#and in the end he sits alone in her truck with a milkshake (instead of a bentley with a ficus) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏 (𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐈𝐝𝐨𝐥! 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞/ 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓.𝟓𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭��𝐬

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Taking the milkshake glasses off the counter and making sure the space was throughly wiped down and sanitized, San's eyes looked up when the familiar midnight blue Nissan sedan, whose model he'd never given a damn to memorize, parked in front of the restaurant, signaling the arrival of the person working the closing shift that day. His heart practically somersaulted when he caught glimpse of the soft, silky [insert color] hair stepping out of the vehicle, the owner such pretty hair owning an equally beautiful face. While his heart pounded, his stomach turned sick when he saw the driver come out as well, going over to where she was, whispering a goodbye in her ear. To anyone passing by, it'd look like a normal couple, a boyfriend bringing his girlfriend to work and giving her a kiss, no doubt promising to pick her up later.

But San knew better.

His eyes always caught on to the way she stepped back slightly, her arm folding across her body when his hand reached out to caress it, his fingers no doubt gripping down harshly on her skin. She didn't kiss him back, she just allowed him to place his lips momentarily on hers before patting her cheek lightly with his palm and soon going back to his vehicle and driving away. He watched her take a deep breath before she felt ready to go inside and start her shift.

"Hey Y/N!" He did his usual friendly and warm way of greeting her, his smiling eyes and dimples putting a genuine smile on her own somber countenance.

"Hi San. How's it been?" She inquired as she punched her number in.

Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed.

"Same as almost every Wednesday. Dead, boring and mostly the regulars or just travelers."

She shook her head, already mentalizing herself that it'd be another day spent cleaning what's already clean and over stocking the merchant just to pass time. She went inside the office to put on her uniform shirt and apron. San in no way ever peeked in to see her cause he was a pervert, he respected her and would never allow himself to think of any inappropriate scenarios involving her. However, he would always sneak a tiny glance every now and then for one particular reason. Tilting his head slightly so he could see through the tiny cracked door, he watched her take off her denim jacket and felt his grip tighten on the glass cup he was currently drying when he spotted some purple blotches on her bicep. He immediately looked away as he did not want to get angry in front of her. He hastily put the cup back in the shelf under the counter, throwing the rag onto the marble counter in a rather aggressive manner.

"Ok San, tell me what needs to be finished."

Coming out in full uniform and hair held up with her usual choice of a colored scrunchie, this day choosing yellow, Y/N looked at her coworker and waited for him to give her a task.

"Nothing really except wait on customers. I already stocked the fridge and pulled out the stuff needed from the freezer."

He was always doing that, doing not only his side workload but also hers, which more often than not had her pouting at him.

"So I'll just be bored to death?" She huffed.

Chuckling, San stepped closer to her, making sure to keep an elbow distance from her, knowing she tended to get apprehensive when someone came to close to her than she was comfortable with.

"Not really. There's plenty of things to amuse yourself with. Besides.......maybe now you won't hurt yourself so much from lifting heavy objects..."

His tone lowered involuntarily at that last part. He knew very well the bruises weren't cause she'd accidentally hit herself on the railings in the back because she lost her balance carrying stuff in and out of the freezer. She herself tensed up a little at his words.

"Oh right......heh.....clumsy me right?" She tried to plaster an unfazed smile on her face, only succeeding about halfway.

Unable to control his movements, San's hand reached out to tuck some of the hair slipping out of her ponytail behind her ear. It hurt him to no end when she flinched slightly at his movement, he could feel her tensing up when his fingers made contact with her temple. As he squinted his eyes, he could make out the uneven patch of concealer and powder on the area close to her hairline, a tiny hue of reddish purple peeking slightly through. She relaxed when he finally retreated his hand.

"Just try to be careful and take care of yourself. I don't like seeing you get hurt."

She probably didn't know, or maybe she did, he was painfully obvious when it came to her, that he meant what he said in more ways than one.

"You too....see you San."

Once more, he held himself back from blurting out everything that was kept in his chest, instead opting for giving her a farewell and going out to the parking lot to get inside his red 1989 Ford f150 and drive over to his friend's house, the bunch of them waiting for him to complete his shift and come over to their place.

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"Aish seriously San, just forget about her. Plenty of fish in the sea." One of the pair of giants told him as he chugged back the remnants in his bottle.

"And you have a lot of fish waiting for you to reel in your rod so they can bite right in." His friend sitting next to him wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Stop you guys." San pushed the blonde away.

"Mingi and Wooyoung are right though San. You have girls and guys lined up all willing to drop their pants for you at anytime. Lucky bastard." Yunho, the other half of the giant squad chuckled lowly.

"I don't want any of them though... you guys don't understand." San looked down at the floor.

The other blonde haired male in the room, Yeosang, rolled his eyes at him, unable to understand his infatuation for the girl.

"You've been pining for her since high school. When are you going to let her go? She chose and still chooses to this day Lee Taeyong."

Slamming his fist on the table, San angrily looked at him.

"Don't fucking mention that asshole's name near me!"

Everyone grew quiet, the members who were bordering on getting tipsy suddenly sobering completely up as if there was absolutely no drop of alcohol in their system. San was usually a very friendly and sweet person, but he was also sensitive and emotional, and lately he'd manifest it through anger and rage, and it was truly terrifying to them. But they knew he had reasons for lashing out like that. They knew his hatred for Taeyong, not just for being able to score the girl he'd been in love with for ages, San would have stayed content and wholeheartedly happy had she'd been loved and cared for like she deserved to be. But instead, he had to watch as she was constantly belittled and sometimes shoved hardly into the ground, landing her scraped knees or bruised palms. He could only imagine what went on behind closed doors.

"San......you have to accept reality, all of us do whether we like it or not. Her friends aren't blind to what's happening to her. Teacher's at university aren't either, they've all tried approaching her about it.....she won't listen to anyone." Yunho decided to finally say what everyone was thinking.

"She doesn't deserve it! It's toxic and sick!" He cried out in desperation.

"But ultimately it's her choice........ you can't force her to get help or leave if she doesn't want to. She's been with him for years."

Unwilling to hear anymore, San quickly picked up his leather jacket and stormed out the house. He drove the streets like a mad man, his fist hitting the steering wheel every time he stopped at a red light. He would have continued his angry drive back to his place had he not spotted an all too familiar denim jacket walking on the road. Slowing down the truck, he pulled closer to the right side and stopped right in front of the figure trembling in the cold night air.

"Y/N?" He rolled down his window so she wouldn't be startled by some stranger suddenly pulling up next to her.

"Oh! Hey San!" She said through chattering teeth.

"You're walking home all alone?" He could not believe this.

"Uh....yeah! My boyfriend got caught up at work....didn't want to bother him so I'm walking home...it's not that far!" She tried to sound reassuring, but he could see right through her.

"You want a ride?" He offered.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it'd be a good idea or not.

"Hey it's ok. I'm not going to kidnap you or anything. I'll just drive you straight home. We don't even have to talk if you don't want. Just you, me and some old jams playing on the radio all right?"

Unable to resist that dimple smile that always made her feel fuzzy inside, she allowed him to open the door for her from the inside. After giving him her address, she found he stayed true to his word and just drove in silence the entire time. She was kinda thankful for it. She was tired after her shift, exhausted from walking and from how late it was, and more than anything, she felt like she was going to spill tears any minute if she even got out a single word. She felt worn out, her head resting on the window, eyes opening and closing as tiredness began to overtake her. She only awoke when she felt a light hand caress her cheek. In other circumstances, she would have immediately swatted the hand away and pushed the face near her own as far away as possible. But she didn't do that, she felt strangely safe and protected by the male next to her as he brushed some hair off her face.

"We're here. Safe and sound just like I promised."

Safe.........

For some reason she felt anything but safe as she looked at the house in front of her.

"Thanks San." She smiled weakly at him as she began taking off her seat belt.

"Call me if you ever need a ride. I mean it. I don't want you catching a cold...or-or worse..." He admitted.

"Thank you, really. Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

She took slow steps to the front door, San didn't drive away until he confirmed she was inside. With a heavy heart, he drove away back to his place, unaware that the girl he dropped off was watching through the peephole his departure, still staying there moments after he had disappeared from sight. She sighed despondently as she dropped her bag onto the floor, slumping her body onto the couch as it was useless to try to go sleep in the bedroom given the pornographic moans and thumping noises coming from inside it. Wouldn't be the first or last time she came home to such sounds. She simply curled up into a fetus position, falling asleep in the usual way:

Tears falling out of the corners of her eyes.

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"What do you mean she's not coming?"

San nervously gulped as his boss told him Y/N's boyfriend called to say she had a little accident and couldn't go in that day. He knew it was bullshit and he was going to find out what really happened. After going to classes the next day, he actively searched around campus for any signs of her or Taeyong. After asking around, a girl motioned to the football field, saying that's where they'd often go to at times. San squinted his eyes as he looked all over for them, finally spotting them near the bleachers. His fist tightened as he watched Taeyong once again put his filthy hands on Y/N, shoving her to the ground, making her land face first, her palms outstretched and scraping against the grass under her. He watched as Taeyong simply walked away, leaving her there, not caring about if she was seriously injured or not. Unable to hide any longer, San sauntered over to her, his arms picking her up from the ground.

"Y/N it's me!"

He didn't mean to shout at her, but having her scream and cover her head protectively gave him no other option. He nearly began crying himself when she lifted her head, her eyes full of fear and panic.

"Oh! It's you San! Sorry for that!"

As she stood up, she began dusting the dirt off, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ankle. Faking a smile, she giggled nervously.

"Clumsy me again, tripping on some-"

"Y/N stop lying to yourself. I saw everything."

Her face darkened at his words, her eyes becoming glued to the floor as she avoided his gaze like she did the others. She hated seeing their pitiful stares and shameful eyes, she believed San probably had the same look as well. She couldn't be more wrong as his eyes just looked at her in despair and agony.

"Why? Why do you put up with it? Why do you stay with him? Why do you torture yourself like this?.....

Why do you love him?"

He asked that last question more to himself than her. Y/N crossed her right arm over her chest, her hand clutching her left bicep as she gently massaged the muscle there. San knew it was the same bruised arm he had seen a few days ago, it was probably even more battered up than the last time he saw it.

"I can't......I don't know....."

Seeing her struggling to form words, San opted for gently hovering his hands around her, maneuvering and ushering her to sit on the bleachers without ever laying a single finger on her. Opening his backpack, he took out the mini first aid kit his older friend, Seonghwa, had given him, actually deciding to put it to use for once.

"I'm going to clean these scrapes ok?"

He looked at her and waited til she gave him permission to touch her. She did not flinch away at all when he began wiping off the dirt and blood accumulated on her knee or hands, only momentarily when he applied the disinfectant spray on her wounds.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine.......I'm used to hurting...." She finally admitted.

He wanted to speak up again, but found it hard to find the right words. He focused on applying ointment on her wounds and bandaging them up nicely.

"How long has he pushed you around?" He needed to know.

"Started 3 months after we became official.....but even before that, he'd often tease me and what not........ it doesn't hurt ....." She lied once more.

"The Y/N I knew never lied even to save her life. Sad how someone like him managed to change that." He finished wrapping the gauze around her knee.

"I haven't changed at-"

"Yes you have." He interrupted once again.

"The Y/N from then was a cheerful, happy ray of sunshine known for her bubbly personality and kindness to others. She loved going out with friends and hated staying indoors for too long. She was always honest and ready to help anyone in need, especially cute abandoned animals, she was a real softie for them."

She chuckled softly at his words, not denying any of it.

"I still am soft for them." She corrected him.

"But you're no longer happy. You're sad, somber and being in pain all because of an asshole who doesn't deserve you.......he doesn't deserve your love."

Although she heard him and wanted to believe his words, her mind blocked out such reasoning.

"But he does love me.......he swears it....every time it happens, he apologizes and promises-"

"It's all lies Y/N! He doesn't love you! If he loved you he wouldn't hurt you physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be the reason why you're only a shell of the person you used to be. He doesn't love you and he'll never love you..."

She let his words sink, trying to digest what he was saying.

"I know because I've loved you for so long and I'd never even think about putting you through half of what he has."

She whipped her head up at his words, seeing the earnest and emotion in his eyes as he finally confessed what was in his heart.

"San......" She was left speechless.

He teared up, scoffing at himself as a dry smile formed on his face.

"You have no idea how much it hurts seeing you be in pain and not able to do anything about it. Having you flinch at my touch when all I want is to comfort and hold you."

Without thinking, he cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that began falling down her eyes.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N. You can't spend the rest of your life living in fear and chained to someone who just wants to make you suffer. You can't allow someone to take away your joy and peace of mind. You shouldn't be afraid to be free and enjoy life. You deserve to be happy and loved."

He used his last bit of self control he had and stopped himself when he leaned his face too close to hers, his nose brushing against hers, expecting her to shiver away from his touch, but instead she seemed to wait for his next move. Knowing he'd never forgive himself for it, he pulled back, leaving her disappointed and himself in agony.

"Please take care..."

Taking off his leather jacket, he placed it on her back, fanning out the sleeves so it'd cover her shoulders. Then he turned around and began walking away from her, shoulders slumped down and heart aching to go back and just take her away for good. But he resolved himself not to. Not until she specifically asked him to.

When Y/N finally got back to her place, Taeyong wasn't there. He was probably spending the night at one of his side chick's place, no doubt getting buzzed and high out of his mind. Her soft bed no longer comforted her, so instead she slid down and sat on the floor, hugging her knees and occasionally running a finger through the fabric of San's jacket. His scent was still on it and every time she inhaled it, it had a soothing and calming effect on her mind and heart that soon helped her tense body relax until she felt sleepy. It took a lot of effort, but she climbed into her bed, not bothering to cover herself with the blanket or change into more comfortable and less confining clothes.

San's jacket was the only comforting thing at that moment......

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Nudging him with his elbow, Yeosang whispered to the male next to him the presence of the girl that was slowly approaching them. Always reacting to anything related to her, San turned his head and smiled softly when he saw Y/N walking up to him.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"Hi.....I came to return this. Thanks for letting me borrow it." She held out his leather jacket, neatly folded and visible clean.

"Oh Y/N, you really didn't need to go that far." San became shy at her gesture, and worried about if she washed it cause he had forgotten to and it disgusted her.

"Don't say that. It's the least I can do for all you've done..."

She looked up at his eyes as she said that, her heart fluttering when he rested his hand on top of hers when he tried to take back his treasured article of clothing, letting it stay there for a moment, his fingers giving her hand a light squeeze. His friend behind him looked back and forth between the both of them, confused by what was going on and internally gagging at their mushy scene.

"I wanted to say thank-"

"Y/N!"

The voice calling out for her roared in her ears, sending her into a panic mode as she pulled away immediately from his physical contact. San noticed the way her body tensed up and her eyes became afraid. His own eyes narrowed at the icy blue haired man strutting up to them, a chilling smile on his manga like visuals.

"Hey baby, I've been looking all over for you. What were you doing?" He asked in a concerning tone, face bearing down on hers rather uncomfortably.

"I- I was j-just giving San back this.." She stammered as she gestured to the jacket in her hand.

Letting out a barely audible scoff, Taeyong gripped the jacket, prying it off her delicate fingers before tossing it back to San.

"Thanks bud."

San glared at him, resisting the urge to throw a punch to his face. Seeing him unresponsive, Taeyong just shrugged and suspiciously wrapped an arm around Y/N.

"Come on babe. Let's go back home."

His fingers dug into her skin, applying very painful pressure to her bruise, an occasional whimper coming out of her mouth as they walked across the football field. San's jaw tightened as he watched Taeyong lean in and whispered something in her ear, no doubt some degrading words judging by the way she cowered beneath him.

"San just let it go." Yeosang's voice said.

"I can't Yeosang. Every time I see him even breathe near her.......I feel like combusting." He grunted in frustration as his friend tried to calm him down.

"Taeyong, please stop. It really hurts." Y/N cried out, her fingers prying his hand off her aching arm.

"Shut up you little bitch. How dare you go talk to that punk? Making me look bad and having me talk to that low life." He cringed in disgust.

"I was only thanking him for lending me-"

"So what? Were you going to lend yourself to him too? Is that what you were going over to him for?"

She instantly shook her head.

"What?! No!"

"Yeah right. I bet you already whored yourself out to him...didn't you?!"

Not caring that there was still people nearby, Taeyong harshly yanked her by her hair before tossing her onto the ground, catching the attention of everyone around, including San and Yeosang.

"Fucking whore." He spat at her.

"Don't." Yeosang held his hand out when he saw San taking a step forward.

"But I can't-"

Yeosang kept an arm around him to keep him in place.

"Don't get involved. You'll only make things worse."

San looked back at the scene, his heart breaking seeing Y/N once again on the floor, trembling like a frightened kitten who had no protection. When she looked up, he saw tears already brimming down her face.

"Get up. We're going home." Taeyong sternly commanded, turning to walk away as usual.

"No."

He stopped dead in his tracks at her refusal.

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Not knowing how or where she got the strength from, Y/N got up and faced him with determination.

"I've finally had enough."

Both San and Yeosang were shocked at hearing her words, one of them more incredulous than anything and the other proud of her for finally standing up for herself. Taeyong too was put out of sorts seeing her be so bold.

"Haha, real funny baby. Now let's go home." He walked closer to her, reaching out to yank her arm, but she slapped it away.

"No! I told you! I've had it! It's over!" She declared.

Sensing he was really losing his power and control over her, Taeyong lunged at her, fist held up in the air.

"Listen here you-"

Y/N covered her face, stepping back when he came close to her. She opened her eyes and uncovered herself when she felt someone suddenly step in front of her, their hand blocking Taeyong's fist from even approaching her.

"Stay out of this Choi." Taeyong grunted.

"She told you it's over Taeyong."

San easily pushed him away single handedly, making him stumble backwards.

"Now leave and never bother her again."

Not giving up yet, Taeyong looked back at Y/N menacingly.

"And do tell me Y/N? If it's over, where are you going to live now?" He taunted her.

Realizing he was right, she almost felt defeated until San spoke up again.

"She's going to live with me." He firmly answered.

"I fucking knew it. You were being a whore with him."

Unable to hold himself back anymore, San swung hard, fist colliding with Taeyong's face, sending him falling down against the floor. Y/N covered her mouth as she gasped sharply when San picked Taeyong back up from his collar, shaking him fiercely.

"Call her that one more time! I dare you to!" He warned him as he got ready to take another swing.

"San stop!" He felt Yeosang intervene once again, holding his elbow with his hands.

"Yeosang! Just let me-"

"Stop for Y/N's sake, she's already seen and lived enough violence, I really don't think she needs to see any more." Yeosang tilted his head to the Y/N who had already began backing as far away as possible.

Realizing his friend was right, San begrudgingly let go of his most hated rival.

"Try to come near her again and I will end you."

With those final words, he went over to where Y/N was, his face softening up when he looked at her. He held out his hand to her and waited for her response. He felt happy when she finally reached out and allowed him to guide her out to the parking lot, and thankful that he decided to park somewhere where there weren't a lot of people.

"You all right?" He finally spoke up when they were finally inside his truck

"Uh...yeah...actually...I'm fine.... can you believe I actually did it?"

Although she sounded enthusiastic, he heard the crack in her voice and her nervous laughter wasn't helping her case. Instead of turning the car on, he shifted to his right to look at her. He watched as the smile left her face, her fidgeting hands suddenly shake uncontrollably and her laughter suddenly turned to her hyperventilating. Knowing what was happening, San immediately pulled her into an embrace for the very first time in his life, holding her tightly, hands running through her hair as she began breaking down, sobbing violently, finally releasing all the pent up pain and suffering she had been bottling up for years.

San himself wanted to cry, but he didn't for her sake. He just let her cry her eyes out. It took a little over 10 minutes, but finally she started to calm down.

"Thank you....for everything."

Kissing her forehead, he poked her nose and smiled at her.

"Don't mention it. Let's get you somewhere warm now."

He made sure to play soothing music for her on the ride to his house. He noticed how once again she was drifting off to sleep and simply allowed her rest, knowing she was probably exhausted not only from crying so much but also from standing up to her abusive ex boyfriend moments ago. That certainly took a lot of energy and strength from her part and he was proud of her.

It was already dark when they got home, the brooding and cloudy day shortening the daylight and making it night at such an early hour. San gently picked up Y/N and got her out of the car, carrying her sleeping figure bridal style inside his house. It was small, but at least it was cozy and would be safe for her. Peeling back the covers from his bed, he carefully laid her down on it before tucking her in. When he made sure she'd be comfortable, he turned to leave the room, deciding it'd be better for him to sleep on the couch, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or have her freak out. He barely got to the door when he heard a tiny and hushed whisper of his name.

"San?"

He immediately looked over to see what she needed.

"Could.....could you please sleep by my side?.... I'd feel more safe that way..."

She didn't want to admit it right then, but it had been so long since she'd slept in someone's arms and she really craved physical affection from him. Happy to oblige, San went over and got into bed with her.

"Are you going to be ok if I wrap my arm around you?" He asked for permission first.

"Please just hold me." She begged as she cuddled up next to him, her face burying inside his chest.

He wasted no time in throwing his arm around her, his delicate fingers drawing soothing circles on her arm.

"Don't be afraid. You're safe now and you're going to be all right. I'm here and I'll protect you."

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

More than a year passed. It was a long and arduous process. At first Y/N didn't want to go through it, but San kept insisting she get therapy. After promising to accompany her and staying by her, she finally gave up and started seeing a psychologist. It wasn't easy, for neither of them. It was painful for her to finally speak up about all the abuse she endured for years and it was equally torturous for San to hear the rest of the untold story. It truly sickened him that one day he nearly busted Taeyong's face when he met him outside the school, but was ultimately held back once more by one of his friends. Besides his main priority was helping Y/N, helping her to properly function again and to bring a little more joy into her life, even going out to adopt a cat for her, naming her Byeol. She became their cute little baby, even if she was a total, well, cat at times and didn't want to cuddle.

"That's ok. I know a cat willing to cuddle me." Y/N chuckled.

San looked around confused.

"Wait! You got another cat? Where is- Oh! You meant me." He blushed hard when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body next to his as she snuggled next to him on the couch.

San did not hope for and did not expect Y/N to ever return his feelings, he was satisfied with her just being out of that horrible situation and being able to help her. Never did he dream she'd ever accept to be his and especially not ever cross his mind that he'd ever be able to actually claim her as his own.

But here she was, looking so beautiful underneath his body, wearing nothing but his leather jacket as he rolled his hips against hers. His fingers were laced with hers as his lips pulled apart from hers so he could look at her.

"Fuck...you're so damn pretty."

He leaned back in to place open mouth kisses on her jaw that traveled down to her neck. Although he nibbled occasionally, he made sure not to leave any marks on her soft and delicate skin.

"San...." She breathed out heavily, her hands breaking from his grasp to run through his black hair, paying close attention to the faded green streaks near his bangs.

"Oh god- please repeat that a little more." He groaned, loving the way she called out his name with such lust.

One of his hands traveled down her sides to cup one of her thighs, lifting her leg so he could hit deeper inside her. Feeling him at a whole new angle had Y/N gripping his muscly arms, her panting now becoming more erratic as she began clenching around him.

"San-" She called out again.

He chuckled slightly, hips snapping up to thrust just a little harder in her.

"Go ahead beautiful. Cum all over me, I want to feel you."

Hearing his low and suddenly husky voice urging her on, she let out a tiny whimper, her legs wrapping around his waist, using it as leverage to ride out her high. Her nails raked themselves into his back, her body pressed as close as it could be against his.

"Oh my god!" He gasped out as he twitched inside of her, his cum coating her walls, leaving her feeling full and complete.

He collapsed on top of her, his labored breathing occasionally resulting in a little choke as he tried to compose himself. When he finally came to, he brushed his lips against her temple.

"I love you so much."

She smiled at him as he adjusted the jacket that enveloped her, a real genuine smile.

"I love you too Sannie."

Giving her a tiny peck, he began sliding the jacket off.

"Let's get you out of this. It's probably too hot to be wearing it anymore."

She huffed and pouted.

"Baby no. I love wearing it. It feels like it's hugging me." She grabbed it and wrapped it around her more tightly.

"You know what else wants to hug you? My arms. So take off the jacket and let me snuggle you love."

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

For Forever (2/2)

read on ao3

***

When Max had walked into the sheriff’s station to find Michael behind a cell, Michael had fully expected the resigned sigh.

“Seriously?” he asked. “I thought you were done with this.”

“Long got in my way.”

Max faltered. “Michael, tell me you didn’t actually throw Forrest into a window.”

Michael’s eye twitched at the idea, and the corner of his lips tugged upward in a smirk. “No,” he said, and Max’s shoulders slumped. “No, but his cousin is just as much fun to toss over a pool table.”

Max leaned against a desk, his arms crossed. A moment of silence, then, “You want to talk about it?”

“I was having a drink and he bumped into me,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Not much to talk about.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Max said quietly.

Michael’s smirk turned smaller. He knew exactly what his brother meant. Didn’t mean he had to answer.

“You look worse than yesterday, did you see Alex or something?”

Michael’s heart gave a traitorous thump in his chest at the mere mention of Alex’s name. “Saw him. We chatted.”

Max looked concerned. “About what?”

“Why does it matter?”

Max leveled him with his dark eyes. “About what, Michael?”

Michael swallowed, and sniffed, looking away. It seemed different now, talking to Max. Ever since he’d almost lost him, he realized how badly he’d needed him. He was good at that; being the genius when it was too late for it to matter anymore.

“He ended things.”

Max’s brows pinched together. “I – I’m confused, doesn’t that happen a lot between you guys? Just go see him again and tell him –”

“No,” Michael said, more edge in his voice than he’d intended. He dialed it back. “No. He ended everything. Says he can’t trust me after Maria, says he knows he’s just my – my backup, and he’s fine with it! He’s happy, even! Relieved!Isn’t that great? Now there’s nothing holding him back from following Forrest to New York or Europe, or wherever gay emo poets go to be at one with the earth or whatever.”

Max said nothing for a moment. Then, “So he’s just done.”

Michael nodded once, a lump in his throat. “He’s just done.”

Max tilted his head. “Are you?”

“What?”

He stood. “Alex always fought like hell for you, even when you didn’t deserve it.”

“I get it, okay?” Michael said through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I’m no good for him. He’s better off without me.”

“No,” Max said fiercely, coming up to the bars. “Not even close, brother. You broke Alex’s heart, you have to fix it. He’s done his fighting, now it’s your turn.”

Michael shook his head. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“He thinks he’s your second choice, right?” Max said. “That’s what he doesn’t want. Look –” he crouched down so that he and Michael, who was slumped against the bench, were on the same eye level. “You love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Michael said without hesitation. Max chuckled, like the answer was obvious.

“Then show him,” he said. “Tell him every minute. Don’t let Forrest take him away from you.”

Michael swallowed, and tried for a light tone that he didn’t feel, “You’re saying I shouldthrow him out the window?”

Max sighed, raising a brow at him. “Did Wyatt Long even hit you?”

“Sure,” Michael grinned. “Rednecks really don’t like it when you imply they’re sleeping with their tractor buddies.”

Michael felt ridiculous. Max had bailed him out of his cell no more than two hours ago, and he was sure that this bordered on stalking and would land him back in one. He couldn’t help it.

He’d just barely gone back to his trailer to get a quick shower, and he’d gotten a text from Isobel. She must have spoken to Max, because the whole message had consisted of a single picture of Alex’s profile as he leaned against the counter at the Crashdown, clearly unaware his photo was being taken, and the words; This is your chance, he’s alone.

Michael had never driven so dangerously. He’d parked in front of the diner, and paused. He thought he’d imagined it in the picture Isobel had sent, but it had been clear to him, even through the glass, that Alex was tired.

He was leaning too heavily on his left leg, as if just touching the ground with his other side pained him. His fingers were rubbing into his thigh, and his smile was tight until he sat down, his eyes fluttering with no small amount of relief.

Michael couldn’t find it in him to go inside, watching Alex carefully from the outside, considering the way he seemed too tired to even eat. Michael wondered if he would be welcome to sit beside Alex now, to hold him and take care of him like he wanted to.

Then a hand tapped his shoulder, and he looked over his shoulder to find a very unimpressed Isobel.

“Are you kidding me?” she greeted. “He is ten feet away from you, just go up to him.”

Michael swatted at her peering over his shoulder like she was a fly. “You don’t get it,” he told her, returning his gaze to Alex. “Something’s wrong with him.”

She flicked his ear.

“Ow, Isobel!”

“Then go ask him!” she demanded. “Be his knight in shining armor!”

“I can’t just ask –”

“Would you have done it if it was DeLuca?” she said, and Michael felt as if she’d just shot him.

“That’s different,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s –”

“Yeah, I know,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Lower stakes. Thing is, little brother –”

“We’re all the same age,” Michael said.

“—The higher the stakes, the more you have to risk,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Do you want him back or not?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Don’t ask me that. You know what the answer is.”

Isobel’s eyes softened. “Then go get him. While you still have him alone. Or do you plan to wait until Forrest shows up and does your job?”

Michael swallowed and looked back at Alex. He had his cheek rested on his palm, his brows pinched as if uncomfortable. Michael tilted his hat down and exhaled slowly as he forced one foot in front of the other.

He didn’t check to see Isobel’s reaction as he opened the diner door and stood a moment, staring at Alex in his booth, seemingly completely inattentive to whoever had just walked in. When Michael sat down across from him, he realized why.

“Took you long enough,” Alex said first. “I thought you would spend the rest of the day watching me from behind your truck.”

Michael ducked his head, his tongue in his cheek. “So you knew. Of course you knew. There’s usually not much you don’t.”

Alex slumped further down in his seat, rubbing his eyes as his milkshake sat untouched. “Not today, Guerin, okay? I get it, you’re very macho, you don’t need anybody, good for you. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

Michael’s smirk turned pursed. Was this really what Alex thought he would say? Some line about how much better off he was now that they weren’t together? Had he expected Michael to give up on them this quickly? The thought almost broke Michael’s heart.

“Does it hurt?” he asked instead of all of that. “Your leg.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Michael scoffed, his smirk bitter. “But you’ll tell Long, right?”

“Forrest is signing some papers at the hospital,” Alex said coldly, “because apparently, someone put Wyatt in a neck brace.”

“Damn,” Michael didn’t back down under Alex’s glare. “Was that all? I could’ve sworn I broke a rib or two.”

Alex leaned forward. “You didn’t have to start something with him, Guerin. I don’t like Wyatt Long any more than you do, but you walked into that fight.”

Michael huffed a hollow chuckle. “Yeah? That what you think?”

“No,” Alex said angrily, all pretense of indifference gone. “What I think is that you are just upset that you want something you can’t have. If I wasn’t with Forrest, the only injury his cousin would be suffering right now would be a hangover.”

“So you care this much about Wyatt Long?”

“I don’t give a crap about Wyatt, I care about you!” he snapped, and Michael fell silent, his smirk fallen away.

Some people had looked over, and Alex ran a trembling hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his words were quiet, all the frustration and fury and fear evident in the way even his voice shook. “You were so pissed off that I wanted someone else that you went and picked a fight with the town nutjob!” He shook his head. “Is that what it’ll take to keep you safe now? Stay with you until you get tired of me?”

Michael flinched. “Don’t – don’t say that –”

“Why not?” he demanded. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? You only want me around when I keep my mouth shut, when nothing is serious. As soon as I try to get close to you, you go running off to someone else. That’s what you want to force me into?”

“You love me,” Michael said, finding his voice. “If I never know anything else, I’ll always know that. You love me, Alex, and I love you, and we’re supposed to be together.”

“I already told you,” Alex said through grit teeth. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

He pushed himself up and out of the booth. Michael’s hands curled to fists, and Alex got as far as the counter before Michael was out of his seat.

He turned Alex around by the arm and pinned him against the counter, startling both Alex and a waitress.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’ve always been mine.” He raised a hand, gently tracing Alex’s jaw with his fingers, following raptly with his eyes. Alex’s weight, Michael made sure, wasn’t on his bad leg.

“Ever since we were seventeen,” he murmured. “In the decade that came after that. And in the next decade, and the next one, you’re mine, Alex. So you want to date Forrest Long? Go right ahead. Because I’m coming back for you, Private, and I’m going to spend every waking second making up for my stupid mistake. I can’t be you. I can’t be the knight in shining armor you were. I can’t pretend I’m not so in love with you that it feels like it’ll kill me, and I’m sorry I can’t do it, baby. I wish I was as strong as you, but I’m not.”

Alex searched Michael’s face with wide, glassy eyes. “I –”

Michael leaned in, doing what he’d needed to do since the gala, and pressed his nose to Alex’s soft hair, breathing him in. When he spoke, his lips brushed the shell of Alex’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp that had Michael tightening his grip on Alex’s waist until there was no space between their bodies at all.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”

He leaned back, his heart feeling like it was racing a million miles a second as he cupped Alex’s jaw and brushed his cheek with his thumb. He pressed their foreheads together, and took one last deep breath that he knew would have to last him until the next time they saw each other.

“Go home,” Michael murmured into the space between their lips. “Take the prosthetic off and get some rest.”

He brushed away Alex’s tear and forced himself to let go. Without waiting for Alex’s reaction, Michael turned and left the Crashdown, well aware that there were a few eyes on him, but he couldn’t stop moving. He had to prove what Alex meant to him, what he’d always meant to him. He had work to do.

***

If you enjoyed reading even a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference 💕

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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salmonthestoryteller · 4 years ago

Text

Be My Valentine

@malex-cupid

(Wrote this up real quick, apologies if I didn’t catch all mistakes)

Be My Valentine

Roswell New Mexico Malex Fic

Michael had always hated holidays growing up. While they were supposedly designed around celebrating what you had, it often felt like it instead drove home everything you did not.

Back in high school Max had several prepared long winded rants about commercialism vs the origins of holidays. It usually ended with Isobel throwing some form of candy at him and demanding her right to be allowed her themed decorations and holiday specific indulgences.

Isobel had once mentioned she was surprised Valentine's Day was among the holidays Michael thought was a waste of time because it had to be the easiest day in the year to find a hook-up.

Michael had responded with his middle finger, and decidedly nothing about the one and only time he had bought a Valentine's Gift, only to be told he really wasn't the sort of person people had a romance with. Just fun.

Yeah, Valentine's sucked as much as any holiday, and he'd rather have to live through any Max lecture than deal with it. Sadly for him, Max was spending Valentine's with Liz, which left him to Isobel's mercy.

"Do you know what today is? Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to ruin months of planning because you have a personal vendetta against the joy holidays bring others?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "I'm on my way now. I will get your stupid light projector display set up before the dumb party."

"Light and Music display." Isobel corrected. "And it's Roswell's first Out of this World Valentine's Singles Meet and Greet."

"Yeah, sure. Be there in ten, okay?"

"You better. And please tell me you're wearing something presentable."

Michael groaned in response. "I'm hanging up now."

"You're only getting out of attending if you're magically not single by 6, Michael."

Cursing Max's timing at asking Liz out again exactly one week before Valentine's and leaving him alone to their sister's mercy, Michael hung up and tossed his phone on the empty passenger seat of his truck. He pulled his truck out of the junkyard and headed into town - this was not going to be a good night.

Bean Me Up's interior had been decorated for the occasion. Roses colored in a variety of unnatural shades mixed with heart garlands hanging from inflatable ufos. One wall had been left blank form the projected light display he'd promised Isobel. Hearts and stars that swirled to the beat of the music playing. She hadn't told him who she'd hired to do the computer programming for it. Somehow he felt he should have known before he saw Alex.

Rosa offered a grin from where she was perched on the table next to the booth by the blank wall where Alex was setting up his laptop. Greg and Kyle were seated in the booth Rosa was sitting on the table of and there was a Crashdown Bag with what looked like heart-shaped waffle fries being shared between the three.

"If you were any later your sister would have gone loco, Guerin." Rosa told him.

"What are you eating?" Michael asked instead of replying.

"Venusian Fries with Martian Sunset Mayo. Crashdown Valentine's Special." She didn't offer him any, and in fact pulled the bag closer. He was tempted to levitate it out of her hands, but held back.

"They also have Jupiter-sized Milkshakes and Sundaes, large enough to share with someone special." Greg said pointedly. Because apparently he, along with Isobel, had taken the class in How to be as Unsubtle as Possible when trying to Matchmake.

"Or you could just eat it all yourself." Rosa suggested.

"That would be a Jupiter-sized stomach ache." Kyle put in. Rosa stuck her tongue out at him.

Alex looked up, apparently much better prepared than Michael was for all this because he just offered him a smile like it wasn't supposed to make his knees feel weak. "Ready to get this display going so your sister stays sane?"

"That would require her to be sane first." Michael pointed out. The inflatable ufo behind him promptly smacked into the back of his head.

"I heard that." Isobel told him, walking up. "And you have less than an hour to get this running. If you mess this up for me, I will burn your cowboy hat."

"I couldn't allow that." Alex replied, even as he began to pull out cables to connect the light projectors to his laptop.

"It's a stupid looking hat." Rosa put in, nibbling on more fries.

"Michael makes it look good." Alex threw him a smirk, that had both Isobel and Gregory side-eyeing the two of them with smug looks.

"Gross. I am out here." Rosa hopped off the table, handing the fry back to Greg. "I'm going to have a Jupiter-sized sundae all to myself."

"Enjoy your stomach ache." Kyle called after her. Rosa only flicked him off before disappearing out the door.

"Display, chop-chop." Isobel disappeared to talk to staff.

"I'm going to see if Isobel needs help." Greg spoke up, but didn't move right away.

There was a not muffle bang, followed by Kyle cursing under his breath. "Yeah, me too." He said towards Greg with clenched teeth.

Yeah, subtle was definitely not anyone's strong suit among their friends. They also took the fries with them when they left which, rude.

"They could have left the fries." Alex muttered.

Michael had to laugh at that, as he started setting up the projectors and connecting them to the wires Alex handed them. "Great minds think alike."

"How did you get roped into this?" Alex asked him.

"Have you met Isobel?" Michael countered.

Alex chuckled at his words. "I have, in fact. But I guess, I don't know, I figured… don't worry about it." He seemed to close off slightly, concentrating on his laptop.

"You figured I would be spending Valentine's out cruising for a hook-up?" Michael couldn't help but prod. "Rather than helping one of my friends?"

"I didn't mean anything by it. It's none of my business." Something in his tone sounded the exact opposite.

Michael tested the lights, watching the pattern swirl without purpose. "I don't."

"Don't what?"

"Spend Valentine's like that. Any Valentine's." He turned the lights off, waiting for Alex to finish setting up the program.

"How do you usually spend them?"

"...alone."

"...me too."

Alex's words made him look at him. It was hard to look away when their eyes met - it always was. After a long moment, Alex lowered his eyes to the laptop, and pressed a button. The music piped in over the store speaker's changed and the light projectors he'd set up began to turn off and on in a pattern - making the lights go to the beat.

"Looks surprisingly less cheesy than I thought." Michael offered into the quiet that had fallen between them.

"It's pretty cheesy." Alex told him, a smile back in his voice.

Michael grinned over at him. "Okay, yeah."

Alex's eyes crinkled as his smile deepened, but then his face grew serious. Michael felt his own smile slide off his face, concerned. "Want to get Venusian Fries at the Crashdown with me?"

Michael hesitated, ignoring how much he wanted to say yes without questioning it. He offered a lopsided smile. "As friends?"

Alex didn't smile in return, instead shaking his head. "No, definitely not as friends."

"As a date?"

"A date. Jupiter Sized Milkshake included."

"Do I get a tacky box of candy?" Somewhere a synapse in his brain was not connecting properly. He'd worry about it later. When Alex's lips weren't beginning to curl into a teasing smile.

"Only if I do, too."

"As many as you want." Michael felt his own lips curve into a smug grin as he moved over to where Alex was sitting in the booth still. "Isn't that the kind of deal we should seal with a kiss, though?"

Alex's response was to take hold of his face with both hands, pulling him down into a kiss. When the moment was interrupted by a set of wolf whistles from their friend and siblings from across the coffee shop, Michael flicked them off before going back to kissing Alex.

#malexcupid21 #malex #rnm fic

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nosebleedclub · 4 years ago

Text

The Dark Suburb

((Posting again because the original post on June 11th, 2017 6:09pm is no longer available due to me deleting and re-making this blog.))

This is a compilation post of Nosebleed Club prompts from 2015-16 revolving around the concept of “the dark suburb.”

Family Melodrama

something is wearing your mother

oh god his intestines strung up on the christmas tree

your dog’s body all over the house

banging on cellar doors

a creaking sound in your dead sister’s bedroom

warriors with spears and shields painted on the dining room ceiling of a violent family’s mansion

a woman in an expensive coat and an expensive car headed to her nephew’s funeral

coming home to a completely alien mother

getting a doberman on christmas morning that won’t let you leave the house

the reason your parents fled the city to live in the suburbs

summers in palermo where your father was looking for something

mother’s breakdown in the supermarket

the supernatural car you and your twin got for your 16th birthday

parents strangely and deeply interested in the boyfriend you brought home

a mom urging her son to quit basketball; she senses something is not right

all the holes - dozens of them - your mother dug in your backyard

grandparents hiding the reason your parents are away during your winter holiday break

your best friend doesn’t want to go to your house anymore

grandpa’s ghost followed us into the new house

dad hates her bc she killed her twin in the womb and then her mother

Do I Love You?

your boyfriend’s basketball shorts, his boy-aroma, his ghost between your legs when you watch the video of his last game

girls kissing in a gas station convenience store and a third recording them on snapchat

the boy you like drawing flowers on your ap biology practice test when you switch tests with him to grade

walking across a supermarket parking lot by yourself thinking of a boy you love

red mouth

girlfriend scrubbing the blood off her arms in the bathtub

in a tiny white house in florida, sitting on a beer-can-covered counter, legs spread apart, a boy between them

in a drug-induced haze i left home for his semi truck

he never fucked me without his ski mask on

a girl and a girl and claw marks on the door“don’t ever take me back”

The Occult

the incantation that annihilated a whole suburb

a body that drags other bodies into an oven

the witches gathering in the red lake

inhuman sacrifice

dogs gathered at the edge of town refusing to cross the boundary to the outside

a 10 year old girl with memories of a serial killing spree that occurred when her parents were children

white shirts hanging on branches all over the woods

the town of three-eyed children

arrows raining down on a soccer field

feeding time

mysterious scratch marks on your back

a fairy ring in the field where your sister disappeared

Crimes

just throw it in the back

snap!

we found the body but not the head

clearing in the forest where police found a blessed severed head

jar of baby teeth as evidence

children dressed as angels at the crime scene

seeing a face you thought you buried ten years ago at the supermarket

half a fraternity frozen under a lake

fbi agents rolling into a tiny town in appalachia

a severed arm among the hydrangeas

young men howling on the bridge one year after the murder

police cars prowling through your neighborhood, one after another - watching this from your bedroom window

Teen Dream

getting whipped by a towel in the locker room

best friend making the varsity tennis team

taking a shot of vodka in the bathroom after second period

boy gets a boner during gym class

“i’ll be like helicase i’ll unzip them genes (jeans)”

drunkenly reciting the quadratic equation

fear-mongering homecoming queen

track star died in a car accident

dead bodies photography club

“sorry i fucked up here’s some ice cream” “i’m lactose intolerant you douche”

article about demonic possession in the school newspaper

last pool party before summer ends & her hand on your thigh in your dad’s sports car

the first day back from summer vacation & someone in your friend group brings the whole #squad starbucks

a bonfire, lana del rey & drake blasting, the moon

weekend road trips to the ocean

walking around on the track alone, contemplating some philosophical concept you read about on tumblr the night before

coming out to someone completely random - a junior varsity basketball player

the last homecoming dance

lying on the track at your high school after sunset

getting picked up really early in the morning to go on a spontaneous weekend road trip

the sunday after the homecoming dance where you’re kinda tired kinda still energetic from the night before

inside a fast food restaurant drinking milkshakes eating fries until it closes

chill basement party where there’s white balloons gold confetti / glitter two girls who love each other kissing

sitting in the backseat your parents occupying the front of the car you look out the window you see the rural countryside crawl by

pool pizza party at night simple pleasures like that

on the bleachers during a powderpuff football game

sweating so much you might as well have been swimming it would be embarrassing but all the other boys are sweaty too

lost in the suburbs at like 5am and the world is still pale blue

lost in the city at 5pm the sun sinks its head behind skyscrapers

fights on the lawn of an all boys private school

applying makeup the morning after a breakup

huge friend group made up of oracles + boys’ swim team + legendary heroes + valedictorian

aesthetic blogging on a sunday afternoon just chillin in your bedroom

feeling like you could be something big if you work hard enough at it

getting psychoanalyzed by your teachers and parents and extended family

school bathroom pale blue tiles

a dream with damien hirst-esque elements

sleepover at your friend’s villa and you’re the only one awake

looking out at a black sea from your dead cousin’s bedroom window, seeing a light in the distance

funeral mass

chill that runs down your friends’ spines when you enter the classroom the morning after they tried to kill you

the sickness that spreads through the high school

sometimes i was a body in a dump sometimes i was a saint

he said he’d snapchat my burning body to all his friends

my body was evidence she was trying to get rid of

poison disguised as an eighteen year old

a world war between us

$$$

first: “super rich kids” by frank ocean

fast cars flecked with blood

girls who know you won’t be prosecuted if you’re young and rich and pretty enough

snapchat of a boy with red eyes and a glass of dom perignon with the text IS MY LIFE FUCKING REAL

snapchat of a girl’s dad’s black amex with the words MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS BUT IT GETS CLOSE

taking your middle-class friends out to nice restaurants but knowing they’re with you mainly for the money

“dude i know you’re only a year older than me but sometimes i think of you as my sugar daddy”

traveling to punta del este to find yourself but losing yourself instead

identifying heavily with the versace logo

an imperial bedroom and all one feels is the weight of all that empty space

“even my funeral has to be luxurious”

Hometown Visions

three dead owls on the side of the road

trees bare, houses barren

lanterns lit up on the dirt road at night

moths in a forgotten shed

a dusty old attic filled with dead rats and flies

seeing half your face in a splintered mirror. washing machine making dangerous sounds

midwest: watching a tornado funnel form from a window that won’t shut all the way

grass in the yard growing tall

girls carrying stray cats home

a cellar door swinging open and a man you never wanted to see ever again stepping through it, into the light

snake skins and insect carapaces organized on a torn mattress

a lovely place god abandoned

bat-filled house at the end of the street

a girl crawling out of a burning car

birds in jars

Hide & Seek

not being able to find anyone in a dark forest because they actually left you and it was just a cruel prank

person seeking you is something much worse than what you thought they were

being trapped in your hiding space & no one can find you no matter how loud you call for help

hiding in your friend’s house and finding evidence of a vile crime their parents committed

finding half of your friend

#prompts #nosebleedclub #from the nosebleedclub archive #dark suburb

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preciouspeterbparker · 4 years ago

Text

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished!

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending!

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season.

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay.

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony.

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside.

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.” Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of- Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well.

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?”

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted.

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?”

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio.

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was.

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now.

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been.

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag.

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect.

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb.

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine.

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.”

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car.

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer.

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously.

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me.

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it?

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself.

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy.

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time.

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force. She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”)

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs.

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips.

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone.

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.”

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part.

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could. “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim.

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs.

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there.

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.)

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.” He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises.

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!”

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven?

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man.

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.”

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member. “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.”

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.”

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan.

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole.

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head.

***

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much.

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that.

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together.

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together.

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get.

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms.

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years.

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

#starker #hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas #bloo writes bad things (tm)#enjoy!

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

rude boy III • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

part 3 of this series!

requested: this has been requested a lot and i dont have enough space to put them all! sorry it took so long!!

warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, bit of angst, a tiny bit of rough sex, but then soft sex, theres lots of crying in this lol but its not v angsty, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, some praise kink, and richie has a hair pulling kink, kinda vanilla tho, unprotected sex, unedited

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

5.6k words, oh man sorry

also: i was listening to peach by kevin abstract as i write the car scene :’)

♡

it was one of those days that just didn't stop. one thing after another, from your car breaking down last night to customers calling you sloppy and leaving no tip. the sun rays that shine on your back are warm and cast a long shadow out onto the field in front of you and the breeze makes you sniffle a bit. you'd dropped a whole tray of food on yourself right at the end of your shift, and syrup is drying your hair and dripping down your uniform - you feel like shit.

tears leak slowly from your eyes, feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what you're going to do for the night - you could probably call one of your neighbors, or maybe mike, but you'd left your keys inside your house and nobody was home, so you're stranded without access to your house or a car.

you laugh a bit, in disbelief at the day you've had.

"the fuck are you doing down there, y/l/n? thought you got off thirty minutes ago." a nasally, judging, and pretentious voice calls from a few feet behind you, and you try not to outwardly groan as you quickly wipe away your tears. you sigh in defeat, knowing the tears probably won't dry up in time, and you turn to look at richie.

he's standing with his hoodie in his arm, bathed in golden light and barely more than a silhouette from where he's standing against the dying sun. you really hate how ethereal he looks.

"richie, can you lay off for tonight?" you spit, turning around quickly so he doesn't see your puffy face. "just leave, i don't want to see you right now."

and it's only half true. because recently, you'd actually found solace in richie's company. yes, you still argued, but the fire that surrounds your words are now driven by something more akin to fondness rather than the original animosity. it was freaking you out, but when richie would leave a milkshake with extra whipped cream on the counter for you when he clocked out, or when he stuck his tongue out at rude customers when they turned away, and even when he flirted with you just to be a dick, something tickled inside your chest and you even found yourself flirting back with him. and enjoying it immensely. it was sick.

you thought he'd left you alone but much to your dismay, the familiar beaten red converse high tops smack next to you on the pavement as richie folds his lanky body in two, sitting down only a few inches from you on the sidewalk facing the field.

"what's on your mind?" he says after a few awkward moments and you spare a glance at him. his eyes are taking in your red and puffy face, but his features are concerned. you feel that chest tickle again.

"lots of things. what are you doing?" you say suspiciously, hugging yourself and wiping away stray tears as they fall. you wish you could get up and leave, but it's too far to walk home and it's about to get dark. richie shrugs, playing with his fingers as they sit atop his legs, his knee bouncing incessantly. it irritates you, but you don’t say anything

"where's your car, y/l/n? drive it into a lake or something?" he says instead, completely disregarding your previous question and making you roll your eyes. "shut up, richie. god. i just- my car broke down and-" and your voice breaks and you shove your face into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boy next to you.

"woah, it's just a car. damn, what's wrong?" richie says and you shake your head as its buried between your hands. "i've j- i have a lot on my mind. can you leave?" you say, pulling your face from your hands to look at him, knowing you look like a mess. it's not like he hasn't seen you cry before, but that was much different than now and you're even more embarrassed that he's seeing you so vulnerable.

"not to be rude, but i'm not going to leave, toots. we don't have to talk, but i really don't think you should be alone." he shrugs, saying it casually as if it wasn't completely out of character for the two of you to hang out. you try not to consider it too much, instead stretching your legs out and gesturing to your skirt. "i spilled earlier." you say weakly but with a lilt of humor in your voice. richie chuckles, nudging your shoulder with his own. "you can shower and wash it when you get home, though."

you sigh, shaking your head as tears fill your vision again. you laugh wetly, "i forgot my keys at home. nobody's there, so i'm..." you sigh, "i'm locked out." the tips of your shoes drag on top of the cement as you laugh regretfully, staring up at the field in front of you and at the groundhog that runs across the ground in the afternoon air.

richie doesn't even laugh like he should have.

"let me take you for a ride." richie says after a few moments, making you turn and look at him. he's looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly as his curls blow in the breeze. the golden light hits his face in a way that sharpens the angles of his cheekbones and makes him look much more serious than usual. his eyes glow in that same light and he seems so genuine for the first time in his rotten existence that you can't help but whisper, "okay."

it's quiet for a few moments and neither of you move so much as a muscle. the breeze is calm and for some reason, you're much less on edge than you think you should be. richie rises next to you, brushing off his black pants with his palms.

"let's go, sugar." he mutters quietly, holding his hand out for you. you stare at it for two seconds before lightly grabbing it, letting him pull you up quickly. "where are we going to go?" you ask with a sniffle, your tears finally ceasing. richie drops your hand and you follow him to a beat up chevy truck where he opens the door for you, muttering about how its 'broken' and that you'd never be able to open it yourself. it makes you roll your eyes, but you say nothing in response.

"we're going to get you that shower." he finally says as he starts the car. you look at him disdainfully, but deep down you're just relieved that you're going to be able to get clean as soon as you can.

your forehead rests against your outstretched arm laying out of the open window as your hair whips around you, richie coursing down the road into town quickly. a song you don't recognize plays on his stereo and he sings to it, not at all quietly but not too loud to be entirely obnoxious and you're shocked to hear that he's got a pretty nice voice.

it seems to calm you down, so you turn to watch him through the corner of your eyes, admiring the moment because it's going to be over too soon, and you don't want to go back to how it used to be with richie now that you have these weird feelings.

the fighting constantly is exhausting; the sex is great, but couldn't you and richie still have that without wanting to murder each other? whatever happens, you can't show richie how you feel - it'll change everything and he'll never let you live it down. you think it might crush you.

but you can't help it that you definitely don't want to murder him currently. you watch him with a small grin.

he's driving with one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road and an easy look on his face as he sings the chorus of the song, somehow giving you butterflies. it feels almost too peaceful, absolutely nothing like the few times you've spent alone time with richie, and you're sure that he could never truly feel a shred of attraction beyond primally physical with someone like you. the thought makes you want to cry all over again - you bite your lip, wondering if your feelings are brought on by your shitty day, by the mood of the moment, or something else entirely.

maybe it's just him.

he turns to glance at you, as if sensing your eyes on him and the small grin he sends you as he harmonizes the last line of the song makes you blush, turning your eyes back to the scenery zipping by. you barely hear richie's soft chuckle.

when you pull up to the house, you're not very surprised to see it's massive; but when you follow him inside silently you're shocked at the warmth you feel. a woman sits with a mug and a book at the dining table. she looks like richie, but her hair is straight and in a low bun. she's beautiful.

"hi, mom." richie says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. she smiles at him, "hi, honey. how was work?" he mumbles a response and then you make eye contact with her. she smiles even warmer. "oh hi, i'm maggie." she introduces herself. you smile and wave a bit, "y/n. it's nice to meet you."

richie looks embarrassed, "she's my coworker." he explains, filling up a cup with water. maggie nods, "oh, right! i've heard a lot about you, y/n."

richie looks at the floor with red cheeks and you smile at her, nodding awkwardly as your cheeks also turn red.

"we're going upstairs, now." he says and you feel like it's more an order to you than a statement to his mom, so you wave at maggie as he drags you towards the stairs, maggie chuckling as you leave the room.

you step into richie's room and it smells overwhelmingly like him, so much so that you feel the weird tickle in your chest and you know if you spend too much time in here it won't be good for you.

your eyes flicker throughout the room - landing on pictures of him with maggie and who you assume must be his father, of him and his friends, and of random postcards and art prints. paintings of birds as well as other style sketches of mike and several other kids - including richie himself - hang proudly on display, and you’re fairly certain they’re not painted by him, but it warms your heart that he has them. you wonder who did them.

there's posters, records, and a skateboard in the corner. his floor is slightly messy, an empty energy drink on the windowsill that you see has a crushed cigarette on it. you kind of fall in love with it every second longer you stay in it and you're not sure why - it's just so... richie.

"um, just to clarify, i didn't- i didn't, like, tell my mom about..." he says suddenly, and you smirk at him as he trails off while scratching his neck. you laugh, "no shit, richie. that would be gross." you say. he grins with a shrug, quickly back to his usual self. "you didn't seem to think it was very gross when we actually did it. both times."

you shove him, face red in embarrassment. "can i use your shower, douchebag?" you ask and he laughs as he walks out of his room and leads you to his bathroom. "i fucking hate you." you mutter as you follow, glaring at his shoulders as they shake silently with laughter. after he gives you a towel and some clothes to change into, he tells you he'll be in his room and you lock the door behind him.

you shower quickly, using what you assume is richie's shampoo and smiling like a lovesick idiot when you recognize the scent of strawberry. you're still grinning like that as you walk back into richie's room, hair dripping and your body slightly drowning in his clothes. "hey sexy." he says in a teasing tone, prompting you to flip him off, smile still on your lips. he's sitting on his deckchair, spinning slowly from his feet as he watches you sit on his bed. "um. thank you a lot, richie. i'm not sure what i would have done if you hadn't let me come over." you say sheepishly, looking from side to side. "where's my stuff?"

he shrugs, "put them in the wash. they'll be done soon, we can wait until someone gets back at your house. or- you know, if you need a place to stay, i can take the couch tonight."

your heart flutters, your mind barely even taking the time to be shocked anymore at how he is away from work. you'd just assumed...

and for some reason, the realization of everything that's happened makes your eyes watery again. "-hey, y/n, it's okay." he says softly as you close your eyes and shake your head, "no, no i know, it's fine, i'm just being a child." you mutter, rubbing your eyes furiously. richie laughs, "i've seen you act like a child before, sugar. this isn't one of those times."

this makes you roll your eyes and suddenly you feel better. you laugh almost bitterly, "how do you do that?" you ask quietly, more to yourself than richie. he looks at you curiously, crossing the threshold of his room to sit beside you. "do what?" he asks. you shrug one shoulder, "dunno. you're actually good at making me feel better. i almost hate you for it."

"nah, i know you could never hate me." he jests, but again you know there's a ring of truth to it. "as much as i try." you say almost too honestly, and richie gives you an odd look.

"want to hear something kind of lame?" richie asks, already looking embarrassed. you shift a bit to look at him, ignoring the feeling of him that you get from everything around you - the bed sheets under you, the air moving through the room, the soft light of the moon, the clothes you're wearing, the look he's giving you.

"everything you say is lame." you say weakly, but you don't add on, waiting for him to tell you. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "i get excited for your shifts now." richie admits, his cheeks glowing red, "like, actually get excited to see your stupid face when you clock in."

the honesty of it makes you smile immediately, heartbeat quickening. you're shocked, truly. "it's awful, sugar. you're really throwing a wrench in my playboy status." he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"what playboy status?" you ask, biting your lip to conceal a grin at his words - does he feel the same as you?

he shrugs with a limp hand wave, "you wouldn't understand. doesn't matter, not sure if i'm going to be much of a playboy anymore." he says, voice teasing but a strand of truth laced tightly in between his words. it makes you grin down at the sweats on your body. his sweats. they're soft and cozy against your body, and the shirt smells overwhelmingly like him.

"what, you got someone in mind?" you say, half teasing but yearning to hear your name fall from his lips because you don't know if you could say it yourself. he looks at you, "depends on what she wants from me. she’s a pain in the ass, though, don’t know her very well yet."

oh. you nod, realizing that he actually was talking about someone else and feeling bitter. "well. you're an unbearable asshole, so anybody would be a fool to want you." you say, sounding a lot less joking than you intended.

his grin falters and a look that is slightly comparable to hurt flashes across his face. he scoffs, shaking his head.

"doesn't mean much coming from you, does it?" he says with an eye roll and your eyes widen. so much for thinking he liked you. "i was joking." you say, rolling your eyes. he crosses his arms, "if i'm as bad as you think, then that means you're a real sleaze. i mean, you practically beg for my cock every time we're alone, so what does that say about you?" he spits, clenching his jaw and looking away.

your eyes widen, heart breaking at his words. you really dug yourself a hole this time. "why do you have to be so fucking insolent all the time? i swear to god, i do not understand you." you say, standing up and wishing for your tears to not reappear.

this day could not get any fucking worse, could it? through your frustration, you start to make your way towards his door, not wanting a single thing that reminds you of him. "you don't understand me? god, y/n, that's so fucking hypocritical. you're so stuck up that when i was trying to do a nice thing because i fucking care ab- what are you doing?!" he hisses, eyes wide as you shove the sweats off your legs, leaving you in your underwear and his shirt.

you throw a glare at him through glossy eyes, face red with embarrassment and mostly anger, "i'm leaving. i don't need your shit, i need to go."

"and where the fuck do you think you're going?" richie says, following you as you walk towards his door.

"anywhere is better than being here with you." you spit, but his arm reaches to slam shut the door. you whirl around to find him much closer than you'd expected, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in anger. tension fills the room.

"you're just gonna walk down there and dig through my fucking laundry, half naked, in front of my parents?" richie sneers. "no. you're not going anywhere, y/n. i don't care how much of a brat you are, or how much you hate me." he snaps, his breath hitting your face.

something about his words and his tone and most likely the situation you're in makes you swallow and clench your thighs together. damn richie and his hotness, and damn you and your stupid fucking feelings. "fine." you mutter, standing your ground still.

you can almost feel the two of you both fighting against it, but suddenly your lips are on his and hes spinning you, tossing you onto the bed.

"you're so fucking controlling. i hate it." you mutter as he crashes against you on his mattress. "really, princess? because you seem to like it when my cock is inside you." he spits back, cheeks red with anger. you gulp back a sneer, feeling yourself get wetter by the minute as he thrusts against you.

"whatever, richie. just fuck me if you're going to fuck me, or i can leave." you say and he growls, looking pissed. he ruts against you and he's hard already. you'd make fun, but you can feel yourself slick through your underwear and his fingers are already pulling off your panties, palming himself as he kisses you harshly.

"then be fucking good and shut up." he mutters, making you think back to the first time you hooked up. there's a fire between you two as he pulls himself out of his jeans, pumping a few times before running his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. you let out a strangled whimper, trying your hardest not to give in and show him any emotion.

and then he's pushing into you roughly, just as you remember it, and this time you wonder if he can taste your dried tears on your lips as he fucks into you hard.

you clutch him, letting out moans and stuttering breaths as he moves his hips but then he's pulling you closer to his chest, fingers gripping the material of his shirt and suddenly you can smell him.

you smell him everywhere, all around you and it becomes overbearing and overwhelming as you realize that you can't just hide your feelings for richie anymore, especially not with the way he's holding you against him. it seems way too intimate to be just casual, and you feel the stinging behind your eyes at the realization.

you let in a gasp as it hits you, tears for the fourth time today streaming down your cheeks. his face is buried in your neck as he fucks into you so you hold your breath, hoping you'll stop crying quicker than he'll notice.

he hits a spot inside you that makes you moan and a sob escapes with it, making richie instantly perk up, eyes wide as he sees your face.

"why are you crying?" he asks, this time with no sneer, obviously able to read that your tears are from a very raw emotion. he stills himself but stays inside you, elbows stilting him up above you as his fluffy curls frame his face.

you shake your head, your chest shaking with tremors. "keep going." you mutter, trying to rock your hips against his as you squeeze your eyes shut, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. at least you won't have to look at him. "richie, keep going."

"no, y/n, what - am i hurting you?" he asks, and he sounds so soft and nervous, a complete 180 from just a few minutes ago. he starts to pull out and you grab him, trying to make him stay, but he pulls all the way out and mutters, "baby, what's going on?"

and you let out another sob at that, not able to express how heartbreaking it is for him to call you that, for him to be so soft when you know all he wants is just a good fuck.

"please talk to me sugar, i'm gettin real nervous." he mutters and that's enough for you to look up at him through tear blurred eyes. he's gnawing on his kiss-bruised lip, looking like he might cry himself.

you shake your head, sitting up slightly on your elbows and rubbing at your eyes as his shirt on your frame falls over your bare thighs.

"i'm sorry, i'm just - i'm just scared." you mutter, hands shaking. richie's looking at you with wide eyes, propped on his elbow above you. "scared of what?" he asks and you let out a quick, tearful and defeated sigh. "i don't want to make you hate me more. i just - i'm scared because i think i h- i think i have feelings for you. and i’m scared." you mumble it and you watch as his face contorts.

you feel sick for one moment when he looks stoic, and you think he may just do the job for you and kick you out.

but then he smiles a genuine, beautiful smile and you're once again reminded of his unique and beautiful features and you think of how stupid you've been not to see what's been in front of you all this time. the thought makes tears fall from your eyes.

"y/n, doll, i don't... i don’t think you have to be afraid." he says with a shake of his head, sounding slightly nervous himself. you look at him, your heart skipping as he looks back at you, the most serious he's ever been.

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes, trying not to get too excited. he shakes his head, looking just as nervous as you felt, his own eyes welled with unshed tears.

"-i think about you all the time. i don't know why, i can't understand my attraction to you, but it's there. you've got me. and it sucks, because you're insufferable." he admits.

you're so relieved you could fly. something snaps in your chest and you laugh lightly, hand falling onto his cheek to rub his jaw. "what makes you so high up on your horse? you're awful. and how do you think i feel, thinking about you all the time? its disgusting, rich." you say through a watery smile. he returns that same smile and he chuckles, almost as if in disbelief.

he says nothing, instead just kisses you, which you return happily. he slips his tongue against your lip and you feel that the fire is still there - and as you part your lips and he kisses you harder, tongue slipping through your lips, you groan.

he pulls away and kisses a trail down to your neck, his hips now rocking slowly into you and making you moan lightly. "you're so fucking beautiful." he mutters into your neck and butterflies flutter in your stomach. you're throbbing in need as he moves against you but he pulls back to smile at you softly. "do you trust me?" he asks with a grin. you lift a playful brow at him, "i know i shouldn't, but i kind of do."

and with that, he leans down so that he can kiss down your chest and rubbing his hands over your bare legs. you watch him until you realize his intention and your stomach swirls with butterflies. "richie, your parents are downstairs. we don't have time" you whisper bashfully, biting back a moan as he lifts up your shirt and kisses your bare stomach.

"they won't bother us." he says dismissively and you're about to argue but he's slowly placing a thumb against your neglected clit and rubbing gently. it feels incredible and you moan right into the shell of his ear as he slowly moves his finger pad.

he leans back with a grin and you mutter, "okay, rich. if you say so." and then you slip your shirt off and he sits back, pulling his own shirt off. "let me see all of you, baby. i finally get you all to myself." he mutters, rubbing your bare hips. his words send a different kind of shiver down your spine and you smile bashfully, unclipping your bra so that you're splayed out fully naked beneath him.

"shit, doll." he mutters, eyes raking over your heaving chest and down the swell of your stomach and hips and to your legs, his fingers softly trailing after his eyes. "how could i ever hate you?"

you sock him lightly on the shoulder and he laughs quietly, shaking his head. his curls flop on his forehead and you feel that tickle in your chest again so you pull him down to your lips, falling back onto his mattress.

he wastes no time, kissing down your stomach and looking up to you, pulling your legs and draping them over his shoulders. "you want me to taste you, baby?" he asks, mischievous glint in his eyes. you let out a stuttering breath, too aroused to roll your eyes. "please, richie." you whisper, running your fingers through his curls.

he watches you as his tongue sticks out, licking a stripe up your pussy before swirling on your clit, making you gasp in pleasure.

the feeling is sharp and pleasant as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks lightly, tongue running over your folds. his hands move to hold your thighs as he delves in, your moans quieting as the pleasure increases because you're worried his parents might hear.

his mouth moves on you expertly, his tongue sliding to fuck up into you and making your hips buck, his nose brushing against your clit. you tug on his hair and he groans, sending vibrations through your body that make your toes curl.

its soft as he rubs your stomach, his tongue working you so well that within a few minutes, you know you’re already about to cum.

reaching to cup your face, his thumb presses against your lips and you kiss it softly, making smirk in between your thighs as he kitten licks your clit and draws a gasp from your lips. "rich, oh my god, i'm so close." you sigh out, overwhelmed by how good you feel, by the pleasure coursing through you and the affection for the boy you're with.

he just holds you tighter to his face, lapping your juices up and flicking against your clit before sucking, your thighs tightening. "richie, please, i'm gonna-" and but yourself off with a high moan, hand covering your mouth as you hit your high.

you cum on his tongue, legs shaking as you ride out the first orgasm you'd ever gotten from anyone's mouth and your fingers comb through his hair. "rich, fuck." you mutter in bliss as you come down from your high, full of affection and need.

"you liked that, huh sugar?" he says with a grin as he rises back up to kiss you. you roll your eyes with a small smile, "shut up." you say lightly.

you're still sensitive as you pull him to line up at your entrance. he presses a soft kiss to your lips and you blush, tasting yourself on him. "you sure, baby?" he mutters, and you nod. "yes, richie. please."

and he finally pushes himself in again, this time easing in slowly and kissing you sweetly. your hands play with his curls as he fills you and you moan when he's finally buried to the hilt, still sensitive enough that you clench tightly around him. his hand snakes to pin yours above your head and he holds onto it, keeping you in his hand as he starts to pump into you.

this time it's much slower and with much more intention as he thrusts into you, the first minute moving in very shallow thrusts until you start moving your hips against his in need.

he picks up the pace then and it makes you grasp his shoulder as he thrusts into you, hitting a new angle that makes you let out whimpers every few moments. the feeling of richie stretching you out slowly and hitting a place deep inside you that you didn't realize you needed makes you smile into his kiss.

“look at you, sugar. fuck, you’re so pretty taking my cock like this. god.” he mutters, moaning as he fucks you.

his hand is still holding yours. "you're so amazing." he mutters into your ear, "taking me so well, baby. so good for me." he says, kissing your ear and you whine, dragging your nails down his back in pleasure.

"all mine. i get you all for myself, huh?" he says as he thrusts into you at a passionately slow pace, your hands holding on to his shoulders as you hook your ankles around his hips. "yes, fuck, rich. all yours," you mumble, feeling your second orgasm coming on and chasing it as much as you can.

"please, you feel so good." you beg, unsure what you're asking for but knowing that richie will satisfy it. his hands fall to your hips, "i'm close, sugar." he mutters and he thrusts a bit harder, hitting a spot inside you that has you keening loudly. he chuckles, kissing you and muttering, "shh, sweetheart, we have to be quiet."

you nod, eyes closing as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin’ it so well.”

you hit your second orgasm and you softly bite into richie's shoulder, his own moan at the feeling of you clenching around him making you turn red. you feel his hips stutter and he groans as he releases inside of you.

waves of pleasure course through your body and you shake with exhaustion, a blissful feeling coming over you as richie rides out both of your highs, chest pressed against yours and breathing your name into your neck.

he pulls out of you slowly, rubbing your stomach as he kisses you and rolls onto his mattress next to you. you stare at each other and you know you must look like a mess - your hair is still slightly damp from the water, your freshly washed skin is now sticky with sweat, and your face has tear tracks on it, and yet richie mumbles, "you're fuckin' stunning, y/l/n. it’s insane."

you turn red and chuckle, "you're pretty fucking incredible yourself, tozier." he smiles at you, pulling you closer. his fingers dance along your skin and you squirm as he mutters, "no, that's all you, toots."

his fingers, you now realize, are deliberately tickling you, and you let out a few winded laughs, swatting at his hands as the sensation of him on your skin has you giggling.

"y/n! why are you laughing so much?” he asks, but he's releasing little laughs himself, his breath hitting your skin. you can't help the screams of laughter, knowing his parents downstairs can hear you.

"stop, richie, st-stop!" you mutter as his long fingers tickle your sides. "i'm not doing anything!" he mutters through a chuckle. his eyes are soft as he stops his motions and just stares at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

he sighs, looking happy, "god, please be mine. i think i'll die if i can't do this with you forever."

your heart swells at the words and you blush, your hands falling onto his cheeks. "of course i will, rich." you mumble, kissing him soundly. his arms encircle your waist and he pulls you towards him, kissing you back lovingly as he pinches your ass cheek lightly. you pull back with a small giggle, "rich!"

he shrugs with a smug smirk and you wack his arm lightly, "you're a real rude boy, you know." you tease, and he shrugs, "you seem to like it." with that, he kisses you softly.

and yeah, you definitely do.

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #we simp for richie every day #losers x reader #bill denbrough smut #stanley uris smut #eddie kaspbrak smut #losers club x reader

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love-fireflysong · 4 years ago

Text

Day 10: Road Trip

Fandom: Until Dawn Character(s): Josh Washington, Chris Hartley, Ashley Brown Words: 2791 Rating: General Author’s Notes: And we are back to our regularly scheduled dose of Nerd Trio™ shenanigans! With bonus appearance of “oh no. there’s only one bed!”. I can only hope that you guys have half as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

To say that the three of them weren’t looking forward to this trip, would have been a dirty, rotten lie. They had been planning this ever since Ashley first joined them in the esteemed and hallowed halls of high school. The moment (or at least, couple of weeks after) she graduated, the three of them were going to rent an RV and just go. They had spent the last couple of years saving up for it in fact. While Josh had graciously accepted the cost of renting the RV, they still needed money to pay for gas, food, lodging, and so forth. It was planned as one last summer of freedom for all three of them before the duties of college, work, and being an adult lessened the ability to just hang out.

And oh, did Josh have a plan

He stood in front of the RV rental location, hands on his hips, and his head held high as he went through the objectives of said plan once again.

Step 1: Rent RV with 3 beds Step 2: Immediately change rental to two beds when the other two leave. Step 3: Feign shock when you drive it to pick up the others at how there’s not enough beds anymore. Oh no! What to do?! Step 4: ???? (Hint: it may have involved sharing the bed) Step 5: Profit

Steps one and two had been completed at the beginning of May, and now he had to get his acting chops together for step three. He had a bet to win after all. He had put down a frankly stupid amount of money that Chris and Ash would be married before they finished college. And the best way to do that was to get them dating before Ash even started. Hence, the whole ‘there’s not enough beds’ shtick.

‘I don’t know what to say guys’ Josh practiced in his head as he walked to the front desk. ‘There was a mix-up and we got stuck with this one instead. I tried to talk to some people but because it’s summer it was just too short notice to find another vehicle. But it’s fine! We got this! I’ll take the smaller bed, no, it fine, I’ll be okay, don’t you worry. You both know how I tend to hog the blankets anyways. And you two—oh. I guess that just leaves the double for you. Well, I’m sure you’ll manage.’

It was perfect. The plan was completely foolproof. Sure the multiple others he had tried over the last couple of years had failed spectacularly, but this one was different. If the two of them waking up in the same bed nestled in each others arms everyday for a month didn’t change things, then nothing would.

And so, Josh walked into the air conditioned lobby of the rental place, and greeted the man sitting at the front desk with an exuberant cock-sure grin. After a quick confirmation check, making sure to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s, Josh signed the paperwork with an overly outlandish signature and was handed the keys to their new home for the next month.

This month was going to be great.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“This month is going to be awful.”

Ashley stood in the center of the RV, her arms crossed angrily over her chest as she glared at the double bed situated further to the back.

“C’mon Ash, it’s not so bad. I mean, we can definitely make it work. Maybe?”

She turned towards Chris, who’s skill at placating Ash was less then stellar right now. “Make it work? How in the world are we supposed to make it work? There are three of us Chris! And only one bed!”

Unfortunately for everyone, especially Josh, she was right. After a day of driving, the three of them had finally arrived at their first stop on their leg of the journey. And with the way things were going already, it was looking like it might be their last.

“I don’t see how on earth you didn’t catch this Josh!”

From where he was sitting at the kitchen table and leaning back against one of the wall cushions, Josh shrugged weakly. “There was a mix-up and they accidentally booked us the wrong RV.” he lied, though not quite as smoothly as he had planned earlier in the day. “It’s summer and they didn’t have any others available that weren’t already booked.”

There was no way he was ever going to admit that he had declined the quick inspection that the agent had offered. He had just taken the keys and hooked it up to the truck without a single look. He was taking that secret to the grave.

With a groan, Ash joined Josh on the bench and placed her head in her hands. “I knew that I should have insisted a look when we were throwing everything into the back of the truck. But no, you insisted that everything was fine and we were late leaving anyway so I didn’t argue.” She moved to just placing her head face-down onto the table in the circle of her arms.

Hesitantly, Chris walked over to the table and joined them. For a moment, Josh thought he was going to start rubbing Ash’s back to try and calm her down, but he chickened out and awkwardly placed his hand back at his side. Instead the blond looked at the two of them hopefully. “I mean, maybe there is another bed somewhere?”

Josh regarded him with a flat look. “And where would you suggest that be Cochise?” He gestured with his arm to the rest of the area and watched as Chris’s face fell at the admittance the Josh had a point.

The area of the RV was small, as one would expect. There was the aforementioned double bed at the one end of the trailer, the kitchen table and its U-shaped benches where they sat at the other end, and the door leading to the small bathroom across from them. In the middle was a small kitchenette with a couple of cupboards, and the storage closets across from it. There was no chair or couch for them to sit on, or sleep on as the case was. They couldn’t even use the weird little table alcove as a bed either. The table was bolted into the floor of the trailer so you had to literally slide in if you wanted to sit down. Meaning that there was a very high chance of someone waking up and cracking their head on the table if they weren’t careful.

Ashley’s voice was muffled but mournful from where she had deigned to face plant on the table. “Knew Josh shouldn’t have went alone to grab the stupid thing. One of us should have went with him.”

“Yeah, well, them’s the breaks girl. I hate to be the one to interrupt this lovely pity party we have going on, but we really need to finish bring in the rest of our shit.”

Thankfully, Chris seemed to agree with him. “He’s right, Ash. Aside from bringing in the pots and pans and our clothes and toiletries, we still need to buy food. And I don’t know about you two, but I for one am starving.”

Slowly coming up from the safety of her arms, Ash sighed. “You’re right,” and continued with a more hopeful “And hey, maybe we’ll figure something out after eating some food.”

Three hours later, after an exciting evening of putting away their stuff, fighting over what food to put on the list, grocery shopping, fighting again (‘Who put the stupid Oreo's in the cart? We agreed no Oreo's!’ and ‘Really? Spinach? What are we, rabbits?’ being only two examples of the many, many arguments had there), and having shared a hearty and nutritional dinner of Kraft Dinner before bickering over who got to clean the dishes first (Josh lost that fight, on virtue of screwing up with the RV), they still hadn’t figured anything out. So now here they were, the three of them dressed for bed in old t-shirts and sleep shorts and/or sweats. And all staring at the only bed in resigned acceptance of their fate.

“I mean, one of us could just sleep in the truck.”

Ashley sighed. “No Chris, no one’s sleeping in the truck.” Noticing the look on his face, she was quick to shut him down. “Or on the floor, so don’t even bother offering.”

Josh shrugged. “ I mean, we’re all pretty skinny people. The one benefit of being pasty bookworm, and even more pasty technophile, and a handsome horror movie connoisseur.” He expertly ducked to avoid Chris’s headlock, though it put him right in line for Ash’s smack to connect with the back of his head. “So if we squeeze, we might all fit.”

The groan that came from Ash would have been insulting if he wasn’t feeling the same way. “Unfortunately, I think that’s the only option available to us. Oh, this is so not going to be comfortable.”

“Well, excuse you Ash, but I have heard from reputable sources that I am a very comfortable person, a human shaped body pillow if it were, so I take extreme offense to your complaints.” Again, Josh was able to avoid Ash’s push but was left open for Chris to punch him in the arm. He rubbed his arm as he stared at the other two. “Okay, seriously, how are you two doing that? Do you plan this out or something? Have normal, scheduled meeting about how best to injure me?”

“Something like that.” Chris responded distractedly as he dug through a drawer, closed it, and then opened another. Eventually, he managed to find what he was looking for and after a few more moments, turned around with three pieces of a plastic straw in his hand.

Josh eyed the straws warily. “What? You planning on having one last milkshake before bed or something?”

Chris rolled his eyes as he offered his hand clutching the straws to both Josh and Ashley. “Of course not you moron. Ash didn’t let us buy any ice cream anyway. No, this is to decide who gets to be in the middle.”

With a slightly nervous glance shared with Ash, Josh swallowed and reluctantly chose a straw.

And, as it turns out, ending up as the middle spoon as he laid cramped and miserable and oh so awkwardly between Chris in front and Ash at his back.

“This is awkward and I hate it,” Josh said.

“Shut up, Josh,” Chris and Ashley replied in unison.

-------------------------------------------------------------

When Josh woke up the next morning, the early morning sun shining into the window right above the bed, it was with him spread on his back. Chris was snoring right by his head, Ash’s face was smushed into his shoulder, and each of them had one arm draped over his chest. Someone might have found this entire scene cute.With Chris snoring loudly in his ear and Ash drooling on shoulder though, Josh was not that person.

With a groan, he carefully extracted himself from the center of the bed, somehow miraculously managing to not wake the other two up, and watched with nonplussed amusement as Chris and Ashley gravitated in their sleep to the now empty center, Ash ending up pressing her face into Chris’s chest as he buried his own into the top of her head, still snoring all the while. With a wistful sigh, he could only bemoan the fact that his plan totally would have worked. If only there had been a second bed.

Yawning and scratching at his stomach, Josh made his way to the shower at the other end of the trailer, grabbing a fresh set of clothes and his own shampoo on the way. When he emerged refreshed and marginally more awake thirty minutes later, it was to the smell of bacon and eggs and the still slightly red faces of his two best friends.

“Oooh. Service and a show.” With a grin, he twisted his towel and as a joke snapped it lightly at Chris’s ass while he cooked the bacon. He snickered at the yelp that resulted, and even more at the flat eyed look of disapproval from Ashley as she sliced a loaf of bread at the counter.

“That’s it. No breakfast for you.”

“Oh come on, Ash!”

“Nope. You lost your chance. Either cook your own bacon and eggs or have a bowl of cereal.”

“You are a cruel and heartless woman, Ashley Brown. I hope you know this as you sentence me to this injustice.”

Josh gave an overly exaggerated wail of despair as he moved to steal a piece of cooked bacon from one of the plates, and was intercepted by a smack to the back of his hand from Chris’s spatula. He cradled his now grievously injured hand to his chest.

“You heard the lady. You’ve been regulated to cereal like the child you are.”

“You two are going to be the most killjoy and unfun parents ever. I will have to rescue my poor nieces and nephews from your clutches just to show them life outside of their bleak and dreary lives.” He ignored them sputtering behind him as he dug through through their makeshift pantry. “What did we do with the cereal?”

While not removing his eyes from the pan of sizzling bacon, Chris turned his head slightly to talk over his shoulder. “Check the middle shelf to the right. I think Ash put a couple of boxes there.”

“Yeah, I see those one’s Cochise, I meant the fun cereal.”

“And what exactly is wrong with Raisin Bran and Cheerios?”

“Um, everything Ash. Just, everything.”

Chris snorted, then gave another yelp when he moved to dodge some grease when the bacon popped with a sharp crack. “Top shelf. I put the good stuff up there.”

“Chris!”

With a shout of victory, Josh pulled out a box of Oreo O’s and came behind Ash to grab a bowl from the cupboard above her head and the carton of milk from the fridge next to her.

“Wait, how the hell did you manage to sneak those into the cart?”

“I wanted Oreo’s, Ash, and I was gonna get my Oreo’s one way or another,” Josh said as he poured way more then the recommended serving into the bowl and poured in a helpful amount of milk. Replacing the milk in the fridge he grabbed a spoon and sat down at the kitchen table and started to eat his bowl of pure sugar as he reclined into the cushioned back of the benches. Shortly after, Ash and Chris joined him at the table with their own plates of slightly burnt bacon, eggs, and toast. “So, sleep well?” he asked innocently.

In response, Chris and Ash both ripped off a piece of toast and threw it at his head, which Josh easily dodged with a cackle. The rest of the meal passed in relative peace, aside from the occasional minor food fight that was Josh flicking pieces of cereal at their heads, as he felt wont to do every now and then. Until, that is, Chris dropped his fork by accident and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Swearing under his breath, Chris vanished under the table only to not reappear seconds later with said fork in hand.

“Ya doing alright down there, Cochise?”

When Chris responded back, it was with a pained edge to his voice, still under the table. “Can you two clear the table for me please.”

“You get stuck down there or something?”

“Just, just clear the table.”

Giving Ash a look of confusion similar to the one she was giving him, the two of them nonetheless cleared the table of all dishes, cutlery, cups, and ketchup that rested on it. With a grunt of effort, Chris extracted himself from beneath the table. And then, giving an extremely pained long-suffering sigh, put his hand underneath the table top and something mechanical snapped. In silence, they could only watch as the table slowly collapsed down to rest on what everyone now noticed to be the slightly lowered edges of the u-shaped benches, making a completely flat surface.

Without a word, it was Ash who reached for the cushioned backs of the benches and was easily able to rip them from their velcro and laid them across the newly flat surface. The three of them could only stare nonplussed and quiet at what was obviously a second bed. The burnt bacon and soggy cereal now long forgotten on the counter top behind them.

“I call dibs on the Table Bed.”

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #josh washington #ashley brown #chris hartley #chrashley #a day late again #i have discovered the need for the chaos that is the nerd trio grocery shopping #i needed a fic detailing this yesterday #i am not getting the point of these being short drabbles #how the hell are each of these ending up so long?

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rocketfool · 4 years ago

Note

fawks - 62, 64, 52, 40, 15 | kass - 8, 16, 36, 42, 66 "rainy that's ten questions" "yes :)"

putting these behind a read more to spare people who are not interested in all of this because whoops it got long!

FAWKS

62. Who does your character think is the most put together in the party?

THIS DEPENDS ON THE PARTY. of the main party, it’s definitely pierce. like sure he has some anxiety but he has not put goo in his mouth unprompted. so that pulls him ahead of fyn, who would be the second choice. of the surface party...probably valytra! like sure she collects souls in her necklace but she seems Polite and like she was a Pleasure to Have in Class, plus you have to have your shit together to be a spy (theoretically). kidar is...put together in that she’s extremely confident in who she is and assured of her own place in the world, but not the typical standard for “put together,” and fyn has put goo in her mouth, so. valytra wins.

64. What is one thing they want each party member to know?

I’m going to do main party, and out of character!

pierce: you’re so much braver and more heroic than you give yourself credit for. you deserve your place here just as much as anyone, and have personally inspired me to be a better person. but stop side eying me about scully I am WORKING on having a realization about this!! I’ll get there maybe!

jolene: we both put up such aggressive fronts to hide our vulnerabilities, but I’m discovering it is actually helpful to let people in and care for them, even if it makes you feel exposed. I hope you’re also coming to that realization and maybe one day (IN THE VERY DISTANT FUTURE) we’ll be more honest in our own friendship but for now lmao what is going on with blacksmith girl huh. I would like an update.

fyn: you’re the most optimistic and good-hearted person I know, and I hope you can see what an effect you have on the party. I’m very glad I’ve had you at my side for pursuing the black dragon wyrmspeaker, because I don’t know how I would’ve done it alone. also please stop putting goo in your mouth, we have enough money for quiche and lavender lemonade PLEASE.

52. If your character was under quarantine, what type of quarantine person would they be? (Productive? Hobbyist? Lazy?)

oh my god fawks in quarantine is off the rails immediately, she cannot be left unsupervised. I think she starts her own youtube channel that people LEGITIMATELY think is supposed to be like a ~found footage narrative fiction channel or other creative project but...it’s never been stated to be and she just keeps appearing in videos to talk very urgently about cryptids and show everyone how she’s converted her kitchen to include a PROPER, homemade fumigation hood. so it’s very unclear. on that note, the vlog probably comes to an end bc she either 1) blows up her kitchen with her own experiments because it is NOT a lab, or 2) breaks into someplace she shouldn’t be and isn’t caught but then uploads the footage to ye olde youtube and it’s like...okay so this is you running around fantasy area 51 right? knock it off.

40. Describe a corruption/redemption arc version of your character.

OKAY corruption arc fawks...like we all know fawks is very, very motivated by ~discovery and has a black and white way of thinking, she’s always poised on a precipice of discovering one powerful magic artifact that makes her risk it all LOL. she’s doing some character development in that area but I think there some very clear seeds of a corruption arc there--her connection to people (such as the party) is what keeps her on the...generally okay if not exactly the Right Path, so I think something awful befalling the party/people she loves where they are all killed would push her firmly into the dark side. I can see her getting lost in pursuing a way to “undo” whatever happened with time travel magic (wow like a certain tower we encountered) instead of reconciling it, and being willing to do whatever it takes to get her way. would prioritize herself and her mission above everything and everyone else, even if it threatens to rip the universe apart or results in killing people because she knows once she discovers this magic it will set things right, not just for her but its uses for the world at large...yeah it’d be bad. :/

REDEMPTION ARC is kind of what she’s on now. she’s discovering she has worth outside of what she produces for science/magic/etc! she’s figuring out she can open up to people and ask for help sometimes! she’s putting things right for her family! things are slowly coming up fawks...maybe.

15. Describe their ideal date.

OH BOY. fawks is not really uh...into traditional expressions of romance. like she’ll make an effort for the right person but her preference is never going to be a fancy dinner and candlelight. honestly I think the ideal date would start off in the late evening (AFTER A LONG DAY OF SCIENCE), going to a museum of curiosities or for cryptids/the arcane, where she’s allowed to really go in deep with her date on the history of various items/the theories behind everything and listen eagerly to what her date has to say too (in any world where fawks is dating, that person has to have Opinions on this type of thing). they’d stay until close and then head to a food truck to grab something to go while fawks leads the date to a rooftop of an abandoned building she likely discovered cryptid hunting but realized has an amazing view. they’d sit out under the stars and eat together, chatting inevitably about how fawks found the building, maybe do some exploring of it together. and then they head to a 24 hour diner for milkshakes as dessert!

KASS

8. What is something they cannot resist?

OOOH this is fun because there are a lot of ways to interpret the question. I think kass can never resist a bustling marketplace in whatever city he ends up in--he loves travel and finding out about the local culture, is always curious to see what’s for sale and what the gossip is about town from the merchants he meets there. he spent a lot of time in marketplaces growing up so they’re nostalgic for him--he also loves purchasing trinkets from them anytime he lands somewhere new, particularly if those trinkets are fancy scarves/boots/etc. foodwise, he’s a sucker for baklava and good red wine--he enjoys wine shops/bars over taverns because he’s bougie lmao. oh and if dancing is happening and he’s not the one playing the music, kass is involving himself as is his right as a bard. he can’t resist a good opportunity dance when he has the chance!

16. What keeps them going?

OH BOY a good question. I think kass is a realist in a lot of ways, but has held onto some amount of idealism. he keeps moving forward with the idea that he’s in a losing situation right now, but he’s patient enough to watch and see what way the winds will blow. he justifies his work with the understanding that he has a certain moral code for his behavior when he can make choices, versus when his hands are tied by the zhents. always is keeping one eye out for an opportunity to slip out of those binds completely.

36. What makes them blush?

HMMMM I don’t think kass gets too worked up over flirting--sometimes it’s literally just part of his job, and in general he’s just confident in himself. and listen he’s been in plenty of seedy taverns and courts rifled with intrigue, so not a lot makes kass bat an eyelash at this point. the things that would make him blush would probably be genuine romantic gestures? he doesn’t have a lot of experience with them so someone doing something very sweet and thoughtful for him would catch him completely off guard. like even getting flowers from the right person, kass is just not used to that type of attention!

42. Is there something your character isn’t very good at, but enjoys doing nonetheless?

kass would LOVE crossword puzzles I think. he’s been doing them since he was a kid and could filch a newspaper every once in a while, but he’s not super good at them. just enjoys having something to sit back and focus on while drinking his coffee in the mornings. I also don’t think he’s very good at cooking, but he enjoys trying out new recipes!

66. Outward Passion or Quiet Rebellion?

this is hard because I think kass feels pulled between the two very frequently. I think he’d much prefer outward passion, throwing himself heart first into a cause, but he definitely is more likely to commit quiet rebellion and does so frequently. like what the zhents don’t know won’t hurt...him. again, where he has the ability to, kass follows his own heart so he’s willing to work quietly to do some good. but he’d much prefer to be bolder, in the grand scheme of things.

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elopez7228 · 4 years ago

Text

Scenic Route 4/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Jessica was both overjoyed and terrified when she recognized Rey’s voice over the phone. She was shouting with a mixture of glee and rage about something along the lines of worrying to death and never being happier to hear something in her life.

Noticing Jessica’s sheer levels of anxiety, Rey strategically omitted certain details. She confirmed that she had arrived safely and had spent an unforgettable night in a luxury hotel—all at Finn’s expense, of course. She also downplayed the fact that her phone had run out of battery.

On the other end of the table, Ben Solo was trying very hard to pretend that he wasn’t listening. Rey knew that he didn’t miss a single word she said. She didn’t like the idea of being indebted to him, so she cut the call short, simply asking Jessica to tell the others that she was doing just fine and was having a splendid holiday.

Except for Finn of course. Finn could go die for all she cared. In fact, she really hoped he would.

She handed the phone back to Ben, who was still pretending to be disinterested.

“Problems with the boyfriend?”

Rey narrowed her eyes, dismissing the question as inappropriate.

“None of your business. Thanks for the cellphone. How much do I owe you?”

“Your digits. Then we’re even.”

Was he actually flirting with her? Rey sighed disdainfully.

“After nearly killing me with your Monster Truck, you’re trying to flirt with me? You have some gall, don’t you? Have a nice day, and thank you for the call.”

Picking up her damaged suitcase again, she waved politely to the waitress, who waved back. Then she headed over to the door. At the shopping center, she withdrew 500 dollars in cash, some of which she used to buy an adapter and a shoulder bag. She judged the new bag to be more suited to her trek across the country than her current roller model (which wasn’t doing a whole lot off rolling anyway).

The encounter with Ben Solo kept gnawing at her. The man was both intoxicating and insufferable, like over-sharp cologne that gave you a headache and made it harder to think. He was a bullish, arrogant show-off—and yet something about him mesmerized her. The way he chewed his lip when he was deep in thought, the constellation of beauty marks on his face, or the involuntary grace in the way he ran his fingers through his hair. It made him seem vulnerable, utterly human. A far cry from the apathetic snark he pretended to be.

Emerging from the shopping center, she peered around the corner to make sure the pickup was no longer parked there. Reassured that it had disappeared, she walked over to the Night Owl café in relief now that Ben Solo had left the premises.

The new customers were hipster types, likely students, clad in harem pants, plaid, and oversized glasses. They typed away on their laptops, sipping from fancy drinks graced with floating scoops of ice cream.

“Hello again, can I hang around here while I recharge my phone? Should I order something else?” She asked, approaching the waitress again.

“No need, go ahead and make yourself at home. You can stay as longs as you want. I’m sorry about that annoying customer. Are you alright?”

Manners dictated that Rey should simply have responded fine, thanks, but the words that left her lips instead were “It’s absolute hell, I want to die.”

She blushed immediately, chewing on her lip. What had possessed her to open up to a stranger?

The waitress looked up at the clock mounted on the wall.

“I’ve got some time before the lunch rush, wanna talk? I can make you some fresh squeezed orange juice, it’s loaded with vitamins, it’ll help you recharge,”

“I—well…alright. That’s kind of you. By the way, I’m Rey,”

“I’m Rose, nice to meet you. I have a feeling your trip hasn’t gone to plan. Have you been here long?”

“Since yesterday,” Rey sighed, taking the glass of orange juice that Rose offered. She plopped down onto a bench and when Rose sat across from her, she told her everything: Finn, the wedding, the annulment, Poe, Jessica, the honeymoon trip, Ben Solo and his pickup.

Rose listened attentively, occasionally nodding mhm to encourage Rey to keep going. Finally she asked, “But how much money do you have for this trip?”

“Not much, really” Rey shrugged, “Finn and I took out a loan to pay for the wedding, but now I have to reimburse the suppliers, give back our apartment, and whatever else I have to budget for the next five years. I’m generally better off the less I spend. It wasn’t the idea of the century to go on a two-week holiday with barely a quid to spare.”

Rose pursed her lips, assessing that last sentence. “I know someone who could use your services, if you’re interested. The job will make you some cash and take you pretty close to San Francisco.”

Rey hesitated. Silent alarm bells went off in her head, a gut instinct to pull away. She responded without thinking, “Is it prostitution or something? Because even if I’m penniless that’s out of the question,”

“No, not at all! It’s completely harmless. It’s just that I don’t have time to do it because of the café and all. No one will force you into anything.”

“Is it drug trafficking? Cannabis? That’s legal in Colorado, isn’t it? Will I make enemies in the police department?”

“No, none of that,” Rose giggled, “It’s actually just taking a car up to California. And knowing your situation, I thought you could really use a ride. But if you don’t feel like it we can figure something else out.”

“And what does that entail exactly? What’s in this car?”

Rose jotted down a number on a Night Owl business card, handing it to Rey.

“You can contact Leia Skywalker using this number, she’s a friend. She’ll explain everything. I would do it myself but like I said, I just don’t have the time. And it would be a two-way trip for me anyway. You would only be driving one way, it’s totally convenient.”

Rey slipped the card into her pocket and drained her glass, rising to her feet.

“I’ll think about it, thanks a load,”

“You’re welcome, thank you too. I hope it all works out for you…”

Rey threw her bag over her shoulder, taking out her phone, she made her way to the exit.

“Yeah, I hope so too...”

She found herself on the road again. Inside her pocket, her fingers fiddled with the glossy edges of the business card.

The thought of that card in her pocket distracted her throughout the day.

She went to the Black American West Museum on California Street, to broaden her horizons on a culturally and historically relevant fieldtrip. She didn’t retain anything however; distracted by hard realities like not knowing where she was going to sleep that night.

She ate a cheeseburger and an Oreo milkshake at this “Jack in the Box” place, where the hundreds of options at the soft drink machine left her feeling indecisive. Looking at the advertisements, this Jack fellow was an odd mascot who only appealed to American sensibilities; his prim suit contrasted comically with his ballooning head, which looked like it was decorated by a child no older than five.

She travelled on foot to the Santa Fe Art District, where she wandered without really admiring the bright murals and art galleries. It was getting late and she was feeling tired due to the lingering jet lag. She needed a room for the night.

Worn out from her day-long walk, she slumped onto a bench. It was there that she saw the poster, in the corner of a shop window across the street.

Howl at the Moon presents: Kylo & the Knights of Ren, June 30th to July 4th: Free admission

Where had she seen that name before? Kylo and the Knights? What a bizarre name, but why was it so familiar?

It dawned on her. Kylo Ren was written on the bumper sticker of that pickup. The one belonging to what’s-his-face Ben Solo. It was a rock band.

Well, then! Instead of finding a place to sleep, she had stumbled upon the perfect place to spend the evening…

When she made it through the doors at 7 PM, the place was still quiet. It was too early for the show and the scene was deserted. Rey ordered a beer and a club sandwich at the bar. Gritting her teeth, she sat down at a small, empty table in a quiet alcove. She had a good view of the stage while taking up as little space as possible. Why had she come? Objectively, she had no desire to see Ben again, the unbearable arse. And yet—and yet she was curious. If he was any good, she could ostensibly revise her judgement.

The venue filled up slowly as the music blared. The crowd was tight-knit, greeting each other with smiles and pats on the back. The drinks kept flowing all night. At first Rey thought she would garner attention, a girl sitting all alone with her beer. But the crowd thickened, and soon she was safely just another silhouette in a sea of hundreds of others.

The sound of a few stray guitar notes made her look up. The band was onstage. There were seven of them—four women and three men. Clad in that many shades of black, they left no doubt that they were a rock band. They had it all, the leather and denim, Doc Martens, miniskirts and crop tops. Their hairstyles ranged from expertly shaved to long flowing locks and intricate braids. In center stage was Ben Solo (or was it Kylo Ren?) microphone in hand. He chewed on his lip and ran his fingers through his hair, habits that Rey had already picked up on after just two encounters. He had an unusually deep, almost guttural voice—Rey would be lying if she said that her interest wasn’t piqued. The music was a perfect sort of chaos—the melodies hypnotic under the savage rhythm and relentless beat. Rey surprised herself by singing with the crowd, repeating the refrains that she hadn’t memorized yet but which descended upon her ears and lips as though they had always been there.

Realizing that she was finally smiling, Rey thought of how the past hour had rid her of her worries for the first time in a long while. It was cathartic—she felt alive again. She had no desire to leave this place, to go back out there and find a room, as common sense would dictate. She wanted nothing more than to stay there a little while longer, a carefree spirit enjoying the music as she basked in the anonymity of the crowd.

She stayed for just about the entire evening. The band descended into the crowd after the show to drink a few beers with a small group of regulars. They laughed like old friends. Rey couldn’t help but notice their guitarist. Her style was gorgeous punk, complete with an immaculate mohawk and studs in her nose and ears that contrasted beautifully with her ebony skin. She never left Ben’s side. Shoulder to shoulder, her hand on his arm, her subtle touches and accidental brushes seemed to multiply.

Stars, I’ve never seen a girl more madly in love, too bad for her that he doesn’t look like he will ever reciprocate it.

And as though it was meant to contradict her, Ben’s hand shifted to rest on the girl’s hip, subtly pulling her against him. Rey raised the beer bottle to her lips, and found herself eye to eye with him as he looked up.

He was so shocked to see her that he began looking around, perhaps to make sure that it wasn’t one of those tacky hidden camera shows. As nothing continued to happen, he got up and walked in her direction.

The guitarist let him go, but not without seeking a reason for the sudden desertion. Her eyes locked on to Rey. Suddenly, Rey felt that she hadn’t exactly made a new friend.

“Good evening! Lovely concert there, Kylo Ren,” Rey said sweetly as Ben towered over her.

“What are you doing here?”

The question could have been unexpected if she wasn’t so naively spontaneous. Rey took a large swallow of her beer.

“I saw the light and I wandered in, what a small world, right?”

“Denver is a small town. And the nighttime rock scene even is even smaller. I didn’t realize that you liked rock music.”

“Well I don’t mean to brag but I have all sorts of hobbies apart from throwing myself at moving vehicles, really. But we never got around to that. How long have you been playing?”

“A few years.”

He wasn’t talkative and Rey pursed her lips as she scratched her brain for topics of conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rather impatient guitarist and seized upon the opportunity to ask him about her.

“Lovely guitarist you’ve got there, is she your girlfriend?”

“None of your business.”

Rey took the blow. It was fair play. She finished her beer and turned to leave.

“Well, then! Alright Ben Ren, Kylo Solo, or whatever your name is, thank you for the evening—it was a memorable performance. I had a great time but I ought to leave.”

She rose and slung her bag over her shoulder again, as it caught Ben’s eye.

“New bag? You were right to buy it, your other one was completely useless.”

“Yeah, someone was nice enough to tell me that it didn’t match my outfit. Goodnight, then.”

She had only taken a few steps toward the exit when he called out behind her:

“Where will you be staying tonight, Rey from England?”

“Nowhere. I’m a free woman in the Land of the Free.”

Her response was drowned out by the voices of late-night conversations between party diehards and smokers who congregated in packs near the door. Rey was feeling lightheaded and tipsy; she took a few wobbly steps onto the sidewalk before he called her name.

“Rey, wait!”

She turned around to see Ben cutting through the crowd in her direction, as she hit the lamppost hard. I must really be drunk then, she reasoned before giving in to the darkness.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #Scenic Route

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nancywheelxr · 6 years ago

Note

from that drabble challenge list - 15 with five and any of the other hargreeves siblings, you choose

Anon, thank you so much, I love writing these chaotic disasters.

15. “I’d kill for a coffee… literally.”

Klaus is napping on the couch.

No, really, he is. Just give him a few minutes and he’ll be off to dreamland, very far from any new end of the world scenarios that he has no doubt will pop up in a few days. That’ just how it is when you’ve got shitty luck like them.

So, he’s napping on the couch when a shadow falls over him.

A very small shadow.

“Klaus,” the shadow says, way too bossy for such a tiny thing. Klaus peels one eye open and finds Five predictably scowling down at him. “If Luther or Diego asks, I’ll be back before dinner. Tell them not to start without me– are you listening to me?”

He waves a hand, “yeah, yeah. Luther and Diego are to sit tight while you’re off gallivanting in the real world.”

“This is not– nevermind. Allison should be back by then.”

And with that he’s off, shaking his head like he’s still the boss of them, which is ridiculous, because if anyone should be boss, it should be Allison, she’s the one looking like a proper grown-up these days.

The front door closes and Klaus shrugs; he’ll just sit tight too, then.

The shadow is back.

Klaus knows that because Ben hasn’t stopped whining about being bored since Five first left and his loud sighs are impossible to block out.

“Klaus,” the tiny shadow barks, and Klaus doesn’t even have to look up to know the kid is in a bad mood. “You searched through this place before. Where would Luther hide Dad’s guns?”

On one hand, this is a very troubling statement.

On the other hand, how’s that for being bored, now?

“Dad’s office, maybe?” He offers, glancing up at all the closed doors on the second floor. The big guy isn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, and he’s certainly not the most creative. Actually, Klaus wouldn’t be surprised if Luther had returned it to its exact same place. “Or the main bedroom. Under the bed, perhaps? Or inside the closet, if we’re going classic.”

“Already searched there. Where else?”

“You shouldn’t enable this,” Ben pipes up from the armchair, making a vaguely constipated face. “Can he even reach the top shelf?”

“I don’t know, he can teleport there,” he throws a pillow in his direction, hoping this is the kind of stressful situation to trigger Ben into being just a little bit solid. Klaus is not asking much. Just a little, just enough for the pillow to bounce off his forehead.

And because Five has about the patience of soccer mom in a department store, he does the equivalent of asking to see the manager. “Forget it. This is a waste of time, I’m going to ask Mom,” and pops out of there.

“You really should stop him,” Ben says, looking dubiously in the direction of the kitchen.

Another pillow flies. “Quit being a little bitch, Ben.” A pause, “he says, with the utmost affection.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in a smile.

For the third time that afternoon, a teeny-tiny shadow falls over him.

“Klaus,” Five shakes his shoulder without mercy. “Wake up, you’re driving me to the nearest diner.”

“Klaus,” Ben echoes, sounding alarmed, but Klaus isn’t very inclined to be alarmed himself, because, see, in his experience, Ben is easily alarmed by things. Such is the nature of ghosts, he figures. “I really think you should stop him now.”

“Go away,” he says instead, turning away and hoping both of them would get the hint and leave him alone, “I can’t drive, go bother Diego, he can play taxi.”

“Everyone’s out and you drive like a maniac. It should work as a getaway car as long as you don’t crash it– do you think you can manage that?”

The words are processed in stages. First, Klaus is offended because come on, everyone knows he can’t drive, it’s not his fault. Then, he remembers the ice cream truck and yeah, maybe he’s got a point. Finally– “Why do you need a getaway car?”

Klaus’ eyes fly open and he jolts up into a sitting position, the pillow he had been hugging falling to the carpeted floor. Holy crap, he thinks, Five snapped. It was bound to happen, really, but the sight of a thirteen-years-old holding a sniper’s rifle is always a bit startling.

Ben shakes his head, burying it on his hands.

“I need a coffee,” Five says.

“Okay,” Klaus blinks, “are you taking me hostage?”

“What? No, I need you to drive me there and leave the car ready while I hold the diner hostage.”

“That’s– do you need money? Because I’m broke, but we can totally pawn some shit and–”

“Stop wasting my time, of course I have money! That’s not even close to the problem– do you know how hard it is to order a black coffee alone when you look like this?” Five gestures himself, the movement a little awkward on the account of his holding a gun bigger than his short body, but that doesn’t stop him, he’s clearly very passionate about this. “Very difficult. If anyone else asks me one more time if I want a milkshake instead,” he trails off, taking a deep breath, but the message is pretty clear because, you know, gun.

Ben is still muttering to himself, apparently checked out of the conversation. Which is great, honestly, leave it to Klaus to talk the tiny assassin down from murder. However possibly could this go wrong? “I think,” he says carefully, “there are a few steps we could take before escalating to homicide.”

Five closes his eyes as if praying for patience. “I’d kill for a decent cup of coffee,” he adjusts the rifle on his hand with frighteningly ease, “literally.”

“I can see that, yeah?” Klaus smiles, reaching deliberately for the gun. Surprisingly, Five gives in after only a couple minutes of tug of war. Again, all very safe and responsible. He sets it down on the coffee table after double checking if the safety is on. “That’s great, buddy. Now, why don’t we skedaddle out of here before Luther finds this and goes all self-righteous on us?”

“Luther can go–”

Shushing him with a finger, Klaus clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Mind your language, young man. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“If I wasn’t short on bullets, I would shoot you right now,” Five informs him in a pleasant voice, like the darling family psycho he is.

“I know, and I love you too,” he gets to his feet, picking up his coat from the floor and Diego’s wallet from the table, after all, babysitting Five should always be a team effort. “Now come along, kiddo, tell me which waitress made you cry and we’ll guilt trip her into giving you some coffee.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if the apocalypse wouldn’t have been better.”

“Hey, I’m buying you coffee, you are contractually obligated to be nice to me.”

Ben, who had finally lifted his head from his hands, stands up as well. “I don’t know, isn’t caffeine suppose to stunt your growth?”

Klaus grins. “Yeah, he has a point. Isn’t caffeine gonna stunt your growth, short stack?”

“I should’ve sneaked out the fire escape,” Five sighs, trailing after him with a last longing look at the rifle.

#look an ask #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #tua fic #tua fanfic #this was way bigger than a drabble whoops #five and klaus brotp tag #tua tag

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jinris · 6 years ago

Text

pink in the night, pt. 2

(ao3) - part one cw: underaged drinking

it’s like a summer shower with every drop of rain singing “i love you, i love you, i love you!

---

“Friends don’t kiss their friends,” Keith finally says. His voice is nearly a whisper, lost in the sickening sea of overpowering dance beats, and yet Allura hears it as clear as day.

She can’t bear the look in Keith’s eyes, hardened and utterly expressionless. It’s her least favorite look. Keith pretends he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeves, but his eyes change like the seasons with every emotion. Knowing Keith better than anyone else, Allura has memorized them all. Now, shielding himself from impending heartbreak, he stares at her like a stranger.

“We’re just…we were just fooling around,” she answers, but it feels like someone else’s words. Allura anxiously tugs at her jacket sleeves, and she hopelessly searches for any hint of affirmation in Keith’s eyes. Her chest feels so heavy, and her voice falters when she speaks.

“…Right?”

If she could just…

Allura reaches for his arm, needing to know and needing him, but Keith pushes her hand away and she flinches.

He’s never done that before, and she can’t understand why.

“I don’t want to fool around with you.”

Keith’s words rip the air from her throat, flow through her veins like fire. Allura’s eyes widen.

“I…this was a mistake,” she says, voice quivering. “Even better, it never happened.”

“Allura, don’t,” Keith exasperates.

Allura shakes her head and closes her eyes, refusing to look at him any longer.

“Take me home.”

For a long time, Keith says nothing. He studies the dark, perfect blush of Allura’s cheeks, the way she avoids his gaze right now, and he comes to some tacit understanding. He frowns, berating his own frustration and impatience. Keith wants so badly to be infuriated with her, to forcibly kiss her until she sees it his way, to forgive and agree with her, to maybe finally move on. Every option fiercely contests within him, but one thing remains vividly clear. And so, he sighs.

“Okay.”

---

Scattered stars shine faintly in the cloudless sky despite the unnatural line of flickering streetlights. Keith and Allura follow familiar sidewalks back to the street they’ve both lived on since she was four and he was five. Eyeing her left, Allura sorely notices the tiny fraction of greater distance that Keith has put between them.

The walk home is unnervingly silent until they reach the front steps of Allura’s house.

Taking a deep breath, Allura turns around to Keith one last time before she heads in. A few seconds pass as she builds up courage.

“See you Monday?”

Keith musters a small smile, and Allura’s heart drops to her stomach.

“Good night, Allura.”

---

“Of course I don’t like him. I don’t like it when you’re with him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s my best friend, Lotor.”

“You’ve been weird ever since Christmas. Something happened, didn’t it? I knew you should have come with me to the party instead of your family thing.”

“Nothing happened that night.”

“I’m tired of this, Allura. It’s either him or me.”

She’s gotten used to the quiet walks home from school. For mid-January, the sun is unapologetic, and the weather a little too warm. These days, when she’s not attending student government meetings, Allura practices with the school varsity dance team. By the time she finally leaves campus, the sky is already dim, having already decided what color palette it wants to be that evening. Today, it’s elected on cotton candy pink and periwinkle blue.

Allura pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the pastel sky that hardly does the real thing justice. She sighs softly, stuffs her phone back in her jacket pocket and adjusts the textbooks in her arm.

She doesn’t mind the solitude in walking home alone. In fact, she prefers it to the high-energy, dramatic commotion favored by a good number of her high school peers. With Lotor, and his friends by proxy, out of her life, Allura feels a sincere peace she hasn’t felt in months.

Looking forward into the horizon, Allura realizes she’s arrived at the park near her house and sees in the distance a familiar figure resting against the slide.

Grinning, Allura fixes her jacket and looks both ways before crossing the street. She tries to maintain the element of surprise, treading lightly on playground gravel as she approaches the slide.

“Hi, stranger,” Allura greets shyly, peering over curiously.

The edge of Keith’s lips curl into a small smile before he peeks out from one eye to confirm his suspicions. Arms extended behind his head and acting as a pillow, Keith takes in her presence and closes his eye again once he memorizes Allura’s rosy, wind-chilled cheeks and adorably tousled hair.

“What are you doing here?” asks Keith, half-seriously. “I thought we were picking up the decorations for Hunk’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh, I was in the area,” Allura replies playfully, setting down her backpack and crouching down to Keith’s level. “I just came from school.”

“Lotor drop you off?”

The smile on her face disappears.

Oh, right.

Allura inhales sharply.

She hadn’t told him yet.

Chest tightening, moderate panic starts to sink down into her stomach. Allura anxiously chews her lip, running through all the possible scenarios that could only follow Keith’s question.

“Um, no. I, uh, broke up with him.”

For every long, agonizing second that Keith is silent, Allura berates herself for not telling him sooner. Who waits this long to tell their best friend that they’d broken up with someone? She stares at him intently, holding her breath for his response.

“When?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t look at her.

“Two weeks ago,” Allura answers nervously.

“Oh.”

Quiet again. Allura wants to hide behind her hair, or run away or something.

“Sorry things didn’t work out,” Keith adds.

Allura teeters uneasily against the edge of the slide, choosing to focus on Keith’s unbuttoned red flannel and plain white shirt underneath.

“It’s fine. We just didn’t agree on some things, in the end. I’m not upset,” she explains, her eyes flickering to Keith’s face.

He doesn’t say anything, but Allura watches the covert rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deeper breath than usual. Then, Keith opens his eyes and turns his head toward her.

“How was dance practice?”

Allura exhales in immense relief, grateful that Keith had decided to change the subject. She hadn’t been ready to explain the often inevitable follow-up interrogation as to why they had broken up, and she certainly hadn’t wanted to tell Keith about the ultimatum Lotor had given her. In fact, while she’d told Romelle and her other friends, she had conveniently forgotten to reveal the real reason why she and Lotor had broken up.

She gives him a tired smile.

“Exhausting. Nationals are coming up so we’ve been running through our routines pretty hard.”

“Think you’ll place?”

“We have to believe that, don’t we?” Allura shrugs.

Keith nods languidly in agreement, turning back to face the sky and setting sun. Because he surely won’t notice her, Allura takes the time to admire the relaxed expression on his face. Keith has always preferred the outdoors, and basking under the light of the fading sun, he seems to belong inside a portrait of earthly nature, an exquisite product of the stars. Most importantly, he is her best friend and she’s made the right choice. Desiring his attention, Allura gives in to the urge to grab onto Keith’s flannel shirt and acts upon it without a second thought.

Just as she expects, Keith promptly glances down at her hand, and then to the rest of her.

“What are you thinking about?” Allura asks.

“What I want to eat for dinner.”

Allura presents an unamused look at his absurdly mundane answer. Keith sits up on the slide, finding her hand and keeping it pressed against his waist.

“My mom has a staff meeting tonight and Dad’s on a double-day shift. It’s just me so I don’t feel like cooking,” he explains.

“Well then,” Allura begins, eyes now glimmering with excitement, “Would your feelings change if you had to cook for two?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“My parents are going out on a date,” she clarifies, “So I’m home alone all night. I was just going to order pizza, but if you’re cooking…”

“Are you seriously inviting yourself over for free food?” Keith quickly interrupts.

Allura pouts a little too innocently for Keith to easily disregard and he sighs, unfortunately aware that he’s never unable to deny her when she presents herself in such a way. He grasps her hand a little tighter.

“Fine,” he says, to Allura’s genuine delight. “But it’s just going to be leftover ramen.”

“I love your dad’s homemade ramen though! I want extra chashu with mine,” she grins.

“No green onions?”

Allura nods eagerly, and Keith can’t help but chuckle. He releases Allura’s hand, but she doesn’t care to let go.

“You’re helping with the dishes though.”

“Of course.”

Keith plants his hand firmly on top of her head and stands up. He bends down and snatches Allura’s backpack, swinging it over his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, and Allura gladly springs back up to her feet. They walk down the winding, concrete path, back to the street, in the direction of Keith’s house.

“Oh, and can we go out for milkshakes after? My treat.”

“Who’s going to drive?” Keith asks rhetorically.

Allura giggles, skipping a step sideways and hugging his arm tightly.

“You.”

Keith rolls his eyes but quietly leans into her touch.

“Didn’t even need to ask.”

---

“You fell asleep on me last night,” Allura grumbles as she slams the passenger door to Keith’s old, red pickup truck. “Hold this.”

Keith takes the lavender coffee mug from Allura’s waiting hand. As soon as her hand is free, Allura dumps her textbooks in the space between them and quickly fastens her seatbelt. Sighing dramatically, Allura closes her eyes and slumps into her seat.

“I tried to stay awake but who studies until two in the morning?” Keith explains, staring at Allura’s frazzled appearance with deep amusement. With the mug still in his hand, he steals a sip from coffee but immediately makes a face.

“Gross. Hazelnut.”

“It’s always hazelnut. Give it back,” Allura pouts, anxiously extending her hand out for her much-needed caffeine. Keith carefully sets it back in her hand. “I have six tests today. My teachers are conspiring against me.”

Allura brings the lid opening to her lips and drinks a long sip of hot, creamy hazelnut coffee as Keith pulls out of her driveway and starts their way to school. After a moment, Allura rubs her eyes and forces them open, intently fixating on the gloomy sky in front of them. Keith glances over, catching her in the act, and frowns.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

Allura sighs and tiredly pulls at the jacket sleeve falling off her shoulder.

“I don’t know, two hours maybe. I was still awake at four, I think.”

“I wish you’d slept more.”

“I know, so do I,” Allura replies wistfully. “I was just so worried and lost track of time. I’ll make it up tonight, I promise.”

Keith chuckles.

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“I know that too. Junior year is the worst.”

Allura huffs and grabs her AP physics textbook from the pile, finding her page marker and opening the book to the chapter where she’d left off for one final review.

“You’ll do fine,” says Keith. He turns to her and smiles encouragingly when Allura looks up. Her shoulders relax. She takes a deep breath and responds with a small smile of her own.

“Thanks. Now stop bothering me.”

For the rest of the day, Allura’s mind focuses obsessively on passing her tests. After Keith parks his car in the student parking lot, they stop by their lockers – Keith’s first so he can pick up his economics textbook, and then Allura’s, where their friends like to congregate before first period. Braving the cold February weather as they stand in front of her locker, Allura, Hunk, and Pidge discuss and exchange notes for the test, while Keith, Romelle, and Lance socialize unobtrusively. A moment later, Pidge ducks out of the group, phone in hand, stating some important business related to Matt and Nyma that Allura doesn’t care to question, preferring her flashcards on the rudimentary theories of magnetism and optics.

Allura flips incessantly through the pages of her physics textbook, ignoring the nearby commotion surrounding Matt’s loud declaration, his showy red and pink poster, and Nyma’s blushing delight. Absorbed in theorems and equations, it takes a moment for Allura to realize that the first bell has rung.

“Time to face the music,” Hunk groans, snapping his textbook shut.

Allura sighs solemnly and shuffles through her notes one last time. She glances over her wrist and gasps.

“Oh no, I forgot! Keith, could you –”

She spins around and sticks her arm out, and Keith dutifully tugs her lucky scrunchie off her wrist. He steps behind her and quickly collects her silver hair, combing his fingers through loose tangles. In her periphery, Allura can’t help but notice and think that Lance and Romelle are staring at her as Lance whispers into Romelle’s ear. She inhales sharply, trying to recite physics equations in her mind. Finally, Keith ties her hair up into a tight ponytail, and Allura suddenly turns around to face him.

“Thanks,” she says a little breathlessly.

Keith grins and gently squeezes her arm.

“It helps you concentrate. Relax, Allura. You already know everything.”

Allura smiles shyly and nods in agreement.

“I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Definitely.”

A hard slap meets the back of her shoulder, and Allura looks to her side and finds Lance staring not at her, but straight at Keith, who abruptly looks away.

“So, Allura, Pidge, and Hunk have a test to take. We’ve got classes to get to,” Lance announces loudly. “Let’s hustle, folks.”

“Good luck, you guys,” says Romelle.

Lance abrasively throws his arms around Keith and Romelle’s shoulders, pushing them forward and dragging them along. Allowing a distracting moment for herself, Allura grins as Keith shoves Lance away before she starts following Hunk and Pidge into their classroom.

As always, Allura settles into her desk and easily finishes the test, turning it in five minutes before the bell. With each consecutive class and test, Allura feels a weight lift from her shoulders. Having taken four tests in a row, she trudges to the art room for lunch, where she inadvertently claims Keith’s lap for a quick nap on Ms. Montgomery’s couch. Despite the riddled anxiety and hazy sleep deprivation, Allura manages to keep herself motivated until the end of sixth period, after she places her literary analysis in the plastic tray on her teacher’s desk.

The dismissal bell sounds, and Allura lets her body give in to exhaustion at last. Haphazardly, she packs her things and walks out of her classroom in a daze. When she somehow makes it back to her locker across campus, Keith is already there waiting for her. Without a word, Allura rushes over and collapses into his surprised arms.

“I survived,” she murmurs into his chest.

“You survived,” Keith laughs, closing his arms around her.

“I’m so ready for the weekend.”

“It’s only Thursday.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Keith’s body is like a furnace impervious to the sharp, chilly air around them, and Allura hugs him tighter.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Go home. Sleep.”

“Guess the answer’s no then,” Keith replies, his voice directed elsewhere. Allura looks up curiously and follows his gaze. Realizing that their friends had been standing around the entire time, Allura feels a flush spread across her cheeks.

“Aw, sure you don’t want to come to Sal’s with us, Allura?” Hunk asks. “Well, most of us. Me, Shay, and Romelle. Lance and Pidge are trying to scam the movie theater so they can see Star Wars again on one ticket.”

“No, we’re not!” Lance contends. “Pidge and I are simply taking advantage of tonight’s couple discount. We are a couple, after all. A couple of friends.”

Pidge groans.

“In other words, scamming. Why didn’t you just ask out that girl from yearbook?”

“She rejected him,” Pidge snickers.

“Oh, poor Lance,” Allura teases, throwing herself into the conversation.

“Wait, Pidge, tell us what happened!” Romelle exclaims.

“No, Pidge! Don’t tell them! And besides, Hunk, why aren’t you and Shay doing anything?”

“We’re going out this weekend. Her parents don’t want her staying out late on a school night.”

“Fine, whatever. So if Keith and Allura are going home, then the three of you can just ride in the back and I’ll drop you off.”

“Sounds good.”

“Maybe we can meet up later,” Allura suggests.

“Sure, just text any one of us,” Romelle smiles.

Allura waves as her friends say their goodbyes and depart for the parking lot. Sighing comfortably once it becomes quiet again, Allura unexpectedly feels a hand in her hair. She looks up as Keith pulls her scrunchie, allowing her hair to fall and cascade down her back. For a while, Allura gratefully lets him run his fingers through her hair.

“You could’ve gone with them,” she eventually says. “I could’ve just walked home.”

“Allura, you look like you’re right about to pass out. I’d rather make sure you don’t fall asleep out on some sidewalk.”

“Thanks, because I feel like I might.”

It starts to rain on the ride back to Allura’s house. Perfectly tranquil, classic rock music plays softly on the radio in Keith’s car. Allura gently leans against the window, and the relaxing ambiance nearly lulls her asleep. She only realizes that they’ve pulled into her driveway when Keith lightly shakes her arm, convincing her to open her eyes and face him.

“Stay, please. I’m just going to take a short nap.”

The slight, affirming smile on Keith’s face is the only answer Allura needs.

Her body meets her queen-sized bed face first, and Allura hastily shoves her phone and keys onto her nightstand. The inviting warmth calls to her, and she gladly buries herself deep under the thick, pink and white covers. Trailing behind, Keith sets Allura’s backpack and textbooks near her desk. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it neatly over the scarf and worn, pale blue T-shirt on the back of Allura’s chair. Disregarding the general mess of the room, Keith walks over and settles down next to Allura on the other side of the bed.

Allura readily turns toward him, crossing her leg over his, and Keith quietly extends his arm out, letting Allura edge in and rest against him. Keith carefully wraps his arm around her, hugging her tightly and earning himself the impression of a pleasant smile against the side of his chest. Sliding her hand across Keith’s waist, Allura responds by holding him close, never intending to let go. For as long as Allura can remember, Keith has always let her sleep like this, and after years of sharing beds for sleepovers and camping trips, Allura can no longer imagine any other way she prefers to fall asleep.

“Wake me up in an hour,” Allura mutters, her lips tightly pressed against Keith’s sweatshirt.

“One hour,” Keith echoes.

He leans over the edge of the bed and pulls out a class-assigned novel from his backpack, opens to where he had left off. Rain patters against the white-framed windows, and perhaps Allura should feel disappointed rather than utterly content, today of all days, that she’s so tired, stuck indoors, and without a significant other. She breathes in the faint scents of Keith’s weathered book, of mint and citrus, and the lavender of her clean bed sheets. Once she closes her eyes, the soothing, languid strokes of Keith’s hand running down her back are the last thing Allura feels as she drifts into dreams.

She wakes to the muted sounds of her parents walking downstairs and the clanking of their garage as it closes moments later. The dead silence makes falling back asleep hard to resist, but Allura wearily opens her eyes anyway, only to see evening darkness from the window. She furrows her eyebrows and squints, realizing that Keith clearly hadn’t kept track of the time.

Emerging slightly out from the covers, Allura looks up and finds Keith fast asleep, his book left open and facing down on his chest. At some point while she had been asleep, Keith had wrapped his other arm around her, and now secured warmly in his embrace, Allura attempts to slowly remove the book and successfully places it aside. She almost doesn’t want to wake him up, preferring to go back to sleep herself, but she nevertheless stretches her neck and inches her body as far up as she can.

“Keith, wake up,” she manages to whisper into his ear. She shakes his shoulder when he doesn’t seem to react.

The shaking appears to work, much to Allura’s relief, and Keith stirs, inhaling deeply. His hand lethargically slides up to the back of Allura’s neck, and his face dives into her hair.

“Five more minutes, Lu,” he mutters.

“No way. Keith, you fell asleep. You were supposed to wake me!”

Keith’s eyes snap open and he pulls back to meet Allura’s annoyed glare. Allura pouts to emphasize her displeasure.

“Sorry. The book was really boring.”

“Now it’s dark out so everyone probably already went home.”

“What should we do?”

Allura sighs, pondering the question as she absentmindedly picks up the drawstring on Keith’s crimson red hooded sweatshirt.

“…Do you have any plans later?” she asks, staring at the drawstring as she daintily twists it around her finger.

“No, why would I?”

“Oh. I thought you’d want to hang out with your other friends tonight…” She trails off, and then pauses for a moment. “I figured I should share you sometimes.”

Keith laughs and reassuringly places his hand on her waist.

“I decide who I spend my time with and when. Not you. Do you want to order takeout?”

Finally looking up from the drawstring, Allura smiles and nods enthusiastically.

“I want Italian. And later, can we rewatch –”

“Don’t say it.”

“– Pride and Prejudice?”

“…Again?”

“Please? I really want to,” Allura begs, batting her eyes in hopes of persuading him.

“You can already recite every line of that movie by heart.”

“So? If I’m going to be lonely and single indefinitely, at least let me indulge in watching my favorite movie ever.”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“You’re not going to be lonely and single forever, Allura. It hasn’t even been two months since you broke up with Lotor.”

“Please, Keith?” Allura asks again. “You’re the only one who’s ever nice enough to watch it with me.” She runs her hand up Keith’s neck and gently presses her thumb against the corner of his lips, having recently discovered this trick and knowing this time that she’ll convince him with it. Keith’s grip on her waist tightens and he frowns.

“Okay, fine, we’ll watch it,” he grumbles.

“You’re the best!”

Keith collapses against the pillow, releasing Allura from his hold as she excitedly climbs over him to grab her phone. He exhales deeply, smiles with uncertainty when Allura turns around and comes back to sit next to him.

“You should just admit you like the movie too,” Allura teases, glancing over Keith’s troubled expression.

“Right. That’s never happening.”

“Oh, but coming to terms with liking something really gives you peace of mind. It’s a lot better than that tense look you have right now. There’s no shame in loving Jane Austen.”

Keith’s eyes widen as Allura leans in and assertively rests her head on his shoulder. Staring down at her screen, Allura swiftly pulls up the food delivery app on her phone.

“Now tell me what you want so I can order it.”

---

In the darkness, the only source of light, flickering as the scene changes, comes from the large television screen in front of them. Delicate British accents speak in low volume, never obstructed by the occasional hum of central heating surging through the air vents close by. Curled up on the couch, Allura stacks a small bowl of pretzels on her knee. They share Allura’s childhood fuzzy blanket, and despite his earlier protests, Keith watches the movie intently.

“I love you. Most ardently,” Allura whispers, her cheek lazily pressed against Keith’s arm. “Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.”

She giggles softly and looks up, anticipating Keith’s reaction, only to see him already gazing down at her.

“I love you most ardently. Isn’t that romantic?”

Waiting expectantly for Keith’s answer, Allura brings a pretzel stick to her lips and snaps it in half with her teeth. Instead, Keith sighs and raises his arm. Following his lead, Allura scoots in closer and lets him drape his arm around her shoulders.

“You always ask that.”

Allura responds with a cheeky grin.

“It’s because I think it’s really romantic.”

“Huh.”

“I wish someone would tell me that. Pretzel?”

Keith raises his eyebrow just as Allura holds up a pretzel stick to his face, letting go when Keith casually leans forward and accepts it with his mouth.

“You want someone to quote Darcy?”

“Well, no, not exactly. Just that they love me, I guess. No one’s told me that before other than my parents.”

Keith stares at her with a strange expression that Allura can’t quite read.

“Lotor never said it?”

“Nope.”

“…Did you ever say it to him?”

Allura shakes her head.

“It never got to that point, I think.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. There was a lot that I liked about him, but I don’t think I ever loved him.” She sets aside the snack bowl and snakes her arm across Keith’s stomach. Clinging onto him wistfully, she hides her face in his chest. “So it’s fine.”

Sensing Allura’s shifting, dejected mood, Keith swiftly surrenders his attention to the movie he’s been forced to see too many times. His hand leaves the armrest and starts gently carding through Allura’s hair. Allura exhales softly and turns her attention back to the screen. When the scene changes again, she pulls their blanket up past her shoulders.

“I could say it, you know,” Keith says quietly. He pauses his hand and his fingers settle in Allura’s hair.

Allura twists her neck and gazes up at him. Illuminated by the light, her deep blue eyes seem to glow.

“Hm?”

“I wouldn’t be your parents either.”

Allura smiles softly.

“Of course not. But you’re my best friend. I already know you love me.”

For a second, Keith’s eyes seem to fixate on the part of her face below her eyes. Allura watches Keith swallow and just barely bite his lower lip, triggering within her an inexplicable wave of self-consciousness. Eventually, Keith laughs, though almost as if he had been holding his breath.

“It’s not the same, is it?”

“Exactly.”

She beams at him, pleasantly surprised by his sudden offer. Diverting her focus back to the screen, she uncurls her legs and lies down along the couch, using Keith’s lap as a headrest. She grabs another pretzel stick from the snack bowl. More important to her right now is the romantic drama unfolding in front of her eyes.

---

“What the hell, Keith?!” Lance shouts loudly over the music and fervent party chatter, when Keith perfectly tosses his plastic ball into the last remaining red cup on Lance’s side of the table. Meanwhile, at least ten cups remain on the other side.

“Drink up, Lance,” Keith smirks, as James cackles and throws his arm around him in celebration.

Allura grins from where she lounges on the couch behind Keith and James. Watching Keith and Lance compete is always entertaining, even if she’s admittedly biased for one over the other. She brings the edge of her cup to her mouth and finishes her drink, licking the last of cool lime and tequila from her lips. Even in her scarlet halter top and denim shorts, the room feels hot and stuffy.

Lance gripes with his loss as he angrily snatches the cup and drains it of its content. He slams the empty cup down on the table.

“Best two out of three!” he declares. “And this time, Acxa’s on your team! She kept missing on purpose!”

“Hey! That’s not true,” Acxa contests, walking over to Keith as she and James agreeably switch sides.

She shares a sly, knowing look with Keith and Allura quickly averts her gaze and chews on her cup.

“Lance, you’re just delaying the inevitable,” Allura abruptly calls out.

Keith turns around at the sound of her voice and grins at her. He appears to glance her over, and Allura sits up, biting her lip and offering a gratified smile when their eyes meet.

“Oh, shut up, Allura, you always take his side,” Lance snaps back.

Allura laughs, conceding to the accusation. She’s about to get up for another drink when she feels a hand touch her shoulder. Reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the game and turns to see who it is.

“Allura! Let me do your hair!” Romelle exclaims, coming around the back of the couch and bouncing down into the seat next to her.

“Sure!” Allura happily agrees. “Here.”

Extending her arm behind her head, she pulls out her light blue scrunchie and lets her long, silver hair fall freely down her back. She draws her legs up and crosses them, then angles herself parallel to the couch. Romelle’s fingers excitedly begin to comb through her loose locks.

“I love your hair, Allura. It’s always so nice and soft,” Romelle sighs in admiration. She sections Allura’s hair into three parts, preparing to braid.

Allura looks behind her shoulder and smiles.

“You always make my hair look really pretty, Romelle.”

With cresent-shaped eyes, Romelle gleefully accepts the compliment. Turning back toward the armrest, Allura catches the sight of Acxa grabbing Keith’s wrist and pulling him off to the side. Her growing curiousity is entirely unintentional, and Allura observes them from the corner of her eye as they privately strategize their gameplay.

Once the second match starts, Acxa aims for left cups while Keith aims right. They work well as a team, gaining an early lead against Lance and James, and Allura silently attests the accomplishment to their undeniable compatibility. She tries to recall the history of their friendship. Though Acxa has only been a student at their school for a little over a year, she had easily found her place within Keith’s clique of friends at school as one of the few seniors on the fine arts track. Acxa and Keith especially had been fast friends and almost immediately started collaborating on projects for classes and around campus. For a while last year, Allura would always see her name in Keith’s sparse text messages.

Acxa misses her third toss, and despite her rather empty protests, Keith pulls up his sleeves and drinks the shot for her. Acxa, in her oversized graphic tee and ripped jeans, looks so effortlessly cool when she signals her gratitude and places her hand on Keith’s shoulder. She carries confidence in her posture, but out of everyone in the crowded room, Allura is probably the only one who notices her faintly pink-tinted cheeks. Keith surely doesn’t, engaging instead in defiant trashtalk with Lance.

Allura takes a deep breath. They actually look good together.

And suddenly, she feels so much less significant. There’s an exclusive part of Keith’s world that she isn’t a part of, and in a way, she’s glad for it. In that part of his world, there are people like Acxa who understand all the artistic jargon that Allura never could, appreciate the goodness of Keith’s heart that she’s taken for granted, and provide what a best friend like her can’t.

Allura narrows her eyes, starting to feel the effects of her earlier drink, and decides to take a break from watching the game. She pulls her legs up to her chest and rests her chin on her knees.

“Oops, I messed up. Sorry, starting over,” Romelle giggles and apologizes from behind.

“It’s fine.”

Allura lifts her head when Hunk and Pidge emerge from the nearby hallway moments later, searching for Lance and Romelle.

“There you guys are! It’s almost my curfew, we gotta go!” Hunk chides, clearly sober and the designated driver for the night.

“Five minutes, Hunk! We’re right about to make a comeback!”

Hunk studies the number of cups on the table and frowns.

“Nope, nuh-uh, that’ll take too long. We need ten minutes to get home, and we have exactly that. I’m not getting grounded just for some lame beer pong game.”

“Aw man.”

Lance hands the table tennis ball over to James. He stares directly at Keith as he puts on his jacket.

“This doesn’t mean I forfeit!”

“Yeah, it does.”

When a frustrated Lance passes by the couch, Romelle pouts and lets go of Allura’s half-braided hair.

“I was almost done. But oh well. I’ll see you on Monday, Allura.”

She stands up and leans in for a hug, which Allura reciprocates.

Once they leave, excitement for the game dies down. Acxa backs out to even out the players, carrying her drink over and taking the seat Romelle had just occupied. Now much more evenly matched, Keith and James resume the game, eager to finish and move on.

In her buzzing indecision, Allura misses the chance to start conversation with Acxa, who she still doesn’t know very well despite sharing a mutual close friend. Luckily, Acxa doesn’t seem to mind the silence, opting instead to closely watch the game. Without a purpose, Allura yawns and checks her phone. She eventually realizes that the game is over when Keith saunters over to her with a smug grin on his face.

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the side of the couch.

Allura slides her phone back in her pocket and turns to him. Ignoring the coarse graze of polyester fabric against the side of her chest as her shirt rides up, she throws her arms around his waist and effectively anchors herself to him. Unlike the room temperature, Keith’s natural warmth is always comfortable.

“Hi. Finally. I’m bored.”

“Not even a congratulations?”

Allura scoffs and reaches up to fix the front of his perpetually disheveled hair. Keith lowers his head, hesitant as he gazes down at her.

“I’m not stroking your ego just because you happen to have unnaturally gifted hand-eye coordination. You don’t even like playing that game.”

She draws her hand back, redirecting it to his lap once his hair is as neat as she can make it.

“Fair point.”

“Can I have that?” she asks, peering at the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I’ll let you have this, but I’m also getting you water.”

“Ugh, okay.”

He runs an affectionate hand down her arm and lets her take his glass before stalking off to the kitchen.

“You and Keith are really close.”

Allura blinks and connects the source of the statement back to Acxa, exhibiting an oddly concerned look in her eyes.

“We’ve known each other for a long time. He’s my best friend,” Allura responds slowly.

Straightening her back and crossing her legs, Allura eyes the glass in her hand and decides to quickly finish the roughly two shots worth of liquor still left. She winces and coughs after the sharp taste of vodka burns down her throat, then sets the glass aside. Considering that the glass had been full, and that it hadn’t been his first, Allura wonders how it’s even possible Keith hasn’t blacked out yet.

“I know we haven’t talked much, but since you’re close with him, can I ask you something?”

Eager to finally have the opportunity to bond with Acxa, Allura smiles and nods.

“Of course.”

“Who does he like?”

Allura’s eyes widen. Her arms drop to her lap.

“Who does he like?” Allura repeats, trying to make sure she’s heard the question right. It’s hard to focus.

“I’ve tried to ask him before but he wouldn’t tell me.”

Allura blinks furiously, racking her mind with increasing pressure for an answer. Of all the questions Acxa could have asked her, she hadn’t expected this one. Allura is sure she’s asked Keith about it too. If she thinks back, the most recent time she’d asked would have been at the Christmas party, but Allura realizes with sudden clarity that he’d evaded her question by pulling the ribbon from her hair. Who did he like?

“I don’t…I don’t know,” she admits.

Acxa sighs and slumps back against the couch, stealing a glance at Allura before looking down at her drink.

“Sorry, Keith and I somehow never talk about that kind of stuff.”

“It’s fine. I just wish I knew who I was up against. I have some idea, though.”

Deep down, Allura’s known this all along, and she loves being right, so she has no idea why it still feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. She stares at Acxa, so brave and flustered and beautiful, in disbelief.

“…You like Keith?”

“It’s stupid, right? I bet you know all the terrible things he’s ever done. But I really like him.”

Acxa’s face is red after admitting her crush, and Allura can’t fault her. Keith is talented, rebellious, attractive, and really really nice. He stays up late with friends to help them pull all-nighters, climbs up their rooms when they’re grounded and bored. Allura would even easily confess that she’s thought about Keith’s brilliant indigo eyes more than once. Of course Acxa likes him.

“Oh. Totally.” Allura replies, missing a beat. She doesn’t sound like herself.

“I mean, he is terrible,” Acxa continues. She lifts her head, warily meeting Allura’s detached stare. “We made out once.”

Something inside her chest lurches, and it makes Allura feel terrible. Keith never should have given her his drink – vodka apparently doesn’t sit well with her – and she can’t believe he still hasn’t come back with her water yet. She hugs her arms, hoping they’d help still her wildly racing heart. When she tries to speak, she can’t manage anything more than a whisper.

“You and Keith…”

Acxa sheepishly bites her lip and nods.

“Last October. After I kissed him first. But then he apologized and asked if we could stay friends. That jerk.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said he was still trying to get over someone.”

---

Allura anxiously taps her fingers against the lunch table, taking turns between glancing at her phone and the large cafeteria doors. Her food rests idle, growing cold, in her plastic tray, while Hunk does a poor job feigning ignorance of Allura’s obvious restlessness from across the table as he eats large spoonfuls of parmesan mashed potatoes.

“Allura? You okay?” Hunk asks carefully.

Allura blinks, tearing her eyes away from the cafeteria entrance, and smiles blankly at her concerned-sounding friend.

“I’m fine, Hunk,” she responds, picking up her fork and poking into her bowl of rubbery mac and cheese.

“Waiting for someone?”

Allura’s eyes widen.

“Why – why would you think that?” Allura stutters, turning pink.

“Wild guess.”

“Well, I’m not,” she counters defensively, sending Hunk an irritated look.

“Where’s Keith anyway? Don’t you two usually come together since you’re both in the E building for fourth period?” Hunk inquires.

“Oh, um...I didn’t – I didn’t see him,” Allura says quietly, quickly looking down and taking a bite out of her mac and cheese.

She hasn’t told anyone what had happened at the party yet, and she’s not ready to admit that she hasn’t seen Keith at all since then. The old, red pick-up truck that Keith drives to school had been gone from the driveway when she had left for school this morning. When she had waited, as had become the norm, to meet Keith outside her classroom after fourth period earlier, he had never shown.

“He’s in the art room,” a bright voice explains from behind Allura’s back, causing her to jump. Carrying her lunch tray, Romelle crosses her leg over the bench and takes her seat next to Allura.

Looking down at her lunch even harder, Allura finds the crusty, burnt edges of her mac and cheese particularly unappetizing today.

“I saw him on the way to my locker. He said something about a meeting for all the seniors. Allura, you look like your lunch killed your father and you’re about to avenge his death,” Romelle remarks, casually resting her head on her hand and grinning as she studies Allura’s hard expression with amused fascination.

Slowly, Allura looks up and turns to Romelle.

“Haha, do I?” laughs Allura humorlessly. “I guess I’m just worried about my calculus test tomorrow.”

“Didn’t you say it was on Wednesday?” Romelle asks pointedly.

“Oh, right. Wednesday,” Allura corrects herself, taking another stab into her cheese-drenched bowl.

“Allura, is something wrong?” Romelle frowns.

Allura’s eyes darken and avert Romelle’s concerned gaze.

“I don’t know why people keep asking me that.”

Unsettled by her best friend’s unusually moody response, Romelle narrows her eyes. She shoots a questioning glance at Hunk, who simply shrugs. Unsatisfied by Hunk’s answer, Romelle stands up, grabbing Allura’s arm and causing Allura to drop her spork in surprise.

“You’re coming with me, Allura. Hunk, stay here and watch our stuff,” Romelle directs.

“Uh, sure,” Hunk answers, accepting the task but not quite understanding the situation.

“Where are we going?” Allura asks as Romelle pulls her away from the lunch table, down the walkway toward the cafeteria exit.

Romelle looks back at Allura, and picks up her pace, taking them out of the cafeteria and into the empty hallway. She stops in front of a row of lockers and spins around to meet Allura face-to-face, dropping Allura’s arm. Allura dreads the conversation she knows she’s about to have. While she might have been able to avoid telling the others, Allura should have known that Romelle would have approached her sooner or later.

“I thought something was up when I asked Keith where you were and he completely ignored me. And now, you’re acting like this,” Romelle explains in a low voice. “Did something happen between you two?”

Allura winces at the accusation. Crossing her arms, she locks her eyes on the obnoxiously glittery senior prom poster from the corner of her eye. Allura takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I kissed Keith.”

“You what?!” Romelle shrieks, turning the head of a wide-eyed freshman as she walks by.

Allura frantically presses her hand against Romelle’s mouth.

“Shh! Not so loud!” Allura exclaims, her cheeks flushing darkly.

Romelle peels Allura’s hand off of her mouth, signaling her return to composure.

“You kissed Keith?” Romelle hisses, grabbing Allura’s arm again.

“It was at the party. After you left.”

Romelle starts to grin before she abruptly frowns. Allura raises an eyebrow at Romelle’s polarizing expressions.

“And then what happened?”

“He told me he was in love with me, but I…” Allura trails off, biting her lip. “I told him he was my best friend.”

Frustratingly for Allura, Romelle’s eyebrows furrow in deep contemplation. There’s something she’s missing, something Romelle isn’t telling her.

“Then I said it was a mistake and asked him to take me home,” Allura finishes impatiently. She forces a quick, nervous glance past her shoulder before returning to her perplexed friend standing in front of her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“So you’re not…Oh, Allura,” Romelle sighs.

“What?”

Romelle’s expression turns serious, and she stares at Allura long and hard. Allura feels uncomfortably hot, clutches the hem of her sweater.

Gently, slowly enough to soften the blow, Romelle explains the apparent elephant in the room.

“You know, we all kind of thought that maybe, you and Keith were already dating.”

The revelation stuns Allura entirely. Her jaw drops, her cheeks burn with a sudden flare of heat. She can’t control the jumpy pace of her heart either. Unfolding her arms, Allura gapes at Romelle’s enviously unaffected manner.

“Me and Keith? No way! I – I’m not, we’re not…we’re just friends,” Allura contends, trying to dispute Romelle’s wild claim.

“Are you?”

“Of course! A-and we like different people! Like Lotor. I dated Lotor. Keith has Acxa.”

The last few words leave a bitter taste in her mouth as Allura begrudgingly recollects the fleeting memory of Acxa confiding in Allura her crush on Keith at the party.

“That was so long ago. And Keith doesn’t like Acxa that way.”

“Keith and I are just friends. We hang out a lot because we’re friends. That’s it.”

“Have you seen yourselves these past three months after breaking up with Lotor? Even Lance thought your flirting was too much.”

“We don’t – we haven’t been…”

And suddenly, Allura remembers Lance’s comment so clearly, the way he had groaned with a cup of hot coffee in one hand when he had seen them in the courtyard. She’d been sitting in Keith’s lap, trying to fix his messy, unkempt hair after he’d overslept that morning. Lance had promptly asked them to cool it and proceeded to complain about the early morning before heading to class. His reaction had been so strange to her at the time that she had just shrugged it off.

Allura chews on her lower lip, refusing to rethink every late-night text, every casual arm around her shoulders; she pushes back as she recalls the perfectly innocent cuddles on the art room couch, at home, and the warm touches that she realizes now had perhaps been too easy, too much for the others.

She inhales sharply, having forgotten to breathe under the scrutinizing pressure.

“I’m Keith’s best friend. I’m not in love with him.”

She’s certain. She has to be.

“Have you ever thought that you could be both?”

---

Keith >

4/23 4:47 PM I didn’t see you at school today I have so much to tell you Imagine this: bubblegum, liquid nitrogen, and Iverson’s eyepatch

4/24 10:05 AM So bored Get me out of class?

4/25 1:34 PM Keith?

4/27 8:19 PM Sorry, I’ve been busy Senior project

Oh, right

Good luck ♥ I miss you. Read 8:22 PM

Today 10:36 PM Can we talk?

---

Allura curls into herself across her bedsheets and stares and stares at the radio silence. Blankly. Waiting. Before she realizes it, the barren string of texts in front of her start to blur, and Allura rips herself away from the lonely brightness of her phone screen. She’s never cried over a dumb boy before and she refuses to start now, but she can’t stop the tears from brimming over and sinking into her pillowcase. She can’t lose her best friend. Not like this.

Pretending it never happened hadn’t worked.

And in all honesty, Allura doesn’t know why she had thought to pretend in the first place, when she can still remember, two weeks later, the magnetic purple gaze and the intoxicating taste of vodka infusing with her cherry pink lipstick. Her breath catches at the memory again, of Keith, the kiss, and how he had ruined their friendship. She bites her lip.

Stupid Keith. This is all his fault.

Her phone suddenly vibrates in her hand. Holding her breath, Allura glances at her lock screen.

Okay

Allura gasps softly, feeling heat rising in her cheeks. She sits up in her bed and hunches over the phone in her hands, letting her long, silver hair fall past her face and graze her lap. Typing anxiously, she sends a response.

Meet me at the park in 5 minutes

Allura reaches for the first jacket she sees, until she realizes it’s the one that Keith never reclaimed after last year’s Christmas party. She had since made it hers, wearing it on weekends when she had stayed in and read magazines, and once – no – twice to dance practice. Allura hesitates and draws her hand back. Then she grabs it, puts it on. The sleeves still fall past her wrists.

Tonight, under the cloudless sky, the moon is round and brilliantly golden, illuminating her path toward the park. When she walks, Allura can make out the deep green leaves of trees, even point out the mesquite tree at the corner that she’d dared Keith to climb when she was seven years old. He had climbed as high as his weight on thin branches would allow, and of course, Allura had taken his hand and followed. That adventure had ended with scraped chins and elbows, when Allura had been too scared to climb back down and jumped, shaking, into Keith’s arms on the ground.

From across the street, she sees him leaning against the wall next to the old, metal slide and staring blankly down at the gravel. Under the moonlight, half-obscured by darkness, Keith’s pale skin seems to glow. He’s so beautiful, and Allura understands now the racing of her heart, the shortness of breath she could never explain whenever he had looked at her, smiled at her, accepted her in his arms. Really, truthfully, all this time she had never thought of him as just a friend. Trying in vain to calm her nerves, she gently rubs her flushed cheeks and takes a deep breath.

She steps forward.

“Why are you frowning?”

Allura’s quiet voice startles Keith out of his thoughts. His head shoots up, nearly colliding into hers. She’s bending down and peering up at him curiously. He stares at her with wide eyes. He knows she remembers it too.

Keith quickly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I…wasn’t.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

She steps back with a small, teasing smile. She has to tilt her head up to face him properly. Keith looks at her speechlessly.

“You’re also really bad at pretending you’re not avoiding me.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t trying – I didn’t mean to!” Keith blurts out. “I just…I needed time.”

“I know,” Allura replies softly. “I was really annoyed before…but that was just because I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, calmer this time. “I won’t do it again. Not talking to you has been awful.”

Allura cracks a grin and carefully tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Of course it has. I’m the most interesting thing in your life.”

Keith laughs, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He starts to reach out for her, but stops himself before Allura can react. Instead, he lets his arms fall down either side of him and looks away.

“You are.”

Allura swallows nervously, trying to make sure she says her next words right.

“Keith, about what I said at the party…”

“You were right. It shouldn’t have happened.”

Eyes widening, Allura shakes her head furiously.

“No, I was wrong. Listen, earlier that night, Acxa told me something I didn’t want to hear, and I got really upset. But it wasn’t her fault. It was mine.”

“What?”

Keith immediately straightens, looking concerned.

“And do you remember when Darcy got really aggravated when Lizzie mentions Wickham after he had just confessed to her in the rain? I was like that.”

“Wait, hold on –”

“Let me finish. Basically, I was jealous. Because you kissed Acxa even though you just saw her as a friend and not…and not me.”

“Allura…”

She’s sure she’s blushing hard now because her skin feels like it’s on fire, but she has to explain herself. She needs him to understand. She places her hand across her chest and slowly takes another deep breath.

“What I’m trying to say is, I wanted you to kiss me that night. But I didn’t know it then. So I told you it was a mistake.”

Allura grabs his hand, and it’s cold and bare, chilled by late night April breeze. Keith curiously follows her gaze as her eyes wander down Keith’s face and linger on his lips. His breath catches in his throat when he sees a flash of desire in the color of crystal blue. He brings his other hand to Allura’s face and gently smooths her cheek. He’s more than relieved when Allura leans into his touch. When she looks back up, he does too.

“It wasn’t a mistake.”

“It wasn’t?”

“You’re my best friend in the whole world. I like it when we talk all night long and that you always know how to make me happy. I like it when you hug me and run your fingers through my hair and look at me like I’m important to you. But most of all, I really liked it when we did this.”

She takes a small step forward and lightly presses her lips against his. He tastes like electric mint, home, and cosmic stars. Kissing him is just as wonderful and thrilling as she remembers. Smiling shyly against his lips, Allura pulls back while she can still control herself and lets Keith process everything she’s told him. She wants to remember every second of this. Keith stares at her for a moment, and gradually, a grin emerges on his face.

“Do you remember what I said after?” he asks, smirking now. Allura would be infuriated if she didn’t think it made him look incredibly attractive. So, she plays along and pretends to think.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I said I was in love with you.”

He lets go of her hand and slides his arm around her waist, pulls her incredibly close. Allura gasps and she thinks she can hear the sound of her heart exercising rapidly inside her chest. She places her hands on his shoulders.

“What about now?”

“I’m still in love with you,” he responds quietly.

Allura could say that he steals her heart with that confession, but she supposes – has an inkling – that maybe it’d always been his. She’ll have to ask him, later, when exactly he had given her his own. What she wants to say next comes to her so easily.

“I love you too. But Keith?”

He looks at her expectantly.

“I have a question.”

Allura runs her hands up and around to the back of Keith’s neck. To further stress her intention, she makes sure he sees her lick her lips, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. Brushing past her ear, Keith lifts his hand from her cheek and into her hair.

“Ask it.”

“Can I kiss you again already?”

---

and i know i’ve kissed you before, but i didn’t do it right can i try again, try again, try again?

(pink in the night, mitski)

#kallura #keith #allura #voltron #p: kallura #c: allura #c: keith kogane #f: voltron #welp #i'm just glad i finished this before s8 dropped #i'm free

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wrestlingbabe · 7 years ago

Text

Handle it.

(My computer won't tag them but this is Fredsythe gif. shoutout to them)

FP Jones/ Fred Andrews/ OC- After many nights flirting, the older men (and well a little bit of her) decide that enough is enough.

Warnings Age gap(chill she is of age), spanking, daddy kink (because I’m terrible), (in this fandom y’all tag this but) unprotected sex (???)

Also I feel like this is what this fandom might not of ever thought they needed but now its here whether you like it or not lol also this is the first and probably last riverdale writing I write.

Tag: @ridingmoxley

It wasn’t everyday that I would find myself in Riverdale, let alone working at Pop’s trying to just get by. I grew up here and after I finished college, I decided to visit for a few days. Well those few days turned into weeks, which then turned into months. I fell in love with the town and people all over again. The only problem was that my family left Riverdale many years ago and I was living in a one-room apartment barely getting by. I had a degree but was waiting for the right job. So now here I was working at Pop’s at all hours just trying to make some cash.

A lot of people in town barely recognized me. I had grown a lot since the last time I was here and people had to think a little too hard to remember me. Something that even surprised me was the fact, I either didn’t notice back in the day or just now started to care, but everyone in town seemed to be much more attractive. All the people who knew me as a child, seemingly became much more interesting to me.

Two of my favorite customers though were the “D.I.L.Fs” of the town or so I had heard, and maybe agreed with. Every time FP Jones or Fred Andrews walked through the door, my heart started to beat a little faster. I always felt like they chose my booths and were extra flirty with me. Most of the time the two of them would come together and try to cause a little trouble, today was no different.

“Hey baby!” FP said as he slid into the booth I was standing near.

“You know I have a name and it might come as a shock, but it’s not baby or princess or whatever other nicknames you give me.” I said with a little attitude as I watched Fred slide in on the other side. Fred gave me a smile making me fight off a blush. I sometimes felt like I was in middle school with how easily these men made me blush. “So what are we getting today? The usual?” I asked as I raised an eyebrow.

“Actually we just want some milkshakes and fries.” Fred said as he ran his hand over his beard. I perked up at the action and unnoticeably bit my lip.

I heard FP chuckle beside me, and shook my head quickly as I realized what I did, “Yeah sweetheart just fries and shake today.” FP said as he did a quick glance up and down my body. I wrote down their order but not before noticing FP’s quick glances.

“Anything else for you boys?” I asked as I started walking away.

“I could think of a few things.” I gasped quietly at FP’s words which were definitely only meant for him and Fred. I gently shook my head as I went to the counter.

Fred hit FP’s arm with a soft thud before leaning closer to him, “Seriously. We are trying to do this slow remember. Drag it out to see how much the girl can take. If she heard you, she could be onto us.” Fred looked behind his shoulder to see me leaning over a table while I cleaned it. A soft groan left both of their mouths as they saw all the cleavage that position revealed, “She makes it so hard to keep playing this game.” FP mumbled an agreement while him and Fred started to talk about work.

I giggled as I felt wandering eyes on me. I didn’t have to look up to know that the two older men were trying their best not to look over here. Every time they were in here, I had to walk out back to cool off from all the nasty thoughts I had. I was just clearing off the table when mine order was up. I hurried onto the other side of the counter and grabbed the fries and shakes. I walked towards the older men’s table and tried my best to swing my hips, “You boys need ketchup or anything?”

FP looked up at me with a smile, “Actually, why don’t you sit down with us for a little bit.” I gave him a confused look before turning towards Fred to see him nodding, “We want to ask you a few things. Get to know our favorite waitress.”

“Uh.” I looked around the diner to see that it was actually pretty dead, “Well I guess, but not too long.” I said as I slid in next to Fred. I stretched my legs out and placed them on the booth beside FP. I purposely placed my foot next to his thigh. Not close enough that it was touching but enough that he knew that it was right there, “So what’s up?” I asked as I grabbed a fry off the plate.

Fred chuckled at me before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I blushed at the contact and tried my best to slow my heartbeat down, “So why did you come back to Riverdale?”

“Oh…. I enjoyed being here so I thought why not come back.” I gave FP a weak smile as I picked up another fry.

“And where does a fresh out of college kid stay in a town like this?” FP asked as his hand went to rest on his thigh, brushing up against my calf.

Goosebumps erupted over my skin as I pushed away all the dirty thoughts that were coming to my mind, “There’s a new complex. I have a one bedroom.” I shrugged my shoulders before playing with the string on my apron, “I like the privacy of it. I don’t have any neighbors yet so it also allows me to be loud and stuff.”

Fred and FP both chuckled at that as FP grabbed a hand full of fries and brought them to his mouth. Fred leaned more towards me before speaking, “And what could you possibly being doing that would be loud?” Fred tilted his head some while my eyes widened at the question.

He could be asking an innocent question but my mind went anywhere other than that, “Oh…Uh, well.” I was scrambling for an excuse but I had a feeling they wouldn’t believe me, “I like to listen to my music loud.” I said with a confident grin but that grin turned into me biting my lip as FP ran his hand under my calf.

“Are we supposed to actually believe that?” FP said as he looked at Fred with a knowing grin.

Fred smiled as he leaned in towards my ear, “Why don’t you answer that question more honestly?” A small shiver ran through me as Fred whispered to me.

Before I had time to say anything, the bell on the door dinged as someone walked in. I immediately tried to move towards the end of the booth to get up, “Ignore them. Someone else can help them.” FP said as he leaned more over the table.

I smiled at both of the older men as I placed my hand on Fred’s upper thigh and squeezed, “Sorry it’s my job.” Fred let out a low moan as I got up and walked towards the other booth.

I helped the friendly people out while catching side-glances from the two older men. We were pretty slow tonight so my coworker offered for me to go home earlier, “Yeah go ahead. I think I can hold this place down.”

I smiled at her and went to get my stuff. As I exited to the kitchen door back into the diner, Fred was paying for their food, “You leaving?” He asked me nicely.

“Yeah. I guess I can get a head start on this show I wanted to watch.” I said as FP walked in front of me.

“Maybe instead of that.” FP ran his hands down my arm before leaning in so his face was even with mine, “We test out how loud you can actually be.”

I let out an audible gasp as I felt Fred walk up behind me, “Oh.” I felt like my whole world was spinning. Here these two men wanted me, me of all people.

“So what do you say baby?” Fred asked as he gently pressed against me.

I nodded my head frantically, “Yes. Oh god yes.”

FP chuckled before grabbing one of my hands and pulled me out of the door, “Get in the truck.” FP’s order made my stomach flip.

I smirked as I pulled myself into his chest, “And if I don’t.” I pulled the apron off my body and threw it into the truck, “What will you do?” I smiled as I heard Fred let out a groan from the other side of the truck. If two could play this game than they had no idea what they were in store for.

I felt the air escape my lungs as FP turned me and pushed my upper body down onto the truck seat. I let out a low whine as I felt his hand barely run over my ass, “Well I always think a good spanking can help.” I winced as I felt his large hand collide with the top of my right thigh.

“Jones. Not here.” Fred said as I looked up to see him sitting in the drivers seat with his hand covering his clothed bulge. I cursed as my eyes fell shut at another slap.

“Fine, but you’re lucky sweetheart because if I had it my way, I would want everyone to be able to see you.” FP urged me into the truck while pushing me against Fred.

I turned and smiled at the older man, “Something I can help you with?” I asked as I ran my hand up his thigh. I giggled as I saw him swallow hard and grab my hand, placing it in my lap, “Start the truck.” I said as I started to press kisses to his jaw.

“You’re one to give orders.” Fred mumbled as he started the truck. I hummed in agreement as I gently bit down on his neck making him groan.

“You know where you are going right?” I asked as I slid my hand down Fred’s chest and gently running it over his bulge.

“Yes.” Fred said through gritted teeth.

“Well damn. Do we have ourselves a little firecracker?” FP asked as he grabbed at my upper thigh. I turned towards him with a smile before leaning over and placing my lips on his. He wasted no time with making the kiss rough. I wrapped my arms around him the best I could while running my hand through his hair. I tugged on it, earning a soft growl from him, “You’re playing with fire.” FP said as he cupped my face with his hands.

“Good that’s how I like it.” I smiled as both FP and Fred let out a moan, “Great we are here. Park wherever but hurry please.” I begged as I started to become antsy. The moment Fred put it in park, I started pushing him out of the car, “Come on. Move!” I started to become frustrated and pouted.

Fred titled his head at me and smirked, “You okay baby?”

I whined and buried my head in his shoulder, “Just want you to fuck me.” I mumbled loud enough for them to hear. Fred chuckled while grabbing my chin and pulling my head up to look at him, “I want it really badly.”

“I’m sure you do, but good girls are patient.” If his hands weren’t holding my chin, my jaw would of dropped. No one has ever used the “good girl” thing on me and it turned me on, “You think you can wait until we get up there?” Fred nodded his head towards my apartment building.

“Yes, I think I can.” I said as Fred grabbed my hand and helped me out of the car. I let out a small shriek as FP grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder, “Oh no. Put me down.” I started to playfully hit his back while he laughed at me.

“Mhm I don’t think so. Its kind of the perfect view.” FP said as I realized that my skirt flew up, showing my lace green panties.

My face immediately lit up as I blushed hard and pushed my skirt down, “That’s not funny.” I said as Fred fumbled with my keys to open the door, “The pink one.” Fred nodded as he placed the key in and unlocked the door. He walked in first and held the door open for FP.

I looked up to see Fred leaning against the front door with a smile, “He wasn’t lying it was a good view.” I stuck my tongue out at him before FP placed me back on my feet.

Before I had time to say anything, FP pushed me up against Fred and kissed me just as rough as in the truck. I let out a soft moan as I felt Fred’s hardening length press against my lower back. Fred pushed my hair to one side and started to kiss up and down my neck.

“I really want to mark this up.” Fred said before he pushed my uniform off my shoulder some and gently bit at it. I whine at the feeling and pressed back harder against him.

“Lets take this off.” FP grabbed at my uniform top and ripped it open. I went to protest at how that was my work uniform but his hand resting on my throat stopped me, “I know. I know.” FP ran his hands over my clothed breast, “This is pretty and you’re matching.”

I smiled up at the older man as I brought my hands behind my back and undid my bra. I let the material fall from my shoulders making both men suck in a breath. I giggled as I felt Fred’s hands on my hips as he pushed up against me, barely moving his hips.

“Wow babygirl, those are pretty.” Fred whispered into my ear as one of his hands trailed up my side and stopped right under my breast. My breathing became shaky as FP brought his forehead to mine, “I bet it would feel good if we touched them.” Fred was still gripping my other hip hard making me squirm in place.

“Please?” I asked as I grabbed FP’s hand and placed it over my other breast, “Want to feel good.” I threw my head back on Fred’s shoulder as FP brought his lips to my hardening nipple, “OH!” I screamed as I grinded back against Fred while I pulled FP closer to me.

I let my eyes close as I felt the two men assault my chest. Fred was gently tugging at my nipple as FP twirled his tongue around the other. I subconsciously let my hand wander down to the top of my skirt before dipping my hand down into my panties. FP looked down at the movement and let out a small chuckle as he pulled away.

“You a little turned on princess?” FP asked as he took my fingers out of my skirt. I whined as I saw it glisten with my excitement. FP smirked at me before bringing them to his mouth, moaning at the taste, “Holy shit. You taste heavenly.”

Without a second to waste, Fred had his hand in the place I just had mine. I arched towards the other man when his skin came in contact with mine. Fred slowly ran his fingers down my clit and towards my entrance. I widened my stance as a silent plead for him to go further. Fred smiled against my shoulder as he dipped two fingers into me, “Sh-shit you’re tight.”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the feeling of his skilled fingers opening me and grabbed at his wrist, “O-oh fuck. Wait.” FP looked at me confused as Fred pulled his fingers from my skirt and up to his lips. I suddenly felt very small as I thought of a way to say what I wanted, “I-I want to cum while you’re in me.”

FP let out what sounded like a growl before he pulled me into my bedroom and pushed me onto my bed. I looked up to see the two men pulling their shirts over their heads. I let out a small moan at the sight and started to push my skirt down, “Let me.” Fred caught my hand and placed it above my head, “Put the other one up there and keep them there.” I swallowed hard as I did what I was told. Fred smiled at me as he slowly pulled my skirt down my legs.

As the skirt hit the floor, I looked over to see FP standing in his briefs while palming himself. I bit my lip when FP made eye contact with me, “See something you like.” I nodded your head frantically. FP was definitely bigger than anything I had ever had and I was a little worried.

My mind was pulled from the thought as I felt Fred gently rubbed at my clothed clit, “One day I’m going to tease you just like this and see how long it will take you to cum.” Fred said before he pulled my panties off me and threw them on the floor.

“You ready for me princess?” FP asked as he dipped two fingers into me.

I felt a little confident as I twisted my nipples between my fingers, “If you think I am, daddy.”

Fred and FP both quickly looked at me and then to each other, “Oh is that how it is?” FP pulled away as he pulled his boxers down just enough for him to pull his cock out, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while.” I groaned as I felt FP rub his tip over my clit and down to my entrance, “Thought about how good you would feel and how tight you were.” FP pushed his length into me making my eyes roll back. The stretch felt so good.

“O-oh shi-it.” I dragged my words out as FP slowly pulled out before thrusting back into me, hard.

“I’m sure none of those boys in college made you feel this good.” I looked up to see Fred sitting in a chair near the end of the bed. I bit my lip as I watch his hand slowly stroke himself.

“Not even close.” I moaned out as FP thrusted particularly hard on that answer. I placed my arms out and gripped the bed sheets, “Fuck daddy. More please?” I begged as I felt my orgasm build.

FP leaned forward and buried his face in my neck, letting me hear every moan and low groan, “Princess you’re so good. You feel so good around this dick. Fuck.” I dragged my nails down his back, leaving marks behind in the trail. FP placed my legs more around his hips, which allowed him to go deeper, “I want you to feel this forever. How deep I am and how good I stretch you out.” FP growled into my ear making me clench around him.

“Oo-oh fuck I’m going to cum.” I placed a hand between our bodies and started to rub my clit in harsh circles, “Can I cum please?” I started to rock down to meet FP’s thrust.

“Go ahead but we better hear you.” Fred’s voice made me look at him again as my toes curled and my orgasm crashed through me.

“OH HELL! FP.” I dug my nails into the skin of FP’s shoulder as he fucked me through my orgasm, “Cum for me please daddy.” I felt FP’s thrust start to get sloppy as I clenched around him.

“Fuck baby.” FP pulled out of me quickly before he came on my stomach, “Hell that was perfect.” I smiled as I put my arm over my eyes.

I lifted my arm as I felt a different pair of hands on me, “You okay babygirl?” Fred was sitting on the edge of the bed while running his hand up and down my legs.

“I would be better if I could ride you.” I said with a cheeky smile making Fred roll his eyes and pull me down towards him.

“Well why don’t you come sit here than.” Fred patted his lap while a smile. I crawled over to him and slowly lowered myself on his length.

I hissed at the feeling before slowly rolling my hips, “Oh.” This was a different feeling and I suddenly was craving it. I quickly picked up the speed of my hips and laid my head on Fred’s shoulder, “It feels so-o good.” I cried out as Fred slapped my ass.

“I’m not going to last that long if you keep doing that.” Fred said through gritted teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut as I started to slowly bounce, “Fuck.” Fred slapped my ass again making me whine.

“Want it. Want it.” I threw my head back as I felt that familiar feeling start up again. I grabbed at one of Fred’s hands and brought it to my clit, “Make me feel good daddy.” I screamed out. At this moment I was more than happy about not having neighbors. My moans were getting louder and louder by the second.

Fred smirked at me as he began to rub my clit, “Feels good doesn’t. I can feel you about to cum. Come on you can do it.” I started to grind my hips in a circle, gasping at the new angle.

“That’s it. Please don’t stop!” I let out a scream as I felt my second orgasm hit me. I placed my head back on Fred’s shoulder as I worked him for his. I turned my head and started to gently bite at his neck, “Please?”

That was all Fred needed before he grabbed me and brought me to my knees in front of him. I moaned as he came on my face and chest, “O-oh hell.” Fred’s head fell back from the pleasure as I gently ran my nails up and down his body.

I sat back on my heels as Fred sat down on the bed. I ran my fingers through both of the messes that were on me, and brought them to my mouth. I moaned as I tasted both of the men. I heard FP chuckled behind me as he gave me a towel, “Well I have to say that was beyond amazing.”

I smiled up at both of the men before crawling into bed beside Fred, “I agree, but now I’m going to sleep for a little bit and then if you two old men are capable of getting it up, maybe we will have round two.”

Fred huffed at my comment before laying down beside me, “Yeah we will see if you can handle round two.”

#fp jones #fred andrews #fp jones smut #fred Andrews smut #fp jones imagine #fred Andrews imagine #riverdale

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pendragonfics · 7 years ago

Text

Rebel Loner Girl (& the Babysitter of The Year)

Paring: Steve Harrington/Reader

Tags: female reader, fluff, punk, you’re a loner, character development, family dynamics, dysfunctional family, past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler.

Summary: You thought it would be a simple drop off for your sister to go to the Snow Ball, but when you have two options,

a) sit in the car and read Will Buyers' Spider-Man comics, or b) catch a ride anywhere else with Steve Harrington

--it's kind of obvious which one you'll go for.

Word Count: 2,330

Current Date: 2017-11-16

Your dad didn’t want to do it alone. But then again, Chief Hopper was a man who never really got it his way, anyways. But you went along with it. Helped your newfound sister to look pretty, pick out a dress, and look decent enough to go to the Snow Ball. You remember when you were that young – heck, you’d almost skipped it, except that your dad all but made you go. So, after making El look presentable, you got into the car with your dad, and heard all the ground rules for her to follow for the dance.

“Remember, you’re going to school here next year, so you can make friends then.” He tells her, looking in the rear-view mirror of the police truck. “And don’t get too close to boys – Mike in particular.”

“Dad,” you groan, rolling your eyes.

El nods. “Yeah, Dad,” she joins in. “I won’t be stupid.”

He harrumphs at that, but reluctantly agrees. Soon enough, you make it to the school, and while you take a picture of your sister half-heartedly smiling, and usher her inside, you see as your dad gravitates to where Mrs. Buyers is by her car. But when El is inside the middle school’s gym, you see that your dad is nowhere near the car, and the keys, unlike usually, aren’t left in the ignition.

“Uh, sorry,” you walk over to where he’s talking with Mrs. Buyers, sharing a cigarette. “Aren’t we going home? I have a paper I’m working on for biology.”

Mrs. Buyers gives your dad a look. “Jim, I thought you told her.” She half-scolds.

You square your jaw, crossing your arms. “Did you change plans without telling me?”

He flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the asphalt of the school parking lot, and crushes it under his boot. “Yeah, but I told you, last night, after dinner. You said, yes dad.”

You stare at him. “I thought you were telling me to clean up the dishes!”

Joy gives his arm a small thwack. “If you want, I think Will has one of his comic books in the back of my car, something like, uh, Spider-Man?”

You shake your head, shoving your hands into your jeans pockets. “Um, no thanks, Mrs. Buyers, I’ve already read those.” You look to your Dad, “Not cool,” you add. But just then, when you look across the parking lot, you see a familiar face. “I’m taking off. Bye!”

You wave a hasty goodbye to the adults, and book it across to where you see Steve Harrington with his fancy BWM. He’s dropping off Dustin Henderson, one of El’s friends, and before he can drive away, you place a hand on the bonnet, and probably scare the guy half to death.

“I need a lift.”

He raises an eyebrow at your beat-up jeans and wild hair. “I just finished being chauffer, Hopper,” he says, and after a beat, adds, “C’mon, get in. Where to?”

You don’t waste a second, practically racing to get to the empty left-hand side of the car. “Anywhere but here, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, “Are you picking up Dustin after, or was that just…”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m doing his Mom a solid.” He puts the car into gear, and starts driving off. “And ‘anywhere’?” He asks, “What are you, some kind of rebel loner girl?”

You shrug, sitting lower in the seat so your knees touch the dashboard. “I don’t know. You tell me, demo-dog bait boy.” You glance over to the driver, and your classmate, and add, “Not going to lie, the last week? Hectic as hell. You really helped us with that shit, dickbrain.”

He laughs. “I’m the dickbrain?”

You nod. “Yeah.” Out the window, you see a sign for the local cafe, and point it out. “Turn here. I think I have twenty dollars and a need for terrible diner food.” You grin, and add, “My dad can’t cook for shit.”

Steve turns the car into the parking lot, and getting out, you realise the gravity of the situation. You, freak beyond compare, are hanging out with Steve Harrington, the Hawkins’s own Mr. Popular, at a diner while the kids are dancing to the MTV hits. But you don’t freak out over it. He might have just been ditched by Nancy Wheeler, and you’re you and the only person you’ve been with was Danny Welch in fourth grade, when he kissed you.

But before the pair of you walk into the diner, you stop him. “I just want to apologise for calling you dickbrain, Harrington. You’re not half bad, especially with the kids. You did, uh, some good.” You find it hard to compliment the guy you’ve just been laying it on thick to, and coughing into your fist, you add, “C’mon. I want waffles.”

You don’t see it, but Steve’s smiling. Well, not face-to-face, but you do, in the reflection of the diner’s glass door. But you don’t comment on it. Instead, you order waffles, and a tall vanilla milkshake and the same for Steve, before he can object. You select the booth, and you sit, pushing your sneakers on the seat opposite, beside Steve. He looks at the scuffed Converse shoes, and sits quietly for a second, car keys still in his hands, a band aid (not rainbow) on his forehead.

“I don’t get it, Hopper. You’re fine when your Dad and the kids are around, but when we’re alone, you’re moody, like at school.” He crosses his arms, “I don’t get it. You’re a funny person, __________. What changed?”

The waitress brings over two shakes, and two plates of waffles, with little bottles of maple syrup on the side, and silently, slides them in front of you both. You wait until she’s out of earshot, and making sure that nobody is prying, take a deep breath.

“He’s not my Dad.” You tell Steve.

He raises an eyebrow. “Wait, I thought you were, like, his daughter’s twin or something –,”

You laugh. “I’m the product of a drug addict and a shitty mother,” you grin, and tuck into your waffle, and with a mouthful, add, “I was in the foster system, years and years,” you swallow, and add, “I’m trailer park trash by birth.” And you’re the town’s resident rich kid.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, but you kicked ass, like, majorly. You took out at least three demo-dogs with your machete. Doesn’t matter that you’re adopted, you’re still awesome. Hell, bad to the bone.”

You crack a grin at that. “Not too bad yourself, Harrington.”

Steve’s got a mouthful now, and he says, “Can you teach me sometime that move you make, with the machete, when you,” he motions with his fork a figure-eight swinging motion, flicking syrup onto your shirt, “It’s epic. Where’d you learn it?”

You waggle your eyebrows. “My own design. Awesome, right?”

By the time the end of the Snow Ball rolls around, and the end of your waffles and shake, you’re back in the Hawkins Middle School’s parking lot with Steve Harrington, just in time for him to take Dustin home, and for you to get a ride home with your Dad and El, and hear all about it from her. But before you jet, you turn to him in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry I had a cow earlier,” you look at your hands, unable to hold his gaze, and add, “I guess shitty childhood equals shitty teenager.” You laugh. “It’s good that we could hang out, you know, when the world isn’t ending, for once?”

He nods. “Yeah, it was great.” There’s a noise outside, and the pair of you see the doors open, and tons of kids stream out from the school. “Maybe we could hang out again sometime?”

You pause. “Like, with other kids from school…?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, with you.”

There’s a knocking on the car window, and you turn to see Dustin Henderson. His hair obviously has product in it, styling those curls a million times bigger, and he has a big smile on his face, showing off his new set of teeth. Before you can blink, or even tell him to stop pressing his face into the glass and to let you leave the car, he cries out, “Steve! You got a date with __________! Guys, I told you!”

You and Steve both shake your heads, but you pipe up, “Yeah, a date, har-har,” you laugh it off, and turning to Steve, you peck his cheek with a quick kiss, and add, “Yeah, I think it was. Why don’t you call sometime? I’d like that.”

As you leave, you go to your sister, and hear all about her night. But back in the car, Dustin’s already buckled in, and on the edge of his seat to hear more about what he just heard.

“So?” Dustin asks. “She’s so scary, but cool.”

Steve smiles to himself. “Yeah, she is,” he turns the key in the car. “C’mon, Henderson, let’s get you home.”

---

It’s about a week later, and for once, when 5:15PM rolls around, there’s the sound of tyres on the gravel driveway, and you and El race out to see your Dad pull into the yard of the house you all live in. It’s a rental, nice, a little squishy, but you don’t have to share a bedroom (a relic of your childhood as a foster-system kid), so it’s great. And it’s even greater, because coming into the house where you’re still watching the show M*A*S*H*, is the scent of takeout pizza, and soda.

“You got cheese?” El asks, whisking the pizza box out of his hands, and into hers, “Yes! Best night ever!” She carries it to the lounge room, and begins eating it while sitting on the shag carpet.

You look to your dad, who hands you the soda, and tosses his keys into the dish by the door. “It’s been a busy couple of weeks since we got Will back,” he says, kicking off his boots, “We haven’t gotten to talk much.”

You shrug, carrying to soda to the kitchen to grab tumblers to drink from. “We talk enough, Dad,” you whine, “you know about my grades, and my friends. Oh, Mrs. Gillespie called by earlier, she brought a basket of her oranges to say thank you. I didn’t get what for, though…”

Your Dad, the amazing Chief Hopper puts a hand on your shoulder, interrupting your train of thought. “I didn’t mean that kind of talk, Pebbles,” he puts his gun and badge in the safe under the sink (a design so you two kids don’t shoot each other, as well as kept where he can use them), and a hand on your shoulder. “I meant with you. You hear all about the crap that happens at my work, I’d like to hear about yours. Any new friends, or boys?” El laughs at a joke Klinger made on the TV in the next room, and you’re silent. He adds, “What happened with you the night of the Snow Ball with you and John’s kid, Steve?”

You make an exasperated noise. “Geez, pushy, much?” you complain.

Gathering the tumblers, take the soda to the loungeroom to grab what pizza you can before your sister devours the whole thing by herself. But instead of avoiding the topic, when you hand El her glass of soda pop, she pipes up, “Dustin told Mike and Mike told me that Dustin said he saw you kiss Steve Harrington,” she parrots something out of the mouth of some prep, and adds, “He’s cool.”

Your Dad raises an eyebrow. “You kissed this kid?” He pushes a hand into his hairline, making it look like it’s receding even more. “Can’t believe my girls are growing up…do I need to give you the talk?”

You blanch. “Ew, no!”

As if on cue, the telephone on the wall rings, and grateful for an interruption, you take your slice of cheese pizza away from the conversation about your private life to the landline. “Hey, this is the Hopper house,” you say.

“__________, it’s Steve, from, uh, school. Harrington.” he stammers, and you hear him groan on his end of the line. You glance around the corner, and see the advertisements between the television show playing, speaking about the politics going on in Washington D.C. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You laugh. “No, you’re not interrupting,” you say, taking a bite of your slice of pizza, “What’s up? Don’t tell me. You want me to come on a secret mission to get all the Hawkins’ Middle School kids to know about that kiss.” Before he can say a word, you add, “It’s cool, don’t sweat it. I just don’t want people calling me a bimbette because you just broke up with Nancy.”

“Who cares what they think,” he says, “I liked it.”

You still, “Even though I’m a freak?” you ask.

There’s a small chuckle. “Freak or not, you’re still the bomb. If you’re not busy next Saturday, I got tickets to a drive-in movie, the new Star Wars? If you can’t, I get it –,”

“– sure, I’m free,” you pipe in, “Pick me up at five. I’ll bring pretzels, you bring soda. It’s so overpriced at the place,” you all but interrupt the guy, “Uh, see you at school?”

He agrees, and after saying goodbye, you hang the phone up. But it’s then you turn to see your Dad and little sister standing there, watching you adamantly from where the kitchen linoleum meets the loungeroom shag carpet. El’s hardly keeping her amused, yet excited smile from her face. Your Dad’s got his curious worry lines deepening by the second.

“Was that your boyfriend?” El asks.

You don’t groan. You don’t kick a fit. You don’t flip off your adopted family, you don’t lie. Instead –

“I’ve got a date with Steve Harrington,” you whisper. “Next Saturday.”

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