had to chuckle a little. It was a rumor about me – well, a rumor that was kind of true. It was about how I'm the biggest tease and would always choose a new boy to tease to no end but never doing anything about it. That's true. But the number's of boy's going around weren't. Theo's the third to be exact but this time it wasn't on propose. I just really liked teasing him and seeing him clenching his jaw or his eyes wandering over my body, my lips.

I shake my head slowly and hold the rest of the strawberry in front of his mouth. "You're not." He grins before biting into the strawberry, never losing eye contact with me. He chews and swallows it down before answering. "What am I then?"

'What am I then?' I wish I knew. It's complicated. And somehow not. We just met like I said by complete coincidence, sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat there at the astronomy tower and enjoyed each other's company while he smoked and I read a book.

"I don't know Teddy, just know that I like your company." I answered honestly. I think I saw a little bit of relief in his eyes when I told him. "So you're not just teasing me?" I giggle a little and shrug with my shoulder's. "Oh I definitely do and I enjoy it but -" "But what?" he asks, looking at me intensely. I gulp and lick over my bottom lip, my cheeks suddenly getting a little red.

"Perhaps, you chose that outfit of your's on propose?" he asked cheekily. I rolled my eyes at him and shook my head. "I didn't thought you would come with friends. And I have Harry's cloak with me so no one would have seen me but you."

"So you did choose it with a purpose?" I put the stem in my hand away and tried not to blush again. "Yes." He pushed himself even closer to me now, his face now beside my ear. He whispered "And what were you hoping would happen, amore?" my heart always melted when he spoke Italian, his voice sounded so good while speaking his language, I could listen to him talking to me in it all day long.

I swallowed down all my pride and the rest of my shyness before I answered. "That you finally would get the hint, maybe. Or ask me out." he started grinning, giving my earshell a soft kiss. " Oh I'm getting the hint." Abruptly he grabbed my hips with both of his hands and sat me down on the kitchen isle, him now standing between my legs. "Do you know what you do to me?" he lowers his voice and lets go of my right to push back my hair so my shoulders were free. I shook my head, pretending to not know what he means.

"Don't act all shy now. I know you're not. I see the way you always look a me. Never thought a little Hufflepuff like you would be like that."

„Well, many underestimate us.“ I whispered, smirking. Then he lowers his head a bit more and puts a feathery light kiss on my shoulder, sending shivers down my spine. I stop breathing for a second and take a short glimpse of his angelic face. Even his light touch already set me on fire inside.

He continued when he noticed that I didn't push him away or stopped him in any kind of way. The next kiss is tender, not as light as the first one. The third one is longing. The fourth starts to get heated. "Theo.." I murmur, closing my eyes.

"Hm?" he muttered against my skin, covering it in kisses. "I want you." He stops and scans my face to make sure If I'm playing with him or If I'm being serious. I grab the cords of his sweatpants, pulling him closer. "I want you." I repeat, to make sure he got it.

Then out of no where, his lips crash against mine in a heated kiss with his lips so soft and full. I let my hand roam over his chest, grabbing the soft shirt in a desperate way. "I want you too." he breathed out against my lips when he pulled away from mine for a moment. I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in again, smiling against his lips.

His hands found their way to my thighs, massaging them carefully while working their way up to my underwear. In the meantime my hands had already slid under his shirt, feeling his abs under my fingers.

One hand of his pushed me back so I laid down with my back on the kitchen isle. He grabbed my legs again and pulled my middle closer to his crotch until I could feel him hard through his pants.

I bit down on my lip when his hands slowly slid over my exposed stomach, up to my chest. I stare at him, nervous what he's going to do. "I've waited so fucking long for this." he growls, slowly pulling down my top. A smile formed on his lips when he saw I didn't wear a bra beneath it.

My nipples instantly got hard 'cause of the cold air. "Then why didn't you try anything sooner?" I asked. "Don't know.." His fingers slowly brushed over my nipples now, teasing them. ".. I enjoyed the tension between us. Didn't want to overstep too." he replied.

I chuckled at him and joked "Yeah right, fucking someone on a kitchen isle in school is not overstepping." "Who say's I'm gonna fuck you?" he teases, playing with my nipples now.

I gulped and glimpse up at him. "Theo please.." I buck my hips up, grinding against him. "Shit, you're already begging, principessa? Can't wait to see how wet you are." I quietly whimpered at his words, grinding harder against him to feel some kind of friction on my aching pussy.

He leans down and starts sucking on my nipple while he continued playing with the other with his fingers. His second hand slid down over my stomach again, leaving a warm feeling behind. It stopped at my panties, playing with it a little. "Please.. please touch me Teddy." He groaned at the nickname. It was something only I called him.

He dipped his fingers inside my underwear, feeling my wetness. "Fuck you're not wet you're fucking soaked. It's gonna be so easy to just.." he starts, his finger slipping over my clit at first and teasing it for a moment with brushing over it ever so slightly and then going further to my opening, slipping two fingers inside without a problem.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "You feel so tight baby. Fuck you're gonna milk me dry.." I whined at his words and the feeling of him inside me. He started moving them in and out, pumping my pussy and rubbing my clit with his thumb.

I grabbed the edges of the isle and closed my eyes, back arching upwards. "Feels so good." I moaned, pressing my lips together trying to be quiet.

"Hmm that‘s right, just imagine how good my cock will feel." he responded with a smug look, moving his fingers inside me faster and putting more pressure on my clit. I took in a sharp breath, biting down on my lip hard.

I started clenching around him, feeling a fire pooling low in my abdonen but before I could let go he pulled his hand away from me, smiling at me devilish. "That‘s for all the teasing, baby."

He pulled down his sweatpants and boxershorts together, revealing his hard cock. I noticed the red tip already leaking pre cum. "You wanna get fucked amore?" he growls with his thick accent while grabbing his hard on and sliding the tip through my puffy folds.

"Theodore please, don‘t be a tease." I complained. He chuckles when he sees the desperate look in my eyes. "I‘m gonna fuck you so hard you never will think about someone else.“ he promised, pushing his cock into me with a single go until he was completely inside me.

"Oh cazzo.." he cursed and closed his eyes when he felt my walls sucking him right in. I felt him everywhere in me and I was sure I could see him in my stomach If I had the power to look down at me.

I heard him laughing quietly so I opened my eyes and looked at him questioning. "You‘re so tight I can‘t think straight." he chuckled and let out a deep breath before moving his hips after making sure I‘m ready.

I arched my back when his hips met mine and my mouth fell open letting out a silent scream. "Oh merda.. feel me in your stomach huh?" he grunts, throwing my legs over his shoulder.

I let out a high pitched moan at the new angle, feeling him so much deeper now. My nails found his arms, leaving marks on them. His hips moved faster against mine, he leaned down and took my lips into a heated kiss again. The kiss was fiercy and it felt like he was starving or needed me for air. I've never been kissed like that and I felt so alive after such a long time again.

"Fuck Theodore.." I whine against his lips, capturing them right after again. I feel him grinning against my lips and moving his hips more brutal against mine, squeezing my thigh with his hand while the other found its way around my neck. "You're mine, cara mia. Mine. Do you understand that?" he groans, letting go of my mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut when he pushed down on my stomach." I said: Do thrust You thrust under thrust stand thrust me?" "Fuck yes Theo, yes!" "Say it!" I whimper and open my eyes again, giving him what he wanted. "I'm yours, only yours." he started smiling satisfied with my answer.

"That's right, baby. Only this cock will fill you up." He rocked his hips against mine in an unnatural pace, making me see stars and babbling some words.

"Such a little slut for me." he added. My legs slowly got tired, not used to the stretch. I gasped when he hit my cervix, a broken sob left my mouth. "Oh - right there. Please fuck me right there." It was like every brain cell left my head when I felt that fire in my abdomen again.

He slightly squeezed his hand around my throat, making my head feel dizzy only adding to the aching feeling inside me. "Beg me, fucking beg me to come around my cock... fuck." he lets out a moan when he feels my warm walls clenching around him so perfectly.

"Hmm please Theo please fuck me, please. I need to come so bad." I cried out, little sobs leaving my lips. He grins devilish and adds his thumb to my clit, moving it in circles.

Then again I have that rippling feeling in my abdomen, leaving me trembling beneath me. "Hm, come for me baby, fucking come around me, please." he groans in a desperate voice, feeling the need to feel me milking him like I did around his fingers earlier.

My orgasm hit me like an explosion would have. I didn't hear anything around me for a few seconds, my head dizzy and my mouth dry.

His hands find my hips and dug their fingernails into my flesh. I heard him cussing again, his thrusts getting sloppier and his head fell back. "Oh fucking hell I'm gonna come - should I - should I pull out?" I shook my head with a little smirk."I'm using-" "Thank Merlin - ugh fuck." I hear him gasping for air when he ruts his hips against mine, holding still when he shoots his load inside me. His fucked out state turned me on again in an instant. Nothing better than a vocal man.

When he slowly comes down from his high, he grabs my face and kisses me messy but lovingly. "You felt so fucking good." he groans against my lips, slowly pulling out. I let out a quiet whimper at the emptiness I felt again. I looked up at him a smirked. "What?" he asked me when he saw my smirk. "That's it?" I asked him daring, knowing it would provoke him.

He chuckles darkly at me and turned my on my stomach in an instant. "I'm gonna fuck you the whole night, until all the cooks come into the kitchen for breakfast and they see you begging for my cock."

Fuck yeah.

Thank u got reading, hope you enjoyed. 💛 Not my best smut to be honest whoops.

Taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @itsarajr @hisparentsgallerryy @mixvchelle @azalea3leaza @ummmmmmm-username @atadoddinnit @auxcordlawd @helena-1105 @belle-blue @izriddle @distinctalien 🤍🤍

My masterlist if u wanna read more.

xoxo sarah <3

[angelfrombeneth]

MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.

Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing

A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.

Click Clack.. Click Clack...

You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.

"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.

"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.

You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.

Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.

"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.

"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"

"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.

You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.

Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.

You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.

You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.

After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.

"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.

Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"

"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.

"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"

You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.

"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.

You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.

You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.

Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.

"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.

"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.

It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.

The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.

Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.

You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.

"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.

That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.

"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.

You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.

"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.

A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.

"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.

You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.

You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.

"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.

The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.

"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.

"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."

He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.

"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.

"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.

It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.

"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.

"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more..  please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.

"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.

"Good girl- M'close" He panted.

Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.

At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.

Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.

"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.

"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.

He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.

"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.

"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.

You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.

He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;

"Ti amo amore mio".

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. ��People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma. angst+comfort. the reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

As an interesting side note, both parts of this story are named after children's games. In this case, it's for "Simon Says," which I thought was pretty cool because in this part, Spencer literally does whatever the reader wants.

I also want to thank you for the support you gave to the first part and for the 300 followers💝 I could not say it before but it makes me very happy.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. I Love You, I’m Sorry.

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

II. I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[papercorgiworld]

Hi lovely! I wanted to see if you'd take requests for James Potter 🤭 I'm not entirely sure if you do yet so I shall wait for your response 😊 I hope you have or have had a great day 💓

Darling, James Potter is the one who dragged me down to the world of Tumblr back in the day... He's like my origin story. So yes, I do take requests for James, but it might take a decade. And since you had to wait for like an eternity to get a response I offer you a light reading snack as an apology. Happy readings! Have a lovely day!

“I dare you to steal his clothes”

This will forever be one of my favourite scenarios to write and I planned on writing the marauders right after the slytherin boys but never got to it until now. I proudly present you the James Potter version.

A little game of truth or dare escalates when Lilly dares you to steal James’ clothes. 

As requested I wrote a part two: It was no mistake

Warning: smut

Find the slytherin boys version here.

You were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It was late and the party was dying down but your friends refused to go to their dorms.

“Truth or dare?” Lily asks as she tries to focus on you but she’s clearly too drunk to manage that. 

“Dare.”

Lily tries to get her brain to come up with a good dare, something fun. It is then that she sees a certain marauder holding a towel and heading for the bathroom. 

“I dare you to steal James’ clothes!” Lily’s voice is filled with excitement and her eyes sparkle with mischief. 

Your eyes widen. You had had a crush on James since the start of the year. Though he still acted like a child most of the time you suddenly saw something very mature and attractive in him. Yet you decide against making a move after all it was James Potter and you were just a friend of Lily’s. 

“I can’t.” You immediately argue and Lily wiggles her eyebrows. “Are you refusing a dare?”

… And that’s how you ended up here, slowly pushing open the door to the boys bathroom. You were relieved to find that the bathroom was empty aside from James under the shower, happily humming a gryffindor victory song. 

Quiet as a mouse you sneak in and close the door, crouching down to make sure that if James would turn around he wouldn’t notice you. You scan the room for his clothes to find his shirt hanging on a statue, his socks left and right of the room and pants together with the rest hanging on a chair. You sigh and tiptoe from one piece of clothing to another.

James’ tie falls when you reach for one of his socks and you curse under your breath as you struggle to hold all his clothes. 

“What the-” You jump when you hear James and look up to meet his eyes. “Oh hi.” You blur out and he smiles, but also looks at you questioningly. “What are you doing?” You laugh nervously and are about to explain that Lily dared you to steal his clothes when your eyes fall down. You’re at a loss for words as you fail to pull your gaze away from his member. 

For a moment James is embarrassed, but his cocky side takes over pretty quickly. “Want to join me in the shower. I could wash you head to toe.” It takes a second for you to process his words, but when you finally look away from his size you notice his smug smile and cheeky eyes focused on you. It’s then that you remember your mission and realise that you should absolutely not be in the situation.

Still not able to properly communicate due to the shock your flight response kicks in. You quickly pick up his tie and sock before running towards the statue where James’ shirt is hanging. “Oh. No! Not happening!” James yells when he realises why you were here. Without thinking the situation through a naked James runs after you to keep you from stealing his shirt and running out with all his clothes. 

You manage to grab his shirt but lose his pants in the process when you try to go back and reach for it James catches you. You feel your shirt dampen as he presses you against his still wet chest. “Hah. Gotcha. What are you gonna do now?” James mocks and in a split second your brain decides that the best tactic is one of surprise.

James feels your soft lips on his and instinctively relaxes, kissing you back gently, but as he does so he also releases his grip on you allowing you to run again. “Really!” James complains, but he quickly moves when he notices you’re heading for the door. 

Two arms wrap around you tightly and you stumble. You both struggle and fight for his clothes, making you both fall on top of one another. 

Just at that exact moment the door swings open. 

You proudly raise your hand holding James’ tie. “I got his tie that has to count.” Lily smirks at your happy face and obliviousness to the position you were in. “I like a girl that’s dedicated.” Marlene raises her eyebrows smugly at Lily’s words as she scans the scene. You, perfectly seated on James’ middle, conveniently covering up all things interesting about James Potter. James looks at you with heart eyes as his tie hangs on your finger. Merlin, you looked adorable. So proud of your achievement. “Who doesn’t like a girl that’s dedicated to a dare.” James’ rather arrogant tone has you looking at him and you instantly feel your body heat up now that you’ve finally realised how this must look, you on top of him. Your first reaction is to move away from James to put some distance between you two, but James is quick to grab your hips and keep you seated on him as a measure to keep his manhood covered. Marlene and Lily snort at James who had a little hard attack at almost being exposed. As proud as he was of himself he did not need all of Hogwarts discussing his size because of two gossip girls.

“If you two could excuse us, we’re in the middle of something.” James finally says gesturing at the awkward position you and James were in. “We can see that.” Giggling, your two friends leave the bathroom and now you’re suddenly unable to make eye contact with James. When you try to lift your hips off of him James tightens his grip. “Where do you think you’re going?” James asks suggestively. Your cheeks are burning and it takes a lot of effort to keep your wit. “I managed my dare so there’s really, definitely, nothing interesting for me here.” James nods, but his smirk tells you that he isn’t buying it. “You’re overselling it.” He pushes himself up a bit more so his chest almost meets yours. He gently cups your cheek, but you still refuse to meet his eyes, so he playfully bucks his hips upwards. You place a hand on his chest to keep yourself from falling into him as a soft yelp escapes you and James loves that sound in more than one way as well as your touch on his chest. With your lips still slightly parted James sees an opportunity to bring his lips to yours. Never had you experienced a kiss so passionate and yet so sweet. James was a damn good kisser and you couldn’t resist any longer. 

Your hands landed on his shoulders for support as the kiss got more intense. Hungry breathy sounds escape James and have you softly moan against his lips. James’ hands find their way under your shirt, but he’s quick to ask for more, gently moving to the buttons. “James…” You try to protest but the way he tenderly sucks on your neck before leaving featherlight kisses has you falling silent. “I dare you…” he pushes your shirt aside to trace kisses from your shoulder to your chest. “to trust me…” he tears a few buttons to finally fully get rid of your shirt. “ and let me…” he grabs a handful of your still covered boob, before quickly pulling you close and rolling so you’re now underneath him. “fuck you all night long.” 

Word count: 1292

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

alexia is going to be an amazing manager: here she is already breaking down the match and giving tips for improvement in the future 😮‍💨

source: fcbfemeni on twitter

translation below the cut:

"yes, i was starting to feel the pressure, but really it was only two games that i didn't score. but hey, this demand is fine. it's constant challenges, but very happy. not only because of the goal, because of the match, because of how we enjoyed ourselves, because of how the team competed, the bar was once again set, obviously there are things to improve. this is true, but we keep going, we keep growing and we're very, very, very happy, because on top of that it's been special to do it here, obviously.

well, in the end, the coaching staff, pere, who has his first classic, as the first coach, obviously also congratulate them on the approach to the game, i think it went well. in the end we knew that we were already playing with a friend who has seen more than they used to play, and that their double pivot sometimes did not open us up too much. then i had to take like that central lane to make them narrower and be able to find the squares on the outside, in aitana and pina, and thus make constant superiority.

when we were out of possession, i would go back a little more to help get the ball out and help patri and create more superiority, and all of this is part of the staff's approach. then we also knew that they weren't working on the left, then we got off relatively easily with mapi esmee's pass, and all this is part of the analysis that the coaching staff does, the training that prepares us to compete and to understand the game plan, so full credit goes to them too.

yes, it gives you some peace of mind, but we are also mentally prepared in case this does not happen until the end. what you really want is always to achieve perfection, and it is true that in terms of results you know you are ahead, but really the game plan is left the same, in the 4th minute, the 30th minute, or at least until the 45th minute, and then see if they change something during the break and modify accordingly. but we have marked it from set pieces, which is something we also train a lot and keep growing.

whenever lately, when we have come here, we do see a lot of our fans. in fact, what you said, many chants are heard and we thank the fans, they are the best. i always say the same thing, they are the best thing about the club. and we, before the match, told each other that in the end we play for us, for our pride, but also for the sake of many people who are the fans and it has been seen that the people support it and we dedicate this victory to them

well, i hope the same as every year and the same as the rest of my teammates and the team, to win everything, we want to keep making history. in the end, the manager also told us that although the balance was positive for us, that did not mean we won one to zero. so in the end it was a new game and that's how all games are. even if you are behind, i don't know how many statistics, victories, titles or whatever, every match is a new opportunity and we enjoy these new opportunities very much.

and the happiest thing that makes me, really, is to see that my teammates are happy during each match, because of how we competed, everyone is happy for everyone. and that's the truth that creates a climate that you feel supported, no matter who it is and it's very beautiful."

[suguann]

Hello! My name's Anne | An adult in my mid to late 20's | A hobbyist writer

RULES:

• I write for many fandoms, including Call of Duty, JJK, Shadow and Bone, Star Wars, Game of Thrones, Haikyuu, One Piece, etc.

• This is an 18+ space, and I also write dark content, so please read all content warnings if that makes you uncomfy!

• Don't copy, paste, or translate.

LINKS:

General tag

Writing tag

Fic Recs

MASTERLIST:

JUJUTSU KAISEN

ও GOJO

• Possessive Gojo (18+)

He gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.

• I Hope You Stay (18+) | Long Fic

He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.

• Virgin Gojo (18+)

His last slip of restraint is when he finally looks down to find a wet patch on the front of your panties and how you're starting to form a dark gray spot on his sweats.

• Messy (18+)

You look so small like this—smaller than usual because everything about him is big in comparison—and that stirs something foreign in his gut that he can’t name.

• Three's A Crowd (18+)

“If you ask nicely for what you want, maybe he’ll give it to you,” your husband offers evenly. (Gojo/ Reader/ Nanami)

• Be With Me (18+)

The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.

• Everything Comes Back to You (18+)

"Did you know we'd end up here?"

• Possessive Geto (18+)

• What I Never Told You (18+)

Gojo doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap.

ও GETO

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—regret is a thick pill to swallow.

ও MULTI

• Prettiest Baby (18+)

They can't help it, they're kind of obsessed with you.

• Fuck It, I Want You (18+)

They're so infatuated with you.

CALL OF DUTY

ও GHOST

• Good (18+)

“Just a little more,” a small lie because there’s never just a little more when it comes to you.

• Let Me (18+)

There comes a point where Simon finally admits that he hates your new boyfriend. [Part Two]

• I Left It Wet For You (18+)

Simon doesn’t share, but he makes an exception this time after his best friend’s date is a no-show, and he isn’t heartless enough to let Johnny hang out at the pub alone. [Simon/ Soap/Reader]

• Smitten

He watches you swipe lipstick across your mouth, grinning at your reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, and it's the cutest fucking thing. 

• In Threes (18+)

Your ex-boyfriend makes you think you are the problem. Simon shows you that's not the case.

• New Girl

He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.

• Neighborly (18+)

Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway. 

• Abience (18+)

He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

ও PRICE

• Redamancy (18+)

You tried not to grow feelings—you really did. Feelings make things complicated, but you can’t help it. John’s just…John.

BALDUR'S GATE

ও ASTARION

• Oh, Darling (18+)

He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you.

[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈

[hotchfiles]

↪ day twelve. dinner party stories — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [family line] ❞

pairing: hotchner x fem!reader. summary: he snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it. or: aaron shows what the unconditional love of a family should be like. content warnings: not proofread, a lot of family issues brought up, weight gain mention (negatively once, then positively), reader's parents being annoying and kind of mean. word count: 2.4K

      Aaron sees it in your eyes, in your breathing, in the way you move. He sees it in the way you’ve been playing more with your necklace and by how you can’t seem to stop spinning your engagement ring around your finger. He hasn’t seen you this anxious in months, and back then you were working on finishing your dissertation and it collided with the company you worked at losing clients, it was chaos. He knew right now there was no chaos in sight, so it could only mean one thing. 

      “Honey, did you speak to your parents recently?” His voice is always as soft as a feather when talking to you, even in the rare instances you argue. 

      You turn from the scrabble pieces and set your wine glass down, not minding the interruption to the cozy game when his voice sounded like that and his eyes looked at you like you were something so precious you could break. 

      “No, babe, why d’you ask?” 

      “You’re fidgeting like an hyperactive kid who hasn’t been put on Ritalin yet lately.” His explanation catches you off guard in a way that you almost reprehend him saying his name in a high pitched voice and slapping his arm in between laughter. His smirk shows you just how accomplished he feels that he made you laugh like that. 

      Aaron takes both of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and urging you to talk with him just by the way he looked into your eyes, eagerly waiting for you to vent about what was making you so restless. 

      “I haven’t told them about the engagement yet. I want to have them over for dinner, to share the news but they are so…” You sigh profoundly, looking up to the ceiling trying to finish that though in a way that made sense. “Difficult.” 

      Aaron knows what difficult really means. It means patronizing. It means unsupportive. Unwilling. Unhelpful. It doesn’t mean unloving, but it means old fashioned in a way that it feels unloving. “We could have dinner in a nice restaurant instead, to ease up some of that pressure.” He suggests, always the problem solver. 

      “It would be perfect, handsome, but we did that last time…” Your voice trails off, laying your head on his lap, urging him to gently pass his fingers through your hair by that act alone, cozying up to him in an attempt to ignore the problem at hand. 

      Hotch follows your lead, not forgetting to place a kiss on your forehead, but also, not letting the problem go. “And my dear future mother in law will start dropping hints again that we don’t want them here.” You nod quietly. “Alright. Don’t call. Text her inviting them over with the details. Less talking.” 

      You groan, “She will complain about that too…”

      “Once they’re here.” He kisses your forehead, “So it’s only one,” and your nose, “Night,” your right cheek, “Of,” your left cheek, and you’re already grinning like an idiot, holding in your laughter at his boyishness, “Complaining.” Aaron finishes, brushing his lips against yours. you nod and pull your head up slightly, finally connecting you two in a sweet slow kiss.

      You get your big girl pants on after a delicious making out session with your fiancé, the scrabble pieces long forgotten as you gulp down your whole glass of wine and pick up your phone. His hair is messy, his cheeks are flushed and he grins at you with reassurance pouring from his sweet eyes as you send your mother the text, throwing your phone back to the table before seeing a response and going back straight to his arms.

      He made it easier, always. Helped you sort your feelings out, helped you find out the less stressing way to solve your problems. It was a joy to have him, to watch how he talked to Jack and see how it should be.

      More often than you would like to admit, you caught yourself thinking wow my parents would not let that slide, and then you would be faced with the reality that they were in the wrong, not Aaron.

      You talked to him about it once, asked how could he be so sweet and so effortlessly so to Jack, his answer came quickly, no hesitation: Jack had lost enough, losing his trust on his dad was not something Aaron would let happen, he didn’t want Jack to go through what he had as a child.

      Then it clicked to you once more, how you would never want to treat your hypothetical children like you had been treated too. 

      You try not to think too much about these things too often nowadays, but even as you laid on Aaron’s chest and felt his fingers lightly, softly, trace designs on your skin, now all you could think about was the damned dinner.

      Your mom wasn’t too judgy when it came to what you cooked, your dad was and annoyingly so, always had some remark about what would have made the food better, just like he did to your mother back home. 

      So first thing you did the next morning was think through all dinners and remarks and find something you could do following his tips to lessen the complaining, Aaron’s idea, of course. 

      “He always says my lasagna is delicious but too dry,” You mumble to yourself, but not really, you have your earphones on and Aaron on call, in the office doing reports he was able to entertain you as you picked up ingredients for extra sauce.

      You can hear him smiling, the sound of his aggressive pen on paper stopping for a second, “Even Rossi loves your lasagna, it is delicious. Just give your father a bowl full of sauce, he will be happier.” You snort and he goes back to his papers, satisfied to have made you laugh through the stress.

      Gathering the rest of the ingredients is easy enough, you’re already used to the grocery store’s layout and setup, you keep him on the line either way, a tradition you both kept whenever you were doing monotonous tasks, even when he didn’t speak, listening to his breathing, the shuffling of papers and his pen quickly making work through all his reports made you smile, calmed you down.

      Hotch thought it was silly at first, but quickly warmed up to it when he heard you softly,  secretive so, humming songs to yourself as you worked on your own reports, or went shopping, not to mention how adorable he found you to be when you forgot he was on the line and jumped scared as he spoke something.

      Most of all, he loved being immersed in a paper trail and being surprised by a hey I love you right in his ear as if you were there.

      It pained him to know how much of yourself you tried to mute down to please your parents when he loved every single tiny piece of what made you… You.  

      Hotch excused himself from the call to talk to Rossi just as you were about to go back home, satisfied you convinced him to get Rossi’s sauce recipe. 

      “Hers is great, why does she need mine?” Rossi sound almost exasperated, as if Hotch himself had said something about your cooking. He is quick to reassure that’s not the case and explain how you’re trying to please your father, Dave doesn’t seem that much happier about it, always pleased with the dishes you made for dinner parties at his mansion, but he still takes his phone and sends you a voice note explaining each step of his homemade tomato sauce. “Anything else?”

      “I need a favor as well. I’m gonna need the next weekend off for this.” Hotch begins, he knows Rossi would never mind that, no one would, in fact most people from the Bureau agreed he needed time off. “I know myself enough, I need to be completely off, no calls, no briefings.” He’s learnt his lesson from too many past mistakes, if he knows the case, if he knows the team needs him, he will be putting his job above anything else, Aaron can’t afford to do that anymore, so he prevents it. 

      His left thumb rubs the side of his index finger, his way to calm his racing thoughts, just the possibility of ruining this dinner has him anxious, this little habit of his was something he hadn’t even noticed he did before he met you. It was one of his tells and he never realized before you took his hand in yours and looked sweetly into his eyes saying you’re stimming, what’s wrong? In the softest tone he had ever heard anyone speak to him. 

      You were always quick to notice if anyone around you didn’t feel well, always a caretaker, it was a sight to take in and a pain to prove you so, being seen as selfish your whole life at home. 

      That day he got home late, Jack was doing his homework with your help while you worked on a few things on your laptop—a presentation you needed to finish soon as possible to get the next Friday off. 

      His office had become a shared office with your help, a U shaped desk where both of you could work being one of the first changes you made to it as soon as you moved in, it was perfect and it gave Jack space to sit close to either of you when he needed help.

      The sides faced the walls while and front faced the window where you and Jack sat, focused, it gave Hotch time to lean in the door frame and watch you both.

      “I’m not sure about that one, Jack-Jack…” You stop typing to read the question in his book again, impressed with how little you remember of school math. “If I Google this up, promise not to tell your teacher?” Aaron clears his throat at the question, catching your attention and making you laugh: Caught in the act. 

      “No Google, buddy, sorry.” Jack scrunches his nose at his father’s ruling out, a loud groan coming from his pre teen little voice. 

      “Told ya we should have started this earlierrrr—” You tease the boy, insinuating you two would have been able to find the answer online without his dad knowing then, you ruffle his short hair softly, loving the endearing smile he always gives you when you do that.

      His smile quickly turns into a yawn, the weight of the time stamped on Aaron’s watch getting to Jack’s eyes, “I’m sleepy.” 

      “You can finish tomorrow, let’s get you two to bed, buddy.” 

      Hotch picks Jack up and the young Hotchner is nothing but a ball of giggles, always saying he’s too big for that now, but obviously still loving the attention. 

      “Enjoy while you can, Jack-Jack, your old man is not getting any younger.” 

      “Yeah? I’m carrying your ass to bed soon too, my back can handle you both for years still.” You and Jack both laugh at him. It’s always almost as if a harsh mask melted when he got home, in its place would remain his soft features and the bickering you loved so dearly. 

      It was warm. And kind. Even when he came back home stressed, you never had to worry about accidentally setting him off or saying the wrong thing. It was a completely different dynamic than what you were used to. 

      It takes a few minutes for Hotch to come back, but he comes ready to make true of his promise, hands straight to your waist to carry you, tickling his way into your defenses, he laughs at your laughter and at how easy you melt to his touch. “I’m just finishing this up, babyy—” Your voice is purposefully whiny, pouting at him and getting a kiss in return, “Go eat your dinner while I do it, I heated it up when I got your text!”

      He stops trying to pull you up his shoulder or around his waist then, the look he gives you then reminds you of why you fell for him: Sweet like caramel, always betraying his known frown. 

      Aaron looks at you like every act of kindness you do makes him fall in love again, and it does. He traces your features with his thumb in silence, the mix of his calloused fingers and the softness of his actions makes you sigh, leaning into it.

      “I love you. I love our little family.” He kisses your forehead and leaves you to your presentation before you can even reply, before you can even tell him the two Hotchner boys are the first healthy family you’ve ever been in.

      You don’t even mind your dad complaining about your lasagna having way too much sauce the week after. Aaron eats for the both of them, compliments every single decision you made while cooking.

      The second your mother tells you you’ve been gaining weight, Aaron replies with a simple “If anything, we’re both getting bigger and happier.” A squeeze tight to your knee, stopping you from tearing up at how that was the only thing your mother did notice.

      They seemed happy about the engagement, but not too sure you’ll be able to care for him and his child as they needed to be cared for. You’re forgetful. You’re not maternal. You worry about work too much.

      You’re not even sure how good news could lead to such rambling about your flaws but again, before you can either cry or lose control and yell—Aaron comes in, his soft smile being completely betrayed by his furrowed brows and stern tone. He’s trying to be polite. “We take care of each other well, and together we care for Jack. It works. We work.”

      It’s simple but effective, what he wants is to shield you, to tell them how lucky they are you grew up as kind and hardworking when all they did was bring you down and doubt your feelings and your dreams.

      He wants to show them drawings Jack made of you and essays he wrote about his family. 

      But for now he settles on being polite. There’s still the whole wedding preparation and the actual wedding to go through. He has time to do all that. Right now he just makes sure to show you and them how much he supports you and how nothing they can ever say will change how he sees you. 

      At least he’s glad his mother is dead, one less problematic in law to deal with.

      He snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it.

[moonydustx]

response to this request @i0fty I loved your request (I have a thing for writing hurt/comfort and angst). I really hope you like it. I wrote it as f!reader, but I can adjust it if I want

warnings: F!Reader is attacked, mention of celestial dragons, Law and she have feelings for each other and it's obvious, Law saves F!Reader

one piece masterlist

----

As soon as you set foot on that island, you knew there was something strange, something that sent a chill down your spine. It would be a short break to stock up on some emergency supplies and head towards the next island, which was larger and would have more interesting information for your crew.

Even so, some crewmates and your captain, Law, disembarked next to you.

"So, do you need a lot of things?" Law tried to make conversation, seeing you take a small map out of your pocket and point to something he could barely understand.

"I needed some lemongrass herbs. I saw they sell them here, but they are expensive, however, given the climate of this island I think I can find some in this green area." You explained, seeing him nod and hand you a few more berris.

"Don't go far, it might not be safe. If you can find something to buy, buy it" he insisted, seeing you look around, apparently suspicious. "What it was?"

"Do you feel something strange in the air?" you asked and saw him repeat your gesture of checking the surrounding environment.

"Some residents seem a little scared." Shachi who had also disembarked scored.

"It could be our imagination, as well as some confusion that happened. Which would be a great attraction for the marine." Law explained as you walked behind him. "Be careful and don't get into any kind of trouble."

"Yes captain." even in uncoordinated unison, you responded together.

"And you, what are you going to explore?" you asked Law as the others scattered. "Not that there's much to do."

"Do you remember that old book about spirit hunters that you mentioned? I saw that there might be a copy around here."

"Bullshit! Are you going to buy it?" Law laughed lightly, almost imperceptibly when he saw your excitement.

"Just don't tell Bepo, he'll say I have favoritism in the crew." the captain pointed out. "If you finish early, meet me at the bookstore. It should be easy to find, I don't think there are many around here."

The promise of meeting him later made you excited. Your relationship with the captain was something different from your relationship with others - you shared games, reading and conversations until late at night. Sometimes, it was as if the two of you were in a little world of your own.

You even tried to use the money provided by Law but, in addition to being insufficient, the little shop had strange looks from all sides. The feeling on that island was of being spied on with every step taken, with every interaction.

Moving away from the small shopping center and without even entering the small forest that almost annexes the city, you found some bushes that you needed. It was simple to harvest them and tie them in a way to transport them without losing any leaves.

Before you could stand up and continue your journey to the bookstore, you felt something against your neck, but you were able to dodge it and roll to the other side. Finally standing up, she could see two men staring at you.

"I'm sorry, lady, but we have orders to take you." one of them warned and you bent down to reach the knife you had used to harvest, unfortunately not fast enough to feel something burn in your hand.

"What the fuck… You know what? I'm going to kill you" you left things aside and went out to fight them.

Even using everything you knew about fighting, trying to use all the blows that came to your mind, you still ended up getting hit more times, some of the blows you barely understood where they were coming from.

"What do you want with me?!" you shouted once again, being ignored.

The metallic taste on your lips indicated that the attack you suffered had been much stronger than you expected. Both the desire to fight and the fear itself caused your adrenaline to skyrocket, leaving you alert to any movement from the two men.

"You should save your efforts." one of them emphasized, the handcuffs on his hands made an annoying noise as they clashed together. "They will need you at full strength."

"And it's not like you're going to win alone." the other completed, stretching out the whip and hitting your arm squarely.

The sensation was something like an unexpected burn, but it wouldn't stop you from fighting, from returning to where you really belonged. Standing up, you advanced towards the shorter man, landing a few punches, enough for him to stagger a little and give you space to escape.

At least that's what you thought until you felt someone pull you back and the click of the handcuffs awakened your despair. No, you couldn't let yourself get carried away like that. How would your friends be? Would they ever see you serving as a doormat for one of those damned celestials?

"This is an aggressive one, just like they asked for." the man pressed his body to yours, in order to speak in your ear. "The guys up there, the big celestial dragons will like a piece like you. They'll hunt you, they'll hurt you and I'll get rich."

No matter how much you struggled, his grip grew even stronger against your body, while the other man got closer to try to cover your face. Perhaps desperation had prevented you from noticing some things around you, awareness hit you completely when the aggressive grip around your body became a gentle, almost protective touch. His voice hit you before your own perception.

"It's ok, I'm here now." Law let his hands run down your arms and he advanced towards the other man.

In another situation, Law would have fun tearing those bodies into pieces and watching them try to reorganize themselves. But this time it was different.

They had messed with one of his crew members, an intelligent aspiring doctor, who would know how to use any and all plants to her advantage, who was great at playing chess and had read a good part of Sora's stories - even if the last ones were by his invitation. She was the girl who laughed at anything while dying of shyness when someone pointed out an adjective to her. She was the girl he dreamed of getting some attention, but her scared eyes indicated that those bastards had hurt her and he couldn't let that go.

The first man - who Law hadn't changed places to reach you - soon fell to the ground, clearly unconscious.

"Where's the other one?" your voice was exasperated, as your eyes tried to hunt the other guy through some trees.

"Shachi and Penguin already took care of him." Law pointed out while looking for keys to the handcuff.

"W-we need ... W-we need to check!" the way your voice sounded urgent alerted Law, forcing him to get closer to you. "He can get help, they have whips and…"

"Hey!" He tried to call you, not having much success. When his hands found your face, Law saw you flinch. "Look at me, Shachi and Penguin already took care of this… Look at me!" he pulled your face back, seeing you want to dodge.

"But… T-they had whips... and handcuffs and they were going to t-take me to the c-celestial dragons." the words stumbled as they left your lips.

"They won't, I would never let them." Law insisted, seeing you nod, even though he knew the words wouldn't truly reach you.

"Let's go back to Polar Tang, what do you think?" he suggested and saw you nod practically in slow motion and remain silent.

As quickly as Law had transported you back to the submarine, the thoughts were faster than you could express.

It was difficult to process some things, you still had a hard time accepting that there were people who felt so superior to others that they chose random people to be hunted. You had heard of it, but you always thought of it as something far away from you, that it was just a scary story that would stay far away.

But there you were, feeling your wounds being cleaned by careful hands, extremely contrary to what you had felt just now.

"Please…" Law's voice came out almost like a sigh. "I need you to say something."

"What do you need?" Your eyes watched as Law left the tweezers with the cotton on the small tray next to him.

"You're too immersed in your own mind and I can tell you that's not a good thing." he explained and saw you rambling again, it was clear that something was wrong. "Please don't think just talk to me."

"I thought everything was lost, you know?" you began, feeling your eyes sting with tears. "I've never felt so scared."

"I told you, I would never let that happen." Law didn't hesitate as he ran his hand over your face, brushing away some tears that insisted on coming out. "And I promise this won't happen again."

"You're the captain, you have more things to worry about." a weak, almost inaudible laugh came out of you. "Do I really matter that much?"

"Much more than you think." he pointed out and saw you smile shyly. "I was in the bookstore and I started hearing some comments about missing people. They all had some kind of similarity to you… I know they are in different ways, but I felt scared like I haven't felt in a long time."

"What does that mean?"

"That I'm going to finish stitching up those wounds, I'm going to make you something to eat and after that, you won't be out of my sight anymore." he explained.

Even though you felt a slight discomfort in the wounds on your arm, you allowed your face to lean against his chest, your arms to wrap around him in a simple hug. His face lowered itself to the top of your head and a "I promise to always be here" was whispered in your embrace.

[missriyochuchi]

The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer

Summary: The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer meet in the Jardin des Tuileries after the Opening Ceremony and commiserate about the Olympic Games.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Established relationship. Mentions of death.

Notes: I imagined these two like otherworldly beings blessing the games, what with the Olympics being invented by ancient Greeks as a partly religious event. As such, I would have preferred to keep them gender neutral, but because I’m writing this in a pinch and want to be able to distinguish between them without constantly using their names, I opted for gendered pronouns. But nothing about their physical descriptions are particularly gendered; I’m just leaning on the old linguistic quirk lol Also, how tf is there no video of the Flagbearer!? I wanted to gif her/their entrance but couldn’t find a damn thing! She/They deserves more love!

Read on AO3 - Part 2 - Part 3

Darkness cloaks the Jardin des Tuileries. Even the cauldron floating above its center offers little illumination on the ground. Shadows play along the perimeter, tourists passing in the midnight hour, their idle conversations lost to the humid air. The soft patter of rain echoes across the masonry scattered throughout the empty park. Only the occasional creak of metallic plates and restless hoofbeats betray the garden’s solitary visitors.

The Flagbearer looks up at the orange orb in the sky. She marvels at the city’s ingenuity. Decades of oil and gas have finally given way to an electric fire. Only with such technological advancements could engineers even dream of safely flying the eternal flame above the City of Lights. If only the future was as assuredly bright, the Flagbearer thinks. Her gaze drifts back down to the darkness below, the surrounding chill creeping back into her senses. Her horse stirs beneath her and jostles her mind back to the present.

“Easy, Zeus,” she murmurs as she presses her legs to the animal’s sides in an attempt to soothe both their anxieties. “Patience.”

No Olympic Games are ever truly free of political problems, an inevitability of any gathering between disparate peoples, but they weigh heavier on the Flagbearer’s mind now more than ever. Her part in the Opening Ceremony is small but significant, and though she spends less time among the crowds than her eternal counterpart, she catches enough to gauge that tensions are higher than ever before. The darkness of the night seems to encroach and bleed into the darkness in her mind as she ponders human history and her role in it. Before her resolve could lurch under the gravity of her thoughts, the light crunch of gravel announces his arrival.

“You are late,” the Flagbearer intones harshly. She steers her steed to turn around and face the approaching footsteps.

Enough ambient light creeps across the park to distinguish the Torchbearer’s silhouette, catching on the gauzy pieces of his attire bobbing in the breeze. His stride is sure, his stature straight, betraying neither weariness nor arrogance. Only a few meters away, he shrugs and raises his palms out at his sides, teasing, “I did not have a ride.”

The Flagbearer is unmoved but in no mood to quarrel. “How are you, my love?” Her voice floats soft and light through the misty drizzle.

“Exhausted.” His shoulders slump fractionally, perceptible only to his eternal flame facing him. “And you?”

“Concerned.”

The Torchbearer reaches for the horse’s muzzle and runs a familiar hand along his nose. “I hope you are not as troubled as your rider, mon joli cheval.” Zeus bows his long head and huffs in response. His palm runs along the animal’s left flank, lifting once he reaches the Flagbearer’s side. He extends both hands to her gloved ones and helps her to the ground.

“What ails my sweet?” He pinches her chin.

She hums and takes one of his hands in both of hers, squeezing hard enough to convey her worry. “In all our years shepherding these games, did you ever know the atmosphere to be this—”

“I know. The world is—”

“Restless.”

“Yes, and—”

“Not at peace.”

“Never has been, my love.”

“I do not remember it ever being this—”

“Your worries are not unfounded, cherie, but you must redirect your attention elsewhere.”

They circle the base beneath the cauldron, hand in hand. Zeus follows close behind, his reins tied to the saddle. While the nightlife bustles beyond the park’s pocket of silence, the few security guards on duty watch the hooded figures from a distance.

Event organizers had explicitly and numerously instructed personnel not to approach or engage with the Torchbearer and Flagbearer. They were both host and blessing to the festivities, and decades of tradition dictated that a respectful, neutral distance be maintained between the host nation and the two Olympic guardians so that there would be no suspicion of impropriety or favoritism during competition.

The Flagbearer recoils, incredulous. “How can you be so indifferent to the violence and rhetoric—”

“I am surprised that between the two of us, you, in your glittering armor, are the first to lose hope and declare defeat.”

“I have not!” She stops them in their orbit and shoves his hand back to his side.

The Torchbearer laughs. He crooks a finger under her chin and raises her gaze. She sighs and closes her eyes as the backs of his fingers graze her cheek. Her hands come up to open and press his palm to the side of her face, his pressure more than his warmth a soothing balm to her inner turmoil. Her voice is low and leaden when she continues.

“I merely wonder if the gods have not tasked us with an impossible mission.”

The Torchbearer falls silent as he contemplates the Flagbearer’s concerns. She did not interact with humans as much as he did, a natural consequence of their separate roles. While the Olympic torch exchanged hands with every kind of man and woman, the Olympic flag exchanged hands with a significantly select few. As a result, the Flagbearer’s opinion of humanity often leaned towards the optimistic while the Torchbearer’s leaned towards the pessimistic. He had come to know, better than she, the complexities of human nature, their heavenly highs and their hellish lows. They spent decades arguing about the tenuous balance. Now, as he watches his partner’s shoulders sag with the weight of the world, he finds himself despondent that she seems poised to concede to his viewpoint and knows it, knows that she lost this one important battle. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and guides their walk away from the cauldron.

“Plus vite, Plus haute, Plus fort.” The Torchbearer rattles off the Olympic motto.

“Citius, Altius, Fortius, my dear. Latin may be dead, but it is still your mother tongue.”

“‘Ensemble.’ C’est la partie importante. And that is precisely what they are doing and continue to do.”

“But for how long? We do not have a future if they do not, and my darling, I do not see—”

“We cannot predict the future any more than humans can. It is none of our concern. The gods will take care of us.”

“The gods have abandoned us, just as the humans have abandoned them.” The Flagbearer catches the ice in her voice and does her best to warm her vitriol. “We do not exist outside these games, my love. And if these games end, if the world can find no purpose to these communal competitions—”

Silence. The specter of death looms large in their periphery. Every Closing Ceremony marks the end of their days on Earth, a return to a darkness beyond darkness. And every two years, they are reborn and reimagined back into existence to inspire and perform and protect the Olympic Games. Despite the constancy of this cyclical event, the eternal guardians find humans increasingly less hospitable to the ideals they represent. What is sportsmanship to a world where even the rules of war no longer hold?

“Steel your heart as this city has steeled your form.” The Torchbearer steps close enough for the edge of his hood to kiss hers. “The next host cities have been decided, their venues under construction. We still have a future. There is no reason to despair.”

“For now.”

“For now.” He sighs at her obstinacy, but knows not to push further or risk wasting precious moments on a fruitless fight. “In the meantime, the games have begun, and we do not have much time together.”

A smirk plays beneath the Flagbearer’s hood. She perks up at her partner’s motives. “Sixteen days is not enough to spend with you.” She steps closer and brings her forehead to his. She squeezes his biceps, and he rubs her elbows in return. They exchange breaths for a moment of eternity.

“Come.” The Torchbearer takes her hands and swings her in circles. Their laughs echo as they near the horse. “Much of the city has changed since we were last here, and you will not see them if you continue to sulk beneath the cauldron.”

The Flagbearer mounts Zeus and extends an arm to help the Torchbearer take a seat behind her. He presses his front to her back, unbothered by her damp cape. He slides his arms along either side of her waist and rests his hands atop hers on the horn of the saddle. The horse ambles forward towards the city streets.

Buoyed by the Torchbearer’s embrace, the Flagbearer regains a sliver of her hope and optimism. “The Italians will call on us next. Perhaps we will meet a changed world by then.”

“We always do. I wonder what forms they have planned for us.”

“I quite like this form on you, my dear. The cut of your jacket complements you well.”

“As does this armor on you, mon amour.” His hands find the edge of her cuirass and sneak nimble fingers to the suit underneath.

She giggles at the light pressure below her ribcage. “I will miss hearing you speak this city’s language.”

The Torchbearer tightens his hold on the Flagbearer, impressing his being into hers. “You worry about community and forget that we are in the City of Love.”

“Paris is not the world, my dear.” They sway in sync as Zeus carries them towards the edge of the garden.

“Perhaps, but the Olympic Village is, or at least, as close an approximation as the humans are capable of producing. If it is unity you seek, we will surely find a certain kind—”

“You said you were exhausted.” Amusement lightens the Flagbearer’s tone, her heavy mind now fizzy with thoughts of the Torchbearer’s amorous intentions.

“Never enough to deter me from you.” He presses his chin to her shoulder, his words vibrating down the expanse of her armor. “Would you waste the energy of the players’ liaisons?”

Her hood whips to the side as he squeezes the unarmored flesh of her upper thigh. Before she can answer, he takes the reins and brings Zeus to a gallop towards the Olympic Village.

“No more talk,” he heaves with urgency. “I need you before the sun rises and our duties begin again.”

Footnotes:

mon joli cheval - my pretty horse cherie - dear Plus vite, Plus haute, Plus fort (French) / Citius, Altius, Fortius (Latin) - Faster, Higher, Stronger ‘Ensemble.’ C’est la partie importante. (French) - ‘Together.’ That is the important part. mon amour - my love

“The 100% electric flame burns no fuel. The ring of fire uses 40 LED spotlights to illuminate the cloud created by 200 high-pressure misting nozzles.” (source)

According to the engineers who built the mechanical horse, its name is Zeus.

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 09: do you like sweets?

You are fully self-aware that you have delusional tendencies, but you know yourself well enough to think that you weren't that far gone yet to the point that you will start seeing your long distance crush right in front of you.

He's probably real.

Taking notice of your presence, Scaramouche then turned towards you. His face was hard to read, other hand holding his phone and the other inside the pockets of his denim pants. His oversized black shirt was tucked, highlighting his good figure.

'Holy. He's got good style too,' you thought. It was simple, yes. But he carries outfits so damn well.

But what is he even doing here in your uni?

Since an eye contact has already been made, you flashed a sheepish smile and a light wave. Your loud personality online was such a huge contrast in comparison to how you're actually behaving now.

He just stared. 'Oh. So he's the cold type. God, he's exactly my type.'

"Aren't you going in?" You snapped out of your musings upon hearing his voice.

"I was about to. I'm starving," you chuckled. He scoffed. "I could use a bit of food, too."

"We should eat at the birthday party then."

"Kazuha's?"

You nod.

He looked away. "Go and eat inside. I'll find another place to eat at."

You flashed a look of disbelief. Scaramouche raised a brow in confusion. "Dude, you're literally already at a restaurant and you still want to go somewhere else to eat?"

"And you're hungry, aren't you?"

He sighed. "Look, I don't know if you know this, but the one holding a party — well, we're not on the best of terms."

Oh. Yeah.

There's that thing.

How the fuck could you forget that the love of your life is from the rival of your brother's team?

"Ah," You nod again. He seemed to take it as you understanding his reasoning and turned the other way, attempting to head off.

If only you hadn't tugged at his shirt.

"What the?!"

You led him to a lone bench at the parking lot, lit warmly by the streetlight just directly above it. "Sit there and wait for me."

"Excuse me?" He hissed. "What am I? A dog?"

"Your words, not mine." You grinned. "Just do as I say, okay? It won't be long, I promise."

He was about to retort but you cut him off by hurriedly entering the lively restaurant.

When you got back, you easily spotted Scaramouche who was sitting comfortably on the bench where you left him. He immediately scooted over once he saw you.

"Wow," he remarked. "You know I actually doubted if you would even come back."

You chuckled as you sat and handed him his plate. "Do you have trust issues?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Oh, so you do."

He rolled his eyes.

Your late dinner with him was mostly filled with a comforting silence, with some bits of small talk in between. The only ones left on your plate were delectable desserts, as well as the little pieces of food you left out.

"Do you like sweets?"

"No," Scaramouche speedily replied. "They're disgusting."

You subconsciously frown. "Shame. I like them."

"You can have mine then," he says as he picks up his portion of desserts and transfers them to your plate. Unbeknownst to you, his observant gaze failed to miss how your eyes sparkled in delight at the sight of mouthwatering sweets.

As he did so, Scaramouche also spotted some leftovers on your plate. "Do you not like bitter stuff?"

"My tongue can't handle them."

"Give it to me then instead of wasting food, idiot."

You let out a laugh. "Is that your way of saying you like bitter stuff?"

The man just let out a quiet "tch" before taking a bite.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

SUMMARY —you find plenty of guys around you attractive, but there is only one you’re willing to make the first move on: the guy you first saw during your older brother’s soccer game. spoiler: he's a player from your rival university.

NOTES -> a lot has happened lmaoo i was so busy aaa -> i graduated hs finally :P -> i also submitted my requirements for college haha -> also can u guys believe i'm gonna be in college while my college smau is on going omg -> and apologies for ghosting HASDHADHA (also wtf fontaine livestream tomorrow already whaaat time flies so fast omg)

TAGLIST I (closed)

@lady-elodie @krnzysh @syriiina @unsterblich-prinz @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @lowkeyivorie @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

[webslingingslasher]

please angsty queen give us “ranting to a close friend/parent about what they're upset about before they make confrontation just to make sure they aren't overreacting” and “why are you looking at me like that” 🫢

more fluffy than angsty, but i still put some in there bestie.

*mcu peter

Dating a superhero was hard. 

Go figure, right? You don’t think anyone would think it’s easy but the big thing, the real problem in dating one, was that you felt like there was no way to bring up your issues without being selfish. Lately, there was no such thing as Peter time. Dates were pushed off or canceled, he would have you come all the way to his just so he can get pulled away, or get halfway to yours and bail. 

For two weeks straight it hasn’t felt like you had a boyfriend. 

But how do you tell him you feel neglected while he’s out there literally saving people? Hey, Pete? Oh yeah, no, no, it’s nothing, just feeling a little left out, can you stop that guy from dying and come cuddle? Yeah, it was hard. 

One side feels bad, the other is shameful. That side says that Peter could take time away, that he couldn’t always save everyone, that sometimes he could just leave things to the police. But that’s a dark side you’d never talk about, ever. 

You just really needed to talk about it, with anyone other than Peter. You couldn’t tell your boyfriend that he was lacking in his department because he was being a hero. 

“MJ, thank god.” She was the best person to talk to, she took no sides and told it how it was. She could also keep a secret, the only time you let a person play a fence is MJ, she knows too much to ever pick a side. 

“Hola,” She snaps a piece of her apple off, and looks down at her book. Your head looks around the lunchroom, curly hair is nowhere to be found, you need to speak quickly. 

“I need your advice,” you lick your lips and lean forward, she dog ears the page she’s on and closes the book, “go on,” paranoid you look around once more. 

“It’s about Peter.” 

MJ flickers her eyes up, a hand is placed on your shoulder, a kiss dropped on the top of your head. 

“What’s about Peter?” 

You freeze, he’s Spider-Man but you swear he’s rubbed a sixth sense onto you, you just knew he’d pop up. 

“Your birthday’s coming up,” he laughs and sits next to you, “no it’s not,” you look to MJ for support, she gives none, you picked a shitty excuse. “It’s like, seven months away, we have to start planning.” 

Peter takes a bite of your sandwich, “now? Who are you inviting, the whole city?” 

You tsk, “there goes the surprise.” 

You reach to steal a fry, he lets you take three. “You’re lying and wanna talk to MJ about me, don’t you, squidward?” 

Your nose scrunches, “is it normal to let the other person know you’re about to shit talk them in a relationship?”

 Peter thinks about it, MJ watches with a smirk, “I don’t think so, it’s normal to vent.” 

“Do you ever shit talk me?” 

He looks into your eyes, you don’t want to know, “I wouldn’t call it shit talk, MJ, would you call it shit talk?” 

She swallows a bite of apple, “nah, you more panic call than anything.” 

Peter hums and looks at you, “five minutes good?” 

You tilt your head, “to do what?” 

Peter nods at MJ, “to shit talk, I’ll leave five minutes before lunch ends, if that’s enough time.” 

You look him up and down trying to figure out his game, he seems sincere. “You seem really okay with this, I don’t trust it.” 

He shrugs, “babe, we’ve been together long enough. I know you’re not mad at me, I can tell, so I don’t think the conversation could be too damaging.” 

You’re still weary, “fine, five minutes.” 

Peter leans to press a kiss to your temple, “deal,” he looks to MJ, “hey, what was that thing Jason whispered to you in class?” 

MJ cackles, “okay, listen to this,” you follow in conversation until Peter looks at his watch, he kisses your cheek, “times up, see you later.” 

He sends a salute to MJ and finds his way to the double doors, pushing out. 

“Yeah, I could see how you’d want to shit talk him.” 

You groan, “he makes it so hard! Like, this is why I need to talk to you, I feel so evil when I think about telling him bad things.” 

“Okay, what’s up then?” 

“I don’t feel like I have a boyfriend anymore, MJ.” Her eyes widened, “oh shit.” You sigh, “he’s constantly running out on me, canceling dates, not replying for hours at a time, and I feel so shitty because I get so annoyed but I know he’s doing it for a good reason.” 

“And you’d feel selfish telling him because you know what he’s doing when he cancels.” 

You point, “ding, ding, ding. I’m just getting to this place where I feel like I’m being neglected. I don’t like feeling like everytime I’m with my boyfriend I’m on borrowed time. MJ, I…” The words burnt your tongue but it’s a thought that's been on your mind, “MJ, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

MJ frowns, she couldn’t imagine you two not being together, you just made sense. 

“Want my opinion?” 

You nod, MJ clears her throat and shuffles forward. Her hands intertwined and rested on the table, “He’s Spider-Man, but he also needs to be Peter Parker. You deserve to have time with your boyfriend, he needs you to tell him that he’s not splitting his time enough. It doesn’t make you selfish to want Peter.” 

“I should tell him, you think?” 

“If you don’t it’ll turn into resentment, then there’s no coming back.” 

You accept her advice, it confirms how you’ve been feeling, you’ll talk to him and he’ll fix it, then it’ll be okay. 

—-----------------------------

Peter caught you after lunch, his hand wrapped yours and he placed a kiss to the back of it. 

“Consensus?” 

“We should talk.” Peter wouldn’t admit it, but that made his stomach drop. You were talking about him to a friend and then said those words, it didn’t sit well with him, a wave of panic hit him, he didn’t want to talk to you, he was scared of what you would say. 

“Yeah, of course, baby. After school? You can come over, May’s gonna be out all night, we have the place to ourselves.” 

It sounds like a perfect opportunity, if you play your cards right Peter may even spend the whole night home with you. You press up on your feet to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “sounds perfect,” it settled his nerves some. 

He felt even better when you sat on his lap during the train ride, your arm wrapped out his neck, his own was wrapped around your waist, sharing headphones you rested your head against his. Peter felt like you were loving up on him, and you were, but mostly because you felt touch starved from him, and this was the first time in a while you had him all by yourself. 

Peter tapped your thigh when his stop came up, you stood with his hand intertwined with yours. They swung the whole walk back, talking about school and May’s new friend from work, throwing in plans for the weekend, it sent a small pang to your heart, you were scared of them failing. 

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, his backpack sitting on a bar chair. “What’s up?” 

“I, uh,” you pause to think of the right words, “I’ve been feeling a little-” Peter’s police scanner went off, a bank robbery. You felt the air leave your lungs, you couldn’t even talk about the problem because of the problem. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I need to go.” He dashed to his room, quickly stripping to get his suit on. You couldn’t handle it anymore, you follow him and stop him as he’s pulling his suit up his waist. 

“Peter, I really need to talk to you.” 

His eyes flit to yours, he pulls his arm through a sleeve. “Baby, I gotta go. We can talk later.” 

You feel bold, maybe this is the wrong time but MJ is right, resentment is building. 

“No, Peter, we need to talk.” 

He presses his chest, his suit conforms. You hate the sight of it right now, a thought of hiding it passes by. 

“And we can talk later, there’s nothing pressing. I have to go.” 

“Our relationship is pressing, Peter.” 

His eyes narrow, “are you saying it’s on the line?” 

You look at the window behind him, “it will be if you leave.” 

The scanner bleats in the quiet room, they’re requesting back up. Tension is building, you both are die hard on your stances, neither wanting to bend. 

“I need to go, someone could need me.” 

Your words cry out, like you’re pleading to him, “I need you!” 

Peter breathes in and out, he feels bad but he’s needed elsewhere, you’ll be okay, others might not. 

“You have me, I promise. But, really baby, I need to go.” 

You blink tears in your eyes, you’re telling him you need him and he’s leaving, he’s ignoring, he’s brushing you off, he’s not taking you seriously. 

He pulls his window open, you can’t believe he’s leaving. 

“If you go then I’m leaving, I’m not going to wait around for you. Not anymore.” 

Peter doesn’t know what that means, “promise me you’ll stay here, I’ll come right back, I promise. Then I’m all yours, okay?” 

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, swinging off before you could even get words out. It hurt, and he didn’t believe you. He thinks he can just get away with things, that no matter what he did or how long he disappeared you’d be waiting. 

Well, he was wrong. You didn’t need this, not anymore. This time, Peter could come to you, you tried and he refused to listen. If he wanted this relationship then he’d fight for it like he did Spider-Man. 

You packed your things and left, when Peter came home an hour later you were gone without a trace, he tried to call you but all he got was your voicemail. 

—---------------------------

The next morning he came, almost, running up to you. “Hey! I tried calling you last night.” You didn’t sound nearly as happy to see him as he was, “I know, I ignored you.” His eyebrows pinched, “why?” You pushed the arm he had around your shoulder off, it was petty but you were proving a point, things weren’t fine and you won’t pretend they were. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me, I didn’t want to talk to you.” 

Peter hated to fight, this was bordering on fight territory, he wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

“Hey, if this is about last night I’m sorry, I really am. Come over later, I promise I’ll listen.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “you know, Peter, I’m really tired of you promising me your time then taking it away.” 

“I’m not doing it on purpose, you saw how it went down yesterday, there was nothing I could do.” 

There was, it was to choose that you were the more important thing at the time.

“Peter, it’s getting really hard to have a boyfriend I can’t rely on.” 

Internal panic hits again. “What does that mean?” 

You look him over, “it means I don’t really want to talk to you today.” And with that, you walk away. 

—---------------------

Peter was in a funk all day, you stayed true to your word and stayed away unless you needed to talk to him. He understood that what you needed to talk to him about was important, so he decided it was important to him too, he also really missed holding your hand all day. 

You weren’t even home for four hours before he was knocking at your door, Peter could deprive himself from you fine, but when he was aware of it he counted every second. Your plan worked. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Please talk to me, I miss you.” 

You opened your door and gestured for him to come in, he followed you right to your bedroom. He takes a seat on your bed and looks at you expectantly. You didn’t know how to start, you just tried being honest.

“I feel like you don’t spend time with me anymore.” Your words were small, you feel so selfish. 

“I don’t-” 

“For the past couple weeks I’ve felt like I didn’t have a boyfriend, it feels like everytime we hang out you run out on me for something Spidey related. And I hate telling you this, I’ve been bottling it up but MJ said it would lead to resentment and I don’t want to resent you and ruin the relationship, so even though I feel really selfish I just have to tell you this.” 

He’s waiting on you, he’s letting you speak your mind. 

“I know you’re doing important things, and I know the city needs you but I need Peter. I need my boyfriend, I need to have date nights and personal time and I need to not feel neglected.” 

You’re rambling, you need him to talk. He’s looking at you weird, it’s a new look, you can’t place it. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Peter feels choked on words, “I’m sorry. I’m just… really sorry.” 

“I don’t know how to tell you without feeling bad. I don’t want you to feel like you have to make a choice, I don’t want you to choose, I just want-” 

“-Me to choose you sometimes.” 

You breathe out, “yeah.” 

“I get it. I may be Spider-Man but you’re dating Peter, and you need him more right now. I can do that, I’ll plan things better. We can do a designated date night, nothing but earth ending situations can break it. And from now on maybe Spidey doesn’t need to go out for every cop call.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip, “really?” 

He reaches forward to grab your hand, “I don’t want you to resent me and I don’t want you to resent Spidey, I just get so caught up in it sometimes, I need you to ground me.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“For needing me and wanting to spend more time with me, your boyfriend? I could never. Let’s make a schedule, we can plan around Spider-Man. I could do a few hours with you after school then do Spidey after you leave? Or if you want I could-” 

You cut him off with a kiss and thirty minutes later he’s on top of you kissing up and down your neck, his lips ground themselves to yours, you can’t remember the last time he’s touched you like this. His hands slide up your shirt and you exhale into his mouth, you jump when his scanner goes off. 

“All units to Goldburg’s Golds and Gems, active robbery and hostage in progress.” The radio scratched the voice of the operator, Peter barley breaks from your mouth, you hold your breath and wait for the apology, the promise of one last time. 

Instead he reaches out to the scanner and turns it off, he returns to kissing you, then trails down your neck. 

“You sure you don’t need to go?” 

Peter’s words vibrate against your collarbone, “let NYPD’s finest handle it, my girl needs me more.” 

With that he tugs your shirt off.